The Life You Left

by Carmel Harrington

  She knew that she drank too much of it, but it was a habit that she found impossible to break. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked out her window. It was beautiful out there, a gentle light mist hovering over the hills and trees. She had the most amazing view from her kitchen; she still got pleasure from it even though she’d looked at the same view every day for over eight years.

  Memories of loud family breakfasts popped into her mind.

  Paul and her laughing together at something funny Tommy or Katie had said. Stealing a kiss in between the demands of ‘pour me a juice!’ from the children. And laughter, always laughter. She tried to pinpoint when it was that Paul had stopped having breakfast with them. Last year? Two years ago? He now favoured grabbing a latte and croissant each morning in a deli close to his office. Once again she started to feel panic bubble up inside her as the realisation that her marriage had been in trouble for some time hit her smack in her face.

  Sighing, she closed her mind to Paul because she had to. And try as she might, she just couldn’t stop her mind drifting back to Joey. She shuddered as she remembered how he’d looked as he kicked the chair from under his feet and allowed himself to drop. He was a man who had just given up and looked so lost. She tried to think of the right word to describe what she had witnessed.

  ‘Sorrowful.’ She said out loud. Yes, that was the word alright. Joey was sorrowful.

  How awful to think that the only option you felt you had was to end your life? Sarah wrapped her dressing gown around herself even more tightly, feeling cold again.

  Taking a sip from her coffee, she suddenly felt a presence beside her. Sitting opposite her was Edward. ‘You’re up early, Sarah.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ Sarah answered. ‘Bad dream. I’ve been getting a few of them lately.’

  He nodded not looking in the slightest bit surprised to hear that. ‘Tell me about it.’ He replied.

  ‘Why?’ Sarah said belligerently. She really wasn’t in the mood for an evasive and unsatisfactory conversation with Edward. It was early, she was cold, and she couldn’t justify putting the heating on just yet. She had just paid €500 for a full tank of oil and she really needed that to last till Christmas. Pulling her dressing gown tight around her once more, she felt an urge to stick her tongue out at Edward, like she used to do as a child.

  Instead she answered him. ‘Ok, Ok, you want to know about my dream? Well, it was about my postman. He committed suicide, hung himself. Now you know, does that make you happy?’ She shivered again, though this time not with the cold.

  ‘No, that makes me feel sad, Sarah. What do you think it means?’ Edward said.

  ‘It means that maybe I need to stop eating cheese before I go to bed.’ Sarah answered glibly. Edward smiled again. ‘Funny. Sarah, why do you think you dreamt that Joey committed suicide?’

  Sarah shrugged. She really didn’t want to think about it. But try as she could, Joey’s face as he finally realised he was about to die was imprinted in her brain and wouldn’t leave.

  ‘You obviously know what it means.’ Sarah said to him. ‘So can’t you just tell me?’

  Edward smiled that same smile again; it was beginning to drive Sarah mad. She recognised it, as it was the one she used herself on the children when they were desperately trying to learn something new, but failing miserably, it was the indulgent smile of a smug parent. Right now it irritated the shit out of her.

  She hated mornings, more importantly she hated early mornings, disturbed by psychic dreams and early cups of coffees with angels. She felt justified in her bad mood.

  ‘Totally justified.’ Edward said smiling that annoying smile again.

  ‘How do you do that?’ Sarah demanded crossly. He had always been able to read her mind. When she was a child she’d play a game with him and get him to say out loud the thing she was thinking about. She’d loved that game and played it for hours, much to James’s annoyance, when he wanted her to go outside and play. She realised she was now smiling, at the memory.

  ‘It wasn’t all bad when I was around?’ Edward asked, this time an earnest look on his face.

  ‘No Edward. It wasn’t all bad at all. In fact I had some great times with you. It was the stuff that came after I told Mam and Daddy about you that wasn’t fun.’

  ‘They just didn’t understand, Sarah. And when people don’t understand something they get scared. And when people are scared they can act irrationally.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Sarah said noncommittally. She had children herself now and often asked herself how she would handle something similar. And she knew that no matter what she would be on their side. She had made that vow the day she found out that she was expecting Tommy. She had promised her unborn child that she would do better than her parents had done for her.

