Darkness

She turned in alarm, the sound of glass breaking in the quiet house caused a vein of fear to run through her. Although it was dark, she instinctively looked searchingly in the direction the sound had originated. She felt along the wall for the light switch and found the edge with her fingertips. As she clicked it into the on position, nothing happened. She could hear movement in the neighbouring room and she felt a sudden chill, her heart began to pound in her chest crushing her lungs, making her breaths shallow and painful. She attempted to cross the kitchen unsure if she wanted to run and hide or go toward the activity next door. Suddenly something hit her hard in her side and knocked, what little wind she had left, out of her.

It was the breakfast bar in the centre of the kitchen, the counter top had jabbed into her side and the weight of her bumping into it had rattled the pans and utensils stored there. She silently hushed the noise away hoping it wasn't as loud as it seemed, afraid she had alerted whoever or whatever lurked next door. She felt around the counter top to find her way around the wounding obstacle and made her way to the doorway of the kitchen. She rested against the door frame, tried to get her breath back and work out how badly hurt she was. Breathing was painful but she decided that although her side hurt like hell, there were no broken bones, at worst she would be black and blue in the morning. She heard more sounds of movement from the next room.

She peered round the door frame and  felt safe to creep into the hall and toward the doorway of the next room, remembering to avoid the small table against the wall. She stepped over the threshold and heard movement in the far corner by the window. Again her heart was beating furiously in her chest, she felt the pain in her side as she struggled for even breaths. In the dim light from the window, she could see one of the panes of glass had been shattered. A small dark shadow was moving in her direction and when it was just a few yards in front of her it launched itself at her almost knocking her over. She caught it in her arms and felt the stinging pain of small knives cutting into the skin.

The cat hissed in her face and leaped from her arms into the darkness of the hallway. As the relief drained the tension from her body, her breathing deepened and slowed ...it was just the cat, it was OK... and she began to relax. Cursing the cat, she turned to follow it from the room and as she did so, something heavy and solid slammed into the back of her head and the world slipped slowly away.

Open Your Eyes

'All this feels strange and untrue, and I won't waste a minute without you. My bones ache and my skin feels cold and I'm getting so tired and so old. The anger swells in my guts and I won't feel these slices and cuts. I want so much to open your eyes 'cause I need you to look into mine'

'Get up, get out, get away from these liars 'cause they don't get your soul or fire. Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine and we'll walk from this dark room for the last time. Every moment from this minute now, we can do what we like anywhere. I want so much to open your eyes 'cause I need you to look into mine'  (Snow Patrol)

Although the room was warm and well heated, it felt cold. It always did to me. Everything around her was white and starched and sanitised. The big bed with levers and buttons and such a prominent metal frame, was more of a machine than a place to rest. I wondered if she was comfortable, she never slept well when she was away from her own bed. I sat there night after night, listening to her mechanical breathing and the monitors that reminded me that she was there, but not really there, not the way I remembered her.

'There is nothing more we can do, we just have to wait and hope' the doctors had said. I'd thought about those words so many times in the last two months. Such a short time for the whole world to be turned upside down. I watched her in her stillness, the dark circles below her eyes and her sunken cheeks, did she know what was happening? Was she afraid or in pain? Did she know I was there waiting for her to wake up? No, she wasn't asleep, she looked beautiful when she was sleeping, vibrant and full of life, no, she wasn't sleeping, not now.

I heard the beep, beep, beep, and opened my eyes, my head was resting on the plain white bed sheet and I realised I had fallen asleep. I felt a sudden anxiety and sat up quickly, feeling a sharp pain in my back after sleeping at such an unnatural angle. I looked toward her face and saw no change. I stood and stretched My aching back. The door opened and the pretty young nurse came in to do observations. 'How are we doing?' she asked, then 'Did you manage to get some sleep tonight?'

'Not really, an hour or so in the chair, but that feels like a mistake now' I said stretching again to relieve the pain in my back.

'You know we can bring a bed in here for you, be a bit more comfortable then' she said.

'No, its OK, but thanks' I replied.

She nodded, she understood why I didn't want a bed for myself. 

'I'll be back in a little while to freshen her up and make her more comfortable' she said.

'No', I said. 'I mean, would you mind if I did it?' I asked.

'...yeah, if you want to, as long as you call me when you want to move her...?' I nodded.

'I'll bring the things in for you, I'll not be a minute, OK?' and she left the room.

I stroked the damp cloth across her brow and round her face and then moved around her neck and shoulders. I took hold of her right hand and raised her slender arm to gently cleanse it and did the same on her left. All the time I was willing her to open her eyes and look at me the way she used to, those big, blue beautiful eyes that could see me the way nobody else could. Holding her hands, I was waiting for her to grasp hold of them and tell me that she was ready to go home. But she didn't and I was afraid that she never would.

