Absolution (5 page)

He looked over at the kitchen doorway, half expecting his father to come through it any minute now. A shuddering breath rumbled through him and he sank down into the nearest armchair.

What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if he messed things up even more, just by being here? What if he couldn’t bring himself to see her? What if she didn’t want to talk to him?

What if I can’t do this, Dad?

Over the past couple of days, he had tried to imagine how this would go – he tried to see the funeral and the conversations with Ally and Callum in his head. Every time it ended badly – anything other than that had to be a fantasy, surely? After all, the mere fact that he was here was too little, too late.

His father had done his best to try and make him face up to his actions, but he couldn’t do it then. Now he was going to be the man his father had always hoped he would be – he would make him proud this time. Yet thinking of the path ahead had his guts churning so much he thought he might throw up.

He leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Maggie put away the last of the dishes and leant against the counter, surveying the tidy kitchen with a critical eye. There were a lot of things she would have no control over in the next few days, but she had control over this. She was all too happy for the distraction. 

She started aimlessly wiping down the surface for the hundredth time. Tom’s funeral was tomorrow – Jack could turn up at any time, and unless Ally sent her away, she was going to stick to her like glue. Ally hadn’t even argued with her when she had told her that. After the past four years, she would not just stand by and watch as Jack blew back into town and turned everything upside down again. Once had been enough.

Dropping the dishcloth finally, she headed towards the bedroom to check on Ally. Peering around the corner of her bedroom door, she saw her sitting on the bed, crutches propped up beside her, a small wooden box on her lap. She held the box as if it were made of glass.

She walked in and sat on the bed next to her friend. “What’s that?”

Ally stared at her vacantly, then her gaze fell to the box, as if she had forgotten it was even there. She reached in and pulled out a photograph, staring at it for a moment before handing it over.

Maggie took it from her, recognising it immediately. It was a photograph of them – Ally, Jack, Callum and herself – taken at a party a couple of years before the accident. They had their arms around each other, grinning at the camera. They looked so innocent – so much younger, blind to what the universe had in store for them in just a few short years. It was like staring into the faces of strangers.

With a quiet determination, Maggie reached over to put the photograph back in the box on Ally’s lap, closing the lid and lifting it gently from her.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered.

The anxious expression on Ally’s face told her that she didn’t believe it either.

Jack sat outside Ally’s house, trying to muster up the courage to get out of the car. He had to do this today, before he lost his nerve. Life was too short – his father’s death had brutally illustrated that fact. He could get hit by a bus tomorrow and she would never know how sorry he was. Steeling himself, he closed his eyes for a moment and focused on her face.

She was laughing, those beguiling blue-green eyes twinkling, her long dark hair falling over her shoulder as she tossed her head back.

She was standing in front of a partially painted canvas, deep in concentration, humming to herself while she worked.

She was clinging to him on the back of his motorcycle, giggling as the wind whipped her hair around her face.

She was lying on the side of the road in the dark as the paramedics worked on her, pale and broken, deathly still.

His eyes shot open. Even with all their history – all the years they spent together, calculating out to literally thousands of happy moments – whenever he thought of her, that was the image that always came to mind eventually. He gritted his teeth. It was guilt that repeatedly brought him back to that wet roadside. Guilt and shame.

He got out of the car and started walking up the familiar path to her front door. He climbed the steps slowly, distracted by the new addition off to one side. A wooden ramp led from the path to the porch, dog-legged in the middle, and he stood rooted to the spot, staring at it. He had expected this, so why did it come as such a shock to see it? The answer came back immediately; because it was real. It was tangible, solid – not a fantasy, not in his head, but reality.

He drew himself up to his full height – six feet and one inch of pure fear and remorse. His heart began to beat so fast he felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his ribcage, one hammer blow at a time. He hesitated for a moment before finally pressing the doorbell, wincing as the sound reverberated through the house.

What am I doing here? What if I make it worse?

His father’s voice echoed in his head, as clear as if he were standing right next to him.

“It wasn’t your fault, son. You need to come home. Just talk to her – explain. It’s going to be alright.”

He was under no illusions. Coming back here wasn’t enough. He had thought about her every day, and about what he had done, about how he could fix it, make it up to her – to all of them. But he always came up empty. There was no fixing this, not all of it at least.

Yet he was here now, standing at her door, petrified, but ready to ask for forgiveness. He had come this far – a lot further than he ever dreamed he could. He tried to breathe normally, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop them from shaking.

It took every ounce of strength he had inside of him to stand there, on her doorstep, and wait. It seemed to take an eternity before the door finally opened and when it did, the suddenness of it rendered him speechless.

Maggie stared back at him. “You’re here.”

Her hair was longer and blonder, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Still speechless, he nodded.

“I’m sorry, about your Dad.”

All he could do was nod again.

“I can’t believe you actually came.” 

“I had to.”

His mouth was dry, although his hands felt clammy. He clenched them into fists inside the pockets of his jeans.

“Took you four years, but you got here eventually.”

Jack winced, willing himself to remember why he was there. His entire body was tense, as if barricading itself against a physical onslaught.

