The Land of Decoration

the Israelites of the bitterness of slavery and how good it was to be in the Promised Land. Father says they are full of iron. But I like to think of lambs in a field, not on my plate, and when I try to swallow bitter greens, my throat closes up. I was having more trouble eating than usual that Friday night on account of what Neil Lewis said. After a while I gave up and put down my fork. I said: “What’s dying like?”

Father had his overalls on from the factory. The kitchen light made hollows around his eyes. He said: “What?”

“What’s dying like?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“I just wondered.”

His face was dark. “Eat up.”

I loaded my fork with bitter greens and closed my eyes. I would have held my nose but Father would have seen. I counted, then swallowed. After a while I said: “How long could someone survive if their head was held underwater?”

“What?”

“How long could someone survive underwater?” I said. “I mean, I expect they’d last longer if they were used to it. At least until someone found them. But if it was their first time. If the person holding them down wanted them to die—which they would—I mean, if their head was held down.”

Father said: “What are you talking about?”

I looked down. “How long could someone survive underwater?”

He said: “I have no idea!”

I swallowed the rest of the bitter greens without chewing; then Father took away the plates and got the Bibles out.

We read the Bible every day and then we ponder what we have read. Reading the Bible and pondering are also Necessary Things. Pondering is necessary because it is the only way we can find out what we think about God. But God’s ways are unsearchable. This means you could ponder forever and still not know what to think. When I try to ponder, my mind slips to other things, like how I make a swimming pool and steps from an embroidery loop for the model world in my room or how many pear drops I can buy with my pocket money or how much more pondering there is still left to do. But afterward we always talk about what we have pondered, so there’s no way you can pretend you have been pondering when you haven’t.

It was getting dark outside the window. I could hear boys riding their bikes in the back lane. They were going up a ramp, and every time they came down it the board clanked. I looked at Father. I could tell by the way his eyebrows jutted that I must pay attention. I could tell by the way his glasses glittered that he must not be interrupted. I looked down, took a deep breath, and held it.

“In the ninth year, in the tenth month, on the tenth day, the voice of the Lord came to me: ‘Son of man, remember this date, this very day, because the king of Babylon has laid siege to Jerusalem.’…”

At twenty-five seconds the room began to pulse and my breath escaped in little puffs. I waited a minute, then took another.

A dog barked. A dustbin lid clattered. Seconds dripped from the clock on the mantelpiece. At twenty-five seconds the room began to pulse again and I had to let my breath out again. I must have done it quite suddenly, because Father looked up and said: “Are you all right?”

I opened my eyes wide and nodded.

“Are you following?”

I nodded again and opened my eyes even wider. He looked at me from under his eyebrows, then began to read again.

“‘Now your impurity is badness. Because I tried to save you but you would not be saved, and you will not be saved again until my wrath against you has subsided. I the Lord have spoken.’”

I waited two whole minutes, then I took another breath.

I held it. And held it.

I said: “I am going to do this. I am not going to drown.”

I hung on to the arms of the chair. I pushed my feet into the floor. I pressed my bottom to the seat. I got to twenty-four seconds when Father said: “What are you doing?”

“Pondering!” I said, and my breath came out in a rush.

A vein in Father’s temple flickered. “You’re very red.”

“It’s hard work,” I said.

“This isn’t a game.”

“I know.”

“Are you following?”

“Yes!”

Father blew a little air out of his nose, then began to read again.

I waited three whole minutes. Then I took another breath.

I filled each bit of my body with air: my stomach, my lungs, my arms, and my legs. My chest hurt. My head pounded. My legs jumped up and down.

I didn’t notice that Father had stopped reading. I didn’t see him looking at me till he said: “What’s going on?”

“I don’t feel well.”

He put down his Bible. “Let’s get something straight. I am not reading this for your entertainment. I am not reading this for the benefit of my health. I’m reading this because it will save your life. So, sit up, stop fidgeting, and start paying attention!”

“OK,” I said.

He waited a minute, then began to read again. “‘The time has come. I will not hold back; I will not have compassion, nor will I relent. You will be judged according to your actions,’ declares the Sovereign Lord.”

I tried to follow, but all I could think about was the toilet bowl, all I could hear was the cistern flushing, all I could feel were hands pushing me down.

“Then the people asked me, ‘Tell us, what do these things have to do with us?’ And I said to them, ‘The voice of the Lord came to me, saying: “Say to the house of Israel, Judith!”’”

Father read it just like that, without stopping and without looking up.

“What?” My heart snagged on my cardigan.

“Carry on reading please.”

“Oh.”

I looked, but the page teemed with ants. I turned and my face got hot. I turned back and my face got hotter.

Father closed his Bible. He said: “Go to your room.”

“I can do it!” I said.

“No, you obviously have better things to do.”

“I was listening!”

Father said: “Judith.”

I stood up.

My head felt very hot, as if there were too many things going on in it. It was jumbled too, as if someone had shaken it up. I went to the door. I put my hand on the handle and I said: “It’s not fair.”

Father looked up. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes glittered. “It better be.”

What Is Dying Like?