Losing Inertia

by VK Gregory

‘Because you hurt people?’ I asked, ‘Then tell me. All those people, how could you?’ he suddenly turned to face to the moonlight and his quenched him in light, “I just don’t understand how you could,’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he grabbed a small, sharp stone from the ground and examined it in his hands, turning it over and over, running his fingertips over the surface.

  ‘It does matter, I want to know,’ and I truly did. Because this was my metaphysical wall, the keeper of my dichotomy of love and hate that I felt for him. I felt no obligation to ‘us’ any more. Only the love, and the choice. Because it was mine to make.

  ‘No,’ his voice was suddenly loud as turned towards me, looking at me, ‘I mean, it doesn’t matter; their deaths.’ I didn’t understand but before I could interrupt him, he carried on, ‘I care about you, about us, that’s all. That’s it,’ I shook my head at him,

  ‘But they’re people, they have lives, and family; people that love them,’ I was about to say, ‘like you love me,’ but I stopped myself. That wasn’t the kind of love I was talking about,

  ‘It doesn’t matter to me, you matter and I matter, and the baby, in it’s own way, mattered,’ he shrugged,

  ‘So, you don’t care about anyone but yourself and me?’ he looked down at his hands, staring at the little grey stone and then he let out a long breath,

  ‘Okay, do you remember when you worked at the college, and that guy was harassing you,’

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘Yeah, Dick. He would follow you around, call out abuse, slap you on the arse and such and no one seemed to want to actually stop him?’

  ‘Yeah, I remember and I remember you hitting him,’ Danny sighed exasperated,

  ‘You told me that he had mental problems and it wasn’t his fault so I wasn’t allowed to hit him,’

  ‘And you did anyway,’

  ‘He wouldn’t leave you alone, so I went around there and I lamped him, and he never bothered you again did he?’ I felt a scowl form on my face as I remembered. I had been so angry at him for that, ‘Did he bother you again, Katy?’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ reluctantly, I agreed. Before that he had followed me everywhere, left me notes, insulted me, jeered at me. The abuse was endless and at some points frightening.

  But it didn’t make it right.

  ‘Exactly. I did what I had to do,’ he squeezed the stone in his hands and looked at me expectantly as if he were waiting for me to suddenly understand. I did not.

  ‘You hit a mentally ill man, with moderate learning disabilities,’

  ‘Yes, and I would do it again tomorrow,’

  ‘And I would stop you,’ my frustration building up as his eyes narrowed,

  ‘Why? It worked, and your way, and everyone else’s way of just ignoring him didn’t. He hurt you, you were afraid to even go into work, you couldn’t sleep,’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t see what this has to do with anything, anyway,’ he threw down the stone to ground with a small jangle, it bounced, causing a little puff of dust to rise from the road,

  ‘Because it’s who I am. I do what I have to do, what someone has to do, but everyone is too tied up in their moralities and social rules. I do it, even if others don’t like it, even if others get hurt because of it. And I’m not sorry,’

  ‘There’s a big difference between hitting someone, even a disabled man, and murdering people, for fun,’

  ‘The difference is necessity, and that is all,’ a wave of sadness overcame me and I felt tired, so tired.

  ‘Necessity? How was it necessary to murder those people?’ he shrugged,

  ‘Okay, maybe it wasn’t necessity all the time. But it no longer mattered, they were dying anyway, I was just helping them along,’

  ‘So, you don’t feel even slightly sorry?’

  ‘No’ he stood up, brushing the road from his trousers and jammed his hands in his pockets. He walked a little distance away, his breath freezing in wispy clouds of mist in the air I let the silence sit between us as I thought. I didn’t understand how he couldn’t care. When I thought of the people, I thought of their lives, their families, people that loved them. I imagined it was someone I loved and I couldn’t bear the hurt. I was strongly empathetic. At least I had been.

  The cold of the night had crept into my aching body, so I stood up and we stood there, in silence. I wanted to run away, I wanted to run inside. I wanted him. I hated him. I loved him. I feared him.

