I'm horrible at smut and there's something so unsatisfying about this chapter that makes it a little overwhelming, well that's my opinion in any case. I apologise for my ignorance and hopefully you'll see through it too. It was incredibly hard to write though -this one particular scene- because I found myself so caught up in pictures that I could hardly swallow. I wish I could share them with you, those very same very vivid pictures but I suppose there really is no substitute for them; words can only do so much. Enjoy it still, you might just.
Oh and I apologise solemnly for the length. You know when someone tells you to stop doing something and you do it anyway, just to defy them? I had one of those moments writing this chapter. Take it bit by bit unless you're a speed-reader in which case I envy you completely.
There is some reference to Holden Caulfield from 'The Catcher in the Rye', see if you can spot it.
My thanks to both Ms. Suzanne Vega and Mr. J. D. Salinger and Pachelbel (not that they would know…)
This one's for Ella because I miss her.
Chapter Six
Sunlight speckled Lucy's driveway like motley autumn leaves. Alluring and inviting, her little cottage clinic had the most picturesque sort of comfort.
Worn orange terracotta roof tiles patched with dark mould rest on the house's crown while the remainder of the house was dressed in dark blackberry-red brick.
The windows were wooden but old and their skin flaked much like the old bench of yesterday, when one swipe of your hand across the window ledge would create a snowfall of white flakes.
There was a porch, a very small and indistinct porch, hidden in a deep shade that the roses made, entwined so savagely in the porch trim. And there were two, cream, calved out posts, the paint already worn but the wood still tangible, smooth and cold.
I sat wistfully on Lucy's porch, in a cold iron chair. Yesterday's black cat had cuddled itself around the leg of another white iron chair and her fur glistened in the tinsel like glare of the deep morning sun. She basked endlessly in its heat; her tail slicked the air with the deepest feel of total content. I envied the cat and the appeasement strewn across her whiskers because I had long forgotten what happiness had felt like and I longed so wholeheartedly for its rapture.
I checked the watch on my wrist. I was technically already ten minutes late, a seer of guilt had washed over me suddenly but I quickly forgot it. Punctuality was a virtue that I surely possessed but today I didn't feel like being Tess, so I slumped further into my chair.
I watched a curious fly tickle the tip of the cat's nose but she was too self consumed and soon feel asleep, her paws splayed out across the lemon yellow paving.
As the fly became bored and flew off into the distance I caught a look at the delicate garden before me. I had never noticed it before, I don't know how I could have missed it really, aside from it neatness and correctness it was this marvellous display of the most immense colour, splashed out openly on a thinly trimmed apple green lawn, only held in by fragile picket fencing. It was neat and trim, just like Lucy but also just as flamboyant and vivacious as she. Lavender and blood red roses and bright mounds of sparkling yellow daisies and crisp pink fairy floss camellias, bright clashing bluebells and a whole corner coloured in the most pure of white perennials and dazzling deep purple lilies.
It reminded me of Mrs. Cat's garden. I called her Mrs. Cat because I thought Beatrice was an ugly name, and because she had this marvellous collection of black porcelain cats on her windowsill. There must have been at least twenty-four of them and I remember them all having names of some sort, at least I pretended that they did. I used to lie on Mrs. Cat's thick, luscious lawn, surrounded by a thicket of daisies that were so yellow that they made the sun jealous sometimes. I'd watch the sun glance over the smooth silhouettes of each pretty little kitten while the deep smell of a brilliant menagerie of flowers would tickle my nose. And sometimes Bridie would come along with Charlie and Theo and we'd all play hide and seek in Mrs. C's barley fields until it was so late that we either got hungry or knew that Mum was finally home.
I wanted to lie down on Lucy's lawn, just like I did Mrs. C's, just to see the blanket of colour rush along the lawn but even sitting here, you could still smell the thick perfume of blooming flowers and could only wonder the amount of care Lucy took in her stunningly little masterpiece of a garden.
I checked my watch again but the luscious, honey yellow roses distracted me with their sweet perfume and I didn't seem to mind that I was already half an hour late. Late, no, late only in the sense that I should have been cushioned deep in the thickly soft skin of Lucy's dark black couch and I wasn't.
I didn't understand what stopped me right before her front door; I didn't expect to feel anything this morning apart from the same numbness that approached every morning recently. But somehow, today, a deep and uncomfortable sort of fear rumbled in the pit of my sore chest. Today I didn't want to see Lucy, well I wanted to see her, I just didn't want to speak to her. Although she gave off this radiating comfort and she had the most profound sense of empathy, I just didn't want to speak about Evan.
I relived that horror last night, more vividly than I had ever before. I had stumbled across a shirt of his, hidden sheepishly under the forest of junk under my bed that I had collected over the years. It hadn't been washed and it was still drenched in his exotic smell, that smell of Evan that made his every embrace feel so secure.
Last night I sat, not to peer listlessly into my bleached ceiling but I sat curled up in a tight ball, my thick red woollen blanket my only armour. I sat clutching this thin blue shirt that used to be Evan's, my nose buried in its rough fibre, so synonymous with his rugged, affectionate charm. It reminded me of what he used to represent. Effervescent, extroverted Evan, cunning and stealthy but at the same time the most gentle and respecting man I had ever known.
Dawn flared through today's clouds like the vociferous toll of a steeple bell. It hadn't woken me though, I couldn't sleep; I was awake before the sky had turned navy blue.
When today's sky was still indigo, I laid awake in bed, not glaring aimlessly into dull gray ceiling but I gently closed my eyes and watched the rushed picture of a not so distant memory wash over the back of my eyelids in swirling bright colours...
Blue. Nothing had ever been so pungently blue before, it was a perfect kind of hypergognic blue with no fragment of a cloud in sight and the only little specks of white were the graceful gambols of highflying seagulls.
The horizon waited for the triumphant setting sun, whose face blushed pink like that of a plump ripe peach. But not even she, who stained the sky a gentle red, could tarnish the elegant blue. It felt too perfect and I envied seagulls and their infinite space.
The cold taste of seawater was caught in the wind. It was only autumn, still warm enough to dip your feet into the water or stroll along the beach but somehow Evan and I ended up drenched, even though I said I wouldn't be swimming.
His just clean red t-shirt clung sluggishly to his slender muscles and the heavy wet denim of his jeans was sprinkled with a layer of fine sand. But not even the streams of water pouring down his face from his strawy wet hair could wash away his excited smile.
He had a shiny tightly packaged parcel hidden behind his back. He'd hidden it so that I might just think that it was something irresistible and important. He'd teased me for a while with that dubious smile of his and even resisted my treacherous eyes.
I had tried to tackle him but I only brought him down to his knees before I slipped on a slimy piece of horrid seaweed and he sprinted off down the deserted coast into the torrid yellow of the setting sun.
"Evan! Show me!" I scolded, out of breath. Sand felt strewn in my hair and cold-water still dripped down my back. I had one arm around his neck and the other rummaged behind his waist to try and catch a hold of his wrist. The smile across his cheeky face was unceasing. I could just watch his eyes glimmer at the prospect of my torture, every time I'd reach out for the carefully concealed parcel he drew it away further from reach.