“Is she here?” he glanced past her, down the empty hallway.

“Yes.  But she doesn’t want to see you.”

His heart sank.

“I can understand that.” He took a ragged breath and tried again. “Look, I’m not an idiot – I know… I mean, I was just hoping that maybe she might talk to me? Just for a few minutes.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Maggie repeated evenly.

He was being stonewalled and he knew it. He couldn’t blame her.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

His mouth and throat were barren and aching from the effort of trying to keep a lid on his emotions.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” she shook her head, eyes suddenly brimming with tears.  “It’s not nearly enough, Jack.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, turning away and stumbling down the front steps towards his car.

He could barely see straight, the road swimming in front of him crazily. He didn’t even remember the drive back to his father’s house, just the desperate need to escape.

“
The brave man is not the one who has no fears; he is the one who triumphs over his fears.
”

- Nelson Mandela

Pain filtered through Ally’s dream, nudging her awake. The intensity steadily increased, fiery tendrils licking up and down her spine. Holding her breath involuntarily, she lay on her side, blinking in the dim light of early morning. The pain held her physically captive as she mentally struggled to fight off the last vestiges of the nightmare she had been in the middle of when she had been so rudely awakened.

Sometimes she woke with the uncertainty of not knowing if she was awake or still dreaming, the phantom sensations shooting up her legs confusing the two. It took a few moments for reality to crash headlong into her, the sensations giving way to the familiar numbness as disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach like ice. Most nights she was lucky to get five or six hours sleep, often waking with a dull ache where the steel rods were surgically fused to her spine. Occasionally she woke like she did this morning – in agony. She had gotten used to the lack of sleep, but the pain seemed to take her by surprise every time.

This morning was a double whammy. Pain had woken her out of the recurring nightmare she referred to as “the running dream”. It had felt so real – she could actually feel her feet hitting the ground as she ran, her body jarring with the impact. She swore she felt the soles of her feet tingling. Not phantom pain, not some kind of muscle memory, but actual sensation. Adding to the torture, there was usually some twisted reference to the accident. Both of those elements combined to create a disturbingly effective, set-your-teeth-on-edge nightmare.

She steeled herself against the pain squeezing her spine. She had lain awake half the night thinking about Tom and the other half thinking about Jack. She relived moment after moment as they played through her head like a movie, years of familiarity reduced down to snippets and echoes, some clearer than others. Tom was gone. Jack was here. Everything was twisted around again.

She had cowered in her living room yesterday, while Maggie had talked to Jack on her doorstep. She had hidden from him as if she was afraid of him – what was she so scared of?

It was so strange, hearing his voice after so long. He sounded different. Frightened. Unsure of himself. She tried to feel empathy for him but her own fear was too strong. It had taken a long time to convince herself that she didn’t need to see him or talk to him to put all of this behind her. It had allowed her a kind of closure. A truce was borne out of the passage of time coupled with the need to move on.

But now he was back, and he brought the truth with him. She found herself questioning whether the courage, independence and sheer willpower that she had built up over the past few years would be enough. Suddenly it all seemed like smoke and mirrors.

It was so easy to let go – to reject reality and all its limitations and just lose yourself. Occasionally, in moments of weakness, when she was worn out and disheartened, she allowed herself to daydream. Jack had never left, the accident had never happened, and she was still whole – in mind and in body. Because she didn’t feel whole anymore, and deep down she knew it wasn’t just because of the accident. It was because Jack had left and taken a piece of her with him. His rejection cut deep and it didn’t seem to matter how determined she was to ignore it or what she tried to fill it with, that hole had never gotten smaller. In her darkest hours, she was afraid that, despite her best efforts, everyone else could see it too; ugly, ragged, raw and bleeding.

Taking a careful breath, the hot knives digging further into her spine, she mentally prepared herself to move. Counting silently to three, she reached over for the medication and bottled water on her bedside table. Her body automatically tensed against the movement, bringing a new wave of pain down on her. She rode it out, counting the seconds until it eased. Then she opened the small bottle and tipped a pill out onto the covers. She picked it up and slipped it onto her tongue, taking a clumsy sip of water to wash it down. Capping the bottle, she let it fall onto the bed beside her. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside.

He can’t see me like this.

Helpless, immobile, slightly nauseous from the pain – this was not the face she wanted to show the world. This wasn’t her. There was a separation, a difference there that she was determined to show anyone who cared to look deep enough.

What will he see? Will he look deep down, past all this, and see that I’m still here?

She didn’t want to talk to Jack, not yet, but she knew she would have to eventually. When she did, she worried about how he would perceive her. She wanted him to see her as strong, together, whole. She definitely didn’t want him to see her like this.

The pain began to ebb, the medication leaving her slightly light-headed. Normally she would give it a few more minutes before attempting to get up, but she could barely stand to be in her own head right now. The pain would push all thoughts of him out of her mind and she was prepared to put up with it if it meant a blank canvas for a few precious minutes.

