‘Mostly. You talk a lot, but some of it gets through. So do you? Do you hate your face?’
‘What do you see?’ I challenged.
‘I see a man who doesn’t want to answer the question. But okay, I see a handsome face – with eyes that have seen too much. There’s so much sadness in those eyes.’
‘Then why are you here?’ I asked in a thick voice.
She slapped me lightly on the cheek. ‘Because I want to be.’
‘Then what the fuck was that all about?’
She sighed and dropped down on the bed. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’ve been freaking myself out for the last few days.’
I sat down next to her. ‘About what?’
‘About you, and me. I started thinking that maybe you were just trying to have sex with me. And that spiralled into other thoughts, like maybe you’re not as nice as you seem. I mean, you’re definitely hiding something from me, and it became a snowball, and when we came in here I freaked.’ She looked at me, embarrassed. ‘So … my first freak-out with you. How’d I do?’
‘I’d give it a seven.’
‘Only a seven!’ she replied indignantly.
‘I could be persuaded to go higher.’
She laughed. ‘I do, you know.’
‘Do what?’ I asked.
‘Really, completely, totally like you. Despite your harsh marking. It feels like we’ve known each other for such a long time. Does that sound weird?’
‘Completely normal,’ I assured her.
And then there was no more talking. Our lips touched – gently, then with urgency, and we were lying down, hands exploring each other above and under clothing. Layers were shed, thrown carelessly across the room, my lips found the soft skin of her neck, and she sighed happily. Underwear joined the rest of the clothes and for the first time we were naked, our hands exploring new areas, bodies responding to light touches.
There was an unexpected interruption while I scrambled around the bedside drawer for a condom, then struggled to open it, my concentration shot by her firm grip on a part of my body more used to my own hand in recent times. She laughed at me fumbling like a teenager with the condom. Her laughter faded as I lay down next to her, one leg draped across her. She tensed, waiting for me to move onto her.
Instead I pulled her on top of me, giving her control, her hair falling across her face as she kissed me in appreciation. Slowly I entered her and then we were moving together. Our movements became more frantic, our breaths shorter, heat radiating from our bodies as we moved closer. Tonight was basic, primal. With a shudder I climaxed and she collapsed on top of me. We lay unmoving, her face nuzzled into my neck, my arms wrapped tightly around her. I wanted to stay there forever, but she slid from me and we climbed under the covers, and lay in each other’s arms.
‘You okay?’ I asked.
‘I am,’ she replied. ‘I really am.’ She snuggled in closer.
‘Happy?’
‘No, I’m miserable. Idiot.’
‘It was a legitimate question,’ I protested.
‘Shut up and hold me.’
So I did.
‘Tell me a story,’ she murmured.
‘Once upon a time,’ I began.
‘No, not a made-up story. Tell me a story about you.’
I told her about how I fell out of a tree when I was twelve and broke my arm, and halfway through her breathing changed. I couldn’t see her face, to check if she’d fallen asleep. ‘Cat?’ No response. ‘You asked what I was hiding. I’m scared you’ll think I’m crazy, but I want to be honest.’
So I told her everything, right from the start. It took a while, and I left nothing out. It was probably cheating not telling her when she was awake, but it was a start. After I’d finished I held my breath, waiting for her to say, ‘Hey, I’m awake after all, and you’re a nut job, so thanks for the sex but see ya never.’ All she did was sigh, and wriggle a little bit against me.
I let the breath out, and with it all my anxieties – all the tension I’d been living with for the last eleven years, all the countless Possibilities. As I drifted off a single thought flitted through my consciousness: I hadn’t lived a Possibility since Cat and I spent that first night together.
Unless this is a Possibility, came the evil afterthought.
I’m not sure any more
I woke slowly, becoming aware of sounds and smells and light against my closed eyes. Like every other morning, I wondered what my age was. Eyes still shut, I moved first one leg, then the other. No pain. Flexed fingers; they felt strong and supple. Finally I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. They told me nothing.
