Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  He mumbled his thanks and pushed himself up again, using the table as a support.

  The coffee was strong and rich and vaguely nauseating on his empty stomach, which gurgled as the coffee met the beer remaining in his system. Sarah sat down next to him and he found he couldn’t look at her.

  ‘Fun, was it, getting yourself in that state?’

  This time he did look at her. ‘Best fun I’ve had in months.’

  She nodded, her eyes hard, her lips set in a straight line. ‘I was worried sick about you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, now you know how it feels.’

  ‘Is that why you did it? To teach me a lesson?’

  The line of her mouth wavered and she made to get up. He grabbed at her arm and pulled her back down again. ‘No. I don’t know why I did it, really. Just that I needed some kind of … release.’

  ‘You could always try talking to me or to someone else. There are people available to talk to in these kinds of situations.’

  These kinds of situations. Was it actually possible that somewhere in the world, somebody was in the same situation as him? If there was, he felt sorry as hell for the poor bastard.

  ‘I had to put up with so much of this shit from Mitch and I swore I’d never do it again.’

  Aidan said nothing. There was no need. They’d both had the same thought at the same time: that she wouldn’t have to put up with it for much longer.

  ‘But it’s not just that, Aidan.’ She gripped his forearm with both hands. ‘I need you – really need you. More than I’ve ever needed anyone.’

  Aidan stared at the table.

  ‘What if something had happened to me and I couldn’t contact you? You didn’t even have your phone with you.’

  ‘I don’t know where it is.’

  ‘It’s on the boat. Tommy found it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I mean, I understand. I really do. At least, I’m trying to put myself in your position. You must feel like shite.’ She looked at him for confirmation but she didn’t get any. ‘I need you to open up to me, Aidan. The only way we’re going to get through this is by being completely honest with one another.’

  The shame was worse than the hangover. ‘I know. I know you’re right.’ Although there were so many things he couldn’t tell her.

  ‘I’m scared, Aidan.’

  ‘I know you are.’

  ‘Not of dying – I’m afraid you’re going to leave me.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus. Come here to me. Of course I’m not going to leave you.’ He scraped his chair closer to hers and engulfed her with his body.

  She began to cry. ‘I didn’t think so before. But after yesterday …’

  ‘Yesterday was a one-off. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise. It’s out of my system now.’

  ‘And you won’t go off again without your phone?’

  ‘I’ll staple it to me if I have to.’

  She giggled through the tears.

  ‘That’s better.’ He squeezed her tightly. What was left of her. ‘I’ll never leave you, Sarah. Not ever. You have my word.’

  Most of the guilt didn’t set in until later, when all the alcohol had left his system and his fluids were replenished. His body was fortified with stodge and he felt almost human again. It was overrated, he decided, being human. Too many conditions attached. Too many obligations. Too many feelings.

  Sarah was as bad as he had ever seen her and he knew that this was down to him. He tortured himself with the knowledge. She smiled at him to reassure, a little crescent in a moon-white face. But he wasn’t reassured – not one bit. How could he have been so stupid and selfish? He raged at himself, punching pillows when she wasn’t around. Her total forgiveness made it almost worse. There was no anger for him to resist.

  She woke up that night and wanted to talk. She didn’t always wake him. Not on purpose, at least. But he knew she went downstairs in the middle of the night. She would sit at the kitchen table, pour herself a glass of wine and sob her heart out. He had sat on the stairs and watched her once, through the crack in the doorway. There was something in her that needed to do it so he had left her to it.

  But tonight she needed his company. He forced himself out of his stupor and sat up in bed beside her. The darkness was almost complete, which led to a rare kind of intimacy. ‘We never got to talk about the soul midwife,’ she said.

  ‘What do you want to tell me about her?’

  ‘Well, I’d rather you asked me some questions.’

  ‘All right, then. How much does she charge?’

  ‘Aidan! Not that kind of question. A proper one. Anyway, you don’t need to worry about that. Mitch gave me a big fat wad of cash before he left.’