  ‘Don’t leave me, Katy, please,’ he turned to me, suddenly I saw the fear behind his eyes, ‘I can’t bear it. I tried, last time, but it was hell. I know I’m not perfect, I know I make mistakes, I’ve made some big ones. But please, give me a chance. I’ll change,’ his voice held the edge of fear that I felt.

  I felt indecisive, torn between wanting to simply slip back into the yawning hole that was waiting for me in our life as a couple, still unchanged, still a perfect fit. And walking away, living out the rest of this life alone, just the silence and livingstatues for my company.

  Standing by his side, watching his desperation, this unexpected show of humanity, the fear started to fade. I scrubbed it away until it was nothing, and then I tucked the nothing into the far reaches of my brain, hiding it beneath folds of loyalty, memories and hope. I buried it beneath my heart-song. I no longer needed him. I could walk away into the night, and somehow, I would survive. But he needed me. And it was good to be needed and not needy.

  ‘You can’t hurt people any more,’ I whispered to him, my voice tense, he shook his head,

  ‘I-I want to promise you that, but it’s not that easy,’

  ‘If you want me to stay-’

  ‘I do. You don’t get it, do you?’ he pleaded and I shook my head, his brow deepening to a deep and intense furrow that reflected the light of the moon,

  ‘I don’t need you, Danny. I can walk away. I was afraid to be alone, for a very long time, and now I’m not,’ he looked above me, not meeting my eyes,

  ‘Don’t,’

  ‘I can’t stay with you, if you keep doing this,’ my hand wanted to reach out to him, but I held it back,

  ‘I’ll do my best, to change. Whatever, I promise I will try-’ there was more, but he didn’t finish.

  Gently, I put an arm through Danny’s and rested my head on his shoulder. We stayed like that for a moment. He made no effort to respond to my affection, but he stood still and quiet as if thinking.

  “I’m tired, let’s go in,’ I said at last. The decision now made, I felt nothing but relief.

  .

  I led him back to the house. His face, deep in thought as we made our way back.

  I was glad to be back at the cottage; the trip had tired me and I was ready for sleep. Daniel took me into the bedroom,

  ‘I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate, you get in and warm,’ I wasn’t about to argue as I climbed beneath the soft, warm duvet, wrapping it around me as I lay down. Once my head hit the soft downy pillow, the tiredness seemed absolute. I wondered if I could stay awake long enough to drink my cocoa. My heavy eyelids began to close and I was already dozing when Danny came back, putting down a cup of steaming cocoa next to the bed and then he hesitated, not sure what to do next. I moved my arm, lifting the duvet for him to climb in next to me. I waited for him to hold me, expecting his arms to wrap themselves around me as I drifted into the welcome sleep. But that didn’t happen.

  ‘Danny?’ I asked ‘Hold me,’ but he didn’t reply and I turned to see him sitting on the bed next to me,

  ‘I don’t feel guilt, I can’t feel guilt,’ just like that he lay bare his soul for me. The tiredness seemed to shrink away,

  ‘What? Of course you do,’

  ‘Before I met you, there was just me I had friends, but wouldn’t have pissed on them if they were on fire. I knew how to make myself happy, safe.’ He trailed off as in thought,

  ‘That doesn’t mean—,’ but he didn’t let me finish,

  ‘Then you walked into my garage with your crazy yellow bee
tle with worn brakes and bald tyres and it all changed.’ A faint smile crossed his face as he remembered, ‘I should have charged you a goddamn fortune, but no, you walked out of there with a new set of tyres and a new set of brakes all for £50. Fifty, and you didn’t even question it.’

  ‘Why are you talking about cars and brakes?’ he breathed loudly out his nose, the crackle of tension in the air,

  ‘I had to have you. That was it. You’ he laughed sardonically, ‘you had this wonderful purity about you, and I needed that in my life,’

  ‘Purity? I was not pure when I met you Danny, trust me,’ my voice was light but I was scared, I didn’t want to hear more.

