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Bubbles: Shortbread's Light Bite

Published 9 months ago

Today's Light Bite is a beautifully written tale from Diane Dickson.  

Bubbles by Diane Dickson

Sylvie looked down at the dishes in the soapy, slightly greasy water where her fingers disappeared under the rapidly vanishing bubbles. The light sparkled and popped as the tiny globes exploded and the infinitesimal rainbows vanished in the blink of an eye.

She had always loved bubbles, the luxurious bath type ones that wrapped you in a quilt of scented foam. The ones that children, and sometimes Sylvie herself, made by blowing through a plastic ring, and the sort that floated out of wonderful bubble machines. Of all the things that she wished she had, and there were many, a bubble machine came pretty high on the list.

Swishing her fingers in the sink she encouraged some more foam onto the surface and cupped her hand to lift out a palm full. The evening light through the window played with the froth filling her hand with a wonderland of prisms. Lowering her face nearer to the mound of soap she lost herself in the little technicolor worlds.

“What the hell are you playing at now you daft cow?”

The kitchen door slammed against its hinges, and jolted her rudely back to reality. A vice closed around her wrist as her hand was smashed against the side of the sink over and over causing a couple of her plates to cascade to the floor where they smashed against the tiles.

“Haven’t you finished the bloody pots yet you lazy bitch. Get a move on. You’re driving me to the pub. I’m meeting the lads in ten minutes.”

“Okay Dave, sorry. I was just looking at the bubbles.”

“Bubbles, soddin’ bubbles. Christ woman I swear you get more and more crackers every bloody day. Get a move on will ya. – Christ almighty, soddin’ bubbles.”

Muttering under his breath her husband stalked out of the room. She listened as he thudded upstairs, and shortly heard the flush of the toilet and the slam of the bedroom door.

Well at least he hadn’t really hit her. She rubbed at her hand as it began to swell and discolour. She watched fascinated as the bruise started to form. No this one wasn’t too bad. She stood for just another moment, her face expressionless, her mind trailing slowly through her life. The pills from the doctor made everything seem dreamlike as if she was outside looking at herself.

She could cope with the shouting. It didn’t bother her at all any more, no not at all. The beltings didn’t really have that much impact, except when they were so bad that they needed a trip to the Accident and Emergency, but then it was really the embarrassment that bothered her. She was immune to the pain after all these years. The sadness was the only thing that had an impact now, it was deep and grey and part of her soul. The doctor said it was depression and boredom and she should get herself a job. He didn’t understand though, Dave wasn’t about to let her go out to work. Not letting her mix with others was the main tool in his arsenal.

Sighing she pulled out the plug and watched the water gurgle away down the drain leaving little trails of white froth on the stainless steel. Sylvie would like to drift away like that, off down the drain and away.

Turning she walked through to the hall and picked up the car keys. She went out to wait for her husband in the car. As she sat, almost immobile behind the wheel, it dawned on her that the little car was like a bubble itself. True the windows didn’t sparkle or pop but they shone as the sun set behind her, and the blue paintwork glittered as the street lamps flicked on along the street. So really it was just like being inside a little magical blob of foam. She turned the key and backed out onto the road.

The headlights of the oncoming cars were like little shiny bubbles. The traffic lights and the buses with all those sparkly lights inside - all little bubbles. She was floating, floating in the bubbles. She could just float away.

The screech of the brakes as she passed along the High Road didn’t burst Sylvie’s little bubble. The car made its way up the hill and to the cliff where deep below the waves crashed and roared against the rocks. The air was full of the sound of the sea, and the sky a deep indigo, except Sylvie was already somewhere else. The years of struggle and tension had worked into her soul and now her soul cried, ’No more.’

She ran the car over the fence, the wheels bumped over the gravel and then slid over the grass. She drove on and on and on. She took flight, she was free and she was flying. A fate, kinder than the one that had been her companion through the years of her marriage, snapped her head back and threw her into unconsciousness before the car somersaulted twice in its downward plunge.

Sylvie would have enjoyed the bubbles as it sank under the ocean.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, please let the author know.

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