THE CHAIR

by Carolyn Young

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THE CHAIR

A burst of light splashed across the bedroom ceiling as the hall light switched on. The bedroom door had blown open with the draught from the old wooden window frame and I moaned loudly to Nathan as my eyes squinted angrily against the light. I grabbed as much duvet as my fists could hold and I registered what I thought looked like the time of three-thirty, but I couldnt be sure. The world was fuzzy around the edges without my glasses on. It was irrelevant, it felt early, and freezing cold.
"Nathan, turn the light off, I shouted through the bed-clothes. What the heck was he doing up anyway, hell have fallen asleep in front of the telly again I thought, Sky sports had a lot to answer for. I dreamily cuddled further down the bed with the anticipation of his arms around me in a few minutes. My memory kicked in with a shiver as my toes hit the cold metal of the bed frame.
No-one would turn the light off and no-one would be scrambling into bed within the next thirty seconds. I uncurled from my side and lay on my back, the blanket still stuck firmly under the weight of my head. The light blazing across my bed made the blanket a horrible vomit-coloured cream and as the tip of my nose grazed across it, I could feel the tears sticking to my cheeks.
Since Nathans death two years ago, I had managed to get through the days without a problem. Work had easily increased from part-time to full-time, the family that was always going to happen was definitely not going to happen now and family and friends knew better than to bother me.
But the nights. The nights scared me. Every noise that I heard I had to investigate, even the stupid ones that I knew what they were. How many times had I got up in the middle of the night to shut the bathroom door because the draught would rattle the blinds? It wasnt a loud annoying noise or even a sound that I couldnt identify but yet I still had to drag myself out of my warm bed just to close the door. I missed Nathan, not I might say to do these checks (although he usually did the downstairs noises!) but for the comfort and warmth of his arms around me the minute he was back into bed. Sometimes we would talk for a little while and it was this that I missed, the midnight talks in the dark. The secret worries and silly thoughts whispered to the blackness of the bedroom walls, the shadows of the wardrobe and the rocking chair holding in our wants and wishes, all our fears and panics. Nathan was as laid-back and relaxed about life as I was stressed-out, but because he knew I was neurotic about things, and I knew I was neurotic about things, thats how it worked between us. And thats why after two years, I havent forgiven him.
It had been a senseless death, a needless death, a death used up before time. The now familiar thoughts jogged through my mind like an old running partner. I shuffled my head from side to side and tugged at the blanket, Sleep was a few hours away now if it happened at all and I hauled myself up the bed, staring at the open doorway. I knew my anxiety would eventually insist that I get up and turn the light off, and I wanted to enjoy another few seconds of warmth. I blamed Nathan it seemed an automatic thing to do,
"You could have checked them in the morning, if youd been here. Thats what husbands do, now who am I going to ask, and dont say your DadYou could have used that tool bag that your Mum got you for Christmas I started to laugh at the memory. Nathan was anything but a DIY man but one year his mum must have run out of ideas and thought this to be an ideal present. It had hundreds of handheld tools in a grey canvas bag and we had giggled for the rest of Christmas day with jokes about Bob the Builder and his bag.
"Oh, its freezing. I grabbed my dressing gown and walked across the wooden floor, shoving my feet into slippers as I went. I felt along the wall for the two way light-switch and I realised that the downstairs light was on as well, giving the house a warm, full feeling.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Nathan, who fixed the electrics in here, Harry Potter? I hit the switch again but the downstairs light remained lit.
"Okay, Okay two minutes and Ill be back in bed. I never used to talk to myself but now, especially at night I was my own best friend. I folded my arms tightly around my chest as I trundled down the stairs it was bitterly cold, as cold as it would have been outside and even my toes shivered. I slapped my hand against the light switch and darkness covered me in the time it took to blink. I swore. The upstairs light should have stayed on but | wasnt going to mess around. It didnt matter. I could get upstairs without the light Id rather do that than play silly games with the light switch all night.
"Right, upstairs. I stuck my hand out for the banister and hauled my-self up each step. It seemed a ridiculous thing to think that the darkness was blacker than I had ever known but thats what I thought. A blackness that was like walking into nothing, I could feel the stairs underneath me but in front of me was to dive into the sea at midnight. Although cautious of my footing all I wanted was to get back to bed , put the covers over my head and go back to sleep and worry about faulty electrics in a few hours time.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I tripped on my slipper and grabbed out at the banister catching it awkwardly. Cursing loudly, I sat down on the top stair and cried like a toddler with a grazed knee.

A door slammed shut. I turned around and stood up so quickly that the walls shimmered towards me and my breathing echoed against the walls. The draught had that breezed around the hall for twenty four hours a day had now disappeared and there was nothing but my own breath. And a light coming from under my bedroom door.

As I stood outside the door, the terror began to shut me down and I couldnt move. I was cold and rigid, stone-like. My feet were fixed in my slippers as if they were concrete and I could only watch as the handle slowly pulled downwards to the floor, listen to the well-known and annoying creak as the door slowly opened and follow the sphere of light across the bedroom floor as the door opened as wide as it could. A familiar squeak and creak across the wooden floor hit my ears and I wanted to scream for Nathan, but not even my tears made a sound. What was happening?

Something compelled me to move, I had to because I knew what the sound was. As impossible as it was. I knew. And then it stopped.
My hand reached out and touched the door, it felt like a door which surprised me it should have felt cold or hot, or something strange. If this was a scary film, there would be something behind the door or somebody waiting to kill me. I walked into the bedroom.
Everything was as it should be everything was as I had left it only a few minutes ago. I walked towards the bed and told myself that it was only the electrics that were playing up and turning the lights on and off. Everything was alright. I could take the bulb out for tonight. Everything was alright.
Job done and my bed was calling me for the last few hours of the night. I felt so sleepy and yet shivery from everything that had happened. I thought of Nathan. Tonight the dreams came quickly

In the corner of the room the rocking chair slowly creaked with the weight of a man, a man with a tool bag that was full of brand new tools.

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THE CHAIR