With one strong sweep of his terrifyingly strong arms, he pulled me up against him and wrapt his arms tightly around my waist. Our wet clothes clung together; Evan's chest felt sticky and uncomfortable and inside me grew a faint discomfort, which was only made worse by the heat of Evan's breath. Evan didn't mind in the least, Evan was drawn to intimacy like flies to rotting meat, any chance of getting remotely close to me was great cause to be excited and he flocked to the opportunity, whenever it presented itself.
But Evan's eyes glimmered a more serious hue then usual and he found my little sheepish smile a little amusing. It was that smile that let Evan hold me a little bit closer than he had ever done before, that little smile that stopped me from pushing him away.
"Let me see, please?" I asked this time, my voice spiked with a tinge of intimacy. My eyes were drawn away from his and only the tips of my fringe floated along his delicate forehead in a half pleasing kind of way. I dared not look into his eyes, Evan always looked at me as if he felt I was the most beautiful creature on Earth and that look drew tight knots in my stomach and made it so difficult to breathe.
"Please?" I whispered again, politely. Still my eyes didn't meet with his and I drew outlines of the letters on his sticky wet chest.
He pressed his forehead against mine and drew his mouth close to my ear.
"Only if you give me a kiss," he whispered seductively. I felt the heat fluctuate off my cheeks as I turned that awful crimson shade. The thick heat of his low voice was intense and tickled the delicate skin on my neck. I gazed up at his eyes; he was playfully serious. Soft traces of pink in his cheeks didn't hide the elusive sparkle of desire in his eyes. He always liked the thought of me kissing him; I suppose he found something comforting in the way I kissed him, or he revelled in the knowledge that it was exclusive and platonic.
I closed my eyes and my stomach filled with a stagnant sort of excitement. Amidst the sticky heat from his wet t-shirt, the warm caress of his smooth skin felt incredible. His nose rubbed against mine as he gingerly leaned in to kiss me but the stagnant excitement suddenly bubbled and perturbed me. I tried to back away but Evan still held an omnipotent grip on my waste, so tight I felt the heat of his arm through the cotton in my dress. Amidst a hidden sort of sigh, wracked with the bitter hurt of dejection, Evan looked at me, silently disappointed. All he wanted was a kiss.
I didn't want to test his patience and I was reluctant to displease him and although the thought of kissing him felt warm and enthralling, I just couldn't. I made a promise to myself long ago that I would succumb to Evan's never failing desire to love me but I knew that inside there was always a piece of me that didn't want to let go.
I wrapt my arms around his cold neck, drawing myself just a tiny bit closer into our awkward embrace. The forgotten present still remained hidden behind his back and there was little chance of retrieving it now.
I buried my fingers in his hair and stroked a patch of skin behind his ear with my thumb. And then, as he closed his eyes I drew my palms across his forehead, just to rub away those anxious lines and I drew along the length of his hairline, gentle lines across his fleshy cheeks and outlined his gently rough lips and then my hands found themselves buried in Evan's hair again, his gently sea soaked hair.
I could feel his body just crave for me to conform to his fantastic whim, he opened his eyes again and when he did they frantically followed mine with hungry desire. But I only pressed my cheek against his and softly whispered into his ear.
"If you show me what you've got hidden behind your back, I might just consider it." I buried my nose into his shoulder, taking one soft sniff of the damp smelling Evan and one harsh embrace of his wet yet built chest.
"Alright" he said, I felt the heat of the sad note in his voice. He was disappointed but willing to play along and so he let go of me and revealed this shiny tightly packaged parcel in the palm of his hand.
It was flat and rather book shaped without any conspicuous corners or bumpy sides, packaged in a matt sort of pink with a tiny bit of curling ribbon at its top. He handed it to me carefully, precious it seemed and I handled the package suspiciously, unaware of any impending danger that lurked behind the matt pink wrapping paper. Evan chuckled.
"Well, go on. Open it." he smiled and I caught the subtle glance of uncertainty in his eyes. He didn't think I would like it.
I tore off the paper, without any concern for the ribbon or the carefully placed sticky tape. I ripped through the middle just where I knew the title might be.
It was a coffee coloured, beige maybe, a C.D. book thing. One of those fold out books that has a collection of two to three C.D.s and a little hidden pocket for a booklet. The pale woman on the front cover was draped in dark, accented, black clothes and haunting lipstick. She sat purposely on a small black stool and her legs crossed met at a point near a dark shadow on the right and her shoes shone lustrously in the segmented sunlight.
"Retrospective, the best of Suzanne Vega." I read. A smile curled itself against my cheeks. "How did you know?" I asked, the glint of uncertainty in Evan's glance changed to one of subtle relief.
"I didn't" he furrowed his brow, a little perplexed at my question. I tilted my head curiously. Evan sighed.
"Okay, so I rummaged through your C.D. cabinet and saw a couple of her albums piled up." He smiled cheekily, that pearly set of white teeth peered villainously from behind his luscious red lips.
"Observant" I said giving him an impressed sort of smile but Evan quickly dismissed that, his mind on matters more important.
"Where's my kiss?" he asked suddenly and I hadn't thought this part of the plan through thoroughly.
"Mmm…" I hemmed. Evan arms had already slinked their way around my waist again, drawing me closer to him. "You have to catch me first!" I laughed and Evan's slight grip waned. I broke free from his grasp and sprinted as fast as I could across the sand. The slow sand stole my feet to the ground and weighed me down significantly. Evan who chose a more careful path on the wet sand soon caught up and I found myself tackled ruthlessly into the coarse sand.
I screamed childishly, my whole back plastered itself in brittle dry sand and the clinging wet of my clothes brushed savagely against my skin again. Evan pinned my shoulders down so harshly that I couldn't move. He was a little too close for comfort now, palms pressed against my shoulders, his body half slumped against mine, his chest exhausted with uncaught gasps.
"Just one" Evan managed to whisper between gasps, I was in no position to argue but I knew Evan wouldn't touch me if I didn't let him. The gap between us grew narrower as Evan tested my reluctance. The weight of his body made it hard to breathe and lustful intimacy thwart thinking.
"Please" Evan whispered again making sure that he didn't take his eyes off me, instead his determined gaze tore savagely into my determination. I was past the point where swallowing became difficult and sweat congregated in heavy pools on my palms. I wanted to avert my gaze from him, to distract myself and imply an excuse but he was so very close and so very entrancing that I couldn't.
'Oh, it's only a kiss, one little kiss' I heard a little voice inside me whispered, a tiny little whisper that seemed to sound so pronounced. I felt a deep tightness in my chest, what was happening with me? What was this perverse voice saying? I whispered to the little voice: 'I promised myself that I wouldn't let myself get into this kind of awkward situation, with anybody, especially Evan'. 'But it isn't awkward' the voice hummed again. 'Of course it's awkward! I spat to the little voice trying so desperately to force it to dissolve. 'You also promised to let him into your heart…' the little voice chided 'Tess Gallagher doesn't go back on her promises…'
Evan's eyes were still fixated on mine like some relentless spell; they pleaded silently for a little lenience, just one kiss, that's all, it wasn't the world, just a little 'cheap thrill'…
A twang of guilt surged through me, I didn't want to hurt him, he cherished me but I couldn't possibly let him scorn me, that little sliver of me that was so vulnerable. 'What if he hurts me?' I asked the little voice. There! It wouldn't have anything smart to say to that! But the little warmth of a whisper stirred still. 'See the way he looks at you?' it whispered, 'How could anyone with such fervent desire, ever hurt you?' I sighed. It was right. No one had ever looked at me the way Evan did, no one had ever been genuine enough to do so. It was Evan's complacency in me that reassured me that there were decent enough people still living on this earth, people who loved and cared unconditionally and regardless. His security broke away the dense walls that surrounded the inner passionate me and as redeeming and gorgeous as that felt understandably there still remained that little chuck of Tess that was so defensive, so cynical and unworthy that I built up an underlying sort of resistance. I couldn't shake of the burden of ambivalence. I waited anxiously, unsure of what to do but secretly still hoping that Evan would still hover, just inches away from my lips because undeniably his intimacy felt comfortable.
