Thursday, January 3, 2008

The Glass Doors

THE GLASS DOORS.

Lily felt her heart flutter as her suitcase disappeared through the rubber flaps.

No turning back now.

She knew she wouldn’t ask for the bag to be retrieved, even if she changed her mind – Lily didn’t like to make a fuss.

Everything essential had been packed in that bag - everything irrelevant she’d left back at her flat.

She made her way to the departure lounge. A man, who had checked in earlier, looked over the top of his coffee cup as she sat down.

Her casual elegance often drew a second glance, even though all she wore today were jeans and a pale blue top skimming against her narrow hips. Her long blonde hair had been caught at the nape with a single elastic band. The other passengers hadn’t noticed her; they sat quietly reading newspapers, or stared with indifference through the large viewing windows.

She sat down and gazed at the empty apron and the clear runway beyond.
With not much activity in a rural airport Lily relaxed – not being in any hurry herself.

People and planes could take all the time in the world.

With thirty minutes until her flight, Lily prayed for a delay - prayed for some sort of engine trouble, even a storm.

Something - anything?

She glanced behind her at the glass entrance doors, hoping to see someone she knew. No-one familiar - just a porter wheeling two small suitcases.

Before long, and maddeningly on time, the familiar drone of a small twin-engine plane made an unwelcome intrusion in her thoughts. It taxied uninvited – in her mind – to the front of the large glass windows, the smell of aviation fuel irritating Lily’s nose.

She watched with wretched misery as the suitcases for her flight were loaded on the plane.

Take your time. What’s the damn rush?

A monotone voice called her flight and everyone queued at the glass doors with boarding passes in hand, kissing family and friend’s goodbye.

Lily stood and nervously smoothed down her jeans, then glanced with a sinking heart at the airports’ entrance doors - still empty. Nobody running through them to stop her. No-one pleading or crying for her to stay.

Lily waited at the end of the line so she would be the last one to board. Thankful she’d booked a window seat, thankful she’d at least get to see the town she loved as it disappeared beneath the planes wings.

One last hopeful glance at those damn empty entrance doors. Now she had to show the girl at the glass exit door her boarding pass - only a few more seconds before it’s too late.


******



Lily sat with a sense of hard won peace at the bay window, watching snow flakes struggle to attach themselves to the cold glass.

Jack had found her - four months after she’d left. She’d been surprised at his persistence - hadn’t realised how he felt about her - or realised he’d missed her flight by ten minutes. She pulled her knees up as high as her thickened waist would allow and hugged her knees.

Yesterday Lily had seen him at a party, unaware he also knew her friend Olivia – oblivious in the knowledge that Olivia had put their two stories together and had been shrewd in arranging for them to meet up. Lily had stared at him open mouthed, yet he’d shown no reaction until she’d tried to leave. He had followed her to the car and called her name just as she’d put the key in the door.

They had stood staring at each other for a full minute, and when she got in her car and drove off he had followed her home in his car.

Lily had told Jack the baby wasn’t his - as she’d been instructed to do.
At first he hadn’t believed her, until she explained the dates didn’t match. He’d been disappointed, then angry - and then he’d left. That had been yesterday.

Today her peace hadn’t lasted long, when a loud knock on the door pitched her from her abstract thoughts at the window.
She walked with cumbersome steps towards the door and peeked through the spy hole.

“Jack”, she breathed.

He knocked again. “I know you’re in there Lily.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and blew it out through rounded lips, “What do you want?”

“Are you going to let me in?”

She leant her forehead against the door, alarmed at his return, then opened the door a fraction.

“It’s cold out here.”

Lily opened the door wider and gestured wearily for him to come in with a wave of her hand. He entered the room and waited for her to close the door.

“I thought you’d gone home,” She said.

“I did. We need to talk— please?”

She remained silent and stared at the buttons on his shirt, not wanting to look into his eyes.

“I spoke to my sister Pippa,” he said.

“Oh?” she looked up - met his eyes for a few brief seconds before looking away.

“She remembered something. Something that happened not long after you came to live with me,” he said.

Her eyes fixed on his shirt again, noting a button hanging by a few threads.

That’ll probably come off in the next wash and he’ll be hunting around for a new one. It’ll probably fall on the grass when he hangs it on the line. He won’t notice until he irons it, or maybe when he goes to put it on and sees the button is missing.

She wondered why the button seemed so important - his laundry wasn’t her problem anymore.

“Lily?” his voice forced her to look up, “Pippa did your laundry, remember?”

She frowned, wondering how he’d read her thoughts.

“She remembered something that happened not long after you arrived at my flat… just after your accident,” he continued.

