What the Heart Desires

by Jaime Derelle

  The difference was this belonging could not be defined by physical surroundings. She felt it reaching out to something within that was undefinable but sentient; for those with faith, the soul. Only now did Kath understand that she had not merely neglected her life’s happiness and ambitions as an adult, but something beyond that her heart had once known without questioning.

  How could such a fate transpire that she would be left unaware, until now, that she had turned her back on her faith?

  It was not that Kath had stopped believing in God; if pressed, she would have called herself a ‘Christian.' Life’s toils just seemed to have overtaken spiritual pursuits, and she now regretted allowing them to do so. Also, she accepted in the wake of the years that had come and gone; it was she who had been absent after all, not God.

  Returning to church on Christmas Eve caused her heart to confront many unaddressed dilemmas, and that was only before she set eyes on the new priest.

  ‘Is that…?’ she asked Annie, with a nod of her head. Not even having to finish the question for her friend to clue on what she was thinking.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the new priest,’ she whispered. ‘Someone told me he’d just started here; Priest Davey is his name. Who knew they were so younger and better looking these day?’

  Indeed, Priest Davey was hardly what she had been expecting. Typically she’d associated the priesthood as being a profession of the older generations, but the new St Bartholomew’s priest looked like he had barely hit thirty. He was also very handsome; she thought, and she wondered how his life had directed him towards such a life choice. Certainly none of the good-looking guys she had gone to school with seemed a likely candidate for a religious life, being so vain and arrogant.

  Before he had even addressed the congregation, she was suddenly very interested in Priest Davey and wanted to know more about him. Little did she know his words were poised to have such a profound effect on her as well.

  The service that proceeded continued to work with the church to tug at her soul. There were hymns she had forgotten but soon found the words to quite easily. Obviously, their melodies still lived on in there somewhere and again she was taken aback by how at home she felt with them. Even the prayers, which of the entire service perhaps demand the most integrity, came naturally to her. The word ‘Amen’ had been absent from her life for almost ten years, but it did not sit awkwardly on her tongue, rather the presence of the congregation encouraged her sincerity in voicing the word of God. Much to her surprise, everything came naturally, and she had to ask herself exactly where she had been all these years and what evil had caused her to forget the warmth of Christianity?

  If all of these factors combined to cause great contemplation within her then little did she know the night was yet to peak. This would happen when Priest Davey began his final prayers which, as was traditional, was accompanied by some thoughts and reflections on the state of the world before getting under way.

  After thanking those present for turning up in such a generous number for his first Christmas Eve sermon, Davey continued by speaking on the compassion all good people must feel during these times of turmoil for victims of terrorist atrocities, such as the recent ones in Paris that had shocked the world. But fitting as his words seemed, Davey had far more he wished to say.

  ‘But although it’s important to understand the world we live in,’ he continued, ‘and send out our prayers and best wishes to all those affected, history also teaches us that during such tumultuous times it is easy to forget the challenges faced by those close to us.

  ‘All of us here today, as well as being an individual, a family member, and a Christian, live as part of a wider community. My experience as a priest, albeit only for a short time, has often been to help people in all sections of the community to address the personal challenges we all will face throughout our lifetimes. If there is one observation I can make, as a result of those who have come to confide in me, it is that the burdens and the difficulties that people face are too often faced alone. One of the biggest mistakes we can all make as we cope with juggling complicated lives is presuming that all the problems we face are those we see before us, but often this is not true. Often the traumas and disappointments we face are hidden, even from our closest loved ones and so through pride, or insecurity, we can suffer alone rather than seeking the help and assistance of our fellow man.’

  As Davey voiced these thoughts, Kath could not help but look up at him wide-eyed. It almost felt as if he was talking directly to her and she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck for finding such truths spelled out in a holy house, of all places. How could she deny the uncanniness amidst the spiritual awakening that had already been reaching out?

  ‘So in our Christmas prayers this year,’ he continued, ‘let us too spare a thought for the unseen vulnerable in our society and face the New Year with a hope that, where misery exists, God will help us to find new ways of reaching out and understanding why.’

  This time, a tear really did form in her eye. A third attempt to lie was just too much, and Kath was now thoroughly accepting the assessment; that she was one of the lonely and vulnerable, and the chances of some great twist reaching out and fixing her miserable existence was far-fetched. Annie’s invite might have bought her an evening’s respite, but deep down she knew that was all it would be. Her life would go on as it had; she had no means of escaping and neither did she have the heart to.

  Quickly she got rid of the tear as it formed and collected herself though there had been no need. The whole congregation now had its head bowed in prayer; God’s house even let her cry in front of everyone without betraying her secrets.