  ‘Isn’t he marvellous?’

  ‘Now, now. No need to be jealous. I’m well aware that it’s the easiest thing in the world to throw money at a problem – so long as you have it, of course. But his money has come in very handy over the years. Anyway. He owes me and he knows it. So why shouldn’t I hire a soul midwife?’

  ‘No reason at all. Good on you.’

  ‘Next question so.’

  ‘Oh, right. How does one qualify as a soul midwife?’

  ‘Are you taking the piss?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, Sheila worked for years as a hospice nurse. But this is more on the holistic side of things.’

  Holistic. One of those bullshit words he detested.

  ‘Soul midwives come on the scene when there’s nothing else that can be done medically. Typically in the last few weeks of a person’s life. To help the dying person and their loved ones.’

  He still couldn’t get his head around the matter-of-fact way she now spoke about her death. Could she really be that accepting? Or was this just some grand delusion destined to crumble? He suspected and feared the latter. One of his legion of fears.

  ‘You should be pleased, Aidan. You won’t have to do it all on your own any more.’

  ‘I’m coping.’

  ‘Oh, is that what you were doing last night? Coping?’

  He had no answer for that.

  ‘I was thinking of asking Helen to come back earlier than she’d planned to help you out. But she has the boys and she’s already taken time off from her job. So I thought, Why not hire a professional? I have the money. There are no pockets in a shroud, as my granny used to say. Anyway. Next question.’

  ‘How do you know she’s any good?’

  ‘I’ve seen her references.’

  He wanted to tell her that dead people couldn’t give references, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the D-word. She read his mind anyway. ‘Not from the dead people, smartarse. From their families.’

  ‘Look, Sarah, I don’t mean to be cynical …’

  ‘Then don’t be.’

  ‘It’s just that you’re in a pretty vulnerable position right now. I don’t want people taking advantage.’

  ‘She’s not like that. You can see for yourself tomorrow. She’s coming in the morning and you can ask her as many questions as you like.’

  ‘Maybe I will.’

  ‘Good. Now snuggle down with me here. I want to be held from behind.’

  ‘Like this?’

  ‘Yes. No. Just move your arm. That’s it. Perfect.’

  And that was how Sarah fell asleep. Big spoon, little spoon. In perfect harmony.

  Chapter 46

  A wasp lay dying on the windowsill. Every so often, it buzzed pathetically. Aidan didn’t know whether to help it on its way or leave it to its own devices. Once upon a time, he would have rolled up a newspaper and thwacked it without a moment’s thought but now he questioned everything. Especially himself. The doorbell rang. It must be her.

  She had this annoyingly serene way about her, as if she knew something he didn’t. As if she knew better than him. And she didn’t even know Sarah. But it was good that she used to be a nurse. He was prepared to concede that much. ‘Sarah’s still sle
eping,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come back later?’

  ‘That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.’ She stepped inside and Aidan followed her into the sitting room. ‘Besides,’ she smiled, ‘it gives us a chance to talk.’

  ‘Yes.’ Aidan looked around him uncomfortably, as if she lived here, not him. ‘Can I get you …?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She sat down on one end of the couch and looked at him expectantly.

  Someone else expecting things from him. He sat down on the other end, politely masking his reluctance.

  ‘Aidan,’ she began, ‘it’s important you know that I’m not here to take over in any way. My job is solely to support. And my presence does not in any way imply that you’re not doing beautifully by yourself.’

  It was as if she’d read his mind. More likely she’d been talking to Sarah.

  ‘I’ll be calling in every few days, or whenever either of you wants me here, until God decides to take her home.’

  ‘Your God has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.’

  She gave him a look of intense sympathy. He found this incredibly annoying.

