The Shovel.

She ate the shovel first. It was poking out of the garden bed, glinting in the sun. I saw her clock it with her eyes. She does that before she eats, looks right at the thing with a look that says “I see you.” Then when enough time has passed to forget all about the shovel and several other memories that haven’t been fastened down, the time Aunty Gwen tutted over you touching a cake with your fingers or the first time you tried pineapple, she grabs the shovel and eats it. Chews it into little pieces. When she smiles she has yellow plastic and black rubber caught in the grooves of her teeth. 

Selina always looks at me and makes a big sigh when it happens. “We should have never left the shovel out. We made a mistake.”

For several days afterwards I knew the whole garden was a goner. She was looking at the garden whilst she ate the shovel, thinking “I see you.” The flowers and the grass and all the mounds upon mounds upon mounds of dirt. She made her move when you had forgotten the name of your grade three primary school teacher and all the toys you had been gifted in 1985. It took about two hours but she managed it without the slightest hint of indigestion. The space where it had been gaped like a wound. “We should never have left the garden there” said Selina. “We made a mistake.”

I’d never seen her eat a living thing. She was once going to eat a snail but something about it changed her mind. The slow way it curled its eyes back into its head. I thought at the time it was appreciation or perhaps even love. Now I think it’s because whilst we were waiting to forget, the snail moved on. When you forgot the squeaky sound your favorite pair of shoes made when you walked and the fear you felt the first time you sneezed, she may very well have gone back, only to find the pavement empty and the snails slime dried by the sun.

So I was taken by surprise when she gazed right into me with a look that said “I see you.”  For the first few nights after the look I lay awake in the dark worrying. Then I would think about the snail and how it had just moved its delicate feelings without any sound at all and I felt better. As time passed it started to feel more and more ridiculous and I started to forget about it completely.

I forgot about the tree in the backyard of my childhood home that dropped sharp pointy leaves. I forgot about using the leaves as swords to fight invisible opponents with my brothers. I forgot about the banana passion fruits that hung over our neighbours fence and I forgot the words to the national anthem. As the words were lost, she lent over and ate my heart.

Its beat is a different rhythm from hers. Mine is like a waltz and her’s is like a tango. Now side by side they knock about in her rib-cage fighting for space and blood. Selina looks on with a concerned expression on her face. “You should never have left your heart in there. You made a mistake.”

I watch the birds flitter about on the fence in the sun and like her I see them. I hold them in my gaze, count their misfortunes and then let them go.