Space

‘I have to go to space tonight,’ Bobby told me. 

‘Oh, are you? That’s exciting! Are you going in a rocket?’ He didn’t have any spaceship toys out, but it was good to see him have a flight of fancy. Usually he was such a sober boy, even literal-minded; I wanted to encourage his imagination.

Bobby chewed his lip. Maybe I’d made him feel pressured to perform; he looked worried at my response. ‘He didn’t say about a rocket,’ he said.  

‘Who said, darling?’

‘The spaceman.’

I set him on my lap and he leaned his head on my chest. ‘Well, I bet you’ll have a wonderful time.’

‘I don’t know,’ Bobby said. ‘I think it’ll be dark.’

‘You could bring your torch,’ I said. ‘Here, use this one.’

Bobby held the little torch very tight. ‘The spaceman didn’t say I could bring a torch.’

‘Well, you just keep it with you.’

After supper we sat on the sofa to watch a cartoon. He climbed on my lap again; I could feel him shaking.

‘Are you sick, sweetheart?’

‘No, but I don’t want to fall into space.’

‘What space?’ I looked around. The curtains were closed, no sky visible.

Bobby held his mouth tight closed. He pointed to the gap between the cushions.

‘You won’t fall in, sweetie.’

He looked at me, his eyes dark. Then he looked at the floorboards, pointed to them.

‘What’s that, love? Space is up.’

He pointed again, his finger stab, stab, stabbing at dark stripes between each slat. He whispered very quietly in my ear, ‘Between.’

‘Oh Bobby.’ I stroked his hair. ‘You’re fine, lovie.’

‘I don’t want to go to space,’ he said.

‘It’s all right. Come on, let’s get you to bed. I think maybe you’re too tired.’

But when we got to his bedroom, I found he’d stuffed his duvet under the bed. He’d taken his clothes out of the cupboard and crammed them into the gap under his wardrobe and dresser; his mattress was hard up against the wall, and he’d taken towels from the bathroom to cover his toybox.

‘Don’t tell me off!’ he said, and buried his face in my hip before I could say anything. ‘I don’t want to go to space!’

I didn’t know what to say. 

After a long moment, my heart broke a little. ‘All right, darling,’ I said. ‘I won’t tell you off. Would you feel safer if you slept with Mummy tonight?’

He nodded into my body, clinging tight. 

We curled up together, Bobby pressed against me so hard there was no space between us, and his torch was clutched hard in his hand. 

It was the cold that woke me. I’d never felt anything like it: a cold so fierce it was almost heavy, dragging at my skin until I felt I was falling into it. 

Bobby was curled in a tight ball. The torch was still in his hand, but loose with sleep now, and I drew it from his as gently as I could. The cold was tumbling above me, up at the top of the bed where there was just a little space between the headboard and the wall.

I turned quietly. It was a toy torch and it cast a weak beam. But when I switched it on, I saw the hands reaching – or the ten finger-places in the air where there was no colour, no heat, no light. Fingers of absolute void reaching towards us. And then I looked up and saw two gaps in the universe, two round black holes, watching, waiting, their cold sucking us in. 

I looked into the eyes of the Space Man. 

The pull was ferocious, but I managed to grab Bobby just in time and slam the bed towards the wall, closing the space. Then he wasn’t there any more – but I didn’t feel safe again until I’d carried Bobby through to his own room and crowded us into his narrow little bed. What a good boy, to cram all the spaces with mess. 

It was warm in Bobby’s room and he curled his little arms around me. When he woke in the morning, I knew I’d have to ask him if the Space Man would come again tomorrow night. 

posted by Kit Whitfield  # 7:05 am