Everwhere
Goldie is so slight, so sensitive, so raw – all nerve endings and open wounds – that everything is felt exceedingly acutely, as if seeing it all through a microscope, as if hearing it all through a megaphone. The snap of a twig underfoot is a crack of thunder. The beat of a raven’s wing the gust of a gale, the blood rushing through her veins the roar of river rapids over rocks.
For a moment, Goldie stops walking.
A new noise. One she doesn’t recognize. She cocks her head and closes her eyes to better hear it: thump-thump, thump-thump. She frowns. Her own heart is slow and loud: the dull thud-thud of a bass drum. This beat is fast and soft: the tap-tap of a snare drum. Just like—
But, no, it’s impossible.
The beat of Goldie’s heart quickens, speeding until the two drums are beating as one. She remembers then how they had stood together: nothing separating them, he inside her and she inside him, two liquids poured into a single glass, merging into a single being.
So – Goldie hardly dares hope – can it really be possible?
At that, she hears her sisters’ laughter. Liyana’s is the splash of sudden rainfall, Scarlet’s the crackle of burning branches, Bea’s the wind that whips through the leaves.
When are you going to start believing in the impossible, sister?
Goldie smiles.
You know what I tell them.
‘Who?’
Our younger sisters.
‘What?’
Listen to the whispers that speak of unknown things. Look for the signs that point in unseen directions to unimagined possibilities . . .
Goldie places her hand over her womb.
She waits.
Tap-tap, tap-tap.
A delighted, astonished grin spreads slowly across her face.
It has his heartbeat.