  ‘Why would he take a woman in the prime of her life, the mother of an autistic child, a woman who has so much to give, and make her suffer so much?’ To his absolute horror, his voice broke. He wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t going to cry? He was. Oh, Jesus. He covered his face with his hands as the sobs came and his body heaved. Sheila’s arm was instantly around his shoulders, stroking his upper arm as if he were a boy. It was awful at first, his uncontrollable display of emotion in front of a total stranger. He’d never had an experience like it in his entire life. But after a while it was as if he began to let go, get into it almost. In a way, he had no choice. The involuntary reactions of his body were betraying him, emotion spewing out of him as if he were spontaneously erupting. A volcano. Or, better, a mighty geyser. Letting off steam. Releasing all the pressure that had been building up inside him. He’d hardly even known it was there. But Sheila seemed to be taking it in her stride. Behaving as if it were completely normal to embrace a total stranger on a Thursday morning and let him sob and heave all over her. Perhaps, for a soul midwife, it was just another day at the office.

  He was starting to collect himself. The embarrassment was closer now. He found a fresh hanky and blew his nose. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what happened to me.’

  ‘Don’t apologize. It’s perfectly understandable. You’re going through so much.’

  ‘But you’re meant to be here for Sarah, not me.’

  ‘I’m here for whoever needs me. Now, let me get you a cup of tea.’

  He didn’t protest as she disappeared into the kitchen. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Aidan Ryan: man’s man, father and fisherman, protector and provider, crying like a baby in the arms of a woman he’d hardly met before. She came back in and sat down beside him as she waited for the kettle to boil.

  ‘Sarah doesn’t have to know about this,’ he said.

  ‘You have my absolute assurance that she won’t.’

  He nodded, relieved. He was amazed at how good he felt. As if a storm had passed. He sank back into the couch. There was something to be said for this crying. No wonder women did it all the time.

  ‘Did Sarah tell you what we’re going to be doing today?’

  ‘No.’ Unless she had and he hadn’t been listening.

  ‘We’re going to make a death plan.’

  She’s already planning to die, he felt like telling her, but he didn’t. Instead he said: ‘What’s a death plan?’

  ‘Very similar to a birth plan, really.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘When a woman goes into hospital to have a baby, she might write down her aspirations on how she’d like the birth to go.’

  He looked at her doubtfully. ‘Does that generally work?’

  She laughed. ‘Not all of the time, no. Not if the birth happens extremely quickly, or if medical intervention is required to save the child. Or sometimes you might get an unsympathetic midwife. But you’re lucky.’ She smiled at him. ‘Because you have a very sympathetic midwife.’

  He nodded out of politeness, still dubious. ‘So what kind of thing would you include in a death plan?’

  ‘All sorts of things. Where the patient would like to die – at home or in a hospital or hospice. Who they’d like with them when it’s happening – or not as the case may be. The right to refuse certain treatments. Anything the person likes, really. It’s to facilitate them in having as dignified and as natural a death as possible.’

  ‘What do you mean, natural? She’ll still get pain medication?’

  ‘Of course. I work alongside medicine, not against it.’

  ‘Okay, then. Will I go and see if she’s awake?’

  ‘Let’s have that cup of tea first. You need a few more minutes for your face to go back to normal.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks.’

  Chapter 47

  It had taken them twice as long as usual to walk to the cove. She’d had to keep stopping to sit on whatever happened to be handy. A doorstep. A bollard. The bonnet of a car. Maia had squealed with impatience, tugging her with size-defying strength. Or maybe it was just that Sarah was so weak now. At times it felt as if her legs were about to go from under her. But she managed to keep walking. Just.

  She was sitting now. On her collapsible chair. The collapsible woman. Wrapped up in so many layers over her wetsuit, as if it were a winter’s day. And still she couldn’t keep the heat inside her bones. It was warm. She knew this logically. She saw the sun shining in the sky and the bathers out in their swimsuits. But she couldn’t feel it herself. It was almost as if she were witnessing a scene in which she had no part. Or observing a painting.

