concern.'You've gone white
as a sheet.'
'I'm just a little tired. I'm going to head on back.' I had to get outside.
I started fumbling notes from my wallet, not seeing what they
were.
'Wait, we'll drive you.'
'No!' I put my hand on her arm before she could turn to Paul.
'Please. I'll be fine, really.'
'You sure?'
I made myself smile. 'Certain.'
She wasn't convinced, but I was already pushing my chair back,
dropping a handful of notes on to the table without knowing if it
was enough or not. Paul and the others were still busy talking, but I
didn't stop to see if anyone else noticed me leave. It was all I could
do not to break into a run as I barged through the door into the
street. I sucked in deep breaths of the cool spring air, but didn't stop
even then. I kept walking, not knowing or caring where I was heading,
wanting only to keep moving.
I stepped off the kerb and jumped back as a horn blared
deafeningly to my left. I stumbled back on to the pavement as a
trolley car rattled past inches in front of me, its windows bright
splashes of light in the darkness. As soon as it had passed I hurried
across the road, taking turnings at random. It had been years since I'd
been to Knoxville, and I had no idea of where I was and even less of
where I was going.
I didn't care.
It was only when I saw the stretch of blackness beyond the streetlights
ahead of me that I finally slowed. I could feel the river even
before I saw it, a moistness in the air that finally brought me back to
myself. I was drenched in sweat as I leaned on the railings. The
bridges that spanned the tree-lined banks were skeletal arches in the
darkness, dotted with lights. Below them, the Tennessee river sedately
idled past, just as it had for thousands of years. And probably would
for thousands more.
What the hell's wrong with you? Running scared just because of a cheap perfume. But I felt too wrung out to be ashamed. Feeling as alone as
I ever had in my life, I took my phone out and scrolled through my
contacts. Jenny's name and number were highlighted on the
illuminated display. I held my thumb poised over the dial key, badly
wanting to talk to her again, to hear her voice. But it was the early
hours of the morning back in the UK, and even if I called her, what
would I say?
It had all been said already.
'Got the time?'
I gave a start as the voice came from beside me. I was in an area of
darkness between streetlights, and all I could make out of the man
was the red glow of his cigarette. Belatedly, I realized that the street was deserted. Stupid. All this way just to get mugged.
'Half past ten,' I told him, tensing for the attack that would come
next.
But he only gave a nod of thanks and walked on, disappearing into
the dark beyond the next streetlight. I shivered, and not only because
of the damp chill coming from the river.
The welcoming yellow lights of a taxi were approaching on the
lonely street. Flagging it down, I went back to my hotel.
The cat is your earliest memory.
There must be others before it, you know that. But none so vivid. None
that you take out and replay time after time. So real that even now you can
still feel the sun on the back of your head, see your shadow on the ground in
front of you as you bend over.
The soil is soft and easy to turn. You use a piece of wood broken off the
fence, a piece of white picket starting to soften and rot. It threatens to break again, but you don't have far to dig.
It isn't deep.
You smell it first. A cloying, sweet stink that's both familiar and like
nothing you've smelled before. You stop for a while, sniffing the damp soil,
nervous but more excited. You know you shouldn't be doing this, but the
curiosity is too great. Even then you had questions; so many questions. But
no answers.
The wood hits something almost as soon as you continue digging. A
different texture in the soil. You begin to scrape away the final covering of
earth, noticing that the
as a sheet.'
'I'm just a little tired. I'm going to head on back.' I had to get outside.
I started fumbling notes from my wallet, not seeing what they
were.
'Wait, we'll drive you.'
'No!' I put my hand on her arm before she could turn to Paul.
'Please. I'll be fine, really.'
'You sure?'
I made myself smile. 'Certain.'
She wasn't convinced, but I was already pushing my chair back,
dropping a handful of notes on to the table without knowing if it
was enough or not. Paul and the others were still busy talking, but I
didn't stop to see if anyone else noticed me leave. It was all I could
do not to break into a run as I barged through the door into the
street. I sucked in deep breaths of the cool spring air, but didn't stop
even then. I kept walking, not knowing or caring where I was heading,
wanting only to keep moving.
I stepped off the kerb and jumped back as a horn blared
deafeningly to my left. I stumbled back on to the pavement as a
trolley car rattled past inches in front of me, its windows bright
splashes of light in the darkness. As soon as it had passed I hurried
across the road, taking turnings at random. It had been years since I'd
been to Knoxville, and I had no idea of where I was and even less of
where I was going.
I didn't care.
It was only when I saw the stretch of blackness beyond the streetlights
ahead of me that I finally slowed. I could feel the river even
before I saw it, a moistness in the air that finally brought me back to
myself. I was drenched in sweat as I leaned on the railings. The
bridges that spanned the tree-lined banks were skeletal arches in the
darkness, dotted with lights. Below them, the Tennessee river sedately
idled past, just as it had for thousands of years. And probably would
for thousands more.
What the hell's wrong with you? Running scared just because of a cheap perfume. But I felt too wrung out to be ashamed. Feeling as alone as
I ever had in my life, I took my phone out and scrolled through my
contacts. Jenny's name and number were highlighted on the
illuminated display. I held my thumb poised over the dial key, badly
wanting to talk to her again, to hear her voice. But it was the early
hours of the morning back in the UK, and even if I called her, what
would I say?
It had all been said already.
'Got the time?'
I gave a start as the voice came from beside me. I was in an area of
darkness between streetlights, and all I could make out of the man
was the red glow of his cigarette. Belatedly, I realized that the street was deserted. Stupid. All this way just to get mugged.
'Half past ten,' I told him, tensing for the attack that would come
next.
But he only gave a nod of thanks and walked on, disappearing into
the dark beyond the next streetlight. I shivered, and not only because
of the damp chill coming from the river.
The welcoming yellow lights of a taxi were approaching on the
lonely street. Flagging it down, I went back to my hotel.
The cat is your earliest memory.
There must be others before it, you know that. But none so vivid. None
that you take out and replay time after time. So real that even now you can
still feel the sun on the back of your head, see your shadow on the ground in
front of you as you bend over.
The soil is soft and easy to turn. You use a piece of wood broken off the
fence, a piece of white picket starting to soften and rot. It threatens to break again, but you don't have far to dig.
It isn't deep.
You smell it first. A cloying, sweet stink that's both familiar and like
nothing you've smelled before. You stop for a while, sniffing the damp soil,
nervous but more excited. You know you shouldn't be doing this, but the
curiosity is too great. Even then you had questions; so many questions. But
no answers.
The wood hits something almost as soon as you continue digging. A
different texture in the soil. You begin to scrape away the final covering of
earth, noticing that the
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