“She did my laundry. So what,” Lily said, her mouth twisted sideways. She thought back to the time she’d stayed at his house after her accident – the accident that had left her in a wheelchair for two months.

Jack sighed and rubbed his temples, “How can I put this delicately? You had a little accident… then you asked Pippa to get you some female necessities from the chemist?”

Oh God. Pippa would remember something like that.

“I did the sums Lily. We were together after that happened, you couldn’t have already been pregnant.”

She began to sway, so he led her to the sofa. She sat down and her hands began to tremble.

“Tell me Lily.” Jack took her hands and held them.

She shook her head and looked down.

“Whatever it is, just tell me.” His voice calm yet insistent.

For several minutes Lily said nothing, and then she took a deep breath.

“If I tell you the truth—” she stopped and looked at him, her face a picture of misery.

He gripped her hands tighter, urging her to continue.

She untangled her hands from his and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. It seemed to strengthen her resolve and she took a deep breath.

“It was your ex wife Margaret. She guessed I was pregnant— told me that if I didn’t leave she’d take the children to the States and you’d never see them again.”

Jack sat up straight, his jaw tightened, his pupils enlarged, and then he laughed.

“She told you that?”

He stood up and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Margaret can’t leave the country. She can’t get a passport, let alone one each for the children. She has a criminal record and she’s on a good behaviour bond. You knew that.”

Lily shook her head. She’d known about the criminal record, though not about the passports. Now she felt like a fool, as if she’d wasted months of time with her loneliness and despair.

“But what about you? You were doing exactly what she threatened. You were going to keep this baby from me anyway.”

“No! No... I was going to tell you.”

“When? Months from now? years from now?” Jack got up from the sofa and began to pace. He sat back down when he noticed tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I was just so afraid she’d do it.”

“I know, you couldn’t have known.”

Lily began to weep and Jack realised the huge sacrifice she’d made for him.

He tilted her chin and made her look at him. “I’m staying here tonight, it’s too far to drive back now and you’re coming home with me.

Megan shuddered and took a deep sighing breath.

He really had come through those glass doors after all.

Done to Death

DONE TO DEATH:


We met when I was eighteen and from that first moment came the understanding we’d be together for a lifetime.

It was love at first sight for me and she felt the same – she knew I’d take care of her, it’s all she needed.She was beautiful. Dark skinned, bright flashing eyes, and not too tall – perfect. Although she had one tiny flaw discovered soon after our introduction; she was high maintenance, like all females. Well I didn’t mind, she gave me back a great deal more than I deserved.

We began our journey soon after we met. Saw things few even dream about during the years we shared. I remember one memorable journey across a hot, relentless desert highway that made us both choke. Many times we’d stop to catch our breath and let the dust settle. We’d stand side by side to watch an impressive sunset – the clouds turning a bruised purple and orange as storm clouds lingered on the horizon. Sometimes we camped for the night and she’d keep me safe and warm from the cool desert chill, while mysterious creatures scuttled around us.

After the desert came relief when we reached the coastal road, the cool sea breeze in our faces gave us both more vitality. The fresh air cleaned our lungs and charged our batteries. However, she didn’t like the surf. Once I took her down to the water and she stood dead still in her tracks – it took me ages to get her back on to dry land after she froze in the swirling waves. It was my decision not to have children. It wasn’t hard to imagine them leaving ice cream cones in the back seat, scratching the upholstery with their shoe buckles, and slowing us down when they needed to stop for toilet breaks. It was no life for kids.

As we both grew older, the realisation came she wouldn’t make it to the end. Her small heart wasn’t strong enough. The years of travel had weakened her, slowed down her drive to go on. Now I wished we’d stayed home more – wished we’d settled into an average life of domesticity instead of steering on to the next unfamiliar town – the next anticipated sight.

But being stubborn I had urged her on, said she’d be fine and told her she complained about nothing, even though she often warned me of her fatigue. She would drop little hints – sometimes funny little sighs and now and then a little cough. Knowing deep down the cough was serious and it was damaging her strength, I ignored the signs - couldn’t admit she was sicker than she let on.

How could do you prepare yourself to say goodbye to the second most important female in your life? Besides, I had no money left for the help she needed. Travelling and using up my inheritance had come at great cost to her.Stroking her smooth dark skin at night after a long tiring day is one of my happiest memories. Now it's dimpled and faded, despite the money I’d spent on her to maintain it. In that regard she didn’t ask for much.

Yesterday she coughed her last breath. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I rested my hands on her body and recalled our years together – the things we’d seen – the words I’d said and the way she spoke back. Once I yelled at her, but she forgave me – she always forgave me.