  ‘I get that they were scared. I get that they didn’t understand. But they didn’t try very hard. They didn’t talk to me or more importantly, they didn’t listen to me.’ Sarah said with regret.

  Edward nodded.

  ‘I’ve thought a lot about this, Edward, in particular since I’ve had children of my own. All a child wants is to be loved, to feel loved and safe. When Tommy was a small baby, Paul and I used to sit for hours watching him sleep. And we would worry about his future. We’d talk about everything we could do to protect him from the bad stuff life can throw at you! I always said to Paul, that it was our duty to not only love our children, but to also make sure that they know they have a safe place to fall if they need to. Paul had that with his parents, he was lucky, but I didn’t. I still don’t. They couldn’t handle the fact that their daughter was different. So they tried to force me to change who I was. I mean what kind of parent has their child committed for fecks sake?’

  Sarah shuddered as she remembered that bleak time in her life.

  ‘I’ll never forget that day. I was terrified. I begged them to take me home. Poor James was in tears too. He was devastated that I was taken from him. We’d never been apart until that day.’

  Sarah closed her eyes, hoping that by doing so she could close her mind to the bad memory.

  ‘They found it easier to believe you were crazy, than to believe that you could talk to angels Sarah. They made a mistake, but for what it’s worth, they have never forgiven themselves for doing that to you.’ Edward replied.

  Sarah shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I buy that. They’ve always been so cold towards me. They treat me very differently to how they treat James. Him, he’s the golden boy. Me, I’m the mad daughter that they are so ashamed of.’

  ‘It’s complicated Sarah. For some people, when they have guilt, they put a barrier up around themselves rather than to confront the guilt and accept responsibility for their own mistakes. Have you ever considered that maybe your parents find it hard to look at you sometimes because it reminds them of a time they are ashamed of?’ Edward asked gently.

  Sarah knew that what Edward said had an element of truth to it. She felt their guilt sometimes when she was with them. They could hardly look her in the eye when they visited, the annual, once a year visit that is. You’d swear they lived a million miles away, not less than ten miles. But she didn’t have time to analyse her parents right now. The dream, try as she may to forget it, meant something.

  ‘Ok, so is my gift to dream about things that have already happened or are about to happen? Sarah asked him.

  ‘You know the answer to that already.’ Edward replied.

  ‘No, I don’t.’ Sarah said stubbornly.

  ‘Think, Sarah; remember the details of your dream. You have all the answers you need yourself.’

  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relive her dream.

  Joey sits at a table. In a kitchen by the looks of it. Oak kitchen cabinets are behind him. He walks to the fridge, opens the door and takes out some milk. There’s something on the fridge door. It’s a flyer advertising a table quiz at Freddie’s Bar. The date is the 15th October. Joey pours himself a glass of milk. He sits
down again at the table, his head in his arms. A copy of the local newspaper - The Wexford Echo, dated 16th October.

  So that confirms it; her dream had not happened yet.

  ‘It hasn’t happened yet. I saw next week’s paper on the table.’ Sarah said triumphantly.

  Edward smiled in return. ‘Well done Sarah. So part of your gift is that of precognition and prophecy.’

  Sarah rolled the words over her tongue. ‘Precognition. Prophecy.’ She stated in wonder.

  ‘I’m struggling with this a bit.’ Sarah said. ‘I’m not sure I can handle it all. Is this it for me? I can look forward to bad dreams every night, about things that are going to happen that I can do nothing about?’

  ‘You might be surprised to know that people have been having prophetic dreams for centuries. Of course many ignore them like Abraham Lincoln did, who had a psychic dream about a funeral at the White House. In the dream, he asked someone who was in the casket and they replied, "The President of the United States". He told his wife about the dream later that day but neither of them took it to heart – on the night of his assassination he gave his only bodyguard the night off. Would he have lived a long life had he taken his dream more seriously?’

  ‘I didn’t know that!’ Sarah exclaimed.

