by Dean Mayes
Andy checked his watch and considered making his way to the departure gate. He was meeting with the other delegates there.
As he stood, Andy looked up and saw his father approaching from the entrance to the terminal. He blinked in shock.
His father was here!
“Dad! I thought you were gone already.”
Bruce shook his head as he stood before Andy.
“I delayed my trip. I couldn’t go - not before I saw you off. Do you have time for another?” Bruce indicated towards Andy’s cup.
“Yeah, sure.”
Bruce ordered two, and together they sat down at the table.
“I haven’t seen the inside of an airport in years,” Bruce observed as he saw the ever increasing pedestrian traffic rushing to and fro. “I forgot how huge it is here.”
“Hmm,” Andy mused. “Did you ever think you’d see me getting on a plane like this?”
Bruce looked at his son.
“What happened to you, Andy?”
Andy considered the question as he stirred a sugar into his coffee.
“Illumination, Dad,” Andy answered. “I woke up and finally saw just how shitty things had become. I began to look at life with a different set of eyes.”
A different set of eyes.
Andy couldn’t help but smile at the irony.
“They must be a pretty damned impressive set of eyes,” Bruce remarked. “I’m proud of you.”
They were words Andy had longed many times to hear. Now that his father had spoken them, he almost wished he didn’t have to leave so soon.
“Your grandmother - she would’ve been really proud of you. I know she loved you very much.”
The call for Andy’s flight came, and both men looked up towards the overhead display screens.
“Walk with me?” Andy asked.
Together father and son walked towards the departure area. There was so much Bruce wanted to say to Andy, but he couldn’t think of any one thing. He studied his son as they walked - he was different. So much so, that Bruce realized he knew his son even less now than he had before.
“Enjoy this opportunity,” Bruce finally said, looking at his son earnestly. “Don’t concern yourself so much with the competition. If you focus too much on that, you’ll miss out on the experience.”
Andy regarded his father with a lopsided smile.
“C’mon, give me a break here,” Bruce protested. “It’s been so long since I gave any sort of advice to you. Now when you’re just getting interesting, you’ve gotta go and disappear across the other side of the world.”
Andy shook his head and laughed softly.
“You don’t have to say anything, Dad. There’ll be plenty of time for that later. It’s not like I’m never coming back.”
Andy spied a small group near the security gate, recognizing them as the other students who’d been selected to attend. Michyko saw them approach, and she smiled and waved.
Andy felt awkward as she approached them, and noticed his father was studying her.
“Cute,” Bruce commented from the corner of his mouth.
Andy elbowed him in the ribs. “Knock it off, Dad.”
“Hi, Andy,” Michyko said excitedly. “You’re all set?”
Andy nodded and gestured to his father.
“Yeah. Umm, this is my father, Bruce,”
Michyko nodded respectfully, then gestured towards the others, who were beginning to line up to present their boarding passes to enter the secure departure area.
“We’re all here, then. This is exciting, isn’t it?”
Michyko tempered her enthusiasm as she saw that Andy wanted to say goodbye to his father. She stepped away discreetly.
They were alone again.
“Good luck,” Bruce said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Play - like you’ve always played. It was always so good to hear you like that.”
A small reluctance to leave assailed him again and he looked at his father.
“Thank you, Dad. There is something...” he stopped himself then, and bowed his head. Bruce frowned.
“What is it, Andy?”
Andy shook his head and smiled. He and Bruce had just broken down a barrier that had walled so many years of their lives. Denny knew saying it would be too ridiculous a notion for Bruce right now - perhaps ever. There was no need to alienate his father again.
“Nah. It’s nothing. Maybe I’ll tell you another time.”
Bruce held Andy’s shoulders, then embraced him, a little reservedly, and Andy returned the gesture.
“Just remember what I said, OK?” Bruce said as he drew back.
“I will.”
Andy picked up his guitar and stepped back as the call for boarding came from overhead. His father smiled and held up his hand. There was love in his eyes, a love that Andy had not seen for a long time.
Andy checked his boarding pass and disappeared through the security gate.
Once he had settled into his window seat on the Airbus that would take him on the first leg of the trip, Andy looked out through the window at the terminal wondering if his father was lingering somewhere inside waiting for the plane to taxi away. Andy continued to gaze until he could no longer see the terminal building at all.
Andy reached into his jacket and took out the photo of Bruce and Gideon and the young Iraqi, Nassar. He gazed at it as the Airbus taxied onto the runway, absorbing the smiles of the young men that were so full of hope. He tried to absorb the tragedy of what had been his father’s unspoken burden for twenty years, as the plane waited for a few moments for its clearance from the tower. Finally, Andy smiled at having found a dialogue with his father. The jet took off, rising gracefully into the morning sky and leaving the city and Andy’s old life far behind.
Changes...
CHAPTER 18
It was somewhere close to 7:30pm. Lionel was closing up the shop for the day when he looked across the street at the law practice’s cottage and noticed a light on in the front window.
