Opia
[Vin is in Lena Gardens, holding a baby. She is sitting on the sofa in the living room. Outside, she can hear the voices of children at the school across the road, and the occasional hum of traffic, or rumble of the Tube snaking its way into the station, just a block away.] [Vin looks down at the baby, who has a perfect, round beauty mark in the middle of her forehead. The baby looks up at Vin with eyes as dark and blue as the deepest sea and smiles toothlessly. Vin reaches out to stroke the baby's cheek with her finger, and the baby in turn wraps tiny fingers around it.] ["Are you hungry, Opia?" Vin hears herself ask. The baby gurgles. Vin unbuttons her shirt and offers her breast to her child, who takes to it immediately. She sits placidly, stroking the girl's jet black hair and admiring the iron bars in the living room window. These will keep the danger out, she thinks, proudly.] [Vin calls for Holmes. She can hear sounds coming from his lab. She wants him to see how well Opia is eating now; wants him to be with her and the child. She calls for him again but there is no reply. "He must be wearing his ear goggles," she informs the suckling child. She feels more peaceful than she can remember feeling.] [There is still no reply; only the clatter of things being moved around, anonymously, through a closed door, in a room which was only sometimes hers. Vin gets up, Opia still at her breast, and slowly walks to the lab door. "Come see, Holmes," she says, turning the door handle.] [She pushes the door open slowly. Holmes stands naked by the wooden counter. The only features she recognises are his hair and his hands. He has no face. There is a woman with green eyes and dark brown hair, who looks just like her, but is not her. The woman is giving him oral sex. She does not stop when she hears Vin come in. Nor does he.] [She begins to cry, because she does not know how else to react. She has to get away, to take Opia away from the mess.] [Opia, at her breast, has turned into a ripe pomegranate.] -- Vin wakes up with a gasp and reaches for Holmes. He is not there. It takes a few moments and a lot of effort to recall where she is and why he isn't there [my house]. The dream hangs in the air around her like thick smoke - so present she can almost touch it, but threatening to disperse if she does. She shivers despite the warmth of her blankets and begins to cry. She looks at the clock on her bedside table. It is 7 in the morning. She has only slept four hours, and her sleep has been tiring. Sleep is not a safe place. She forces herself out of bed. She wanders to the kitchen, trying to shake the dark cloud away. She paces the room, her body tense, filled with static. Fresh air and a run, she thinks. That will clear this up. -- [Faster.] She breathes deeply as she pushes herself harder, running on the footpath in Regent's Park. The air is cold and the flowers are wet with dew or rain, she doesn't know which. [Run faster.] She works up a sweat. Her pace is furious. Her feet hurt as they thud-thud against the floor. The faulty nerves in her back begin to tingle, then ache from the strain. She acknowledges the pain but doesn't do a thing to stop it. [There is always pain. Pain is acceptable. Pain is purifying. Faster.] A strange numbness fills the corners of her mind, the back of her neck, behind her ears. There is a momentary sensation of elation and floating. She hasn't eaten in two days. She continues to run, crossing the bridge, breathing. The edges of her vision start to darken. At no point does the thought of stopping cross her mind. It is her legs that stop for her. They buckle. She goes down like a foal, in a heap on the floor. Her last thought before the nothing is 'keep running'. --[Black]-- The first thing she sees upon waking is a black labrador sniffing at her, wagging its tail. "Sit, Shadow! Leave the lady alone..." Vin blinks and tilts her head up, trying to find the source of the voice. She does not know how she came to be sitting on a bench, or how it is that she is hunched with her head between her knees. All she remembers is running. "Oh, thank goodness, you're up!" A middle-aged woman, round in the middle, comes into Vin's field of vision. "You'll have to ignore Shadow, he's just a curious little boy." The dog whines and sits at Vin's feet. The woman crouches beside her and holds out a bottle of water. "Try and have a sip of water, my dear. You've had a little fall." Vin looks up at the woman's face, which is filled with concern, and she blinks. When she tries to thank her, no words come out. "Shh, shh. Just have a wee drink. Take it easy now," clucks the woman, bringing the bottle up to Vin's lips and tilting it back. Vin lets her do so. The water feels cold and good. Vin drinks it obediently, understanding what must have happened. [I fainted.] [A stranger helped me???] "Th...anks," Vin finally croaks, raising her hand to rub her temple. She is aware of pain in her ankle, which she must have twisted in the fall. She tries to move it, and hisses as the pain shoots like electricity up her leg and to her spine. [Broken?] "Easy now, dear. We'll see to that in a minute. Have some more water." Vin does so. She looks at the woman with eyes as deep and green as the deepest sea as she is fed. "I'm Orla," the woman says, pressing the back of her hand to Vin's forehead and pursing her lips into a line. "We'll need to get some food in you." Vin frowns and tries to clear her throat. "Th...anks," she starts again. "I am Vin." "Will you let me take you to the clinic, Vin, dear?" Orla says, twisting the cap back onto the bottle. "We'll get that ankle of yours checked." Vin nods weakly. It feels strange to be taken care of by a stranger; even more so to be taken care of by a woman. -- Two hours later, with the diagnosis of a sprained ankle, painkillers, and an order of bed rest, as well as a lunch consisting of a pasty, a cup of tea, and two apples, Orla puts Vin into a taxi. "Take care of yourself, Vin," Orla says. "Do you have someone to come and take care of you?" "My boyfriend will be home," Vin lies through a smile. "Thank you for everything, Orla." She reaches for her hand and squeezes it, then reaches out to pet Shadow, who slobbers all over her. Orla shuts the door and Vin is driven home. She feels entirely ridiculous; childish, even. She doesn't know how she will explain this to anyone: not the injured foot, nor the pomegranate baby which still appears fresh in her mind. The other thing doesn't bear thinking about, although she can still see it if she closes her eyes. His sinewy arms tense, his beautiful hands gripping the edge of the counter, his hips moving for another woman who looks like her. It is the mark of an overworked mind, she thinks. [Everything is alright. Remember his bed.] Once home, she collapses onto the sofa and, reaching for her mobile, sends Holmes a somewhat cheerful text. She swallows two painkillers and is soon lulled into a dreamless, opiate sleep.