But he was tried of waiting, his arms were strained with the task of holding his own weight above me and he too felt it uncomfortable to breathe. With a gentle sigh, he shifted his gaze and with that lifted his palms off my shoulder and begun to shuffle himself onto his side.
A vat of anxiousness compressed itself inside me like a can being crushed and out of dire passion and need for his incredible closeness, my arms lunged around his neck and I pulled him down toward me, savagely pressing my lips against his. He collapsed on top of me but after his startled shock sated he felt content to be eaten up by my raging desire. Passion seared through my blood and I embedded my fingers in his hair, the fear of any imminent hurt dissolved and I let vehement love bruise itself against my skin. He kissed me deeply, his lips luscious and moist, grasping so hungrily for mine that when he stopped to catch his breath I almost felt exhausted. My arms splayed eagerly down his back, searching somewhat frenziedly for the end of his t-shirt. My fingers found it still when they brushed against the rim of his jeans. They buried themselves cheekily under his sticky wet shirt and crawled gently up his mellifluous skin, I felt Evan's breath quicken as I moulded my palms into his back. His forehead pressed monstrously against mine just to deepen the kiss, Evan's mouth ached for the gentle warmth of my lips. The graze of his powerful arms against my sides made my stomach twirl into spasmodic knots and he ravenously gripped my shoulders with his fingers. His knee ungraciously bore apart my thighs as Evan made himself just that little more comfortable, my body bared heavily the feel of his slender stomach and my legs wrapt viciously around his.
Tired with the feel of supple lips he tore his away and sheepishly caught a few hurried gasps of air but it wasn't long before the feel of his velvety soft skin just below my ear pricked the hairs on the back of my neck. Soft kisses streamed their way down my delicate neck and the hot tickle of tender lips melted against its base.
My cheek found itself buried in coarse sand while Evan lips probed deeper and deeper into my flesh, the heat so agonising that my eyes screwed up and let off a gentle moan. Evan took that as a hint of unsated desire and fed his hand up my chest in haste but there were no buttons on my innocent white slip dress and somehow I felt relieved.
Sand rubbed harshly against my ear and although he'd long forgotten the taste of my lips I still wanted to feel the thick heat of his breath against my cheeks and the tender prod of his gentle nose. I pulled up his chin to my mouth and felt the patter of his wet lips brush against mine again and his relentless need to devour me completely. But something jerked him away and for a flicker of a moment the passion ceased. Anxiously, I opened my eyes to see piercing blue, glitter fondly in the remaining light of the glowing sunset. My hands retreated from underneath his wet shirt and gently caressed the back of his neck, the tips of my fingers wandered aimlessly through his matted hair. The tip of my nose rubbed against his affectionately and I gently licked my lips, I raised my mouth a little higher just to feel the rapture of his fiery kiss but he didn't want to do that anymore.
"What's wrong?" I asked, the role reversal didn't hit me at first. But I knew secretly that nothing was wrong, Evan simply took the moment to gaze deeply into my eyes and whisper a gentle, non verbal kind of 'I love you' that genuinely spread a warm smile across my cheeks.
The stirring hurt of adrenaline let my close my eyes again while Evan kissed my cheek sweetly and when his intoxicating kiss spread quickly back to my lips I felt the adrenaline die down quickly. Evan heaved a heavy sigh as a long lasting passionate kiss turned into something a little more profound, something only shared by few.
A strange sort of comfort collected in my stomach, I didn't want him to ever stop, I felt so safe with the weight of his warm body pressed against mine. I felt safe with Evan and I'd never felt that before. My arms ventured yet again down his sticky wet shirt and I half embraced him, the clingy feel of his bright red shirt caught against my heavenly white dress.
The longevity of the moment soon passed, much too soon for my liking and the warm deep feel of his kiss soon faded. But he gently kissed my cheek, just in parting and for a while I lay completely relaxed, my body sunk in cold comforting sand while inside I was flooded with the most peaceful sense of sleep.
Evan had shifted himself back onto his side but he was reluctant to leave me. His arm strayed gently across my chest and his fingers played delightfully amongst my stiff dry curls.
I opened my eyes and Evan lay so close, his hand softly brushed my forehead of curls. In need of his gentle warmth I shuffled that little bit closer to him and buried my nose into the warm flesh of his neck.
I didn't want to leave, I wanted to lie there with him on the gruff sand until morning, I wanted to spend the night wrapt ever so deeply in his arms but the wind shivered down my arms and Evan felt the goose bumps on my shoulders. The warm skin of his palms gently smoothed away the cold on my arm and he moved my head aside so he could give me an affectionate sort of hug.
His hot breath poured down my neck and his romantically gruff voice whispered softly into my ear,
"You've got the late shift tomorrow..." It was typical of Evan to talk about work when he wanted to hint that he had to go home. But I pressed my finger against his lips, I didn't want him to make excuses, I wanted him to be here with me, I had secretly always craved that and this perfect advantage wouldn't escape either of us. I drew him so very close to me that escape was almost impossible and every so often when I felt a little less burdened by the heat of exhaustion I subtly kissed his ever-familiar lips and soaked myself in a glowing sort of comfort.
"Mmm, Tessy…" he managed in between kisses and the soothing caress of my palms along his back. I loved it when he called me Tessy, many people did but it was when Evan said it that it grew another meaning. When I didn't let him hug me, or kiss me or just even touch me at all he always had that way of saying my name that cut into me and reigned down this compelling kind of affection. I felt married to him when he said it.
The low chuckle in his voice felt sweet. "You're not movin' are ya?" he laughed, his warm heat soaked into my neck. I shook my head brusquely and Evan drew his arms down my back.
"We can't stay here. You're cold and…" Evan began but an unforgiving twang pelt the base of my stomach and I pulled my head away from his shoulder and looked him sternly in the eyes.
"Don't…" I said harshly, placing a firm palm against his chest. "Please don't…" my voiced pleaded and Evan enveloped me in his arms tightly and drew up the last little bit of strength I had left.
"Come on, let's go home." He whispered in my ear and somehow home felt like such a nostalgic kind of word that I let my tight grip around Evan slip away a little and Evan gently pried the rest away.
He lifted himself off the brittle sand, it poured off his jeans and landed carelessly on my thin white cotton dress. Evan towered above me; I could see his eyes still glint fervently at me. He held out his strong arm to help me up but I resisted and dug my feet deeply into the sand. Even though the blue of the sky had darkened and the tide would soon wash in I felt too safe to leave.
"Tess?" Evan asked a little bemused while I brushed the sand off my forehead and fixated myself with the blue of the sky. When he asked again I poked my toes from out of the sand and lifted my feet into the air so that the sand poured down my slim calves.