Memories flooded back, catching like leaves on the rocks in my mind. The other side of the bed was empty. It shouldn’t have been, but if today was the day after yesterday then I knew why. My silent prayer went unanswered as I checked my phone for the date and saw the numbers 2022. I stared at the ceiling, devoid of energy or desire to leave this safe haven. Out there was heartbreak. In here, I was a normal guy enjoying a sleep in.
Except for the teddy bear. It sat on top of the chest of drawers – a small brown bear with a pink bow around its head, and wearing a pink dress. Its dark eyes bridged the gap across the room and bore into mine. I rolled away from its relentless stare and touched the pillow next to me, a single blonde hair serving as a reminder of the head that should be resting there.
‘Cat,’ I whispered. ‘Come back to me.’ Tears threatened and I slammed them back down inside. There had been plenty of tears over the last week and I was tired of crying, tired of everything. I wanted to blink and get out of this Possibility and was terrified this wasn’t one – that this was my life. I closed my eyes, praying for sleep to take me away, but my brain refused to allow the escape.
Reluctantly I got up, put on some clothes, and went into the kitchen. The bench was clear, the kettle cold, the chilly air undisturbed from the night before. Morning sun pushed at the windows, casting elongated shadows over the chairs and across the floor. I felt the same way, stretched out of shape. I switched on the kettle, pulled mugs and coffee from the cupboard and milk from the fridge like a pre-programmed robot. The milk had expired yesterday, and I stood dumbly holding it until the sound of the kettle boiling pulled me from the trance. I made two cups of coffee, then dumped the rest of the milk in the sink.
Steam rose off the drinks and I cupped both hands above them, soaking in the heat, waiting for it to permeate through the rest of me, before giving up. Too much to expect from simple drinks.
I sighed and carried them down the hallway to the closed door. The few centimetres of wood might as well have been a mountain of rock. My stomach clenched and coffee spilt over the cup edges onto my trembling hands. I barely noticed my skin blistering. This was true fear, the sort that clings to your soul and clouds every waking thought. I didn’t need a mirror to know the moon was back – that what I would see would be cracks, and craters, and darkness, and despair. I knew what was on the other side of the door. It wouldn’t change, whether I opened the door or not. But opening it, pushing against the solid smooth surface, watching the truth reveal itself in sharp silence… I put one cup on the floor and backed away, a coward.
An hour later I still sat at the kitchen table, cold coffee in front of me. The shadows were gone; the sun had done its work, leaving a warmth that filled the air and flowed around me without penetrating the numbness of my skin. I vaguely heard the front door open, and someone come in.
‘Making an effort this morning, I see,’ she said. She came around the table and sat down opposite me, studying my face for something, and appearing dissatisfied with the result. ‘When did you last eat?’
I couldn’t remember, but the faint taste of chicken came to me. ‘There was that chicken you brought around,’ I croaked.
‘Fuck, Troy, that was two days ago! Are you telling me you haven’t eaten since then?’
I might have done but memories refused to present themselves.
‘Where is
she?’
I looked at the door and she followed my gaze, then said, ‘I’m going to make you some breakfast.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I don’t care,’ she replied.
Swept away by her determination, I sat there while noises happened around me, smells materialised, and a plate of toast was put on the table. It smelt good, even though the thought of eating made me nauseous.
Emily disappeared out of the room, came back shortly after, and sat down, glaring disapprovingly at my untouched food. ‘Eat,’ she demanded.
‘Ems…’
‘No talking. Eat.’
I did. It was easier than arguing. Emily didn’t attempt conversation until the plate was empty. Then she made more toast and made me eat that as well. When she got up a third time I held my hand up and she sank back into her seat. She seemed more satisfied with what she saw.
‘Have you been into the room yet?’ she asked.
I shook my head.
‘Your parents rang me.’
