The First Time I Said Goodbye (24 page)

He looked straight into her eyes, their tears mingling as he reached forward to kiss her. He tilted her head towards his – kissing the tears from her cheek before softly kissing her lips. He felt her respond, her hair move to his face, caressing his cheek and he reached to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. As she grasped at his hair and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, he felt himself gasp. He pulled back from her, searching her eyes for some sign it was okay.

“Are you sure?” he asked and she nodded, taking his hand and leading him to the small single bed in the corner of the room where nervously she lay down and pulled him closer to her.

As he kissed her and felt her body pressed against his, the softness of her skin against his body, he knew that while they were not legally married they could not be more a part of each other than there and then.

“It will be okay,” he whispered as he kissed her neck and heard her gasp. “We will be together soon. I promise you. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change. I promise you.”

* * *

Stella woke in darkness. She could feel the soft warmth of Ray’s breath against her neck. She felt his arm wound around her waist and for a second, before the reality that this was goodbye kicked in, she revelled in the feeling of his skin on hers.

As she lay in the darkness a tear slid down her face and she quickly wiped it away. She would not have Ray’s last memory of her to be one of a crying mess. This was not goodbye – this was a temporary glitch before they could be together for the rest of their lives. Reluctantly, she pulled herself up and started to dress in the dark. She didn’t want to think of what time it might be, or that her parents might be going off their heads worrying about her and where she might be. She would deal with that later.

Ray didn’t stir and she knew she should wake him – that he was probably expected back at the Base as much as she was expected back home –
but she wanted to revel in this silence, this togetherness, just a little longer. This, she realised as she slipped her feet into her shoes, was the last time she would be in this flat. She would walk past it again, of course, and look up at the window but he would never be there waiting for her again.

“It shouldn’t be long,” he had assured her. “Before you can follow me. Please, Stella, promise me that you will follow me.”

She had nodded as he caressed her, as they lay in the darkness, their bodies tight against each other. “I’ll always follow you. I promise.”

When she was dressed, when she had combed her hair back and put on her coat and her scarf, she sat down beside him again and gently kissed his cheek. She wanted to make this as painless as possible. If they were to see each other again in a matter of weeks there was no need for tears, she told herself even though her heart felt as if was shattering as she felt the softness of his skin against her lips.

“Ray, wake up. Ray, it’s time to go. I need to be home. You need to be back at the Base. They’ll be expecting you.”

He blinked awake and she gazed into his blue eyes, dimly lit by the flickering candles in the room. He nodded as she bent forward to kiss him again.

“I’ll follow you,” she whispered, trying to stop her voice from breaking. “I promise. Wait for me, Ray, please. Don’t give up on us.”

He nodded wordlessly, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

“Now,” she said, mustering all the strength she could, “I’m going to leave.”

“Let me walk you home,” he said.

“No,” she replied, firmly this time. This was difficult enough. She had to leave now before she begged him not to leave even though it was beyond his control and she knew that there was nothing he could do. “You get back to the Base. They will be expecting you and I’d better get home and face the music myself. We’ll be together soon.” She brushed a stray tear away and cursed inwardly at herself for letting her emotions show when she had promised herself she wouldn’t.

He nodded as she stood up and left the room. As the door closed behind her and she padded down the stairs and onto the cold street she vowed that she would be with him again – soon – come hell or high water. It was only as the rain started falling as she walked towards her house that she allowed her tears to fall. Dear God, she would miss him. She would miss him so very much.

Chapter 21

Ray, I’m not giving up. Please know I’m not giving up but this is the last letter I’ll send you. If you still want me, then please, please give me some sign. Just anything, Ray. Please.

* * *

Derry, June 2010

Sam’s phone beeped to life, cutting through the silence in the bedroom. After I had come to the realisation that, as Sam put it, I was “still with Craig because it was easier than not being with Craig”, I had become lost in my own thoughts.

It wasn’t that he had said anything I didn’t know. I wasn’t foolish. I had known for a long time that what Craig and I had was broken . . . but hearing it out loud, it made me feel . . . well, a mixture of emotions. Sadness, I suppose, because now it would be almost impossible to put it all back into a box and ignore it. A sense of failure too, maybe. I had clung on for a long time hoping against hope that something would change. I had made so many excuses. When his work settled down, things would be better. When my business was up and running and I had more time, things would be better. When my father’s illness didn’t take up every minute of my day, I would be able to devote more time to fixing my relationship with Craig, and things would be better. Except everything had come and gone and still it wasn’t better, and sitting a few thousand miles away from the situation I could see that it wasn’t going to be. I had sent him those text messages since I had been here, trying to cling on to some semblance of something. I felt affectionate towards him – despite his cheating, despite his controlling ways. I could see that he was trying in some cack-handed manner to try and fix things himself – or make sense of them. Did I feel angry at him? I suppose no. I felt sad – that this is what we had become. All our hopes and dreams – all
my
hopes and dreams – had come to this – a realisation that we were never going to be together again. And I had to tell him. That in itself pushed aside the sliver of relief that was creeping in – the relief that these doubts were no longer a secret.

Sam had held my hand while I cried and laughed and had a minor freak-out.

“Things work out, cous,” he said. “They do. And whatever is to come is not going to be any worse than losing your father, is it? Nor will it be any worse than living with someone you can’t trust – who you don’t feel close to, who you feel betrayed by.”

