Aftermath

by Joanne Clancy

  It was the middle of May when she finally ventured outside for the first time since arriving home. It was too dangerous for her to try walking with her crutches because she still wasn't quite stable enough. Her aunt and uncle were with her. They pushed her outside in a wheelchair. It was a beautiful, sunny day and she was so happy to feel the heat of the sun on her face at last. Her uncle picked a red rose for her and she inhaled its sweet aroma. The cherry blossoms were blooming, reminding her of the huge cherry blossom orchards in Japan. It was a bittersweet moment for her.

  Maura gave her a gift to help cheer her up. It was a gold locket on a delicate gold chain. Inside the locket was a photo of Conor on one side and Kerry on the other. The photograph was taken at their anniversary dinner the previous September. It was hard to believe that it would only be a few short months before their next anniversary. She wondered if they would be together to celebrate it; their twenty first wedding anniversary. Kerry gazed for hours at her husband's handsome face. He looked so happy. His bright blue eyes were serene and smiling.

  “Conor, where are you? Please come back to me,” she whispered to the photo.

  One day, when she was washing her hair, the chain of the locket came loose and fell into the warm, soapy water. It wasn't in the water for long but when Kerry opened the locket she saw that the photos of Conor and herself had stuck together and their faces had merged. An overwhelming sadness came over her until Maura said that now they were one forever.

  Several weeks later she opened the locket again and was shocked to see that the photos had melted away and both sides of the locket were coated in an extraordinary shade of cerulean blue, the same blue as Conor's eyes. It seemed impossible! How could such a thing have possibly happened? Although she didn't want to admit it, she didn't have much hope left of ever looking into her husband's eyes again.

  Chapter 5

  Kerry left the hospital in early June and went home to Ballycotton House. It was wonderful to be home again, in the house that she and Conor had so lovingly built together. The place was full of memories of her husband. His touch was everywhere. The bed was still unmade since before their fateful trip to Japan and the outline of his body was remained imprinted on the bed sheets. She sank onto his side of their bed, closed her eyes and breathed him in; his scent was still on the sheets. Her heart ached for him. How was it possible to miss someone so much?

  She stayed in bed for weeks, allowing Maura to take care of everything. Her sister tried to coax her out of bed and downstairs but she didn't have the energy. She was tired of struggling to be brave and strong. Ever since the disaster, she had tried her best to block some terrible thoughts from her mind, but they wouldn't go away and they slowly started to surface. Why am I alive? Where is Conor?

  The guilt was a terrible burden to bear, but most especially was the terrible guilt that if they hadn't gone to Japan, none of this would have happened to them. It would have been a terrible tragedy that they would have watched on their television sets, in the safety of their living room, far removed from the direct awfulness of the disaster itself. Her dream holiday had endangered her beloved daughter, almost killed her in fact. Her dream had injured her badly and might possibly have taken Conor away from her forever. She couldn't help feeling responsible for the trouble and tragedy that had been wrought on her family and friends. When she told Maura about her guilty feelings her sister always said the same thing; that if Conor really was gone then it was his time to go and that what happened was beyond anyone's control.

  The more Kerry thought about it, the more she realised that she didn't want Conor's body to be found. She craved continuation, not closure. She doubted he was ever coming back, but without tangible proof she had something to hold onto.

  In tears she would rifle through the memory box she kept under her bed, a box where she stored all the cards; birthday cards, anniversary cards, Christmas cards that her loved ones had given her over the years. She spent hours reading and re-reading the precious cards that Conor had given her throughout their relationship. The scrawled writing of his sentences jumped out at her.

  “Happy anniversary, sweetheart, this has been the happiest year of my life.” He wrote the same message on every anniversary card he gave her and it always made her smile. He would trawl through card shops, knowing the verses in cards meant so much to her. His last birthday card brought tears to her eyes:

  “You are my north, my south, my east, my west, my daily wear, my Sunday best, my sun, my moon, my stars above, my reason to be, my only true love.”

  Her husband's loving words made her laugh and cry at the same time. The tears were therapeutic and cleansing. She had kept the weeks of stress and strain bottled up inside for so long and it was inevitable that she would need to break down, to let it all out at last.

  Being home in her familiar surroundings had brought her back to reality and it was a reality that she didn't want to face; at least not yet. Maura and the children brought her meals to her room and sat with her, just holding her hand. Saoirse slept in bed with her at night, holding her close. Even Maura’s dog, Sabre, stopped his usual boisterous antics and lay quietly at the bedroom door, keeping guard over her, sensing that something was wrong. Nobody knew quite what to say. They wanted to grieve but at the same time they couldn't because nobody knew for certain exactly what had happened to Conor. There was still the smallest glimmer of hope that he might still be alive and lost somewhere out there in Japan.

  Daily tasks were difficult for Kerry. It was as if her memories of Conor were haunting her. The previous week at the grocery store Roy Orbison's song “Crying” came on the radio. Her head was filled with thoughts of Conor and it took every fibre of her being not to break down and cry.

