Read Online The Stopped Heart by Julie Myerson - Free Book Online Page B

thing.
    What thing?
    The thing that you hit with the hammer to show how strong you are.
    B ACK HOME G RAHAM SHOWS HER THE THINGS HE ’ S GOT FOR THE dog, things he’s been hiding in the old apple shed at the bottom of the garden, a place where he says he knew she would never dream of looking. There’s a bed made of soft brown furry fabric. Metal bowls. A bag of dried puppy food. A plush toy that is supposed to be in the shape of a bone, but which they both agree looks more like a legless rat.
    For a quick moment this makes her laugh and she sees how eagerly he jumps on that fact, his whole face brightening.
    â€œLook,” he tells her as they sit together on the bench in the kitchen and watch the little dog potter around on the sheets ofnewspaper they’ve had to put down. “I knew it was a risk; obviously I did. But I also knew that if I asked you, you’d say no before you’d even thought about it.”
    Mary says nothing. His arm is around her. He squeezes her shoulder.
    â€œWell?” he says. “Isn’t it true?”
    She doesn’t look at him. Is that what she’s turned into? she wonders, a person who says no to everything without even thinking?
    She holds out her fingers to the dog, who sniffs at them, tail moving gently from side to side. Feeling Graham watching her.
    â€œBut you were right,” he goes on. “The other day—when you said all we do is watch TV. It’s true. It is all we seem to do. We need to do other things. We need stuff in our lives, even difficult stuff. We need to start living again.”
    Mary looks at him.
    â€œBy getting a dog?”
    He glances back at the dog for a moment as if he expects it to answer the question.
    â€œWell, it’s a start, isn’t it?”
    Mary says nothing. She allows herself to touch the animal’s dark head. The softness behind her ears, the sprinkling of dark freckles on her white nose. Two black patches around her eyes.
    â€œHas she got a name?”
    Graham shakes his head, but she can feel his delight at the question.
    â€œThe woman said they’ve never called it anything. What do you think? What should she be called?”
    Mary hesitates.
    â€œWe can’t keep her. I mean it. We just can’t.”
    He keeps his eyes on Mary—soft, apologetic.
    â€œJust give yourself some time, darling.”
    She shakes her head. “I won’t change my mind.”
    Graham sighs. He passes his hand over his face.
    â€œAll right. Three days. Can you just give me three days? Will you do that for me? I told her we’d decide in three days.”
    He says he’ll take the dog for a walk around the garden. She watches them both go, the little dog leading him as it sniffs and pulls and wanders. She thinks that they both look very content.
    But ten minutes later, glancing out of an upstairs window, she sees him sitting on the white bench with the dog at his feet. His head is in his hands. She watches him for a few more moments, then she moves away.
    T HAT NIGHT IN BED, HE TURNS TO HER AND FOR THE FIRST TIME in as long as she can remember, she lets him in. He does what he hardly ever does these days: holding her to him, kissing her, putting his lips on the parts of her that are nearest to his mouth. She hears him telling her he loves her. He licks her bottom lip, tasting her, and then she feels him nudging at her, pressing and parting, gaining ground. A sigh, a little moan—the old familiar sounds and rhythms, breath and body, skin and hair, fingers, lips, tongue. The bright, warm taste of his saliva. The skin of his thighs, his belly, hot against her. A quick nip with his teeth.
    Afterward, she lies there. Calm. Wet. Breathing. Thinking that perhaps she won’t take a pill tonight. She’ll just stay very still and see what happens without.
    She gazes at the slit of sky just visible under the blind—put up recently to replace the too-short curtains. Navy blue,