"I've got sand in my toes" I muttered to Evan whose towering figure sort of shrugged over me. I didn't pay attention to what he was doing as he bundled me up into his arms, I just laid a fatigued head against his immense shoulder and felt the breeze gush through my hair as he ran through the sand.
The heavy noise of his feet against dry wood bothered me but it was only went a felt a sudden lurch of weightlessness that I opened my eyes, and I thought I saw the sky drop until I felt the rush of sobering ice cold water through my dress. I plummeted lifelessly through a haze of silent green, my waterlogged lungs didn't bother me until a felt a spur of hurt in my head, I ignored it still and a surge of cold pressed heavily against my chest and I sunk deeper and deeper into the peaceful bosom of the sea. The calm resilience of silence lifted me up from the water and for a moment I felt so weightless that I started to fly, only then a sudden ripple in the water let me open my eyes and seeing a field of thick murky green I started to panic. Salt burnt my throat as I mistakenly swallowed a mouthful of acrid sea. Water pushed deep into my chest and I suddenly lost the gift to breathe. Fear struck as I opened my mouth and the only thing the rushed in was the bitter taste of sea. My hand clasped my throat and my other arm reached up above me trying to pull against the sky and as ridiculously as it sounded it seemed to have worked. I felt the ease of my body glide out of the water and the lurch of vile seawater from the depths of my stomach. It was only when I felt my shoulder press against something stiff that I finally learnt of my fate.
"Tess!" Evan half yelled, his voice seeped in anxiety. I was bundled again in his arms, this time I coughed up seawater on his shirt.
"Tess? Are you okay?" His wet palm mopped the drenched curls from my forehead. And as I coughed up the last bit of water I tasted the heavenly texture of air float against my tongue. My chest screamed for the sweet taste of air and when he heard my horrible gasps Evan squeezed me into his chest, kissed the top of my head and whispered a sorrowful apology. My feet were no longer blazed in sand and he carried me gently out of the sea.
Evan had this thick woollen blanket in the back of his Ute that I always loved. I always remembered its rough texture because he often wrapped it around my shoulders when I felt cold. I was huddled in it then, I could feel the wool brush against my parched salt burnt lips. I huddled in the deep comfort of the passenger's seat; I know that because I could smell the beige of the acrylic on the seat.
Thoughts became blue and I soon forgot where I was, the heaviness of sleep drew all strength from me. And just when I thought I heard the white of silence, the soft baby blue of Suzanne Vega's peaceful guitar floated through the air and Evan husky voice hummed a very familiar tune.
When you find yourself so immersed in thought it's so hard to return but the clash of an impatient dark navy blue fly screen door, roused me from my deep stream of pictures. I felt them fade away, the colours sunk into the blackberry brick and from the corner of my eye the black shadow of a scitty cat flurried away.
"Tess?" the soft mellifluous voice of Lucy was so recognisable in the heat of the morning sun. I noted the time on my watch. I had sat here an hour.
In stunned embarrassment I ruffled up the yellow in my hair and turned to face a severely inquisitive Lucy. She looked very dull today, usually there'd be something seethingly colourful about the way she dressed but today she looked very simple in her dapple reddish jumper, white shirt and faded brown trousers. It was the red in her cheeks that felt urgent. Usually her hair glowed this fantastic shade that her lively red cheeks felt unnoticed but today not even her immense green eyes sparkled like they usually did. I sort of pursed my lips when I noticed and Lucy who's mouth gaped out, had nothing to say and so she sat down next to me, pulling away the wrought iron chair yesterday's cat had hidden against and softly laid a bundle of rich yellow chrysanthemums on the table in front.
I had covered my lips with my fingertips, embarrassed slightly but amused at the same time. Lucy definitely didn't look angry and it was strange that she didn't speak. I waited for her lips to part but she looked at me bemused so I buried my fingers deep into my harsh dry hair and slumped over the table depressingly.
The thick glare of that morning's sun glittered against the green in her eyes and when I finally came to the conclusion that today would herald a chorus of silent words Lucy felt the wind tickle her stomach and her lips curved into a gracious smile. She bowed her head and spoke to the little black shadow on her knees. Yesterday's cat made herself comfortable in Lucy's warm lap. Without warning she'd leapt there and Lucy felt obliged to stroke her luscious fur, it glistened like silver silk in the morning sun. Lucy cooed to the cat when she brushed her fingers over the crown of her delicate head. The cat felt most reluctant to be pampered; instead it bore a heavy interest in the alluring sparkle of yellow on the table in front of it. With one sleek leap she flounced onto the radiant white table and found her nose embedded deep in pleasing yellow.
"Hey, just don't eat my chrysanthemums, you!" Lucy chided and the cat's tender paws twisted amongst delicate greens stalks. She made a huge mess of the flowers, a proud mess of sprawling yellow sparkle.
Lucy glided her fingertips against the poignant pink in the cat's ears. I watched it all from behind the comfortable safety of my arms behind which hid my eyes. My eyes where like scared, blue almond slithers, peeping over my worn blue jumper. Lucy noticed them sparkle and yesterday's cat stopped prodding her arm with her velvety nose. Lucy looked at me like she did when she knew that something ate away at me but because she didn't see my sticky tears crawl down my cheeks she felt somewhat curious.
"Tess?" she asked gently and I already knew she wanted an explanation.
"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely but you couldn't hear it, my mouth was still very much buried under my arms. Lucy touched her bottom lip with the tips of her fingers so I drew my head out from behind their meagre shelter.
"I'm sorry for not coming in." I whispered again, a little softer this time but Lucy only smiled her hidden little smile and watched the blue in my eyes tarnish with embarrassment.
"Nothing to be sorry for." Lucy whispered, just as soft as I did and her voiced floated sympathetically through the thick air. Her empathy was something I admired greatly but it annoyed me that she didn't reek of annoyance. If I were she I'd be so angry. I just wasted a good two hours of her time yet she was still able to don that fantastic smile of hers and tell me that I didn't need to apologise.
"It's just that I'm such a stickler for time..." I reasoned. I said that to assure myself, that I wasn't breaking with my sheer routine. Nothing could really change Tess, I hate change. But Lucy only shrugged. I hated it when Lucy shrugged because the light would always dance off her shoulders in this brilliant way that just made the corner of her cheeks light up and then the red would fade away. Lucy always looked so beautiful with that tinge of red smeared across her cheeks.
"Sometimes we all run away from things we fear." Lucy stated softly and she looked so earnestly at me that the seer of boiling reality grated against my stomach. I always thought myself this impalpable woman, able to impede every harsh consequence thrown at me. I rubbed the gritty material of my sleeve against my forehead. I hated being lumped together with people who feared. Tess didn't fear anything, not really. Lucy might as well have just written 'ignominy' on my forehead. But she knew, Lucy knew that as glorified an image I made of myself, it was my tenacity that flawed me. I wasn't who I thought I was.
She drummed her fingertips lightly against the white iron but it wasn't because she was impatient, in fact Lucy waited humbly for the wash of reality to seep from my stomach; she drummed her fingers because she wanted my attention and she didn't want to seem rude.
"Are you angry at me?" I asked gently. I felt like the tiniest little child sitting in front of her, I certainly twisted my fingers through my curls, it distracted the embarrassment and my eyes timidly floated up to their corner and I buried my chin into my crossed arms again. I screwed up my mouth, the awkwardness still very apparent; my teeth ran across the inside of my lip.