  Life had resumed some sort of normality. Saoirse was at summer camp and Emer was always busy with her friends or her holiday job. The house was empty and quiet, something she would have cherished before the tsunami. She usually had so much to do and there were rarely enough hours in the day for reading, writing and answering emails. Normally, she could accomplish a lot when she had the house to herself without any distractions, but these days it was very different. She felt zoned-out most of the time, as if she was observing her life through someone else's eyes. Everything was in slow motion and very surreal.

  Music helped to soothe her rattled nerves and she spent many hours listening to the radio. Listening to sad songs helped her cry. She had such mixed feelings, such crazy emotions. Her head was all over the place. Sometimes she could hardly catch her breath and had to keep telling herself to breathe deeply. Her heart was full of conflict and there was so much going on in her mind that she felt she might explode. She didn't know where her life was going or what would happen after Conor was finally found. It was exhausting trying to maintain a facade of relative positivity for her daughters when all she wanted to do most days was just sleep.

  “You have to get out of bed. You have to start getting back to some sort of normality,” Maura decided it was time to take some forceful measures with her sister. “It's not fair on the children. They're suffering too.”

  “I know, but I'm just so tired. I'm tired of being brave and strong and trying to be positive. What if he's never coming back? Maybe I need to start facing that reality.” Kerry said despondently.

  “Well, you'll never find out if you stay in bed,” Maura persisted. “You owe it to yourself and your children to keep your spirits up and try to find out what happened to Conor. I was on the phone to Nuala the other day and she said there are several television networks and newspapers who are very interested in interviewing you. I think it's a good idea; it might help us to find Conor. Maybe it will jog someone's memory and we'll start getting some answers.”

  Kerry took her sister's words to heart and started to focus on being positive again. She knew that Conor would have wanted her to keep going. Sometimes she could almost hear him saying; “stop crying, Kerry. Get over it and try to be happy.”

  Her aunt and uncl
e moved into Ballycotton House and she was grateful to have her loved ones so close to her. She needed all the help, love and support she could get and for once in her life she was willing to accept it. It was good to have her aunt and uncle staying with her; so many times she had promised herself that she would make more of an effort to spend quality time with them, rather than dropping in for a quick visit on her way to somewhere else. She was really connecting with her loved ones for the first time in a long time.

  Emer and Saoirse had their own lives and friends at school and college. Emer was away at college most of the time and only came home occasionally. Saoirse had so many after-school activities that Kerry often felt like her personal chauffeur. Then there was Kerry's writing career which was often all-consuming. It was so easy to become wrapped up in her own life and worries that she had begun to lose sight of what mattered most; family and friends. The aftermath of the tsunami had shown her who and what truly mattered to her in life and for that she would always be grateful.

  Kerry's health was improving steadily every day. She took her sister’s advice and tried not to allow herself to be too sad or unhappy around others. She felt that she owed it to them to keep her spirits up so that she didn't bring them down and it was starting to have a knock-on effect on her mood. By the first week in July she felt that she was well enough to do a television interview. She wasn't completely ready for it because she was still emotionally and physically drained but she wanted to do it; she owed it to her daughters and to Conor and to all the survivors of the tsunami. She hoped her interview would give others the courage not to give up in the face of tragedy. The week after her television interview she met with The Irish News, Ireland's national newspaper. Saoirse even came up with the inventive idea of putting a video on Youtube of Kerry holding a photograph of Conor, asking if anyone had seen him or knew anything about him. All of this was exposure that she hoped and prayed would lead her to her beloved husband.

  Chapter 6

  Hope lay on her big, comfortable king-sized bed and patted her ever-expanding bump. She couldn't quite believe that she was six months pregnant already. “If only your Daddy was here to see you now, little one,” she whispered. Her voice caught in her throat as she swallowed back the tears that were never very far away. As if on cue she felt a swift kick in her upper abdomen which took her breath away for a moment. “Easy tiger,” she said, patting her bump again.

  She picked up the framed photo of Niall which she kept on her bedside locker and studied his handsome, smiling face.

  “I miss you so much,” she said, gazing into his piercing blue eyes, the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

  It had been almost five long months since she'd last seen his handsome face or kissed his smiling mouth and she wondered if she'd ever see him or touch him again. Would he ever see their baby? The precious baby who he didn't even know existed. Would he ever hold their precious boy in his arms? Would he get the chance to teach him football and take him fishing and do all the things that every father and son should share?

  How she longed to gaze into his eyes and see the love and warmth reflected back at her. She missed his smile, his touch, his sense of humour, everything. There was a gaping hole in her heart that she didn't think could ever be filled. Yet, the cruellest thing of all was that she couldn't grieve because she didn't know if he was dead or alive. If she truly grieved without knowing for certain that he was gone forever then she was afraid of jinxing him and any chance of him ever returning home to her.

  She picked up the photograph again and stared into her husband's deep blue eyes. That photo was one of her most treasured possessions. He was laughing in the picture, his big white Hollywood smile and his blue eyes twinkling. She'd snapped the photo of him when they were at their friend Gary's wedding dinner. Ivor, Gary's best man, leaned over to Hope during the meal and whispered; “he's got the most incredible blue eyes, even I could go for him!” Niall's appeal was so strong that it was difficult for anyone to resist him. Hope had noticed his bright blue eyes the moment she'd bumped into him in the park. They were the most amazing pure and deep blue she'd ever seen in her entire life and she doubted she'd ever see more beautiful ones again.

