Relativity by Antonia Hayes Read Free Book Online Page B

actually square. They were married, parents together, they’d been unbelievably happy. But it was so brief. Did all marriages end up like this, whether the couple stayed together or broke apart? Strangers—toxic hostility wedged between them—and the room filled with thoughts that could never be said.
    The night they first met, Mark taught Claire how to play pool. It was a mutual friend’s birthday drinks at a pub on King Street in Newtown. Mark seemed shy; he couldn’t maintain eye contact. But after a few beers he was a pool shark, winning game after game, fueled by a quiet confidence. Claire found his scientific approach to the game charming. Mark nailed every shot. She felt like she couldn’t hold the cue correctly.
    â€œWhat am I doing wrong?” Claire laughed as she missed another ball.
    Mark shrugged. “It’s just physics. I’ll show you.” He took the cue from her hands and quickly brushed his fingers on hers. Claire wasn’t sure if it had been accidental or deliberate. “Think about it like this: it’s a system. The balls, the cue, and the force you hit the ball with. All of it together makes a system,” Mark told her. “The momentum in the system before the balls collide has to be the same as after the collision. It’s conserved. You can’t destroy momentum.”
    Claire pulled her hair off her face. “I’m not sure that explanation helps.”
    â€œWatch this.” Mark bent over the pool table and stretched his long arm along the pool cue. With effortless fluidity, he sent the white ball flying across the table. It struck the red three ball, knocking it straight into the pocket.
    â€œSee? The white ball stopped and the red ball gained its momentum. So the momentum of the red ball after the collision is exactly the same as the white ball before the collision. When the white ball struck the red ball, it gained the momentum the white ball lost.”
    â€œI have no idea what you just said,” Claire said, scrunching up her nose.
    â€œCome here.” Mark took her hand and pulled her toward him.
    She moved into the gap between his body and the pool table, her back skimming his front.
    â€œBodies in motion have momentum, but when they collide momentum is exchanged,” Mark whispered in her ear as he leaned over, cradling Claire, pushing her body against his. She inhaled him. “They move. They collide. They push each other into different directions.”
    Mark hit the white ball again, propelling it down the green felt. It knocked into the yellow ball—sending it on a collision course with the green ball—and they separated, forced onto different paths. The green ball went straight into the pocket. Mark squeezed Claire’s torso as he pulled back the cue.
    â€œNow, that happened because of the laws of the conservation of momentum,” he began.
    â€œStop,” she said. “Enough physics.”
    Mark put his arms on Claire’s waist and turned her around to face him. She could feel his breath on her face as their noses touched. His scent reminded Claire of being outdoors, of crisp saltwater breezes and eucalyptus leaves. Her top lip grazed against his bottom lip and their mouths lingered in one spot as they shared the same air: swapping nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide. Mark ran his hand up along Claire’s back and into her hair. With his fingertips, he lightly touched the back of her neck, drew her closer, and warm mouth upon mouth, they kissed.
    Claire never had a mind for theories and science, but she always remembered that when bodies collided momentum was exchanged. Despite everything that happened and no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t forget their beautiful collision. How they’d crashed into each other; how something was exchanged between them. She still carried a piece of Mark inside: his momentum, his energy, his force. She felt it when she saw Mark appear in