you and me – POSTCARD #27
The saturated colours on this postcard were just beautiful. I think it’s an old postcard from Britain, but the Anonymous sender is from Australia. Thank you, Stranger, for ‘the space between‘.
the space between
I can’t remember how long we’ve been here.
The days are sneaky, they slide into one another. I pay attention to my contraceptive pill. The days labelled around the small tablets help. It’s easy to know the morning. He wakes me and I accommodate without making a sound. We don’t do it any other way.
Breakfast is also easy. Every morning I walk around the buffets with white table-clothes. The children sit with their parents, sipping tea. My mother would approve. I toast a slice of bread. He reads the paper and I scrape butter and marmalade on my toast behind his broadsheet. It’s the loudest thing in the room.
The afternoon can be difficult. There may be an activity. I say yes to every suggestion. It’s easy to say yes. My mouth opens and offers with word without pause. No stays trapped, vibrating behind my teeth.
The island across from the resort has a castle on it. It’s very old, he says behind the brochure. At the island a youth with dark hair helps me from the boat. He rubs his thumb across my wrist and tells me I’m very beautiful. He tells me my new husband is a lucky man.
I wonder how much time has passed on the way back to the mainland. We stand where the crumbled cliff steps end in the sea and watch the small boat disappear in the space between us. He kisses my hand, the one with the diamond on it, and tells me how pleased he is before he heads back to the villa.
I watch the rising tide lap at my loafers and realise the suede will be ruined. I toss them into the sea and make a wish.
But I can’t remember what it is.