THE THIRD LAW

Sir Isaac Newton: an illustrious mastermind in his own right. Famed for his ingenuity and proficiency in matters mathematics and science. Three centuries later, and we’re still talking about him. How could we not? From him were birthed three very high-octane laws. While physicists call them the laws of motion, I would

simply call them laws. Law number three tickles my fancy: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

August the 15th 2002 would have been an ordinary and humdrum day for most people. Just another wearisome lackluster twenty four hours with the usual modus operandi. Not so for nineteen year old Annie. For Annie, this would be her first day on campus. She’d been told a lot of stories- some good, some bad and others which she couldn’t really wrap her head around. She’d been told that this would be the first day of the rest of her life. That every decision she made from this point onwards would always find a way of catching up with her. That everything always boomerangs.

Hey, I am Annie and this is my diary.

I had always dreamt of this day. Constantly overdriving my cerebrum with thoughts of how stupendous it would be. But in the six hundred different versions I played it out in my mind, there was not one where mama wasn’t here with me. I just know she’d have loved it here. She loved everything that woman. There was absolutely no room for hatred or rancour in her heart. Her ever smiling cookie brown eyes would have lit up once she saw the orchids dancing around the school gate. “Roses are banal and cliché,” she’d say. Oh, and her big bubbly heart would have melted at the sight of the dolphin fountain at the center of the school. I never really understood why she loved the creatures but I loved them with her. She’d have fallen in love with the big, sturdy oak tree that sat tired and frazzled up in a corner of the school field. She’d have tried to be funny saying that she, like that oak had seen enough of this life. What a bad joke!!

She wasn’t here though.

“Go now my little angel. Go and show them how the Marshall’s do their thing. Knock their socks off; make me proud sweetheart and do not for a second worry about me. I’ve got Carter to take care of me.” 

Carter was our eight year old Highlander cat. He just came through our front door one day and never left. How bold and charismatic.

So I left. I left mama in the hands of a cat. I guess that makes me pretty bold too. But if I had to pick anyone to take care of mummy, it would be Carter a thousand times over because it was no secret that we couldn’t count on daddy.

 I had raised concerns with her doctors about the pill burden and they told me that this was the lesser evil. They’d warned me that this would happen. Told me that the fatigue, pain, nausea and vomiting were side effects of the chemo. I understood. I put on my big girl panties and I understood. I wanted to stay back. Help her with getting out of bed, breakfast, her bath…I wanted her to know I was there for her like she had been for me so many times before. I wanted her to know that it was always going to be me and her through thick and thin. Twenty first century Bonnie and Clyde, without all the malfeasance of course.

Scepticism: a disposition to incredulity in a general sense or with respect to a particular object. I didn’t trust the nurses assigned to come and check in on her. I couldn’t trust that daddy would always be available for her. Most nights, he never came home and for the few nights a month he bothered to show up, he would be flat out drunk and high. Talking about how he was going to be the next Miles Dewey Davis. How he was gonna breathe life to trumpets and flugelhorns.

I thought about killing him some times; well, most times. It wouldn’t be hard. Half the time he was home, he was passed out, high on heroin or molly or weed. They’d all think it was an overdose- those tend to happen a lot these days. Police never even think twice about the “victim”. But that’d be too insipid and uninspiring. Perhaps some barbed wire and battery acid would do.

Understand that this day that was meant to be the greatest day of my life felt like the absolute worst. I was traveling what felt like a million miles away from you mum. I was walking around, trying to find joy in the beautiful scenery around campus. My day was insufferable, at least until you walked up to me Victor. You stretched out your scrawny little hand with its long shriveled slender fingers and shook mine. Told me that I looked confused and that’d you’d show me around campus if that was okay with me. There was a badge around your neck, “Victor Daniels: Usher,” it read. I wondered why they gave the skinny guy with the faded baggy jeans the task of showing people around instead of feeding him. Quel dommage!

We became great friends. You introduced me to everyone that mattered around campus, you got into bad fights with people for me- you always lost but it’s the thought that counts- and you even took me to my first campus dance. I introduced you to my mum and she loved you. Why wouldn't she? You were the definition of an affable and convivial guy. She told you to eat a little bit more or buy a different belt. You bought the belt. And when the news came that she was no more, you sat with me in the cold all night and we cried together. That night, you helped me come up with all kinds of names for my douchebag father. I liked “shitbagdouchery”. It was a funny name. But you still left me Victor. Didn’t even wait for her body to hit the ground. You just left.

I called you. I did. I called you innumerable times I thought I'd be arrested for it. But you didn’t pick up. I thought maybe her death had taken a toll on you too but I saw you. I saw you in the cafeteria wearing that blue polyester shirt that had a rusty stain at the bottom left corner. That polyester shirt that you wore to my twentieth birthday. That polyester shirt that you said was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given to you. You were laughing and you weren’t alone. I came over to your place for some company but the gateman did what you’d asked. I gave him the key. I thought about killing you too. I even had the alibi planned. I knew your routine like the back of my hand. I knew you liked to be alone from 5:00 pm every Tuesday. That at this time you’d be practicing your flute on the steps of St.Paul’s church. I knew that you liked this place for its peace and quiet.

Such a young girl with so much anger and disdain. When I was not angry at you, I was angry at my father and when I was not angry at him I was angry at the band of negligent nurses and doctors whose irresponsibility cost me the life of my mother. I did my homework alright. Three nurses and one doctor were charged with looking after my mom that day. No. Three nurses and one doctor were paid to look after my mom that day!! Three nurses and one doctor!  I thought about killing all of them too. A barrel of acid would probably do the trick. Maybe then I’d have some peace of mind.

Murder: the unlawful premeditated termination of another person’s life. Murder: a crime for which the consequences are painfully catastrophic. And yet I thought about it. I dreamt about it. I had my murder list in my head. I played it and replayed it like a cassette in my mind. I didn’t think I had it in me. I was the girl that got emotional when daddy killed the roaches in the basement. I didn’t have the knack for it- or so I thought. I thought a lot about Sir Newton. How I’d be disproving his laws if I didn’t react. I could not in my own compos mentis be disrespectful to an acclaimed physicist such as he. So I decided to choose. Choose amongst the six of you who deserved eternal rest the most. Who would I relieve of the constant floundering and bending over backwards that came with being alive? Who'd hurt me the most? In case you’re wondering, I didn’t flip a coin to decide who would go first. I’m not unfair like that. I went with my gut feeling and I reacted.

Three years went by and I was at peace. Finally I could get a bit of sleep. I could listen to music and not be reminded of her too much. I was okay. Until today at least. I was fine until I saw your smug face smiling at me from across the street. How? I dug the hole, I dropped your body in it, I buried you. So how?