  Taking Davey’s Christmas Eve message with a pinch of salt would not sit easily on her conscience, and she left feeling compelled by a higher power to do something at last about her situation. But what could be done? With foolish endeavor came the grim spectre of broken dreams and Kath did not want to open up an appointment with the Four Horsemen all because she got carried away one Christmas and decided to go on a crusade for happiness.

  Chapter 3

  Life went back to normal very quickly. So much so the whole experience felt like a dream.

  Kath returned home to one frying pan and a saucepan stained with burnt baked beans, which she had to clean before proceeding to cook Christmas dinner. She decided not to ask for the story of how their cooking adventure went though the pair of oven gloves Ryan had bought her was certainly interpreted as a reminder of where her place was.

  One useful conclusion to take from the experience was that putting up with her father and brothers’ moodiness towards her lone act of free will was exactly the same as putting up with their normal selves. She noted that Ryan did not speak to her, but that was hardly something to break the heart, and Zach’s attempt at a disapproving stare as she entered the living room was easily returned at the moment she served him his first meal of the day. After all the guilt-ridden manipulation of her, they had nothing so much more intolerable than their normal selves to punish her defiance with. With some luck, the extent of her father’s dependency on her might have sunk in – she would hope with a realization that more gratitude should have come her way but would not hold her breath.

  Everything was just very normal again. No disaster after all; no consequence. Yet there was nothing to feel happy about as far as her own predicament was concerned. The combination of a spiritual awakening and the joy of seeing an old friend and given birth to a desire to change her lot, but what could be done? Getting a job or pursuing a career would not reduce the multiple chores she had to complete; exhaust herself or starve her family seemed to be the only possible outcome. No Prince Charming would come and sweep her off her feet either. Sure it would feel good to see Annie every two weeks for as long as that could happen, but deep down all she believed was that the experience had taunted her imagination with a picture of happiness, and she would now feel its sting keenly with every chore and moaning word.

  May
be going to church was a bad idea, after all, she thought. It was all very well being addicted to holy imagery but believing in it did not make life change without practical solutions. They were a poor family and would remain a poor family, no matter how much the words of Priest Davey might come back to her before falling asleep. More than once she caught herself grinning as she picturing him standing at the altar and recalled the empathy with which he spoke, before reminding herself it was wishful thinking that their wisdom might really have an impact on her life.

  Kath didn’t want to end up bitter by the time next Christmas came around, but in reality, she had no reason to worry about that because New Year’s Eve would see she didn’t have to wait that long after all. After the warmth of her visit to church, matters would be turned on their head very quickly. She would be bitter before it was even 2016.

  Somehow New Year’s managed to be an absolute misery, even though she had long been used to shutting her mind off to its merriment. Typically it had always been a time of year to imagine a lot of joy going on elsewhere while holding back envy that it didn’t seem to be invading their own household. This New Year was different, however, though not in a good way – succeeding, beyond all expectations, to reach out and rub Kath’s face in the dirt just for its own enjoyment.

  Tension had already heightened two day’s previously when a payment summons was posted through the front door. No matter how dire financial prospects have become, they can always worsen, and it transpired that Ryan had been amounting credit card debts for many months that he was now struggling to pay. Unsurprisingly he had been hiding this fact from them all, but now the amount had been forwarded to a debt collection agency the secret was out of the bag. He was being ordered to pay within a week or else there would be a visit to take their possessions instead.

  The two of them were therefore on crisis management, searching the house for valuables that could be sold to hold off the debt collectors from taking their furniture and electrical appliances. Ryan’s ingenious thinking had resulted in the idea to enquire about bar work down the road – but of course, it would be Kath who had to accept the position. What amiability remained between them deteriorated even further as a result; the bar in question was often a place where brawls broke out and Kath new she was not cut out for dealing with drunks on a daily basis. Of course her response, in suggesting he get a full time job rather than running lots of random errands for dodgy people, renewed an ongoing hostility and the atmosphere in the house was fraught to say the least by the time the sound of fireworks could be heard as 2016 began.

  For some reason, they had all stayed up until midnight, still held to a duty of wishing each other Happy New Year that hankered back to the days when they had been a proper family. If Kath thought the occasion could not have been more cheerless, however, she was wrong. Misfortune was still waiting to goad them at this touchy time and made its presence known via the argument about bar work that Ryan decided should continue.

  ‘I’m not working in an atmosphere of lewd comments and drunken bitterness. I get enough of the latter here,’ she told him, referring to the fact that her brother had been getting steadily drunk all evening.

  ‘It’s good enough work for lots of less snooty women,’ he responded, ‘you only clean part-time; it will be extra cash for you.’

  ‘So you going to start sharing the cooking and cleaning in this place as part of the deal then?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, don’t start that stuff again. I’ve told you I do more hours than people who work full-time. How am I supposed to start doing women’s work around the house as well?’