So I stand dry eyed as they take her away and hold what’s left - the faded photograph taken when we met. It’s a picture of me sitting on her bonnet – the dark green bonnet of a Mini Cooper ‘S’.

Tribute to Jian

Tribute to Jian

TRUE STORY:

Jian fought a long hard battle.Abandoned by her mother at just 3 days old, I tried to desperately to feed her with a small eye dropper.

But she needed her mother’s milk, not formula from a can.She failed to thrive, her little ribs showing beneath her silky white fur, her back- bone sharp against my palm.

I went to feed her just now and she was unresponsive.I held her in my hand while she struggled and gasped for air - her little mouth and paws turning blue from lack of oxygen. ‘Jian’ means strong in Chinese. I gave her that name in the superstitious belief she’d take strength from it.

But at just nine days old the fight was over.Though she never lost her grace and dignity.Even when her paws clawed the air for that one last breath.Even though her fur was matted from the sweat on my palm.

The saddest thing is; this little kitten never got to see the world.She had never even opened her eyes.I like to think that as her soul left its earthly moorings, and as she bounded towards the rainbow bridge, She turned back and said,"I know you loved me, and I'll see you again sometime."

Then she vanished into the rainbow, leaving a trail of my tears in her wake.

Monday, December 31, 2007

A true story I wrote about my brother.

MY BROTHER TOLD ME.

The phone rang a little after 10pm as we lay in bed watching the movie ‘Cocoon’ and to this day I’ve never been able to watch the end.

When I answered, my mother asked to speak to my husband.

“Why what’s wrong? Can’t you speak to me?” I asked.

She remained silent for a few heartbeats before taking a deep shaky breath. “There’s been an accident.”

I gripped the phone.

“It’s your brother, he’s been killed.”

My husband lay behind me against the pillows – without turning around, I gave him the phone, rose from the bed and went into the lounge-room, shutting the door behind me.

I stood in the centre of a room lit by moonlight, my arms wrapped around me as my fingers dug into my shoulders.

This is a dream. I only have to open my eyes and this nightmare will be over. Except my eyes were already open, I could see car lights driving down the street. How could they carry on as normal when this has happened to me? No, it must be a dream. I don’t have to wake my children and tell them their uncle is dead – don’t have to make phone calls and tell people my brother’s been killed in an accident – don’t have to worry about finding black clothes to wear to a funeral.

Strong arms hugged me tight – not my own this time.

So it’s true then?

“Your mother wants us to get some sleep before driving down.”

Sleep? How would I get any sleep as if nothing had happened?

We pulled a suitcase down from the wardrobe and filled it with clothes. Clothes for me, for my husband and my children - don’t know how long we’ll be down at my mothers, so keeping busy is the best thing.

As I race around the house packing for the trip, my heart pounds so my mind doesn’t think. Then I rest on the bed staring at the black ceiling while my husband snores beside me. At least he can sleep – I’m thankful he won’t be tired during the long trip south.

I hear heavy rain outside and wonder when it began – there had been no forecast for rain. It shimmers on the ceiling through the open curtains and through it I see a road and a white car. In the distance is a sharp bend and beyond that a semi-trailer going too fast. The white car approaches the curve in the road and its driver sees the oncoming vehicle. It’s too late for either of them.

The semi brakes hard, but his trailer is too heavy. It jack-knifes around him and hits the car head on. The front of the car crumples onto the lap of the front passengers, while the spinning back wheels lift a few inches off the ground, before coming to a sudden stop as they bounce back on the road.

The only sound is the hissing of the trucks radiator as it heaves hot water over the rain soaked road and broken glass.

All five passengers in the car are dead and there is a sense of peace.

I sit up and give a small cry and my husband holds me and calms me down.

“Shhh it’s okay, it’s just a dream."

"But it seemed so real."

"I know, go back to sleep.”

“But he told me he didn’t feel any pain."

My husband pats my back and lays me back down beside him while I tell him what I saw.

Over the next two days my mother and I are busy cooking meals no-one wants to eat – dusting furniture that already shines with polish and finding places for unwanted flowers sent by well meaning friends.

My father tells me to let my emotions out, but everyone knows that once the first drop goes over the spillway, there’s no stopping the rest of the flood. So I carry on keeping my emotions in check, not wanting anyone to see me cry, all the time wanting to know what really happened.

A man comes to the house and tells us about the accident. He says that a semi came around a bend too fast. It jack-knifed and hit the car - a white car with five passengers and they were all killed instantly – and it had been raining.

My husband stood beside me as the man told us this. His knees buckled, but I held him up while keeping my eyes on the man. I already knew the truth – my brother told me.