Close Your Eyes and You Can See the Universe

Snow had carpeted the world. A blanket of brilliant bright white reflected the sun. Day after day Zoe had walked to school, her eyes squinted, and enjoyed the soft crunch, crunch, crunch as her feet made new patterns in the ground. Day after day a snowman, its coal mouth wide in a goofy smile, had been standing by the school gate to greet her. There had been snowball fights, snow angels, igloo construction, sledging, and a magical sense of unification. With worries forgotten and Christmas on the horizon, everyone mirrored the snowman’s smile.

Today was different. The night had brought rain; pounding on the rooftops with untiring monotony. Morning ascended and the world was covered in an oppressive sludge. Mud concealed glinting shards of ice. As Zoe walked to school the dirt seeped through her shoes and grasped her feet with icy fingers. Crows cawed above, as she stopped by the gate and gazed at the brown mound that was once the snowman.

Divorce was a word weighted with meaning in the playground. A word that Zoe, at just six years old, did not fully understand. She joined her best friend Amanda and returned her welcoming smile weakly. Amanda jumped into a monologue about her parents new TV as Zoe lowered her head and studied the dirt that clung to her shoes. It was only after she neglected to feign interest that Amanda noticed the frown creased on Zoe’s face.

“What’s wrong with you? Amanda asked sharply, annoyed at not receiving the attention she was accustomed to. “You’re really quiet.” Zoe looked away. Around them groups of children hugged themselves in the cold, their breath leaving clouds in the air. An older boy kicked a football against a wall and they ran past him, frightened of being hit.

A lump scratched in Zoe’s throat as she thought about last night. Her parent’s shouts echoing round the house. The slam of doors vibrating though every room. “What does divorce mean?” She asked, her head tilted away from Amanda, eyes trained on the ball. “I don’t understand what’s…” Her voice trailed off as Russell walked over to them, skidding on the icy dirt. His face was splattered with mud and he shivered violently.

“Matt hit me with a snowball, but it had stones in it.” He whined and pointed to small cuts in his cheek which pooled with blood.

Amanda glanced at Zoe, her lips parted, as if in mid thought, then turned her attention to Russell. “You should get a plaster, tell the teacher.” She shuffled her feet and rubbed her mittened hands in an effort to keep warm.

Russell whimpered, nodded, yet stood with a look of dumb expectancy painted on his face. A permanent, all year cold crusted around his nose and gave his voice a dull, slow tone as he perpetually sniffed back his snot. Amanda rolled her eyes and took his arm, “Come on.” She sighed, “I’ll go with you.”

As they turned to go, Zoe placed a tentative hand on his arm to stop him. “Russell,” Zoe tried, “What’s divorce?” Her question clouded in the air around them, hung for a moment and was whipped away with the breeze. Behind them a girl fell over and started to cry.

Russell scratched his dirty nose. Slithers of dried snot floated down like tiny snowflakes. “Divorce is where your mum and dad hate each other. And your dad lives with a twenty year old whose tummy is big and round. And your mum cries in the kitchen while she is doing the dishes.” Amanda and Zoe looked at him, their mouths open. A trickle of blood crept down Russell’s blank face like a red tear.

“No it’s not,” Amanda snapped as she glanced at Lucy. “It’s extra Christmas presents and two birthdays. Now come on, Mrs Frayer is over there. We should really get your cheek looked at.” She led him like a donkey to the teacher, who was bent over and comforting the crying girl.

Zoe walked away, found a secluded spot under one of the porta-cabins and leant against the wall. A wave of something she didn’t understand washed over her and her chest tightened. Her breaths fogged the air in short shallow gasps, like a steam train climbing up a hill. She had never seen her mum cry, yet the image kept darting before her. What was divorce? Her dad had demanded it so loudly last night that his voice had croaked with rage. A lump choked Zoe’s throat and she sniffed, feeling for the first time that the future was frightening and uncertain.

Absentmindedly she watched Mr Atkins, the school caretaker, shuffle sludge from the playground with a spade. He looked up, noticed her and a friendly smile played on his face. “Close your eyes.” His raspy voice crackled like a log fire. His smile broadened as he winked at her and nodded to the sky. The sun had come out and shone gloriously, turning the pools of dirty snow into radiant gold. “Close your eyes,” Mr Atkins repeated, “And you’ll see the universe.” He chuckled to himself, and walked on, his back bent intent on the job at hand.

Zoe closed her eyes. The sun seeped though her eye lids, casting everything in red, orange yellow tones under a curtain of black. A kaleidoscope of luminous, swirling colours loomed out at her through the darkness, and she imagined they were planets, stars and solar systems spinning around her in a mass of light. Zoe sighed and felt herself fall into her imagination as beautiful calm resided over her.

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