  They were all sitting at a long table outside on the terrace and having a cracking good time; eating, drinking, chatting and being merry. They'd gotten very silly at the dinner and quite naughty too. Gary, one of Niall's friends, suggested they play some games, as if the evening wasn't lively enough already! Gary picked up his napkin and folded it into a shape which everyone else had to guess. Then he passed the napkin on to the person sitting next to him, who fashioned it into a set of headphones. The next person created a bow-tie. After that there was a priest's collar, a flower, the funnier the better. Finally, it was Niall's turn. He made a garter similar to what a bride wears on her wedding day and slipped it on Hope's leg, much to her mortification. Everyone had gotten such a laugh from the simple game. She couldn't help smiling at the happy memory.

  Hope gazed unseeingly out the window. “Where are you? What are you doing?” She often spoke aloud to Niall as if he was still with her. She didn't believe he was dead, she couldn't believe it. Somehow, she felt that she would be able to sense if he had gone. Talking to him helped to keep him alive and gave her a feeling of comfort. She knew it was a bit peculiar and that most people would regard it as just plain talking to herself, but she didn't care. It would be her little secret.

  The haunting tones of Sinead O' Conor's ethereal voice broke through her thoughts. “Nothing Compares to You” was playing on the radio. The emotion of the song went straight through her, as it always did. It was her and Niall's favourite song and it was the first song they'd danced to at their wedding. It had also been playing in the coffee shop where they'd had their first date. Listening to it was the first moment that Hope had begun to realise that something special was happening. There was such a strong connection between them.

  Hope was a skilled masseuse. On set, if anyone had an ache in their shoulders, back or neck she would massage them. Her mother had tried to convince her on numerous occasions that she should start her own business. One day she saw that Niall was moving his head back and forth in awkward movements.

  “What's wrong?” she'd asked.

  “My neck’s aching,” he'd replied.

  “Sit down,” she'd ordered him. “I'll sort you out.”

  So he'd sat on the chair in front of her and she'd gotten to work rubbing and kneading his neck and shoulders with her fingers. She could feel such a force in her hands, easing the tension and stress that he tended to store in his neck.

  When she'd finished, Niall had stood up, turned around and gotten down on one knee. He'd looked up at her.

  “Will you marry me?” he'd asked, with a serious expression on his handsome face.

  Hope hadn't answered. She went silent, not knowing quite what to say. The chemistry of that moment sizzled between them.

  “Oh, well, at least you didn't say no,” he'd smiled eventually, kissing her hand before releasing her.

  Hope had been a little scared by the way she was feeling about Niall Gilligan. She could control her actions, but she couldn't control her thoughts and he was constantly on her mind. He'd become her new obsession, which she'd known was dangerous, but she hadn't cared. She was so enthralled with him. She'd found herself manufacturing ways of bumping into him “accidentally.”

  She loved his dare devil, adventure-loving nature and was very excited when she'd discovered he rode motorbikes. He owned a BMW K1200LT and she fell in love with the machine from the first moment she'd set eyes on it! Hope had been crazy about motorbikes for years and had meant to get her licence years ago, but never seemed to get around to sitting the test. The sound of a motorbike gave her goosebumps. She thought they were sexy and dangerous too. When she heard the whirr of Niall's BMW, her heart would race. When she told him how much she loved motorbikes he said, “I promise, one day, I'm going to take you for a ride.”

  She
waited for that day and it finally happened on their fourth date. She got on the bike and sat behind him. It was her first time being on one and she was a little nervous; nervous and excited. Niall told her to hold on tight. She drew nearer to him. It was amazing to be so close to him. She did nothing, just rode with her arms around his trim waist, her chest against his muscular back. It felt as if they were flying. She had butterflies in her stomach and when they stopped outside the restaurant she was sad that the ride had been so short.

  “You're a natural on the bike,” Niall told her as she got off. “I couldn't even feel you.” He gently pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. She knew she wanted him then and there. She wanted him to come to her, to be with her, to feel his gentle touch. She was delighted and couldn't stop beaming with smiles as they made their way into the restaurant. He was too. They were falling in love.

  They were having dinner at The Old Boot which was a superb restaurant in a fairly unsavoury part of the city, but they'd heard such rave reviews about the food that they'd wanted to try it. The food was sensational and the décor was amusing to say the least. There were stuffed animals wearing jewellery lining the walls and antique handbags hung from the windows. They were sitting side by side in a quiet booth, with just some simple glowing candles lighting the room. Hope was leaning into Niall but he didn't lean back. He didn't seem to notice what she was doing and she started to think that he wasn't as besotted with her as she was with him. Later, Niall told her that part of him couldn't quite believe that someone like her was attracted to him. He really put her on a pedestal. They talked about many things. He had such a positive outlook on life and she loved hearing his stories about what interested him and what made him happy. He was full of life and understanding and, of course, laughter. She missed his laugh so much; his deep, belly-laugh that made you laugh in response.