"No Tess." Lucy began after what felt like such a drawn out pause. "I don't get angry easily. Besides you were the only one for today." She explained. Lucy has this gorgeous way of making you feel that tiny bit better, even when you'd just made the most incredulous of mistakes.
"Tess, what do you think stopped you from coming in?" Lucy was still curious; she pulled up the thick red sleeves on her woollen jumper just so she could hide her hands in their safe expanse, where the wind couldn't bite them.
There were a hundred and fifty two reasons why I didn't want to talk to Lucy today, all of which were flagrantly pointless. The most viable of the few sane reasons I had was that Evan's imperishable figure tore away at me. I so desperately needed to forget him but every strand of me was so reluctant to do so.
I heaved such a defeated sigh that Lucy sat even straighter in that stiff chair of hers.
"I miss him so much Lucy, that everyday becomes this fierce battle." I sighed my eyes drew themselves to the floor.
"A battle?" Lucy asked that trickle of concern simmered in her voice. I looked into her eyes and they feigned vague understanding.
"I know I have to move on, forget what Evan meant to me but it's just so very hard Lucy." I felt this sudden urge to cry. It reminded me of that one fiery winter afternoon when I watched the sun fall through a haze of purple clouds. I curled up against the rough carpet on my bedroom floor, pressed my eyes shut so tight that I felt the whirl of blood pulse through my head and I wished, I prayed so wholeheartedly that when I woke up the next morning from this disgusting nightmare, Evan would be right there, curled up beside me. He'd brush away the worried curls from my forehead and ask me why my cheeks were wet. And I wouldn't have to yearn anymore because it would have all been a sorry dream, nothing more than just a flittering, sorry dream.
Lucy watched as the heavy burden of grief weighed down the murky tears pouring down my cheeks and she clasped my hand in perplexed worry. There was nothing to say for the next five minutes and silence hit a flat dull note. Even yesterday's cat heard the silence and she pat her gentle nose against my elbow with stern sympathy.
"Would you like to go for a walk Tess?" Lucy asked, my sluggish body refused. A walk with Lucy meant a series of probing questions and help me they might, it was their intrusiveness that bugged me, the way they could draw out this pathetic emotional Tess. But Lucy's palm felt so warm clasped against my fingertips and her smile was just so radiant. I peered innocently from behind my arms.
"I have something I want to show you Tess." Lucy whispered again, her sympathy sparkled in her cheeks. I lifted myself of that heavy white chair and followed Lucy slowly down her large paved steps. I stopped at the last bright yellow one and my fingers tore up to my lips.
"But do you promise not to ask any questions?" I asked a glaze of timidness flashed across my face. Lucy fixed her float away hair behind her ear.
"I'll just listen." Lucy smiled and she walked me to the gate. The feel of soft satin brushed against my leg and when I peered down to the floor I realised that our little friend had followed us down the path. Much to Lucy's dismay she had a glowing yellow chrysanthemum stuck between her teeth. Lucy's eyes grew hot and she raced back up the careful yellow steps and bundled the last of her immaculate yellow flowers into her hand.
We walked across the street ever so slowly and without Lucy's questions there only rang the sweet sound of white silence. If it wasn't for Lucy's immense presence I could have forgotten she was even there. Lucy's vitality reminded me of Evan's and when I walked down the flower ridden streets of Mount Thomas another perfect blue picture came to mind, something to quash the longevity of time...
"What's so interesting about that big blue sky of yours Tess?" Evan asked while I took the moment to rearrange my palms plastered against the back of my head. The blood rushed to my right palm and my left palmed swelled, frustrated with patience I rest my head up against Evan's shoulder and tucked my legs underneath me up onto that horrible green of that wooden park bench. Evan was a little surprised; I was never really affectionate toward him because I didn't know how to be. But it was the little things, I reasoned; if I smiled when he said something stupid or held him when he felt dismal he'd know that I really did care, just like I wanted to. Evan was always content with me leaning my head against his shoulder, it 'killed him' when I did it because he knew that it took me so long to get to the point where'd I'd just sit there and lean my head against his shoulder, just like that, for no reason whatsoever. With Tess there was always reason and he knew that, so he relished it, relished every precious little moment he had with me as if it were something sacred.
He draped his arm around my shoulders ever so gingerly, just in case I'd flinch but nothing could tear me away from my illustrious sky, there was just something so gorgeously captivating about that blue dome of emptiness. It's silly to think that people once yearned to explore it, as if it were some strange foreign country but in saying that there's something mystical about that patch of blue, it's always so gloriously alluring.
"Tess?" Evan asked again. There was this loveliness in his voice when he felt close; maybe it was because I could feel the deep rattle of its pitch in his cheeks. His voice always had a nice kind of tune, I had never heard him sing before but I imagined that he well could, if he really wanted to. It felt so comfortable, gregarious and warm over the telephone whenever he rang and it wouldn't matter where I was or how far away he was, he would always sound so close and genuine.
"Tessy? Are you asleep?" He brushed his warm palm over my twisting curls and it was true, I had closed my eyes for a moment and I immersed myself in the big watery blue pictures of my stagnant imagination but he tore me away from that.
"No, not asleep. Just thinking." I readjusted my head against his shoulder and I opened my eyes against that big glare of green that was that pocket of bush in the middle of the park.
"What of?" Evan was curious and while I sneaked my arm around his neck I hinted up at the sky where a recent flock of very dainty birds flew past with such poise and ease that you thought they'd never get tired.
"Them..." I stated blankly, "...and how they just fly like that." Evan sort of readjusted his weight on the bench and he pushed me back very awkwardly against the arm of the strong wooden bench.
Evan looked very strange, his eyes had sharp lines of curiosity run against them and his lip twisted into that bemused curious smile that he was well renowned for. He furrowed his brow for a minute and licked the bitter dry skin on his parched lips.
"Don't you know how birds fly Tess?" I was still fixated with the sky and had this very reluctant urge not to glare away.
"No" I mumbled hastily and then danced my eyes across the sky once more. "I was never much good at physics." I reasoned and somehow in that aching pit of my stomach I knew that Evan would somehow stumbled across some ridiculous pearl of wisdom in that expansive brain of his. I always enjoyed though, having someone to talk things through with, nothing of significant importance just little things like why George Orwell had his 'Animal Farm' or why grass was green and the sky wasn't or why there was a Great Depression in the nineteen twenties and Evan knew all that. I'd just have to ask.
"Well I'll give you a crash course." Evan smiled; the eagerness to explain was so evident in his invading smile that I'd have to submit. I was sort of curious in a small kind of way.
Evan sat up very straight with this very well planned expression smeared across his forehead, very well accustomed. You knew that when he did that he was going to explain something very complex and important and so I sat up very straight and closely followed the intense excitement in his eyes. But before he spoke he lightly brushed the tips of my knuckles with his fingertips. I thought for a moment that he would feel some need to hold my hand but he simply caught my gaze again and then folded his two hands into a butterfly, with his two palms held out flat, palms down and facing me with his thumbs intertwined together. He flapped his palms up and down as a sort of joking gesture and it caught a smile on my lips.
"Could you do that for me?" he asked and he flapped his butterfly hands toward me, too amused with his own little creation. Once I did he pointed to my two thumbs.