  ‘No, I don’t mean sexually. Just you seemed so selfless; simple joy at simple things.” Simple. Was I so easily pleased? Like a child. ‘And I’d never had anything pure and perfect. It had always been a fight for survival, stay on top, be the top dog. I needed you,’ I thought of Daniel’s time in foster care, he rarely talked about it, or the difficult life he’d had. I had spent little time wondering how it had affected his adult life, ‘And I knew you’d never want me, So I hid it,’ it seemed like the world around us no longer existed, here was Danny, and at last he was telling me the truth. He was speaking the words I’d needed to hear for so long and always knew but never wanted to admit.

  ‘So, you lied to me?’

  ‘I pretended, I acted the way I saw others act, I tried to be kind and caring, thoughtful, like you.” He said the word thoughtful as if it offended him. ‘I pretended to care, hoping to fake it enough for it to one day be true. For you. And then we were here and I’m not hiding anymore.’ He suddenly looked at me, his face filled with relief that his secret was out, ‘this is me, who I am, I don’t know to change that,’ for a few minutes, I didn’t know what to say. He was telling me he was a sociopath, that he only cared about himself and had lied to me our entire relationship. I hugged myself, wrapping my arms around my body, focusing on the only bit I could grasp,

  ‘I’m not perfect, or selfless; you’ve put me on a pedestal. I’m normal. And often mean, and yes sometimes a bitch,’ he coughed a small laugh,

  ‘I know; I know now you are as selfish as the rest of us. This world brought out the worst in both of us,’ his words stung, even though it was true. But he wasn’t saying it maliciously, ‘but Katy, I love you. I’ve never loved anything before. When I first met, you I was just obsessed, you were my obsession. But now, I know I love you. When I thought you were dead in that house, I almost wanted to die too. I love you Katy, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you,’

  ‘I do love you Danny, truly. But I don’t know how to live with what you’ve done, or who you are,’ he didn’t answer,

  ‘I can’t promise anything,’

  ‘Dean? Did you kill him? I need to know,’ Daniel shut his eyes,

  ‘I don’t kill living people. He’s probably out there looking for us right now.’ That made my heart feel cold. He had warned me to stay away, what would he do if he saw us together? Everything we were working for would be ruined. He wouldn’t understand. He could destroy it all.

  An icy cold finger tapped at my brain.

  Tap, tap, tap. I wish Dean were dead.

  I didn’t accept Daniel’s guiltless truth that night. It came to me some days later, with Daniel resting silently, in the big, worn armchair beside a roaring fire, an overwhelming sense of acceptance crept over me, like warmth from a cup of tea. It filled my body, pressing into all the cracks and emptiness that had held me back. I had fought so hard to keep my moral self afloat. My mind ruling my heart. But as I sat, and melted into the chair beneath me. I realised I had accepted Daniel. I had accepted his world. But I was in control. Never again would I let him control me.

  I pulled the blanket around me tighter.

  Somehow, we were always cold, yet the fire barely kept us warm. The flickering orange flames, would hold our attention, sitting staring, thinking of nothing and everything all at once. They would take me back to the fire at the house, and I would tremble, remembering as the pungent bitter smoke choked me, fighting for my life.

  Something had changed in Danny, since his confessions. As if spilling the secrets of his soul, had dulled the edges of the sword that was his fear. He seemed untroubled, at ease in my company, perhaps for the first time ever. But we did not speak about it I did not ask him more questions. I sat, staring and I thought about his guiltlessness, I thought about the cold. I stared down at my hands, pale and wrinkly, somehow older than they should be and I worried.

  Through the dusty window, the winter sun would beam down lukewarm, bright yellow rays that would filter through the glass, dancing off dirt and dust in the air. As I sat in the path of dusty light, I would close my eyes, trying to ignore the hunger, the weakness that was slowly pervading my life. Some days I was too weak and too sick to leave the room, others I would sit in the garden, staring at the solar panels, worrying with a vague sense of disquiet I could not name.

  I ran a hand through my hair and breathed in the smoky fire, a clump of hair came out in my hand. I stared at it, then touched my hair.

