The Tightrope

by Hiba Basit

  Alex exhales rapidly, as if she’s cleaning a smudge on a window. Tears appear at the corners of her eyes, but she keeps a look of fierce determination. Annette does nothing more but watch her as calmly as her mind allows. It was the mirror task that forced her to doubt the sincerity of Alex’s dreams and realise they were, in fact, active thoughts of suicide. When she fell heavily backwards, without waiting, and came into view in the mirror, Annette experienced a horrific vivid image of Alex bouncing back up from the pressure of the rope tied around her neck. When she felt her trembling and caught her eye in the mirror, she recognised the expression instantly.

  Just as I imagine the sharp thud of my body against the wooden stage, the rope catches me and I am saved.

  Just like clockwork, it clicked. The tightrope didn’t catch her, it caught her, trapped her around the neck and killed her, just as she’d wanted at the orphanage, as she was going to do in this hospital. Why she made the dreams up and presented them to her as if they were real was something she had yet to discover.

  ‘Am I right, Alex?’ she asks. I want to tell her she’s right, but she hasn’t passed the test yet. I open my mouth to speak but my throat feels tight. Nothing comes out.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she says, but her calmness confuses me. ‘Sometimes it’s OK to lie.’

  Why isn’t she angry? Why doesn’t she hit me for lying to her? At the orphanage, Andrei told me if I ever lied to him, it wouldn’t go unnoticed. But here, with her, she lets it pass. Nothing Andrei’s told me is coming true here. I feel like I’m in a different world, one that doesn’t make any sense to me and makes me feel like nothing is real.

  Every day, Andrei feels further away. He’s fading so quickly. I’m worried I won’t be able to remember his face one day and the thought frightens me. It makes me wake up with a start each morning and within the seconds that it takes for me to bring him to mind, I already feel like he’s coming back to me broken and I’ve lost another piece of him.

  ‘Can you tell me why you made the dream up?’ she asks. ‘What made you say you felt saved when the tightrope caught you around your neck?’

  The shock races through my body. How did she know? I never told her anything about that! Did she climb into my mind during the exercise? Did my mind fall into her hands as well as my body?

  Everything’s ruined. My plan has broken into pieces. But wasn’t this what I wanted? Wasn’t this the test? To see if she could find out the truth about my dreams. If she cared enough about me to save me. And yet, I never thought she would. I never wanted to trust her.

  The anger inside me pushes me forward. I run past her, dodging her grasp, but she doesn’t even move, just turns to see where I’m going. I thrust the handles of the window up, but they don’t budge. Fury boiling inside me, I grab the nearest object I can find. In the split second that it takes me to hurl it at the window, I notice the words ‘For Me’ written on it. It breaks into two neat pieces. Panic sprouts in my chest. I’ve done a bad thing. I quickly go to pick it up, but she grabs me. I shield my face, waiting to feel the punch, but the blow doesn’t come.

  ‘Don’t touch! The china will cut you,’ she says, carefully lifting the pieces and holding them in her hand. When I lift my face, she smiles kindly. ‘Shall we finish for today?’

  I try and tell her I’m sorry. I want to tell her how this is all my fault, how I ruin everything I touch. Even when I don’t touch anything, things go wrong, as if my presence is enough to mess things up. I should just stop existing.

  When I don’t say anything, she takes a seat, looking calmer than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

  ‘Give it to me!’ She looks at the sharp pieces in her hand and then back at me, looking momentarily stunned. Then she presses something and a red signal shines in the room. ‘Give me the fucking pieces!’ I scream. I lunge at her, hoping one of the pieces will stab me, but she throws the broken mug behind her, grabs my arms and pulls my hands behind my back. My face hits the floor and before I can stop myself, I let out a wail. Without warning, the door crashes open and two large women come into the room. They scan the room like trained animals and instantly head for me.

