Babe - Ron Geva
- nonaorbach
- Feb 12
- 2 min read
Updated: Feb 18
It’s Monday. Gali appears at the doorway in her pyjamas.
“Slime!”
The glue cap is stuck, it has been fused to its body since last Monday. Gali glares at me holding a towel and twisting the cap. She laughs, and a droplet of saliva gathers at the corner of her mouth.
“You’re useless, give it here.”
The glue flows from the nozzle in thick, white streams into the disposable bowl. Gali squeezes the blue paint, which drips into the white pool, swirling in agitated circles.
We sit on the cold floor. I drip borax water into the mixture, but Gali grabs the bottle and pours it all in. She dives into the bowl, kneading, pounding, and squeezing. The material squeals like a thirsty baby. Gali feeds it with clouds of shaving foam, flesh of clay, and nectar of hair conditioner. A few more drops of saliva, and she lifts the squishy mass up. It stretches downward, grasping, clinging to the floor.
“Stupid fu..,” She looks at me and scoffs, “It’s all your fault. The slime hates you. You bring bad luck to all the slimes in the world.”
The slime watches her rage. She coats it in glitter, suffocates it with sand, and punctures it with colourful beads. The blue colour turns brown, the bowl cracks, and the floor absorbs the muck. Gali slams the goo, smacks it, presses, bashes. Her pyjamas are stained, her hair dotted with crusted glue.
Finally, the slime yields, retracting into itself, no longer resisting. Everything falls silent.
Gali’s laugh is seasoned with warm salty tears. She lies on her back, clutching the newborn to her chest.
“Gah gah… dah dah…” she mumbles.
My throat tightens. I hear my voice whispering, “What’s going on? Is there a baby here? A little baby?”
Gali smiles at me, “Gah gah dah dah”.
She holds up the mass close to her mouth, I ask if I can touch it, carefully extending my hand to stroke the bundle.
Gali immediately gets on all fours, growling at me to stay away.
I want to run, but I know I mustn’t move.
Gali barks wildly until she’s exhausted, then sits and stares at me. I see her slowly coming back, recognizing me.
Suddenly, she collapses into my arms, closing her eyes and surrendering.
Time stops.
We breathe together through helplessness, abandonment, loss and pain.
The slime slips from her hands and lies orphaned on the floor.
Ron Geva
ความคิดเห็น