  ‘You know after the Titanic sunk, hundreds of people came forward with reports of premonitions, many of them validated, including one date-stamped letter.’ Edward paused before continuing, ‘Why do you assume that you can do nothing about your dreams? You have been given a unique window into the future. You now have a decision to make. You can ignore the prophecies you dream, sit back and do nothing and wait for the future to unfold, hoping for the best. Or you can apply positive action and do all in your power to change or even create a new future.’

  Sarah held her head in her hands. She was scared and felt very alone. How was she going to stop Joey from committing suicide? She needed to talk to someone, someone who understood. She considered calling James, but she felt guilty about how much she had offloaded on him lately.

  ‘I’m going to call Mary Donegan.’ She suddenly decided. He nodded his approval.

  It was 7am now. Was that too early to call? She’d told her to call anytime.

  She picked up her phone and dialled the number. Mary answered within a couple of rings assuring her that she was an early riser and happy to chat. Sarah quickly brought Mary up to speed on Rachel Finch’s murder and the dream.

  ‘Quite a night and morning pet.’ Mary answered. ‘You’ve been busy!’

  ‘Yes, you could say that.’ Sarah replied with a smile. ‘Help me, Mary. What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the million dollar question. I know how overwhelming this must feel for you, pet. I think the first thing you need to do is start understanding all that is going on right now. Something that helps me is keeping a journal. I write all the information I get from either my dreams or from talking to angels down in my journal. It’s always easier seeing something in black and white, gives you a better chance to interpret.’ Mary stated.

  Sarah liked that. ‘That’s a good idea. A dream journal if you like?’

  ‘That’s it, pet.’ Mary answered. ‘You need to start being a detective in your dreams. You need to analyse what you are dreaming and look for clues to help you work out what they are telling you. Like what you did earlier. You looked for clues in your dream to decipher that the event had yet to happen. So at least there is some chance that a new future can happen for Joey, not the one you dreamt.’

  ‘Well, Joey is going to commit suicide in a week’s time. That doesn’t give me much time. How do I stop him?’

  ‘Well that’s a tricky one. You might scare the life out of the man if you confront him about it. Maybe he hasn’t even decided he’s going to do it yet. You’ve got to tread very carefully. And remember, despite all your best efforts, you still may not be able to stop him doing this. If he has chosen this path, well then maybe nobody, not even you, can stop it.’ Mary said.

  Sarah refused to believe that. ‘Why am I dreaming this if I’m not meant to stop him? This gift that Edward keeps referring to, well it has to be a gift so that I can help people. Nothing else makes sense.’

  ‘I understand your frustration, pet, but you only have the power to control your own life. You can’t control what Joey does. But you can influence it. Remember that. Maybe you can help him if you understand why it is he wants to die.’

  ‘All I know is that I felt an overwhelming surge of sadness and loneliness when I was dreaming.’ Sarah replied. ‘Maybe I should try to talk to Joey? Try to understand why it is he is feeling suicidal?’

  ‘Yes, that has to be your next step. But please be very careful. As I said before don’t scare him by blurting out what you’ve seen.’ Mary implored.

  ‘I understand.’ Sarah replied. ‘I’ll just make an excuse to speak to him when he calls with the post and I’ll play it by ear. Try to get him talking.’

  ‘Ok that sounds like a good plan. Let me know how it goes and now that your psychic self is ‘switched on’; well you have to be prepared to have more dreams. They may not always be precognitive; they may be dreams of the past. They may be symbolic dreams. Get your journal ready and when you wake up, take note.’

  ‘Do you think that my dreams will start to be about Rachel’s murder?’ Sarah said with alarm.

  ‘You have to be prepared for that.’ Mary replied. ‘Be as prepared as you can for what may come. When is Rachel’s wake?’

  ‘I believe that she is being brought home to her parent’s house tomorrow evening. James and I are going together.’

  ‘I think you have a tough few days ahead, Sarah. Look after yourself and keep in touch. I’m here anytime you need me.’ Mary said warmly.