"Pretend that's a bird and that's its head okay?" Evan asked and I nodded softly and followed along with his intriguing explanation. "And that's the front view of the bird with the front view of its wings." Evan dragged the tip of his finger against the length of my index fingers.
"Now let's take one wing." He broke apart my complex fleshy bird and now held one palm out and Evan twisted it so that my fingers pointed out in front of me and my thumb pointed out to the right. He tucked my thumb away though, it was seemingly useless.
"Now remember how that's the front of your wing?" Evan stroked the length of my index finger again and I nodded just as astutely.
"See the way it's shaped? It's like an arch." Evan ran the tip of his finger from my knuckle down to the soft skin on my palm on that cylindric wad of palm that was feigning a wing.
"The bottom of the wing is more flat with just a little curve on the side..." Evan drew his finger across the bottom of my palm, "and the top of the wing is more curved." Evan now drew imaginary lines across my knuckles.
"When the wind hits the wing it goes in two paths. Across the curved surface of the top which means that it travels a greater distance because it's more curved or across the bottom that's relatively flat and a shorter distance." Evan stopped running his finger down the base of my palm and looked up into my eyes just to see if I had kept up with the explanation but I was intrigued, I never knew how simple yet so stunningly complex it really was and as I sat I sort of admired Evan and his great field of knowledge and wished that I had really spent more time with him, just to sit and listen.
"When the wind travels across the top of the wing it travels further and across the bottom it travels less. So for both streams of air to get at the end of the wing at the same time- imagine that the back of you hand is a sharp point- the wind on the top has to travel faster than the wind at the bottom. You got that so far?" Evan always made sure that I understood him and as a faint sparkle in my eyes grew I nodded earnestly and let him continue.
"Fast wind creates low pressure, slow wind creates high pressure. Low pressure on the top of your wing..." Evan pointed directly on my first knuckle, "...and high pressure on the bottom of the wing." Evan skimmed his finger down to my palm. "The difference in pressure creates lift that-"
"That lifts the wing up into the air!" I smiled and cheekily rubbed the curls in my fringe against my forehead and while Evan's smile reigned across his cheeks. He sat back against the wooden pails in the stiff bench and instead of slinking his arm loosely across my shoulders he still held onto my hand, that warm half rough skin of his palm brushed affectionately against mine and felt so convincingly comfortable that I laced my fingers through his.
I let my eyes scan the horizon again and I watched the white wind run against the curved surfaces of a sneaky magpie's wings and I felt so privy to his secret now that it almost felt childish. Suddenly it flapped its massive display of zebra feathers, just suddenly like that and you could almost see the burden of the weight of air. I pointed shockingly at the magpie who'd just pushed himself further into that expanse of sky.
"See that!" I pointed out. "It flapped! Why did it flap its wings Evan, if all the high tech. engineering it needs it right there in its wings?" suddenly this perfected image of flight started to yellow in the corners. Evan just smiled and knew that he had an answer, he always did.
"Planes have runways and wheels and big, huge engines that let them speed across the run way and slowly lift up into the air. Have you ever seen how fast a magpie runs Tess?" Evan asked that glorious grin shot against his face. I had given in.
"Yes" I sighed and felt the tickle of humility against my stomach.
"But it's not just that Tess. Planes aren't able to lift off right off from where they stand. They need this huge run up, which is why the have those massive runways but birds don't need that, they can flap their wings with so much force that it'll lift them up into the air immediately. It's the shape of their wing that holds them up there and enables them to fly." Evan finished his little explanation with a tender and smile and he too sat back gently and watched the thick blue of the sky fade into his eyes with that radiant glow that it mastered. I too became content and while that warm peace lasted I once again found that warm comfortable spot on Evan's sturdy shoulder just where my forehead pressed against his chin. When I found the warmth to close my eyes Evan felt the need to speak again.
"So Tess, what's with the fascination with the sky and flight and all that?" he asked curiously and if he understood its significance than he wouldn't have asked.
"I like its escape." I muttered not dismally but in a more depressed sort of voice that Evan immediately picked up on. Evan untwined his fingers from mine and with a surprising sort of touch he enveloped me in his arms, placing a warm sort of kiss on my forehead, as he did so often.
"Oh Tess, what is it about this world that you dread so much, hey?" Evan asked but I wouldn't answer, I just gazed up to that luscious blue dome that filled that gaping hole in the sky and envied the birds that floated through it. I'd give anything for that kind of escape.
We came to an enormous green hill with a very obscure sort of crater. If you weren't careful enough you'd have thought that the sun had fallen in and made this large pit of a hole on this very stretch of peaceful green. But you couldn't call it a hole, it wasn't that eerie. Along the front of this hill lay a patched brick wall, steel gates as its arms with orange-coated rust. I knew too well of a place very similar, a very deprived, lonely place on a smaller golden hill not too very far away. For a very lonely little place it was so densely populated with large stone and glistening marble tablets and this enormous blanket of frightening white wooden crosses. The white paint would sometimes peel away when the crows pecked at them. You'd often see these little black creatures perched on the arms of many a white wooden cross. They were the only regular visitors but because they tarnished that peaceful blanket of white, they weren't very welcome at all.
Lucy felt very comfortable approaching the solemn red brick wall, I stood well away. A place like this was too fragile for me. The walls felt like they could almost collapse under their own sheer weight and the ground hissed with this sort of stilted noise, buried deep in the green of the grass.
When Lucy noticed that vague glitter of uneasiness that I hid deep in my chest she reached out to hold my hand and slowly she lead me toward that body of brick and stopped me just before the iron clutches of a very stern black gate.
"I remember that told you me that I didn't understand..." Lucy began but she didn't look at me as she spoke. Instead her hand gripped the smooth black pillar of iron. Lucy shuffled her feet in the grass. "But there is something I do understand and I want to show it to you." With a very light push to the harsh pillar in her hand Lucy pried open the gate into a yard of grave marble figures, all in very structured and measured positions, all facing the wide face of the sun that glowed so happily on their surfaces.
I felt so reluctant to move into this almost uniformed yard but Lucy had such a convincing sort of demeanour that it almost crushed me not to oblige so I follow her, she searched very carefully through rows and rows of black marbled tablets. She searched but she knew very well where she was going.
The only colour in this very destitute field was the green under our feet. I expected this lively splatter of colour against the bases of these dark, lonely stone panels but everyone had forgotten them. That's what we do with the dead. We forget them.
I thought so very coldly of Evan's grave and whether there was any colour there but I couldn't remember what it looked like, I didn't like seeing it.
Lucy led through rows and rows and rows of black stone until she came upon the very last little grave, tucked away in the very tight corner of the back wall. It sat very humbly, pressed against the brick wall for all its support and strength. On its front glistened very deeply carved stone letters, filled in with some sort of twinkling gold paint that ran sparkling gold lines along its text.
'BRIAN FITZPATRICK', read the hue of gold, its stark bold letters lit up a glowing fire on the deep black marble. Under the name there was nothing but two dates, 1954 and 2004 and a bludging golden swirl of thick Latin text, "Requiescat In Pace". It possessed such dignity and decent simplicity that was admirable.