  ‘You can’t use me to find solutions for your own debt, Ryan,’ she told him, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Mother would be proud of you,’ was his frustrated response at her refusal and, as if such a hurtful comment could not have been made worse there and then, Ryan’s sulky demeanor resulted in him getting up from the sofa in a huff and heading towards the back door. His absence would not have bothered her in the slightest, only his clumsy attempt to leave the room as quickly as possible saw his first few steps waver. Ryan was successful in stopping himself from falling, but the casualty of his selfish grump was the most precious object on the family mantelpiece; their mother’s ashes.

  Kath had never been so mortified in all her life as when seeing that sacred urn topple and smash all over the floor. The debt collectors could break down the doors and take everything they had, for all she cared. They would not have taken the urn which was of no value to them, but now Ryan had gone and destroyed that too. What’s more, they had to suffer the indignity of having mother’s ashes spilled all over the living room floor, its dust in their lungs and its stain permanently on the carpet no matter how much she scrubbed through her tears into the small hours of the morning.

  What she could salvage of the ashes had to be stored in a tin box of chocolates; one of the few Christmas presents they had received, until such a time as a new urn could be purchased.

  The rest of that night was something of a blur, with Kath only being able to recall that she had cried herself to sleep then woken up feeling numb to the world. For all the effort she put into keeping the house clean, feeding the children and paying the bills, life was getting the better of them and now seemed keen to rub their faces in its victory. The echoes of what the family had been before mother became a pile of ash were now so distant they had surely vanished, and she dared not to dwell on what the future was going to bring.

  They had no rich friends or relatives to help them out of a tough situation, and she had about as much faith in her brother finding a financial solution as in Zach making beans on toast. Yes, the Christmas Eve dare to hope a little was certainly quashed alright.

  She would not fall for the false dawn again, but the next day saw her unable to stay within those four walls. After getting up late in the morning, she put on her coat and shoes and left the house without having any breakfast or even saying ‘good morning.' A daze of some kind was upon her, and she just desired to walk without thinking on family matters or the trials of her life situation at all; wanted just one day without arguing with Ryan or being frustrated because her dad never showed any emotion whatsoever – even when his wife’s ashes had broken out over the living room carpet.

  Kath did not see herself as having any means to overcome her lot in life, but its toils now made her feel she was going to explode, and she had no idea what to do with this sudden desire to strive anyway. Whether through some unrealized intent or because her soul was drawn there – and there was certainly nowhere else drawing her – so it was that Kath’s feet slowly made their way towards Roslindale, but not towards Annie’s house. Currently, she was unsure about knocking on when the children were present, and her friend would likely have some relations over for New Year’s Day; their familial bond had not died like hers as far as she could tell. Neither did she really wish to confide in her friend right now; not wishing to voice or even acknowledge her despair was what had led her to leave the house in the first place. Something did draw her, though, even if she thought there might be folly in seeking out the same holy nourishment that warmed her spirit on Christmas Eve. This was misplaced sentiment surely; fond memories that had caught her off guard but were no more useful than watching a film that made you feel emotional. Regardless of what inspiration her soul felt within the house of God, her life would not change for many years.

  In spite of what she might think, however, something still drew her there. Silliness perhaps, or just a sense of belonging. Whatever the real reason and regardless of whether it would do her any good, Kath’s walk only paused at last when she found her feet stepping into the grounds of St Bartholomew’s. There was no definite intention to go inside – there was no definite intention to go anywhere – but when her bones began to feel the cold, which walking had guarded her against, her feet gave way to her spirit once again, and she approached the door to see if it might be open and there might be somewhere to sit. If just for h
alf an hour.

  Members of the parish might have asked her what the caution was for and pointed out that you are always welcome in church, but she had been absent so long she had forgotten the common understandings that religious folks held. It had never been necessary to memorize any of it when her mother had always led the way. Her soul had been reminded of the warmth and solace a soul can find in church, but she still felt uncertain stepping inside. Not like she was out of place, but rather like a long-lost family members that has decided to return home but is unsure what reception they will receive after the years away.

  She need not have worried. There were several people inside, a few of them mingled by the altar lighting candles, a couple of people sitting down, perhaps praying, but possibly just sitting. An older lady sweeping the floor smiled at her as she entered but no one asked of her business, and she was able to choose a place to sit halfway down the aisle. Once there she relaxed and, for the first time since seeing her mother’s ashes smash all over the living room carpet, felt able to collect her thoughts.

  Why had it taken so long to come back and why did it require someone else to instigate it for her? Understanding therefore how church can be there for you when nothing else is, she had to address the fact that, not only was she not in control of her mind, but she did not even know her own thoughts. While not considering herself an intellectual, Kath knew enough to know she was not stupid. Her brain worked fine but seemed to be in the dark as to its place of belonging.