Sonya must still be there.
“What is it, hon?” Ruth inquired, noticing her husband as he lingered by the shop window.
“Oh, nothing,” Lionel replied. “It looks as though Sonya is putting in another long day.”
“That girl is working harder and harder,” Ruth said worriedly, shaking her head as she finished counting out the day’s take from the register. “It’s not healthy for her.”
“I know, I know,” Lionel agreed wearily. “She works much too hard. But it’s not our place to tell her what she should and shouldn’t be doing.”
He rolled his eyes out of view of Ruth. They’d had this discussion many times before.
Ruth checked the counter behind her. The two large black soup pots there were still switched on. She hadn’t yet emptied them.
“Do you think you should take a meal across to her, Lionel? She’ll have skipped dinner again, I am sure of it. It’s not right for someone so busy as her.”
Lionel baulked at her suggestion, aware of where Ruth’s mind was heading.
“Look, I don’t think we should go meddling. She’s a very private person and fiercely independent. Sonya doesn’t take kindly to any sort of interference.”
Ruth had already fetched out a sealable container and was ladling piping hot pumpkin soup into it. She took a herb bread roll from a nearby basket.
“Ruth…” Lionel started, but she held up her hand defiantly.
“Lionel, I’ll not have that poor child wasting away in that office all alone at this time of night without at least something in her belly. She may not be our daughter, but I feel an obligation to look out for her.”
Ruth gathered up the items - the soup and bread, a coffee, some items of fruit - into a basket and came out from behind the counter.
“Take this over to her, darling,” she pleaded. “At least encourage her to have something.”
Lionel frowned and shook his head. But he took the basket from her anyway and inspected its cont
ents.
“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to at least offer,” he conceded before leveling his eyes at Ruth. “Just don’t you watch me from the window. Sonya has got a sense like a bloodhound for nosy neighbors.”
Lionel turned on his heel and stepped out of the shop, walking the short distance down the street towards the practice.
***
Sonya was sitting at her desk before an open laptop - a mountain of paperwork, manila folders and old invoice slips stacked messily on either side of the machine - when she heard a knock at the door.
“Hallo?” Lionel called out.
Sonya smiled at the sound of his familiar voice and glanced up from her screen.
“In here, Lionel.”
Simon glanced up from his basket momentarily, then flopped back down, closing his eyes and growling pathetically in the pit of his throat. Apparently, he hadn’t lost his man-hating instincts this evening.
Lionel appeared in the doorway holding the basket in both hands. Sonya tilted her head to one side.
“What have you done?”
Lionel blushed.
“We, ahhh - saw a light on from the shop. Ruth thought you might like something to eat.” Lionel set the basket down on the chair and began depositing the items from the basket onto the desk. The smell of the rich homemade soup hit Sonya’s nostrils and her stomach grumbled.
“Well, she must be psychic. I’m starving,” Sonya said with a grin, as she fished her purse out from her desk drawer and began to take some notes out for Lionel.
“Oh no,” Lionel said holding up his hand to stop her. “This one is on us. Consider it our treat.”
Sonya hesitated, eyeing him curiously before closing the purse again and setting it down.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” Lionel said. “And that’s why we did. We can’t have you fading away on us. This town needs you too badly.”
Lionel nodded at the chaos on her desk.
“That looks to be quite a - challenge?”
Sonya threw her hands up in mock exasperation, then made some room on the desk.
“I’m trying to organize all of Harry’s old clients who’ve indicated they wanted to come back to me. I want to streamline everything into an electronic system, but I can only do it at night, after hours.”
“Have you thought about getting a secretary to help you with all of this? It seems an awful lot to try to negotiate on your own.”
Sonya nodded through a mouthful of soup.
“Mmm-hmm. I wish I could, Lionel, but I don’t have quite enough spare cash right now to afford one. Most of the money went into getting this old dame up to scratch again.”
Lionel looked around at the work Sonya had done to renovate her grandfather’s cottage, changing it from a dilapidated old wreck that masqueraded as a law practice into a smart cottage with a modern office interior. He nodded admiringly.
“Well, there are people around the town who would gladly help you. You only need ask.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Sonya agreed. “But this is something I have to do on my own. Besides, there is enough fodder in this disaster zone to keep the Hambledown gossip mill running for the next decade.”
Lionel chuckled as he made room for himself on the chair and sat down.
“I met that fellow from Melbourne the other day,” he said, venturing a change in subject. “He seemed like a decent man.”
Sonya nodded noncommittally. “He was,” she said.
“He mentioned he was the director of that festival,” Lionel continued.
“Mmm-hmm,” Sonya eyed him from behind the bowl of soup. She sensed where this was heading.
Lionel steepled his fingers together and looked down, feeling increasingly uneasy.
“Did he - enjoy his visit?”
Sonya placed the soup bowl down on the desk with an expression of mock exasperation and smiled.
“You don’t do prying very well, Lionel.”
His shoulders relaxed and he looked at her apologetically.