Lucy patted the tip of the black arch with soft nostalgia. She ran her fingers along the radiant gold text and along the smooth poignant stone and she sat so daintily on the lush blanket of green grass. She drew up from within herself this horribly composed figure and stiffly crossed her sleek legs against the grass. Her glittering bunch of crisp chrysanthemums tumbled in the tiny little breeze that pushed them against the wall of their simple steel cup but they sat so proudly at that base at the base of their grave and they glittered so gloriously in their reverent sun that they made this whole valley of stone glimmer in delight.
I hadn't found anything useful to do with myself. I hadn't opened my mouth since I entered this place, for the sheer semblance that it emitted simply scared me. Lucy had almost forgotten me there on that blanket of green. The wind swept lightly through her hair, the gold cascaded in deep lines along the stone and the horrible hiss of the ground sated itself with quiet.
I searched for that flagrant hint of loss and despair that this place should have possessed. I searched so hard for it amongst the beige rotten flowers and the dirty forgotten names but I couldn't find it. This place felt nothing like where Evan was because it looked so peaceful and dignified. Even those that were long forgotten still had the sun blaze against their stone pillars ever afternoon and wonderful lush green at their foot. Evan had none of that.
I was consumed with the peace of the grass when I sat down next to Lucy. I crossed over my sleek legs just like she had done and I twirled the thin threads of sticky grass through my fingers just like she and when Lucy was finally confident that I noticed the vivid comfort of this place she spoke.
" I wanted you to see that I do understand what it feels like Tess. I know how it feels to be ripped apart into little shreds. I know what it feels like to have this constant pain in the very pit of your stomach that makes it so very hard to swallow..." Lucy tapered off with an unfinished sort of whisper, "I know that hollow sort of darkness that you wake up to in the morning Tess. I've felt that all." Lucy heaved a very burdened sigh and her eyes sparkled a very familiar colour. Almost instantly I noticed what it was, it was that same kind of spiteful yellow that spiked through her eyes when she looked so retired and hopeless. I gained quick knowledge of Lucy's little secret, that little secret that she hid in the dark recesses of her mind only a day or two ago.
My fingers touched the very dry tips of my red stained lips. "Is that your husband?" I asked Lucy softly and as Lucy jolted at my sudden gain of words, I saw this little trickle of a path that a very small tear carved into Lucy's cheek and that she so very subtly wiped away.
Lucy didn't have to answer my question, I already knew its answer but she felt very obliged to give a small nod, just as confirmation.
"Thirty years is a very long time to be in love" Lucy whispered, very softly to that stark black marble as she gazed very loving at her husband's name, just the hint of gold in the bold text of his name sparked a warm sort of glow in the deep corners of Lucy's heart. It was the same sort of slow glow as the glistening gold of her simple golden wedding ring.
"I can't possibly put myself in your shoes Tess but I want you to know that I do understand you, even if it is just a little tiny bit." Lucy smiled and with that incredibly fond smile of hers she brushed away a very stray lock of hair and let the sun eat up the tears on her face.
Lucy promised no questions, only to listen but as I sat here with her amongst the peace and seemingly complex vitality of stone I wanted her to ask me her probing questions, right now I wanted her to delve so deep into the heart of me that I would hurt all over again because I wanted that dark hollow to go away, that dark hollow that Lucy knew of.
"Tell me about him Lucy" I asked, that faint shift of role reversal was so unsubtle to be pointed to. Lucy was a little struck with my question, maybe she too had not only buried away that man whom she loved but buried away his memory so that it wouldn't plague her. She pulled away her curling fringe of carrot orange hair and gazed up to me, her comrade in loss and despair and gave me a very brief but genuine smile.
"There's so much to tell" Lucy gasped as she held back tears. "And I'm here to listen to you Tess, I fear that if I start now, we'll sit into the long hours of the night." It was only then that I sort of understood that maybe some questions aren't so appropriate to ask.
"I'm sorry" I whispered and hung my head in appropriate shame but the delicate chuckle in Lucy's voice hindered that and she touched my shoulder weakly.
"I'll tell you one thing. As much as I told myself that it would be easier to forget Brian and start over again, just like you Tess, it didn't work. The more I fought the more it hurt and the more I pleaded with myself to part with his memory the more strongly I clutched onto it." Lucy's grip on my shoulder became a little tighter as if to highlight a very significant point. I could not forget Evan and I shouldn't force myself to do so but there was this residual feeling that what Lucy shared with her husband was something of greater power, what I had with Evan simply couldn't compare, it didn't follow the same rules.
"But he was your husband, you loved him for thirty years…" I started and Lucy shook her head confidently.
"And our love was more profound then what you shared with Evan, Tess?" Lucy asked even though I told her that I didn't want any questions. I nodded, the eternal bond that a married couple share is just so picturesque and profoundly beautiful, it's very deep and so very different to every other kind of relationship. Lucy shook her head once more.
"If you let yourself love Evan the way you wanted to, if you didn't have that shameful past that thwart your every decision I have no doubt that you and Evan would have been very happily married. But because of your situation and even through it, you still loved Evan as if you were married to him, despite the lack of rings and vows and commitment. Don't ever degrade what you felt for Evan, Tess, don't ever dismiss it and don't ever conjure up some false meaning of it Tess, especially because it was so very genuine." Genuine. There's a word I had never heard anyone speak of me before. Genuine, it was the best way to describe that feeling I felt for him. It wasn't tarnish with some unforgivable sense of forgery; it was real. I sighed heavily in to the very depth of my chest; I wish Evan knew how real it felt.
"Lucy?" I asked, she'd busied herself with her husband's stone tablet; even though it only really represented symbolically his resting place to Lucy it meant more. She traced in to the graven gold letters as if they were something very precious, the letters of his name like sparkling, sun tickled honey.
Lucy looked up and it was no secret that she was keeping a deluge of tears at bay, you could see them bulge under her eyeballs like strained dam water and she feared to smile for the upheaval of emotion would send her crazy.
"Yes Tess?" she finally answered, her smile fought and plain. I fumbled with a tawny blade of grass in my fingers, the sticky sap of nature stuck to my skin.
"I need to tell you about the investigation, I need someone to listen." I explained and it needed no answer from Lucy for Lucy had this very abstract language of gestures that was more straightforward than a string of words. When her eyes twinkled appreciatively I knew she was already listening, just as she promised.
"We all found ourselves at the station…"
It was a very weak and dim day. You could just see it through the blinds in the kitchenette. It was very dark and ugly, the clouds had just been dropped in a huge can of black paint and they were hanging in the sky to dry, dripping their muck of gray all over that vast sphere. Fitting I suppose, particularly for the mood we all seemed to possess in our little country ridden station.
It took one look at our faces to see that we were too exhausted, too lost and too unsympathetic to be spoken to. Ben slouched at his chair, his head not quite in his hands but hanging over a coffee mug laced with whatever tasteless liquor he had left in his cupboard. P.J. had shut the door to his office and asked specifically not to be disturbed for the day, 'filing' he mumbled, 'hadn't been done for over a year and now was a more convenient time then ever', so he said. The Boss looked very anxious in his office, one set of blinds drawn and the other open just far enough that you could see lines of his coloured face through the window. He sat wistfully at his desk too, drumming his fingers on its edge thinking adequately about our present situation and how it just sunk up on us so very quickly, without sufficient warning. Jo was the worst though, she had tried to keep some semblance of normality within the station walls but she only succeeded in mumbling chaotically to herself and shuffling about reports as if they were finished and she needed to clear her desk of space. Every now and then she would mumble that 'we needed to do something' or that 'we couldn't just sit here and mope' but stricken with intangible grief she only mumbled to keep sane.