  ‘Just take the broken pieces away from here!’ she shouts. One of the women says something to her. I hear the word injection and my body jumps up. Her grip immediately tightens and I scream, fear gripping my insides. I am frightened not because of what she might do to me, but because I’m about to lose the only person who’s made me feel safe. If she injects me, I’ll never be able to look at her again.

  She’s speaking but I can’t make out what she’s saying. And then, I see them leave the room and the door clicks shut. Sweat pinpricks my bony armpits as I realise what she’s done. She’s chosen not to let them inject me. No one ever used to say anything when Andrei stuck needles into me. Suddenly, I miss my mummy. I miss the one person who was supposed to look after me and love me no matter what. I miss my mummy who I never got a chance to know.

  ‘You miss who?’ Her voice is nearby. I feel her loosen her grip. I can get up now, but I stay as I am. I don’t notice the tears until they drop sideways off my nose and onto the floor.

  ‘Mummy,’ I whisper. The room is quiet except for the sound of my rapid breathing. I tear at the skin inside my mouth as I wait for her to tell me she’s dead. That she probably killed herself on purpose as soon as she saw the mess she’d have to look after. That if I ever mention her again, she’ll cut my tongue off and feed it to the Basilisks.

  ‘What do you miss about her?’ she asks instead. I have to think about this, because how can I miss someone I never knew?

  ‘Her smile,’ I lie.

  ‘What was her smile like?’

  This time, I shake my head. ‘I can’t remember. It was a long time ago,’ I say.

  ‘It’s possible to miss someone you don’t remember. Sometimes, people make up their memories and miss those. It’s not a bad thing to do this.’ I look at her, clinging to her words. ‘It’s not wrong to do this.’

  ‘I… I don’t remember her.’

  ‘You were very young.’

  Another thought passes me. ‘I miss Andrei too.’

  ‘What do you miss about him?’ she asks after a while. There are so many things I miss about him I don’t know where to start, so I just shrug.

  ‘What words would you use to describe him?’ she asks.

  I stay quiet, fearing I’ll say all the wrong words. ‘He wasn’t bad to me,’ I tell her. ‘I deserved everything that happened back home.’

  ‘What did you deserve?’ she asks, but I’m not sure what to say. After reading me a bedtime story, Andrei always whispered a few words to me, words he saved only for my ears. I remember something he told me only a few months ago, something he started to repeat each night – “everything that comes your way was always meant to come your way.” This is the only way I can explain what I deserved.

  She does something odd next. She gets down on all fours and lies next to me, face up.

  ‘I’m sorry I lied to you. It was a test.’

  ‘Ah, so you made up your own trust exercise.’ The hint of a smile appears on her face. ‘I think that’s fair.’ I’m surprised she thinks so. I was expecting her to be furious but nothing I’m predicting about her is coming true.

  ‘Miss,’ I say, wanting to be more honest. ‘I feel wobbly every day, as if I’m about to fall over the edge of the world.’

  ‘As if you’re walking on a tightrope every day.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound nice.’

  ‘It’s horrible.’

  She meets my gaze, as if considering how to respond. She takes longer than usual, watching the ceiling for a few minutes. ‘What if the tightrope is trying to help you?’ she says. I’m confused by her words. ‘What if it’s not trying to make you fall over? What if the tightrope is trying to teach you how to balance?’

  I’ve never thought about it in this way. ‘How do I learn to balance?’

  ‘We can fi
gure it out together,’ she says.

  Maybe. Just maybe, it’s possible.

  ‘OK,’ I say, and we both look up at our silent audience.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Annette steps out of the shower and drapes a nightgown around her. She saunters towards the mirror and brushes her knots. The house is silent. She catches the sound of the wind circling frantically in and out of the windows. Giving up on her curls, she opens the door to her bedroom and walks downstairs to make a hot drink. David is on the couch, aimlessly flicking through the channels.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’ she asks, hoping to sound natural and airy.

  ‘No,’ he answers mechanically, without turning. His voice is so dismissive that it’s bordering on downright rude.