  Star was there too, Maia splashing close by. She held the image of the dolphin’s perfect symmetry in her mind’s eye. Her own body used to be perfectly symmetrical. Not any more. She was lopsided now. But not for much longer. In a short time – a breathtakingly short time – she’d have no more use for this body. She concentrated on her breathing as the fear threatened to overwhelm her. In. Out. In. Out. After a while, it worked. And she was left with a gentle feeling of peace. And an extraordinary sense of freedom. For the first time she felt it was good that she wouldn’t need this body any more. This body that had ultimately betrayed her. Had looked so good on the outside, when all the time it had had an innate malfunction. To be free of her body was a good thing. Her spirit soared – up to the blowy blue sky, where the gulls floated on the air currents.

  All of a sudden, Aidan was standing in front of her, dripping, the hair on his body plastered against his skin in its wetness. ‘Are you coming in?’

  She smiled up at him. ‘I don’t feel strong enough today, Aidan.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  Without another word, he unwound all the material from around her, picked her up like the bag of bones she was, and strode across the sand – one arm supporting her back, the other gripping the backs of her knees. Sarah looped her arms about his neck and grinned, absorbing his delicious body heat. They were both oblivious to the stares of the people they passed.

  Aidan was in the water now. Up to his ankles. His knees. Towards the place where Maia and the other children were playing. The water was barely at his waist here, so he sank to his knees, plunging her into the Atlantic. She gasped, the breath knocked out of her by the cold. Then her body acclimatized and so did she. She bobbed on the water, Aidan supporting her, Star swimming beyond her, her daughter laughing beside her. Her daughter. Laughing. Who’d have thought she’d see the day? But she had. She felt grateful. She felt privileged. She felt part of it all.

  ‘Let’s take the dinghy out tonight. We’ll get Bridget to babysit,’ Sarah said.

  ‘You feeling up to it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s meant to be a clear night. And there’s a full moon.’

  He knew they were both thinking that she might not be here for the next one.


  ‘All right, then.’

  It felt wonderfully clandestine. Aidan prepared a moonlight picnic, in the vain hope that she might eat some of it. Then Bridget arrived and they left, Sarah barely visible beneath her layers. They linked one another and walked along slowly. So incredibly slowly that Aidan was worried she wasn’t up to it. Perhaps they should have taken the car. But when he saw Sarah’s face, tilted towards the moon, he stopped worrying and started enjoying. Perhaps ‘enjoying’ was the wrong word to describe the situation but it was the closest one he had. He was finding it increasingly difficult of late to find words to match his experiences, his emotions, so he just went with it – he had no other choice.

  Their baby steps finally carried them to the harbour where they’d first met, less than five months ago. Their former lives smashed to smithereens now. It didn’t seem to matter tonight. Tonight existed only for itself.

  The rigging clanged on the breeze, a thousand bells ringing, a thousand stars above their heads. Aidan placed his hands on either side of Sarah’s waist and lifted her into the boat, swinging her down in an arc. She was a feather. A piece of driftwood. Then he fastened the life-jacket over her multilayers. Her body looked comical. Her face, rising above it, was luminous.

  They sailed away from the harbour, away from all the other boats. Away from civilization as they knew it. Tonight it would be only them and the elements. Just the way he liked it. Sarah was looking as if she’d never stop smiling and his final misgivings floated away. She had been right. This had been the right thing to do. And in spite of it all, in spite of the madness and the pain, the strain he was under, the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him at times, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. This was where he belonged. With Sarah. In this moment. This perfect moment. It was as if his entire life had been leading up to this single point. He was in it, inhabiting it with every ounce of his being. He felt that she was too.

  They went out to where they thought Star might be, to where the mouth of the harbour opened out into the ocean. The wild Atlantic, calmed tonight, rippling gently beneath the boat, bobbing it along, working in unison. Aidan switched off the engine and they floated. Not a sound. It was eerie almost, the silence huge. It swelled and filled his head, his entire being. He was part of it and it was part of him. He’d forgotten what it was like – being out at sea at night. How could he have done?