I would have had to have been the only one to answer phones. In the thick dead of silence they rang like the ominous clang of hospital alarms, urgent and ear piercing. Even still as I drearily repeated my rank into the phone and asked if there was anything I could possibly help with, I sank with a heavy sort of numbness in my chair. Even though two men had been assaulted, a flock of sheep stolen and a motor accident victim severely injured the copper in me could care less. I could care less.
We were all specifically told by the Inspector that none of us could touch the case until Homicide arrived and even then our involvement was to be limited to the point that allowed us to be objective. Jo could have spat in the Inspector's face but her reluctance to further hinder the case saved her the daring act, personally I wished she did.
The monotony of waiting took its toll on everyone, the moment the sanity of duty ran cold we all collapsed into a thick reverie of loss. We all glared at his desk every now and then expecting to hear the shuffle of swivel chair wheels and his usually husky voice telling us we'd forgotten to look over a very inconspicuous suspect. Jo took the silence very harshly and the gaping empty space not far from her side felt so cold and empty that she had to sling her jacket over her shoulders.
"I miss him Tess," she whispered across to me every now and then and I did my very best not to fall apart in front of her and cry. We all missed him; each to certain degrees but the very same kind of hurt tore across our chests. Jo missed her trusty partner in crime, P.J. his budding junior detective, the Boss his never failing larrikin, Ben his uncertain companion and I missed my hero and we all waited for that redeeming clang of the fly screen door at our entrance, the signal that we could all finally avenge his murder.
It came quite abruptly once Jo had cleared her desk. We all shot a look at the front counter, something we had ignored for a long while and even the Boss had the vigour to rise from his desk to enquire about our visitors but unfortunately it wasn't who we expected it to be. With the clear thud of his briefcase on our counter and a gruff, unyielding sigh the man mumbled a soft 'hello', grief stinging his normally pleasant voice.
"Dylan!" I rose from my chair as soon as I saw his face. He didn't possess that same gruff charm that his brother once did but all the same the sight of him made an innocuous sense of comfort overcome me.
"Dylan, I'm so very sorry…" I mumbled before I was too overcome by tears to speak, I stood before Dylan ashamed and broken but he reached out for me and held me in a light hug. He pushed me back to clasp my shoulders gently, that same stern look of sincerity that seemed to be hereditary in the Jones family.
"Dad said that if you ever need anything…" Dylan's eyes flashed about empathetically and he waited for me to finish the cliché of a sentence.
"I know where to go. I know, thanks Dylan." My voice to hoarse of a whisper to be heard properly so I pat Dylan's shoulder gratefully, his show of solidarity was most compelling.
"I do mean that Tess, anything…" Dylan whispered back and gave me a little smile and his palms slid of my shoulders. From the comfort of Dylan I came in to Jo's arms, she squeezed my shoulder empathetically from behind, reminding me that I need not carry this burden alone.
We all congregated at the mere wooden bench not very surprised at Dylan's appearance more so relieved, relieved that we might just be able to progress further with this case and that we all has someone to share our pain with.
"Jones?" came a heavy voice from just behind a thick wooden door. We all shuddered at the mention of his name. 'Jones' only ever felt reserved for one member of the Jones family and it seemed out of place to mention it otherwise. The Boss made haste his apology and addressed him formally.
"Sergeant Dylan Jones?" the Boss asked again, quite perplexed. Dylan's arrival hadn't been intended but from the Boss' tone of voice his arrival wasn't welcomed either.
"What are you doing here Dylan?" The Boss asked once again, only in a tone that a disheartened boss possessed. Dylan found the handle of his briefcase on the bench in front of him and squeezed hard in his tight grip, his eyes flared with an intense glaze of pure determination.
"I'm here to sort out this mess." He stated confidently and as the Boss acknowledged his answer with a nod Jo motioned the well-dressed detective into our little abode behind the thick wooden bench where he was solemnly consoled for the…
The intense shrill of Pachelbel's Cannon rose up through the light coloured air amidst us. Lucy's eyes widened as I stopped to investigate the noise.
"I'm so sorry Tess. I really should learn how to turn things off!" Lucy chuckled and as she rummaged in her back pocket for her plastic jacketed brick phone. Once retrieved, she held the phone in a foreign kind of way clasped in two hands. She felt it necessary to press that eager red button on its body.
"Oh no, please answer it Lucy. It's my fault you're here…" I blubbered to her as quick as I possibly could before her hold on that phone relinquished. Lucy nodded graciously and instead she pressed the green button and delicately stated her name.
"Lucy Fitz…Jamie!" Lucy rolled her eyes at me mockingly and a bright sort of smile illuminated across her face. "Where am I?" she spoke into the phone. "I'm just visiting Dad but I'm with a patient so you better tell me what the matter is before I find myself rude enough to hang up." Lucy teased and she bit her lip cheekily to the reaction of her son's voice. "You're what!" Lucy exclaimed and her tranquil demeanour drained off her face like an oncoming storm. "Are you hurt?" she asked, the brutal shock clanged in her motherly voice. A sigh of relief washed over her face and I let go of the tight grip my teeth had on my lip. "There's nothing there that the R.A.C.V. can't fix? Oh, right I see…well I get to you as soon as I can. And Jamie, please just be careful next time, actually don't even make sure there's a next time! Alright? Okay, I love you sweet heart…'bye." Lucy pressed that red button down with about as much fervency that you'd address a fire alarm with.
"I'm sorry about that Tess." Lucy apologised sincerely but I smiled gently, the short-lived anxiety still drawn on my face.
"Oh don't you worry now Tess. He's fine." Lucy smiled and couldn't help but notice how attuned she was to my emotions.
"What happened?" I asked and Lucy chuckled with a gentle sort of mockery.
"My intelligible son just had a close encounter with a speeding gum tree." Lucy smiled and she noticed the harsh alarm in my cheeks. "Oh no, Tess, truly he's fine. He backed into it you see, in my husband's classic Mercedes. He swears that it wasn't there last time he looked but he's in for it, that was his father's 'pride and joy'." Lucy said with a very false sense of rebuke. Lucy wasn't very materialistic and the news that her son was still breathing drew a thick smile across her cheeks.
"This must mean you're leaving then." I half-smiled, although Lucy was needed urgently elsewhere the thought that she would leave me here on my own was disheartening, I almost needed her here.
"I am sorry Tess but I must pick Jamie up." Lucy stated but the strained smile that I possessed weakened her a little. "I'll tell you what, first thing tomorrow morning you meet me on my porch and we can have the whole day. I'll treat you to some of my short bread biscuits, I make mean short bread." Lucy giggled as she lifted her slender body off the healthy green grass.
"You won't be too busy with the car?" I asked softly, secretly hoping that Lucy would have all the time in the world for me and she shook her head insistently, just as I had hoped.
"Jamie's car, Jamie's insurance company. I'll see you tomorrow oh and I hope you're feeling well today- I forgot to ask." Lucy chuckled and a stream of very confident wind blew her hair about like a flaming orange crown and I waved her off down the path and she floated off in to the distance of hazy green and shimmering bright blue.