“Evidently not. I’m sorry.”
“He came to ask me to present an award at the Festival. In memory of Denny. But I told him I couldn’t go.”
“Why ever not?” Lionel almost gasped.
Sonya hesitated, suddenly feeling as though she had to search for a reason.
“Because - I have too much to do here,” her response came out much too harshly and she blinked, immediately regretting it. She continued more calmly. “I couldn’t possibly leave the practice for a whole week when I’ve got this to contend with.”
She gestured expressively at her desk for effect.
Lionel considered her predicament and tilted his brow.
“Well, I can appreciate the work you’ve committed yourself to in order to make all of this work. But Sonya, you haven’t had any time off in over a year. Surely the practice could survive without you for a week.”
Sonya rubbed her brow wearily. He had a point - not that she was prepared to admit it, however.
“I just can’t, Lionel. It’s just too much.”
Lionel wasn’t convinced. Though his conscience told him he should back away, something else overtook him.
“What about Denny?” he ventured cautiously. “This seems like a wonderful opportunity to do something, you know, special. To celebrate his life.”
Sonya stiffened. She lowered her head.
“Lionel, you’re going too far,” she warned him. Even though she wasn’t entirely serious, Sonya maintained a cautionary tone to her voice.
Lionel took the hint. He stood up out of the chair and looked at Sonya sympathetically.
“You’re right. It’s none of my business at all. I’m - I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”
Sonya remained seated, unable to speak. Her eyes darted between him and the floor, and though she held on to the soup bowl, she’d stopped eating from it. She could feel herself shaking with the familiar sensation of threatening grief.
Lionel stood there, his features etched with concern. His inner voice told him “no more,” and this time he listened.
“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow. OK?”
Sonya nodded brusquely and closed her eyes.
Lionel backed out of the office, quietly closing the front gate behind him. He glanced back at the front window of the cottage, feeling awful for having been so interrogatory. Clearly, he had upset Sonya. Ruth was right: she was like a daughter to them both, and right now he felt as though he had trampled all over her.
Lionel stepped off the curb to cross the street towards the shop.
“Why does everybody think they have a right to interfere?”
Lionel spun around to find Sonya standing at the cottage gate. Her expression was cold, her face ashen.
“No one is trying to interfere, Sonya,” Lionel said evenly.
“Bullshit, Lionel!” Sonya retorted angrily, her voice shaking. “This entire bloody town wants to wrap me in cotton wool. Everyone thinks they have to protect me from falling apart.”
Lionel shook his head sympathetically.
“That’s not true,” he said gently. “We just want you to be happy, Sonya. And some of us, who care about you very much, can see that you’re not.”
Lionel stepped toward her, proffering his hands, as though he was trying to diffuse her molten anger, but Sonya baulked. Her cheeks flushed red. She crossed her arms defiantly across her body to protect herself.
“What are you protecting yourself from, Sonya? Why do you feel you need to cocoon yourself here - working long hours, holing yourself up in that old house, not mixing with anyone?”
“I don’t have to justify myself to you!” Sonya spat. “What I do here is my own business! I don’t have to mix with anybody!”
“No. No, you don’t,” Lionel paused, considering his words carefully. “But if you keep yourself from living in this world, Sonya, you’re going to miss out on the wonderful possibilities of it. Denny wouldn’t have wanted that
for you. He would have wanted you to go on. To live and to love. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“I have responsibilities!” she stammered impotently, swaying between her anger and her anguish. “My practice is too important to just step away from whenever I feel like it!”
“That’s not it,” Lionel challenged her, shaking his head with pity and grief. “What is it, really?”
Sonya blinked at him incredulously, wiping furiously at her eyes.
“Because here is where I feel safe, Lionel!” she shouted angrily, feeling herself slipping once more. “Because ... here I feel as though he never left - that he’s still with me!”
There it was, Lionel thought sadly. The truth that she had held on to for so long.
Sonya’s eyes glazed over. The tears streamed freely down over her face. Her features contorted into a mask of raw anguish and she began rocking from side to side.
“Why did he have to leave me, Lionel?” she cried. “Why?”
Lionel immediately went to her and wrapped Sonya in his arms as she went completely to pieces. Burying her head into his chest she wailed. The edge loomed before her and she could not stop herself from falling over this time. She tumbled into the abyss she had fought so long and hard to avoid.
“Why?”
Lionel closed his eyes and held her close, recognizing what was happening; his own heart was breaking.
“He couldn’t hold on any longer, dear child,” he whispered into her hair. “You know that. It was his time. He knew that. Denny wouldn’t want you to hide away forever.”
Sonya sobbed and sobbed, so hard she could no longer hold herself up, but Lionel held her close, supporting her, allowing her emotions to carry her. All those long months of holding herself together, of concentrating on just keeping going, of denying the ever-present grief just under the surface. All of it tumbled forth like a tidal wave now, swamping her. The wall finally crumbled and collapsed, and she was exposed.