The Long Road - A short story

She sat on the moulded plastic seat, not fully aware of what what was happening around her. She was listening for any news on her delayed flight. A group of passengers began to stir. They were gathering their bags and walking in the same direction. Their flight had been called and they were moving toward their departure gate.

She quadruple checked that her passport and boarding pass were within easy reach. Rummaging around the side pocket of the bag, she felt the familiar edge of her passport which was folded around her boarding pass. As she moved her fingers across the inside of the pocket, she felt something else. Something she had hurriedly stuffed into the bag before she left home.

The unread letter sat in her open hands, almost cradled by them, and she considered the small white envelope. As she looked the familiar handwriting, her mind drifted from the busy departure lounge, and she visited memories of her past.

She took a deep breath and looked at the white plastic stick in her hand, trying not to think about what was causing the dampness on her fingers. She saw the symbol appearing in the oblong window and felt the nervousness rise from the pit of her stomach and up into her chest which was now constricted, making it difficult to breathe. Although this was what they had both wanted for so long it still caused momentary dread. Were they really ready for this? This could change everything for them. It had been just the two of them, inseparable, for ten years, and now things would change.

She had no idea how long she had been perched on the side of the bath, but it was now digging into the top of her thigh and she needed to move, but couldn't. She heard the front door open and slam shut. Ben was home.

'Jane! Are you here?' He called.

'Up here!'

She heard his footsteps on the stairs and the closer he got to the door the more her chest compacted under the tight band of anxiety.

He pushed the door open and looked at her in concern, then he took in the test kit boxes and plastic sticks lying around her and his expression changed.

'Well, are you?'  She immediately relaxed, his tone was hopeful.

'Four tests say I am...'

He swept the testing paraphernalia out of the way and sunk to his knees in front of her. He grabbed her hands in his, looked in her eyes and he didn't need to say anything. She could see he was overjoyed. 

She sighed wistfully. Overhead, the tannoy system was declaring that Mr and Mrs James Bale were late for their flight to Chicago. She checked her watch for what felt like the thousandth time since she had sat down on the generic seating. At that moment the tinny, disembodied voice sounded again, informing her that her flight would be delayed by a further hour.

                  Her seat bumped with the vibration of the young child next to her, throwing a long limbed stuffed toy into the air and attempting to catch it with exaggerated effort reminiscent of a football goalkeeper. The letter was still in her hands and she now twirled and turned it thoughtfully between her fingers as the child bounced around next to her.

They walked silently from the hospital building. Jane felt Ben's strong hand around hers, a simple gesture, but to her it was as though he had cast a protective shield around her. She could feel the crushing pain of loss but remained stoic as they silently drove home. Just the two of them.

Jane sat on the edge of the couch in the living room, the summer sun casting  bright, multicoloured light through the windows. Ben knelt before her and took her face gently in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

'It’s not your fault, it’s nobody's fault, it’s awful, but it’s not your fault.'

'Then why do I feel like it is? Why do I feel so... like I did something wrong?'

He rose and sat beside her and hugged her tightly.

'You didn't, you didn't' he said quietly.

Jane could feel her heart quietly breaking.

'Yes...? Hello...?' the Barista, wearing a gold coloured name tag that read 'Laura', was trying to catch her attention.

'Oh, sorry, I was miles away there!' she flushed slightly, a little embarrassed

'What can I get you?'

'A black coffee please' and before she was asked, she added 'large'.

There wasn't much sterling left in her purse, she wouldn't need it after today, so she scrambled around collecting the last of her change and passed a handful of copper and small silver coins to Laura.

'Thank you, bye!' She called as she left to take up yet another seat in the lounge.

There was a soft 'thunk' as she placed the cardboard cup on the small table beside her seat. She sat opposite the energetic child who was now crying after throwing the toy, missing it, and getting poked in the eye. She took the letter from her jacket pocket and idly ran a finger across the first line of the address. She allowed her eyes to drift out of focus and the words began to blur and merge into a dark cloud on the white background of the envelope.

'Don't you think we need to talk, Ben?'

'What about?'

'About what is happening to us.'

'I don't know what you mean, nothing is happening, I don't know what you want me to say.'

'I want you to tell me how you feel. Are you happy with how things are? Never talking, never spending any time together any more?'

'I hadn't really thought about it.' He said, with a sigh.