  She turns away from him and drags herself towards the kettle. As she pours a spoonful of coffee into a mug, she hears him get up. Her heart sinks as she stirs the coffee, waiting to hear his footsteps climb the stairs or rattle out the front door. Instead, they get closer until he’s standing behind her.

  ‘I’d like one after all,’ he says.

  She tries not to turn too fast. ‘OK.’ Her heart starts to hammer as she reaches for another mug. ‘How was work?’

  ‘Good.’ She longs to know what made the day good for him, to personalise the adjective so they can revel in it together. She pours the water into the mugs and stirs, dropping two sugars into his. He takes the mug from her hands, without meeting them. He hasn’t touched her for over a fortnight. ‘Thanks.’ She waits for him to leave, but he pulls a chair out and sits down. She does the same, taking the seat opposite him. She pretends to look around the room as if suddenly awed by its white interior and black and silver sills.

  ‘How was your day?’ he finally asks. It comes out as a whisper and he coughs awkwardly before speaking again. ‘Was it busy?’

  She nods. ‘It was. Really busy.’ She wills herself to say something more, but she’s suddenly lost for words. She wonders if this is how Alex always feels. The thought unsettles her.

  ‘My parents send their condolences.’ The way he says it sounds so formal.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How’s Clive?’

  ‘Not too bad.’ She swallows. ‘Santana is taking it worse.’ After a moment, David pushes his chair back. He stands up, gripping the rear of the chair. Then, without warning, he bangs it into the table, splattering the coffee everywhere. Annette stares at her coffee, no longer as energising as it seemed. A lump rises in her throat as she gets up to leave.

  ‘Stop. I’m sorry!’ he says.

  She stops, turning slightly, and notices the tears pearling in his eyes. Somehow, it makes her feel better to see him finally show her how upset he is.

  ‘What do you have to be sorry about?’

  ‘Just please, sit.’ He paces back and forth, running his hands through his hair, over his face and neck before eventually sitting down and looking at her.

  ‘I know it’s difficult for you to understand why I did what I did, but I never meant to hurt you,’ she says. He traces the edge of his mug with his finger.

  ‘How old is Santana?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ Her words echo in the room as loudly as if she had used a microphone.

  ‘You were twenty-one when you had her?’ She nods. ‘How could you have a child and not tell me?’ The hurt in his voice is so strong that she wants to drown in her coffee right now. ‘Who’s the father, Annette?’

  She struggles to give voice to answer all the questions. The kitchen light around them is dim. Before, it would frustrate her, as she couldn’t find her way around; now it provides an odd source of protection, acting like a veil that hides her from the world, or just from David.

  ‘It was at a nightclub. A couple of friends had taken me out for my twenty-first. It was a run-down club, but it had beer and food so we went in. I remember a lot of noise and sitting in a corner on the couch drinking with my friends. I remember getting up on the dance floor and just dancing away, what do they call it these days, letting loose? Anyway, there was this guy. I’d never seen him before and for a twenty-one-year-old girl out on the go, he was really good looking.’ David gets up to rinse his mug. ‘He came up to me and started to dance. We got talking and then I told a friend I was going back to the bar to get something to eat. I sat with him for a couple of hours, eating, drinking a lot and just talking.’ She turns towards David. His back is to her. ‘If this is too much –.’

  ‘It’s OK. I asked, so keep going!’

  She wants to curl up in the smallest of corners and disappear but she forces herself to continue, knowing she owes him this.

  ‘He asked me if I wanted to go back to his apartment. So, I got into his car and drove to where he lived.’ David is silent. ‘It was a one-night stand, that’s all it was. The next day, I couldn’t remember anything. I woke up at a friend’s place, completely frazzled and distorted, without a clue how I got there.’

  ‘Did you use protection?’

  The question makes her feel like a child again. ‘I remember he said something about it splitting.’

  ‘When did you find out you were pregnant?’