He was right, of course, and now it was just a matter of trying to figure out how to move forward but at the moment my head hurt too much. This was all too much to take in – my mother’s letters to Ray, my relationship with Craig. I felt overwhelmed, so after a while Sam and I had just lain there, on the bed, in silence, listening to the sound of the world outside.

The beeping of Sam’s phone was a welcome distraction from it all and I watched as he sat up and read the message he had received.

“It’s Niamh,” he said.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to place the name.

“From the shop,” he offered. “One of my best customers.”

“Ah, your biggest fan,” I said.

“The very one,” he said with a wink. “She’s looking for that night out tonight. She doesn’t waste any time.”

I raised my hand and made a stabbing motion, and making an ‘
eek
’ noise mimicked the iconic scene from
Psycho
. “You do know she fancies you, don’t you?”

Sam laughed, as if he couldn’t believe anyone would ever fancy him. “Wise up. Anyway, I’ll just message her back and let her know we’re otherwise occupied.”

“With what?” I said. “Sitting here discussing old love letters about someone else’s life, worrying about the messes we have made of our lives? I’d say a night out could do us the world of good – as long as you do accept that she does, indeed, fancy you and that there is a fair chance that by the end of the night she will make some sort of a move on you.”

“Annabel, you are too funny,” he said. “Niamh’s just a friend. A very eccentric friend – but nothing more than that. But if you want to go out, so be it! Glad rags on tonight and out we will go!”

“Good. Although you are aware that I have a serious dearth of glad rags?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t understand you, cousin of mine. A beautiful woman like you – with a lack of fancy things.”

It was my turn to look on in disbelief. I wouldn’t say I was ugly. I wasn’t that self-effacing – but I would never say I was beautiful either. Average – that’s how I would describe myself and I suppose I dressed accordingly.

“I promise before I go home to take myself shopping in Second Hand Rose and buy a whole shopful of fancy things – but for now you will have to settle for me, my jeans, some sneakers and a fitted T.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous, cous,” he said, jumping to his feet. “With genetics like ours, we can’t help it!” He laughed and I laughed back – so delighted to be looking forward to a night letting my hair down – not thinking about all the serious, grown-up nonsense running around my head.

* * *

On the day Daddy died, after he was gone my mother and I sat with him for an hour. I’m sure some would consider it wrong –
morbid even – but even though I knew that he was gone, I couldn’t bear to be away from him. I held his hand, rubbing it – willing some warmth back into it while my mother – grief wracking through her body – lay with her head on his chest. It was as if she was waiting for his heart to start beating again – for him to admit it was one of those big jokes he so loved to play on us. Letting go – physically letting go of his hand – was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I imagine it was one of the hardest things I would ever have to do. I’d never lost anyone before – not there – not in front of my eyes. My grandfathers had both died before I was born and I never knew my grandmothers. I suppose that came with living away from family – just us three. I considered myself fairly lucky, if I’m honest. I saw friends lose their grandparents, their parents, their aunts or uncles and I felt as if I was somehow lucky that there I was – just us three. And nothing was going to come between us. I never had to say goodbye and this, this first time, was almost more than I could bear. You never truly understand grief until you feel it yourself – until it overwhelms you, hitting you in relentless waves as you try and convince yourself everything is going to be okay while every part of you
screams that it won’t be and that it can’t ever be okay again.

Letting go of his hand – when there was no trace of warmth left and the hand that used to squeeze mine when I was a child now felt strange and waxy and wrong – I stumbled out of the room, past the doctor who was standing by and the undertakers who were waiting to take his body and prepare it for his final journey and I stumbled out into the yard gasping for air – trying to fill my lungs to still the screaming in my head.

Rocking back and forth, hugging my knees to me as I sat on the porch steps, I took my cell out and dialled Craig’s number and waited for him to answer. His voice, when he did, seemed distorted. The world seemed distorted. “He’s gone,” I managed to whisper before silent, wracking sobs ripped through my body once again. I heard Craig say my name as I dropped my cell to the ground, realising that there was no comfort to be had in his voice.

* * *

Craig, the dutiful if not entirely faithful, boyfriend came over. He stood awkwardly in the doorway as I answered it, telling me he was sorry for my loss and making to hug me – but I couldn’t, in that moment, hug him back. The feeling of my father’s hands was still on me and I didn’t want to touch anyone – to detract in any way from that feeling or that memory even though the cold stillness of him had felt so wrong. I leant towards him slightly, my hands still at my sides and felt his arms around me.

“He’s at peace now,” he said. “It’s the best thing, no more pain.”

And I nodded because that is what you do. You don’t say, ‘No, it’s not the best thing. The best thing is never going to happen. The best thing is him being okay and not in pain and not bloody dead.’ I didn’t and couldn’t get angry, because I wouldn’t make a show of myself as the undertakers did their work, even though I was sure they were more than used to people making scenes.

So I just nodded and then stood straight and walked back to the living room where the doctor was soothing my mother and offering all kinds of pills to help her get over the pain. Stoically she refused.

“I have to feel the pain,” she said. “Because if I don’t it’s like he didn’t mean anything to me. And he did.”

I was a coward then because, when the doctor went to get her a glass of water I wasted no time in asking for a few of those pills myself. He meant everything to me too – but maybe I just wasn’t as strong as my mother.

* * *

We met in a small pub on Waterloo Street, where Niamh waved at us furiously as we walked in, indicating she had kept us a place on the wooden benches. It was still relatively quiet but Sam pointed out it wasn’t even nine yet and by Derry standards this was still the middle of the afternoon. I blinked. By Florida standards this was almost stretching into the wee small hours of the morning.