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Fog hung low on the lonely hillside and the weak autumn sun tried hard to pierce the barrier of heavy grey clouds. James turned up the collar of his long black coat. His violet eyes were moist but he held back the tears, not from embarrassment, but from the fear that if he lost control, his stored emotions would drag him into a tunnel of despair from which there’d be no escape.
He stood motionless, the icy wind biting his face and whipping his hair in his eyes. He didn’t feel the firm hand on his shoulder or the soft voice that asked “Is there anything I can do to help?” The woman waited for a reply and when none came she put her arm around his waist and lead him through the crowd to the waiting mourning car. The usher opened the door and stood aside while the two settled in the back seat. The usher’s expression was of total detachment; he was paid to be unobtrusive and reserved. He was not expected to become involved in the drama of other people’s grief. He was a true professional, he liked his job, and he did it well.
“Where to Ma’am?” he asked as he pulled quietly from the curb, the driveway pebbles barely moved under the tyres. He drove with the same calm confidence that made him an expert in the business that dignified death and final farewells; he was a fourth generation practitioner; a specialist in the art of discretion and grief support. He repeated the question, “where to Ma’am?” These sad people, burying their dead, were nothing to him. He watched, but rarely felt moved by their grief.
He looked at her in the rear vision mirror, he’d never seen her before this morning and never expected to see her again. He knew nothing about her; yet he felt something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. This had been just another funeral; nothing special. None of them varied much, just larger or smaller crowds, and apart from that, they were pretty much the same. His expressionless face softened as he studied the woman behind him. Death leaves people to cope as best they can, he thought. Time usually heals and lives rebuild. Their eyes met in the mirror and he knew her pain wasn’t caused by death; time wouldn’t bring peace; time would only increase the nightmares and loneliness for her. “The gentleman looks sick ma’am,’ he said, “Should I call for a doctor to meet us?’
A thin smile was all she could manage to show her gratitude. Right now she needed to know someone cared; anyone would do. The weight of the past ten years was crushing her; sapping her energy; killing her spirit. She moistened her lips, “No, he’ll be fine. He just needs time; he’s been through a lot.’ She smiled again “thank you anyway, you’re very kind.”
The driver helped her take James in to the apartment and settle him on the couch. From a window she watched the car drive away; she felt a pang of panic, she was alone with James for the first time in ten years and didn’t know what to say or how to interact with him.
Feeling awkward and unsure, she made coffee and distracted herself by making a pasta salad for their lunch. From time to time she glanced at the person sitting by the window; the sun had finally won its battle and flooded the room with a vibrant glow, changing his skin colour from marble grey to a more natural tone, but the sun did nothing to help her come to terms with David Bradcliff’s death or his son’s return.
She finished preparing the food and went over to where James was sitting, “Lunch is ready, would you like to sit at the table or would you rather have it on a tray?” A moment passed before he looked at her. His brow creased and he refocussed as he took in his surroundings for the first time. “Pardon?”
“Lunch. I’ve made a light meal, please try to eat James, you look so thin. I know you probably don’t feel like it, but you should try a few mouthfuls.” He stood and walked slowly to the chair she held out for him.
She chatted while he picked at his food. She talked about an exhibition she’d just seen and other safe things. He tried hard to focus on what she was saying, but found it impossible; his mind was swimming with images and his emotions were dulled by the events of the past few days.
He helped her clear the table and they did the dishes together, then he said he was exhausted and should go home. “Home? Tonight? Surely you won’t go back tonight, it’s a five hour drive James.” She paused, anxious to make him stay. They needed to talk. If they didn’t talk about it now, they never would, and their lives would be ruined forever.
She filled the coffee pot and put it on the stove, she didn’t really want more coffee, but it gave her something to do while she cleared her thoughts. She knew James had been through hell, but so had she. The past ten years had left her with deep wounds that may never heal; she needed answers; she needed to understand what went wrong and the events that had caused their lives to be shattered.
The coffee hissed and bubbled and a rich aroma filled the apartment, “James” she said turning to him, “Please stay. I need to know what happened.” He simply nodded; he didn’t trust his voice enough to answer. Macauley took a deep breath, “Thank you. I know it won’t be easy, but we must talk about it or neither of us will ever be able to rebuild our lives.”
“I know,” he said hoarsely, “I want to tell you about it, I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t tell someone what happened.” Pain pinched his face, “I didn’t get the chance to talk to Dad” his voice trembled and his body was shaken by the sobs he’d been suppressing, “He died before I could ask him to forgive me. “
Macauley held him in her arms and rocked him like a child, allowing her own tears to escape from the icy prison she’d trapped them in for more than a decade.
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