He had begun to pull away from her in the last few months, he had never really been comfortable talking about his feelings but now he was just avoiding them altogether. He just seemed to be letting their relationship fall apart, as if there was nothing he could do about it. In the past they had always been able to rely on each other, but now he seemed... absent, like he just wasn't there any more. She had never felt so alone in all the time she had known him.

 

She wondered what this letter could possibly hold for her. What could it say that would be important to her now? Would reading it just open the, partly healed, wound she had been hoping to close for so long? Even if he had finally decided to open up to her and tell her how he was feeling, was it too late?

She recognised her flight number in the announcement from above and listened to the update. It was finally time to board the plane that would take her to her new life. She stood and collected her belongings, checked the side pocket of the bag again and began to walk to her departure gate. Her heart sank as she saw the child and her family heading in the same direction and she hoped they would be seated as far from each other as possible.

As she passed a litter bin, she stopped. She still had the letter in her hand. She hesitated for a split second, then dumped the letter into the bin. It was too late, there was nothing that could be said now to change anything. She had spent too much time in the past, It was time to leave the pain behind and look forwards, not back. Then she strode off toward her gate and into her future.

Refuge Part 4

She sat at her usual spot in the bookshop. Papers spread out in front of her as her unfocussed eyes stared off, not into the distance, but into her memory of the evening before. The crowded coffee shop, warm and damp with the influx of shoppers seeking refuge from the rain. The steamed windows and sounds of the spluttering coffee machine.

She thought back over the events of that unexpected meeting between them and laughed when she remembered his appearance when he arrived at the table hoping to share it with her and of his awkward attempts at making small talk. She knew she had not made it easy for him, she never made it easy for people to get to know her, but he seemed different. Like she could trust him if she let herself. She had toyed with him a while and somehow found some amusement in his discomfort. She got the impression that this was uncharted territory for him, that ordinarily he was self assured and at ease speaking with new people.

The ballpoint pen she had been twirling between her fingers slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. She woke from her daydream and bent to pick it up. As she straightened in her chair, she said to herself 'enough of that, get on with it' and she turned her attention to the papers in front of her.

'Coffee, Evie?' The voice rang out from behind the cash desk. It was Millie, the manager of the bookshop.

'Yes, please' she replied over her shoulder.

As the mug was placed to the side of her, avoiding the papers, she added 'I don't know what's wrong with me today, I just can't concentrate, but these books won't do themselves'

'Maybe it has something to do with a certain drowned rat you met yesterday...' Suggested Millie.

'Oh, don't be silly' She dismissed the comment, but knew it was true. He was on her mind and it was distracting her.

'Oh, come on Evie, tall and dark.. and hot by the sounds of it – you never notice men, you certainly never tell me about it If you do. He made an impression on you, admit it'

'OK, maybe he did' she said grudgingly. Millie knew her too well. She was one of the only people that knew her at all.

'So call him, you have his number' Millie encouraged.

'No, I don't think so, he probably forgot all about me by the time he got home'

'Well, maybe he will call you...?'

'I don't give my number out, you know that'

'Well I know you don't normally, but you were talking for ages. I can't believe you didn't give him your number!' Millie said in frustration.

'Anyway, what do you care? What's it to you if I never see him again?'

'I'm the one that's got to put up with you, aren't I'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Evie asked snappily

'It means, I have to watch you, all alone on the outskirts of everything never letting anyone get close to you'.

'I let you get close didn't I? - now I'm bloody stuck with you, like a parrot on my shoulder, ever reminding me of how alone I am!' she exclaimed, only half joking.

Out of the pocket of the coat she had hung on the back of her chair, she pulled a scrap of paper. On it was written 'Dan' and a series of numbers that made up a telephone number. She considered it for a moment and shoved it back in the pocket. She picked up her coffee, took a sip and winced, it had gone cold.

Refuge Part 3

She looked up. Something had interrupted her, she saw a man dripping from head to toe standing by the table. He asked 'Is this seat taken?' and she thought about saying no so that she could continue reading in peace, she flicked her eyes around the room and her conscience got the better of her, there was nowhere else to sit, so she motioned for him to take a seat. She prayed that he wasn't a talker, she really didn't want to have to make small talk with strangers today.

'Would you keep an eye on this for me?' He asked, pointing at his coffee cup. She nodded and smiled pleasantly. He came back five minutes later. He had obviously been to the men's room to try and dry off a little, his hair was now dry and stuck up messily and his jeans had dry patches on the thighs where he had aimed the hand dryer at them to remove some of the water.

'That's better, I guess I don't need to tell you its still raining out there!'

She smiled her response, she didn't want to be rude, but she didn't want to start a conversation either. She looked back into her book, hoping he would take the hint.

