Across The Sea

Chapter 14

The dark soil rolled off my hand like granules of coffee. But their smell wasn't as harsh as anything related to caffeine and when I pressed one of the granules stuck to my palm, between two fingers, it was soft. Like over-boiled rice. Not powdery or grainy.

I grabbed a handful of the loose soil and gripped it between my fingers mashing all the granules together. I liked this texture. I liked how mushy it was and accommodating, going anyway I wanted it to. This was why I worked without gloves when I was gardening. It made me feel so close to the earth, to the nature that everyone was born of, before which everyone had to bow equally.

I was glad that I'd put so many plants in my cold concrete apartment. It made me think, the world wasn't too artificial after all.

I smiled and took up the mini spade and dug out some more of the soil from the large oval pot. I needed to move it, and I couldn't do so without emptying it out a little first. Once the sufficient amount of soil had been removed, I stood up, then bent over to pick up the earthen pot. It was heavy and I struggled but I managed it in the end. After all I'd been doing this for so long now, I was used to it.

Holding the pot close to my chest, I started to walk across the hall. I couldn't see over the large size of the pot, and was at the risk of tipping over. Which was why I'd already decluttered the hall clearing a path for myself beforehand. I walked smoothly, over the dark marbles, struggling only a bit in the middle where there were those tow small steps.

I was going to repot some of the old plants and pot some new saplings for seasonal flowers in others. The little babies weren't any bigger than an inch or two, with tiny leaves that were just beginning to grow. They had to be planted with proper care and at the correct time. That's why I was working here today and not in my office. It was tedious work, but I loved it. It made me feel oddly ecstatic for some reason this annual routine of mine, and over the years I'd gotten so good with them too.

Every year I looked forward to this time after winter. When all the snow was gone and sun started to kiss the sky more confidently. It was the advent of spring and all things bright. It was the time of cuckoos call and of things being reborn. It was by far my favourite time of the year.

Smiling again to myself, like a complete lunatic, I covered the rest of the distance and emerged outside. I'd cleared a little area by the pool and it was where I was going to work.

I set down the heavy pot on the balcony floor deciding to drag it down there the rest of the way. The greenish-black marble stood out against the dark ochre of the pot. I grabbed it's edges and began to drag. I started to walk backwards when suddenly something hard came up behind me. I stopped, let go of the pot, and stood up to see what it was. Almost immediately I fell back down.

It wasn't a what that had stopped me, but a who. And it wasn't who I expected or wanted to see. And yet it was a face that was ingrained in my brain. The harsh fair skin, so pale it looked like like corpse. The thin veiny lines crisscrossing it, like scars marring flesh. The pointed nose that always looked down upon others over it. And the dark eyes, that seemed like noting but two black holes that sucked everything around it into itself leaving no one any wiser for it. It was the face of my greatest fears, the living embodiment of ghosts of my pasts.