ESCARGATOIRE

Erin Murphy

There were snails everywhere.
         It was over two weeks since her daughter had brought them into the house by the bucketful, still she found them everywhere she went. In the bath, on the sofa, sludging across the TV screen while she tried to watch EastEnders. She’d even found some under her bedsheets – a little too late after she’d already rolled into bed. She’d had to pick their broken shells off her nightdress. The slime hadn’t fully come off in the wash, leaving the odd shiny splotch here and there on the fabric.
         She’d watched Daisy run back and forth between the house and garden with the plastic Elsa bucket through her office window while typing up a progress report. She didn’t stop her, though she very easily could have. She wished she’d at least opened the window and shouted at Daisy to ask her what she was doing, but she hadn’t wanted to undermine Tim the one time it was his turn to watch her. Not that she’d ever trust him to watch their daughter alone again. She did a better job of it even while working simultaneously. Her boss never complained, and neither did Daisy.
         Today she’d walked into her office to find two fat ones sliding across her laptop, which thankfully she’d left closed. A slime-free keyboard was a small victory she was willing to celebrate. She picked them up by the shells and brought them outside. One of them retreated back into itself, but the other curled its body around to face her, its stalk-eyes dancing around inquisitively. She used to be squeamish about handling bugs, especially the mucous-producing ones. Now she almost found them cute. It was like a really shit metaphor for parenting: first finding something gross, then finding it cute. At least, that was her experience.