Essay About Doesnððžð And Оð

Phantom Energy
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PHANTOM ENERGY
ÐЎЮHe doesnÐÐŽÐЇt hit you? Go off with other women? Take drugs? Get drunk?ÐÐŽÐЇ
She shook her head. Nothing like that.
ÐЎЮThen why, Angie?ÐÐŽÐЇ her parents demanded.
ÐЎЮBecause. . .ÐÐŽÐЇ and she shut her lips tight and nuzzled GaryÐÐŽÐЇs sweet smelling hair, holding him tight as a lifebelt.
Listening at doors she heard ÐЎЮ. . .post natal depression.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮAt two and a half years?ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮHasnÐÐŽÐЇt been treated, has it? WonÐÐŽÐЇt admit to it. Hereditary.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮI never had it.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮMigod!ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮNo I didnÐÐŽÐЇt. You were so bloody unhelpful, to say the least. MickÐÐŽÐЇs the same.ÐÐŽÐЇ
Escalating arguments. Their foul tempers radiating outwards to everyone theyÐÐŽÐЇd meet for the rest of the day. Ripples of anger spreading eternally through space-time.

Her father hated his new wheelchair existence. His own space-time contracting into months, then days, hours. His personal cosmos ending in a Big Crunch.

Hawking, Mick said. Mocking. Because Hawking was a brilliant mind not a retired pharmacist. Mick said, Hawking formulated the quantum state of a universe created from nothing. I propose the self-created universe. Five dimensional de Sitter space. Sum-over-hysteria formulation.

Hysteria? That canÐÐŽÐЇt be right. No physicist succumbs to hysteria. ItÐÐŽÐЇs a womanÐÐŽÐЇs wandering womb problem. Did I play enough Beethoven to in-womb Gary? Eat the right foods? No alcohol, no pain relievers, no cream cheese, no patÐЁЦ and watch the peanuts.

Life was calmer in her uncleÐÐŽÐЇs house. He breakfasted at nine, long after sheÐÐŽÐЇd dropped Gary at Mum and DadÐÐŽÐЇs and arrived at DebenhamÐÐŽÐЇs. He played retirement golf with fellow accountants, ate meals at his club and his chores were competently completed by his lady-who-did and had-done for thirty years.

Angie picked up Gary at her parents after school.
ÐЎЮTeacher very pleased. HeÐÐŽÐЇs racing through the new curriculum,ÐÐŽÐЇ Mum told her. ÐЎЮBeats me why he has to be assessed and examined at his age. MotherÐÐŽÐЇs job.ÐÐŽÐЇ

Angie said nothing.
ÐЎЮNot in your case dear. I didnÐÐŽÐЇt mean. . .ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮNo offence, Mum.ÐÐŽÐЇ
She played with Gary till bath time. Foam baths. They threw the white bubbles at each other, drowned little boats and upended plastic ducks with smiling beaks.

She showed him the dark winter night beyond the sun-rotted curtains whose crimson stripes had faded to pale rose. ÐЎЮOut there. Lots of other worlds,ÐÐŽÐЇ she said.

ÐЎЮMoon. We can go to the moon one day, Mummy?ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮOne day. When youÐÐŽÐЇre big,ÐÐŽÐЇ and IÐÐŽÐЇve made a million or three and DaddyÐÐŽÐЇs new geometries can violate causality.
ÐЎЮStars are holes.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮNo dear.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮHoles for the rain, Mummy. ÐÐŽÐЇCos rain is thin.ÐÐŽÐЇ
ÐЎЮOther suns.ÐÐŽÐЇ A first lesson in not believing everything grownups tell you. ÐЎЮTheyÐÐŽÐЇre tiny because theyÐÐŽÐЇre so far away in space.ÐÐŽÐЇ

He sucked his fingers noisily.
ÐЎЮSpace.ÐÐŽÐЇ She lingered on the word, running pine scented bath bubbles through her fingers. ÐЎЮItÐÐŽÐЇs a sort of foam.ÐÐŽÐЇ Space-time bubbling and seething, popping noiselessly in the frozen bath of the sky. Large holes collapsing into the froth, reborn at the edges of bubbles. Multi rainbow colours glimmering as they slide round the bubblesÐÐŽÐЇ surfaces. A cauldron of continuous creation where the spell binding witches are the forces of gravity and electromagnetism.

She collected the suds round the plug hole and dangled them onto his plump hand. He was asleep before she laid him down, his eyes hidden by floppy hair as fair as MickÐÐŽÐЇs, his chubby fingers falling from his mouth.

If he woke in the night she soothed him with classical music CDs for babies. Mozart to increase mental capacity. At three in the morning she almost believed the advertising hype. She sat in her bed listening to his snuffles and snorts, relishing the empty space beside her. GaryÐÐŽÐЇs demands seemed so small compared with MickÐÐŽÐЇs nightmares.

Angie enjoyed her own efficiency. She was the serene centre of her department, sorting personnel and floor management with equal ease. On line for promotion. She had always been the higher earner, the pragmatic problem solver creating calm out of MickÐÐŽÐЇs chaos. He covered the plain backs of utility bills with his hieroglyphics. Formulae appeared on scraps of loo paper and his rage was disproportionate when she wiped her bum with them. Notes round the edges of newspapers, the telephone directory, even her shopping lists. She bought him notepads and jotters and in his scribbling haste heÐÐŽÐЇd tear the pages out until the floor was littered with an autumnal gale of loose leaves. She suspected