  ‘I’m going bald,’ I told Daniel, who glanced up from his magazine to stare at my head,

  ‘Hmmm’

  ‘I am though. Seriously, look’ I showed him the handful of hair but he only glanced at it,

  ‘It’s not that much, you’re fine,’ exasperated I shook my head,

  ‘Stop dismissing me,’

  ‘Katy, I’m not—’ suddenly he looked worried, the brow creasing over his forehead as he thought,

  ‘Stop telling me I’m fine. I’m not fine, I’m weak and sick’

  ‘You look fine,’

  ‘I’m so tired,’ I whispered to him. But tired didn’t seem to be an adequate word to describe my deep exhaustion, I could feel the heaviness of my bones; we were no longer the vibrant energetic couple we once had been. We were dying. The emptiness of our slow decline was like snow melting in the spring, leaving behind only water to suggest there had been snow at all. Soon there would be nothing left, except the memory of our life. He finally looked at me, and frowned,

  ‘I know. It’s like I never sleep,’ he was agreeing but it felt like defeat, admitting that something was wrong.

  ‘Or eat. I’m so hungry, yet I don’t want to eat,’ he stared at the plate on the floor, where I had left a half-eaten tin of peaches,

  ‘I know,’

  ‘It’s like this world can’t sustain us, we haven’t stopped, we’ve slowed’, voicing my most treacherous thoughts. He nodded as if he’d thought about it himself many times.

  ‘Maybe we were never supposed to survive,’

  ‘That’s why I have to go home, I have to go see my mother, while I have the energy to get out this chair,’

  ‘Sure. In a few days, maybe, you’re too weak to go. Get your strength back first,’ he pleaded, but we both knew there would be no regaining of strength.

  ‘I have to see her,’ my voice was a bare whisper in the hush of the room. I thought perhaps he had hoped I would forget her. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t his fault.

  ‘Why, what good does it do?’

  ‘I need to,’ Daniel was far from understanding, and I hadn’t expected him to. But I knew he would take me. I had to go back to see my mother. Perhaps for the last time.

  I wanted to take the bike, but Daniel was insistent the car was safer in our current state,

  ‘Listen, I’ve already made a safe passage here, when I brought you, we aren’t going to be hurting anyone else.’ He coughed, ‘And, I don’t think I can easily stay on a bike right now,’ I looked at him, noticing just how tired he looked and nodded, getting in the back of the car and putting my seat belt on. Daniel didn’t bother.

  But nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. Daniel drove erratically, swerving everywhere as we went. He often had to take pavements to avoid crashes and cars on the road.

  ‘Please, be more careful,’ I cried to him, desperately as we
swerved around an old woman, he shrugged me off,

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ but inevitably, his best wasn’t enough and we ran our shiny red car into a young couple walking on the pavement, I watched them fly upwards, their blood splattering our windscreen. Their faces frozen mid. sentence, while they died in our path. Daniel didn’t slow down and I turned away saying nothing, I had seen death, I had caused death. But was I ready to die myself?

  We passed the local shop, everything the same as it had always been. Nothing had changed at all in the time we had been gone. It was a snapshot of a normal day, any normal day, you could almost believe that behind the myriad of colourful doors and shiny windows, life carried on as usual. I watched the streets go by, places I had walked, people I had met, and then we were home. I was not at all prepared to face what I would see inside.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My mother looked gaunt, her face hollowed out and pale and dark circles seemed to absorb her sunken eyes. Like staring at a famine victim, so close to death they were practically staring it down. I barely recognized her, in the days we had been gone, someone had stolen my mother and replaced her with this skeletal figure, this dying woman whose wrists looked thin enough to circle with just my thumb and first finger. Her giant eyes childlike and desperate.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I wanted to reach out to her’ comfort what must have been agonizing. It had been a few days, perhaps a month. I’d lost track of time. Daniel took my hand and tried to pull me away, ‘Daniel, just look at her, she’s starving,’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I don’t understand’

  ‘It’s not just her,’ I looked away from my mother for a moment, ‘Look’ he took me to the gilded mirror over our old gas fireplace,

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look, really look’, I stared at me in the mirror. My light brown hair, long and now singed and heat damaged, had the thin, fluffy like appearance of patchy baby hair. My lips, were paler than my skin, so they seemed to disappear into my complexion. My face scarred from the fire, the burns red raw against my pale, almost yellowy skin. I was the colour of watery custard. I looked sick and sickening. But I was not starved, not like her.