  ‘A few weeks after. When I called him, he said he didn’t want to be a father, was going on tour, or something. It’d mess with his plans! I thought about having an abortion, but I was too scared, I couldn’t go through with it.’

  ‘What about Santana? When did you decide that you didn’t want to look after her?’

  It takes her a moment to realise what he’s said. Rage burns inside her.

  ‘I couldn’t look after her. I was twenty-one. I had no money. I was still studying. I did what was best for her, by giving her away to people who could provide her with every single thing she’d need. It’s not like I gave her up to strangers. I gave her to family!’ He moves away from the kitchen counter and walks out. Baffled, Annette runs after him. ‘I didn’t have a choice! I never intended to get pregnant at my age! I never wanted to give her up like that!’

  ‘She’s not a kid any more. Why not look after her now? Why is she still with her uncle?’ His face suddenly darkens. ‘Does she know who you are?’

  ‘Of course she knows!’ Annette practically detonates. ‘I’ve never hidden anything from her!’

  ‘Just from me then.’

  ‘Look.’ Annette seems to calm down a little. ‘She understands the decision I made back then.’

  David buries his face in his hands and rubs his eyes. ‘What’s it like with Santana?’ he finally asks.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When you go to see her, what’s it like?’

  ‘Well, she’s one of those quiet, shy girls who likes to keep to herself. She’s top of her class at school. The teachers all love her.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  Annette shakes her head. ‘Why do you want to know –.’

  His laugh cuts her short. ‘This is exactly what I was waiting for!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You won’t answer my question, Annie, that’s what! You run away from things the minute they get difficult.’

  ‘Oh God, are you talking about having a baby?’

  ‘No! I’m not talking about that! I’m not talking about the topic that you never talked about. Today. I’m talking about today, Annette, you and Santana, and the fact that you’re a bloody coward when it comes to dealing with real life problems.’ He pushes past her but she grabs onto him. It’s instinctive, desperate.

  ‘Wait! Listen to me,’ she says. ‘I just… fine! Santana and me, we have an amazing relationship. I love her with all my life. She’s the most important person to me in the world. And she feels the same way about me. Even though I’m halfway across the world, she relies on me a lot. She emails me twice a day, I talk to her every week about how she is, what school is like, if she’s doing any extra activities, if anyone’s asked her out. It’s just… how can I tell you all this when you haven’t been a part of it? I don’t want to lay every
thing out in front of you and put you through any more agony. I don’t want to tease you about this special relationship I have with my child when all you’ve ever wanted is to have the same with a child of your own!’

  David blinks back the tears. Annette feels her own tears slide down her face. She reaches out for him. He looks defeated, as if he’s been holding a heavy weight above him all by himself only to have it come crashing down. ‘I’m sorry I never told you about Santana. I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed about me. I didn’t want to lose you over something that happened so long ago.’

  He pushes her away. ‘You could have told me when we started dating, or when we decided that things were getting serious, or wait, when we got married.’

  ‘I couldn’t!’

  ‘Why? Why did you never say anything to me? What did you think I was going to do – run as far away from you as possible?’

  ‘Yes! Because everyone I ever dated did the same thing. No one wants a woman who already has a child. And, then I met you and I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d never felt so blessed in all my life, David. To have you love me was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt. You were different from all the other guys. I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you. But you already resent me. Look at you.’

  ‘I don’t resent you for having a child. I resent you for lying to me for so many years. If you really believed I was different, you would have told me the truth.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Annette tries to calm her breathing.

  ‘I’d never have left you because you have a child. Because you had to conceive a girl all by yourself.’

  Feeling herself choke on her guilt, she takes a sharp breath. ‘I’m so sorry you found out the way you did. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry that you haven’t got a relationship with my daughter because you didn’t know she existed! I’m sorry I was stupid when I was young and got pregnant!’

  He lets out a long sigh. ‘Why are you sorry about that? You love your daughter, don’t you?’