That surprised me, although I guess it shouldn’t have.
‘They’re worried because you won’t return their calls. I know you’re hurting, but so is everyone else. So am I.’
Tears threatened again and this time I couldn’t banish them. She came around the table, put an arm around my shoulder and held on tight while I cried into my hands.
‘Shit,’ I said, wiping my face. ‘Every time I think I’ve got a handle on this thing I start crying again.’
‘Got a handle on it? It’s only been a week since the funeral, Troy. Cut yourself some slack. And you were never the stoic type anyway. The only macho thing I’ve ever seen you do is kick the shit out of two guys who deserved it, and that was five years ago. We’re worried – Austin, Elissa’s family, me, we’re all worried.’
I suddenly realised what this was – Emily the spokesperson, the elected ambassador, delegated to check on the state of Troy. Annoyance swept through me, then left on the same tide that brought it in. I couldn’t fault people for caring, but I didn’t need to be treated like a broken toy, fragile and worthless. I wasn’t broken, I was hurting.
‘When was the last time you showered?’
I shrugged.
‘Go have a shower, and brush your teeth for God’s sake.’
I did what she told me to do – it was easier than thinking for myself. The world disappeared behind steamed glass and the constant hiss of water. Dirt and dead skin cells were sluiced from my body and disappeared down the drain. Memories receded into the mist of the bathroom; nothing existed any more, no thoughts or pain, just the rhythmic in and out of my breath. I stood like a rock until the water ran cold, and the illusion of normality evaporated with the steam.
When I emerged from the bathroom, newly cleaned but still bone tired, Emily was nowhere to be seen. I glanced down the hallway at the closed door, then headed in the opposite direction.
Emily found me a little later, sitting in the lounge staring at the blank television.
‘Most people find it more entertaining to turn it on,’ she commented as she sat next to me.
I didn’t answer.
She sighed and cradled my hand in hers. ‘Troy, look at me.’
I reluctantly turned my head, not wanting to see what was in her eyes.
‘Tell me.’
‘Tell you what?’ I asked dully.
‘Tell me how to help you. I want to help you, Troy. I want to be there for you, like you’re always there for me, but I don’t know how. You’re hurting, and so I’m hurting.’ I turned away again, tried to take my hand back but she clung onto it. ‘No. You need to grieve and I’ll let you have time for that, but I won’t let you shut yourself off from me. That’s not going to happen.’
‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This life with Cat was supposed to be my happy ever after.’ Tears flowed again, and this time I did nothing to prevent their fall. ‘I went through the shitty stuff, I went through a million unhappy days, had my hopes raised and shattered more times than I should have. Don’t I deserve a happy ending?’
‘Of course you do, Troy. We all do. I don’t know why these things happen, but sometimes life has other ideas, sometimes shit happens. It stinks, it’s not fair, and there’s nothing we can do but ride it out. But, Troy, you’re not alone. This horrible, shitty thing didn’t just happen to you – we’re all hurting too.’
‘I don’t have the strength for anyone else.’
‘You don’t have to be strong, but you have to be there.’
I knew she was right, and added guilt to the emotional sandstorm raging inside me.
‘You need to go into the room, Troy.’
I nodded.
‘Do you want me to go with you?’
I shook my head.
‘Okay. Call me later.’ She kissed me on the cheek, and crossed the room to the door.
Later I stood at the end of the hallway, staring at the same few centimetres. Behind its plain exterior was the end of something, possibly the end of everything unless I could find the strength to fight. The door handle was cool beneath my skin, smooth and clean, unyielding against my grip. I didn’t want to go in. I wanted to turn and run, and keep running, and find a hill to climb and pray the other side held better things. Instead I turned the handle and pushed the door open. For the first time in a week I crossed the threshold into the room.