  Sarah thanked her and glancing at the clock ran upstairs to get the kids up and ready for school. She had a shift at the boutique later and needed to get Ella to Paul’s mother. Rita was an amazing help to her, as she took Ella when Sarah was at work. Sarah was sitting at her window watching out for Joey by 8.15am. As soon as she saw the green An Post van pull into her drive she jumped up. She was determined to speak to him.

  She opened the door just as Joey got to it.

  ‘Hi.’ Sarah said brightly. He looked a bit startled by the tone in her voice. Ok, she’d sounded like a freak then. He was used to a half-asleep-Sarah not this overly cheerful, on-a-crusade-to- save-a-life version!

  ‘Morning.’ Joey replied with a smile. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well in a long time.

  ‘How are you? You look tired. Is everything ok?’ Sarah blurted out. ‘Yeah subtle!’ she thought. Way to go Sarah.

  ‘Grand. All’s well.’ He replied looking a bit wary. He was clearly wondering what was with the sudden interest was in him.

  Sarah knew that he was lying when he said all was ok. Not because of her dream, but because it was written all over his face. He looked sorrowful again.

  He seemed to pull himself together then and asked, ‘How are your lovely children?’

  ‘They are all a bit shook up at the minute what with Rachel’s murder and all.’ Sarah responded.

  Joey nodded in understanding. ‘Awful shock for them.’ He said. ‘The whole village is talking about it, nobody can believe it.’

  ‘Does anyone know anymore yet? Who would have done this to her?’ Sarah asked him.

  ‘Not that I’ve heard. Rachel’s poor family are in an awful way. I was up at the Finch’s house earlier with their post. Didn’t see anyone but the drive was full of cars. Can’t imagine what it must be like for them all.’

  ‘No parent should bury a child.’ Sarah said softly. ‘I’m not sure I’d cope myself.’

  ‘Funeral has been set apparently. On Sunday night she’ll be going to the church. Then the Funeral mass will be on Monday. They are waking her at the house on Sunday all day. God, it’s an awful business.’ He shook his head as if trying to shake the sad news out of it.

  �
��That it is Joey. Thanks for the news on the funeral. I hadn’t heard yet. I know that Art said that the school would be shut on the day of the funeral and the kids would do a guard of honour. Her parents asked for that. Not sure how I’m going to get Katie and Tommy through it all to be honest. They’re scared witless and not sure how to deal with it all. They’ve never lost anyone close before you see. They were too young when their Granddaddy Thomas died.’

  ‘You’ll get them through it. You’re a great Mam. I’ve seen you with them.’ Joey said. Then he blushed, shy suddenly at this admission.

  ‘Thanks, that’s kind of you to say. What about you, Joey?’ Sarah asked him. ‘Have you any children yourself?’

  Sarah asked this question partly to keep the conversation going, and partly to try and understand a bit more about his home life. Although Joey had been delivering post for years to Sarah she knew so little about him. She felt slightly ashamed about that.

  Joey sighed before answering, ‘No children, not a one. I never married. Sure who’d have me? Just me and my auld dog, Benji.’

  Sarah immediately felt a wave of intense loneliness overcome her. This was followed by sadness, vulnerability and fear. All of a sudden she felt Joey’s memories flood her mind.

  Joey is with his dog Benji – his best friend; there is an incredible bond between them. She sees Joey talking to Benji, playing with him, walking him. Every day Benji sits looking out his window, waiting for his beloved master to return home from work. They are devoted to each other. Suddenly Benji runs out onto the road chasing a ball. Thud! A car smashes into him. Joey is now at the vet’s and the vet tells him that Benji should be put down; there are just too many injuries to save him. Joey is saying no. He begs the vet to do anything to save him. But Benji is in such pain he knows he has no choice. He makes the heart wrenching decision to have him put down, tears running down his face as he holds him close. ‘Goodbye old pal,’ he whispers as he strokes his coat.

  Oh my God, she couldn’t bear it. It was just too sad. She had no idea if Benji was dead already.

  ‘Sarah, are you ok?’ Joey said with concern. ‘You’re crying.’