As she reached the end of her chapter, she looked up to glance around the room, her eyes came back to him. He had taken his watch off and was examining it. She attempted to carry on reading but she was distracted by him now. He tinkered with his watch, unaware of her gaze. She had not paid much attention to him till now and she took in his strong features and three day growth on his chin. His brow furrowed as he was thoughtfully puzzling over the time piece. He held it up to his ear to hear it tick and his eyes met hers

'not water proof' he said with a grimace.

'Oh, is it OK?' she said in concern. Her own response taking her by surprise. She avoided talking to strangers if she could help it, it was often safer that way.

'Still ticking' he said. Then, 'I hope it will be OK… when it dries out properly. I don't think I can say the same for this' he said, indicating his ruined pullover.

She gave a sympathetic half smile as she looked at the oversized garment, still damp and clinging to his shoulders and chest, emphasising their shape and tone. He took a drink and said 'I'm sorry, I'm disturbing you, I'll let you get back to your book'.

'No,' she said, 'its OK.'

Ordinarily she would have said the same just to be polite, but she found, this time, she actually meant it.

Refuge Part 2

He walked along the high street, the sky had turned a deep grey under the weight of the gathering cloud. It had been a bright and mild autumn afternoon when he left home and so he was somewhat unprepared for the rain which, by the look of the sky, now seemed inevitable. He continued along heading toward the bookshop when he heard the first peal of thunder. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, if he carried on to the nearest refuge he could well get caught in the coming storm, if he turned back to his car, parked at the multi storey, he would also get a soaking. He quickly decided to head to the coffee shop, and with a loud crack of lightening followed by another clap of thunder, he did so at a run.

By the time he was two doors away from shelter, the rain had come and every inch of him was dripping wet. The well fitting woollen pullover he had chosen to wear in the morning was now stretching under the weight of the water it had absorbed and was several sizes too big. The bottom of the jumper now reached his knees and the arms were dangling well past his hands. The trainers he had put on were no protection for his feet and he could feel his wet socks sliding around as he walked. He opened the door to the coffee shop and found that most of the people out shopping had had the same idea as him and were now forming a long queue at the counter. As he stepped inside and squelched to the back of the queue, several people noticed him, and with amused looks, thought themselves thankful that they had paid heed to the weather forecast for that day.

As he waited he could feel the trickle of water through is hair making his scalp itch and beginning to run out of his hairline and down his face. He really hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long, there were not many tables left and he would like to sit down in a corner somewhere out of the way. He felt rather silly standing there in his stretched out clothes dripping everywhere. He was hoping the money in his wallet stowed in his back pocket had survived the drenching but he couldn't bring himself to think about his wrist watch.

Refuge

It was late afternoon and she sat at the small table in the window of the over crowded coffee shop. The fading light shone through the window and gently highlighted the outer edge of her face giving an ethereal illumination to her pale, elven features. The steam from the hot coffee on the table in front of her rose like two wavering stands weaving and entwining in the warm breeze that came from the air conditioning unit above the front door of the shop. The door opened and closed at rapid intervals as more drenched passers by sought refuge from the downpour outside.

Her long hair was drying naturally in the warmth and was now falling in loose curls around her face. Her dark brows were nipped in a tight frown of concentration as she fully submerged herself in her reading material. A good book was always to be found in her oversized handbag. She often used reading as a way of being alone without actually being alone, as though the words were being spoken to her by a friend or acquaintance rather than written on the pages.

She had crossed her long legs when she first sat down and she now found that she needed to shift in her seat to allow the circulation to be restored to her toes, which were now going numb inside her heavy black winter boots. As she uncrossed, the toe of her moving leg caught the shaft of the umbrella that she had rested against the leg of the table to drip dry and it clattered to the floor, spraying droplets of rainwater onto the pushchair that had been parked in the gap between her and the neighbouring table. She looked up, momentarily surprised. The falling umbrella had disturbed her focus on the alternate reality within the pages of the book.

She scanned the long curving queue along the length of the varnished oak counter at the back of the shop and she could hear the sound of the coffee machine chugging and spluttering into life as the staff were making cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. People were still arriving, dripping wet from the deluge outside, and were awaiting hot beverages, ordered in the hope that the heat from the hot liquid would somehow transfer to their sodden clothes and hair and dry them out. The air inside the shop was becoming damp now with all the wet clothing gathering around the small tables and this was condensing on the windows, steaming them up against the now dark evening.

A thick dark curl of hair, now dry, slid down across her face and tickled her nose and she absently took it between her fingers and wedged it behind her ear to keep it out of her eyes. She continued to read, aware that time was moving on and it was well into the evening. She hoped she would not have to continue taking shelter here for much longer.