Gritting her teeth, she reached down to remove the pillow from between her knees. She awkwardly pushed herself up onto her elbows, a low moan escaping as she grabbed a fistful of sheet. Tom’s face hovered in front of her eyes. She had met him for coffee in town a couple of days before he died. She had no idea it was to be the last time she saw him. Her heart ached with loss and she was filled with a sudden, overwhelming guilt – that she hadn’t spent enough time with him, that she hadn’t told him often enough how much she loved him, that she didn’t take the time to make sure he knew how much she appreciated all he had done for her. He had become like a father to her and she had taken it for granted, despite losing her own father and knowing how temporary life was. She should have known – she should have told him.

She forced the thought into the back of her mind as she pushed herself further upright, breathing through her teeth. Sitting motionless for a couple of minutes until the pain eased again, she reached over to pull her wheelchair closer. Maneuvering her body to the edge of the bed, she slowly transferred into it, the ache in her spine flaring once again. She breathed through the pain, sitting still for a moment, her heart racing.

She tried to prepare herself for Tom’s funeral today. She could do this. It would be truly awful and it would break her heart, but she could do this – for Tom and for herself.

She tried to think about something else, but the only other image that popped into her head was that of her own father’s funeral – the glossy wood of his casket glinting in the sunshine, the flowers almost completely covering it, her grandmother sitting beside her, sniffing into a pristine handkerchief, her soft blue eyes brimming with tears.

She was painfully aware of how alone she felt right at this moment. Her mother had taken off a couple of months before her second birthday and she barely remembered her. Her father had raised her until his own death from cancer when she was fourteen, and she had come here, to live with her grandmother – a new town, new family, new friends and a new life. It was a good life – she adored her grandmother and settled into small-town life easily. She liked not being anonymous – she loved walking down the street and having people smile at her and say hello. It was completely different to her life in the city, but no less happy. Then, six years ago, her grandmother had also passed on. Her death had left a huge hole in Ally’s life, but by then Tom and Jack had become her family, too.

And then the accident happened, Jack vanished, and everything was different. She was different, and not just in ways she could quantify, either. Something had changed inside of her. Her perception of the world had altered. She felt both wise beyond her years and more frightened than she had ever been in her life. She was lost and, for a time, she wasn’t even sure she could be bothered finding her way back. But she had, with help.

Putting his own grief and disappointment aside, Tom made sure that nothing changed between them. He was still there for her, he still loved her. Losing him like this – suddenly, without warning – was somehow worse than watching her father’s slow death from cancer. At least then she had known what was coming. He had told her, kept her informed, wanted to prepare her. Having Tom ripped away from her like this was cruel, like some kind of bad joke the universe was playing on her; yes, you can be happy, but not for long. Don’t get too comfortable.

Tom’s funeral was her chance to say goodbye, to say thank you. As much as she dreaded the funeral, she hoped it would help the emptiness to pass.

Four Years Earlier

Tom sat watching the clock on the waiting room wall. The minutes ticked by, each seeming longer than the last. After a brief consultation with the nurses’ station, they had asked him to wait while they found someone who could tell him what was going on. That was half an hour ago. In the meantime, his son was in there and he had no idea how badly he was hurt. All he knew was what they were able to tell him on the phone – that Jack’s car had been involved in an accident out on River Road and that he, Callum and Ally had been brought in by ambulance and were currently being assessed in the ER. He stood up, rubbing his neck to try and ease the tension that settled there.

“Tom!”

Jane and Maggie ran across the waiting room towards him. Jane threw herself into his arms as soon as she was close enough.

“Where are they?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

He pushed her away gently as Maggie stared at him over her shoulder, wide-eyed.

“I’m still waiting for someone to come out and talk to me,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer. In the meantime, let’s just try and stay calm, alright?”

He steered them over into a corner of the room, and sat down with them in the row of waiting plastic chairs. An uneasy silence spread over them, punctuated only by incoming patients and their entourages.

“I don’t have a number for Callum’s mother,” Jane mumbled. “What if we need to call her?”

Tom put his arm around her. “Let’s just wait and see what the doctor says first. If we need to call her, we’ll worry about it then.”

He wished Lucy were here. This was one of those moments where, as parents, they would comfort each other, talking through the uncertainty, holding each other up. Instead, he sat here, surrounded by Jack’s friends, who needed comfort just as much as he did. For now, he concentrated on that.

When the doctor finally arrived, she led them along the hall to a private waiting area and invited them to sit down. She was so young and she looked so nervous. He would have felt sorry for her if he wasn’t so worried.

“Sorry to keep you waiting this long,” she began wearily. “We were waiting on the results of the MRI. I know how you must be feeling so I won’t beat around the bush.”

“Thank you. We’d appreciate that.”

“Jack was driving,” she said carefully. “He sustained an injury to his collarbone, probably from the seat-belt. However the x-ray revealed no broken bones, so he’s very lucky. He’ll be sore, and he has a few cuts and abrasions, but he’ll be fine.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” Maggie whispered, reading his mind.

“Callum?” Jane asked breathlessly.

“He has a concussion,” she glanced down at the clipboard in her lap. “It’s fairly minor but he lost consciousness at the scene, according to the paramedics that brought them in, so we’re taking the precaution of monitoring him overnight. He also has a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious. All going well, he’ll be released in the morning.”