The Fall of Man

Part I chapter 5

Chapter 5

Three weeks later, it has become apparent that Noah isn’t speaking any more.

At first the quiet was a blessing, an easy way to avoid discussing the awkward absence of his mother. After a few days, however, I began to get the feeling that both of my immediate family may have died hunched over the toilet bowl. Or maybe Noah’s death followed close behind – maybe it was the moment when he walked in on her lifeless body, school books in hand, that his heart broke. I imagine his spirit evacuating the scene, fluttering upwards to leave his skin neatly folded like a hand-towel on the tiled floor of the bathroom beside his mother’s corpse and his navy blue workbook, whose soft absorbent pages soak up the sticky liquid that is pooled on the floor. Either way he is nothing but a husk now.

I’ve avoided talking to his school. They didn’t call for the first two weeks, except to offer their sincerest condolences. This week, however, there have been a few polite enquiries.

“Mr. Bale, this is Kathy calling (administrative assistant, irritating pedant) – I was wondering how you and Noah are getting along. If there’s anything we can do to help, please call me back on…”

“Hello Mr. Bale. Jackie here, Alstone Primary.” (Headmistress, and puffed-up power monger. She loves to talk in the third person, as though she somehow is the school - including all of its various staff, classrooms, outbuildings, tennis courts and powder-coated perimeter railings.) “It’s 10:15 on Thursday morning. We would like to see Noah back at school next week. If you think he is ready to return, of course. Please call us to discuss this at your earliest convenience on…”

"Hi, Mr. Bale. It’s Kathy again. I’m just calling because we haven’t heard from you – please call me back when you get a moment. The number is…”

Shortly after that message was left, I unplugged the telephone. Now is not a good time…