The first thing that struck me was the brightness. I guess I expected the curtains to be closed, but sunlight invaded every corner. A tall set of dark wood drawers sat to one side, its top bare of clutter. On the ceiling a mobile of toy moons and suns gently twisted. Directly ahead stood a wooden change table, disposable nappies neatly lined up underneath it, a cloth nappy draped over one end. On the opposite wall sat a cot, blankets lying flat, the side door unlatched and slid down. I stared at it for a moment, an unwanted picture forcing itself to the front of my mind. The walls whispered with memories.
Tearing my eyes away, I finally looked at Cat. She sat in the wooden rocking chair, her hands folding a cloth nappy. Neither of us said anything. I took another step into the room and stopped. Everything screamed at me, a headache materialised from nothing into a ceaseless hammering. My stomach clenched and rolled, and I felt the toast preparing to surge upwards. I swallowed a couple of times and it settled, but I wanted to bolt from the room and find that hill.
‘You need to eat,’ I said.
‘Emily fixed me something while you were in the shower,’ she replied.
‘You need to come out of here.’
‘Why?’
I didn’t know why, but being in here wasn’t the right thing. ‘Emily said your family are worried about you. You should call them.’
‘Later,’ she said absently, already withdrawing from the conversation. She finished with the nappy and placed it on the shelf under the change table. Looking at her empty hands, she reached out and swept the tidy pile onto the floor, picked one up and began folding it.
I looked at my wife and saw myself; like the walls of this room we were both memories. She wore the same clothes as yesterday, blue tracksuit pants, and a maroon T-shirt. She must have spent the night here. ‘Have a shower, then come back.’
‘Soon,’ she said in the same voice, and it was possible she hadn’t even heard me.
I crossed the room and knelt down before her. ‘Look at me, Cat,’ I said, echoing Emily’s earlier words to me.
She gazed at me with unfocused eyes.
‘We’ll get through this.’ I cursed the lack of conviction in my voice.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it, Troy?’ I wondered if she had overheard my conversation with Emily. Then I realised it was simpler than that. Cat and I were the same, we wanted the same thing – we needed this to work.
‘We’ll get through this, babe,’ I repeated.
She finally focused on my face. ‘Will we?’ she asked in a heart breaking voice.
‘Go have a shower, Cat. This will al
l be here when you’re done.’
She looked around the room, then down at her clothes. Without speaking she got up and left the room quickly, as if every second gone was another chance it would vanish without her here to anchor it to us. I heard the shower start up, and in the stillness of the room around me, a room that should have been full of new life, my tears fell. Then I thought of my wife, and more tears came, because the distance between us was greater than the few feet of physical ground. I desperately wanted to believe we would get through this, but experience, and Possibilities, suggested otherwise, and it was a painful, piercing thought.
When she came back my reserves of strength were depleted. She now wore her dressing gown, and when she picked up the breast pump from beside the chair I fled the room, closing the door behind me, shutting out Cat.
We drifted for a few more days. Emily came back every evening to check on us. On the fourth day she persuaded Cat to come into the kitchen for something to eat, the first time she’d eaten outside the room in over a week. We sat around the dining table in awkward silence, picking at our fried rice and noodles.
After Emily left Cat went to go back into the bedroom, but I blocked her way.
‘Get out of my way, Troy.’
‘No. You’ve spent enough time in there, Cat.’
‘I’m doing what I need to do to survive,’ she replied.
‘That’s not living.’
‘Well, neither is she!’ she shouted.
‘I know,’ I shouted back.
We faced off against each other, anger contorting faces beyond recognition. Then the emotion drained from her face and she was the woman I loved – only not, because her eyes spoke of the deepest despair. This time when she pushed past me I didn’t stop her. The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the hallway, an ominous sound that somehow meant more than it should have.
The next morning when I went into the hallway, the bedroom door at the end stood open.
‘Cat?’ I called out.
The room was empty. So were the bathroom, lounge and kitchen. She was gone. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold wracked my body. The house seemed dead.
Troy’s Possibilities Page 25