Through the Glass

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Felicity’s.

  If Jim was honest, however, the fact didn’t concern him too much. He had always found her friends a little too arty farty for his liking. He preferred straightforward and down to earth people.

  Flick and her friends were always discussing topics he couldn’t really care less about. They’d sit for hours making comparisons between the work of modern artists such as Tracy Emin and Damien Hirst and the more traditional but prolific artists such as Claude Monet, Gustave Courbet, and Salvador Dali. James often sat staring into space thinking that one day he would write a book about how pretentious some people could be. In his opinion, it was all an expression of the inner workings of someone’s mind and was all subjective anyway, so what did it matter? If you liked it, you liked it, enough said. He was an intelligent man but he never volunteered any content to the lengthy and rather tiresome debates.

  One particularly nice friend of Flick’s from university did show concern for Jim. Polly Goodfellow. She had the name of a story character and was actually rather sweet. She was the only one who had ever made the effort to include Jim, even though he’d rather she hadn’t. She was a short, flame haired woman with a very smiley face and a lovely demeanour. She had been upset when she’d heard of the couple’s separation and had sent Jim a lovely card telling him that she still considered him a friend and that he could call on her any time. Of course he wouldn’t and she probably knew that but the gesture was kind.

  Monday morning, after the terrible, heart-breaking weekend, hadn’t come around soon enough. Jim loved his job. He had worked at The Book Depository for what felt like an eternity. Before working there, it had been his favourite place to visit. He would sit in the tired old wing backed armchair with a dust covered, tattered old book and a cup of coffee from the machine. He had spent hours in there and had gotten to know the owner, Charles, quite well. When he had discovered Charles’ surname was Oswald he had laughed out loud and complimented Charles on his choice of names for the shop. Charles had appreciated that Jim really got him.

  Jim had looked after the shop on many occasions when Charles had nipped for lunch or to the bank, and so one day Charles simply decided to make it an official arrangement. The pay wasn’t immense but it wasn’t minimum wage either, so Jim couldn’t complain and wouldn’t have wanted to.

  The tube ride to work was short and he was surrounded by the delightfully fusty smell of old books and coffee all day long. Two of his favourite things—coffee and old books.

  When he arrived at work Charles was already there. He was a very well-spoken and dapper man in his early fifties. He always wore a colourful bow tie and a tweed jacket with elbow patches, much like an old English professor. It suited him and the shop down to the ground.

  On seeing Jim today, Charles’s face scrunched as if he had encountered something rather unpleasant. “Bloody hell, Jim, are you alright? You look bloody terrible, old chap.” Charles used the word bloody in almost every sentence. At first it amused Jim, then it irritated him, and now, years on, he was completely immune to it.

  “Not great, if I’m honest, Charles, no. Err… Flick left me on Friday.” His lip began to quiver again as it had on so many occasions over the weekend, and so he bit down on it, slumping into the wingback chair and fighting for composure.

  Charles gasped. “Oh, bloody hell, my dear chap, are you sure you should be here? I can manage today if you’d rather be at home.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m better off being busy I think. No point wallowing in self-pity all alone, eh?” Jim tried to snap himself out of the drop in mood.

  Charles fidgeted as if wanting to make some kind of physical gesture but struggling to know quite what to do. “No…quite…quite. Well if you need anything…” He paused as he seemed to be calculating his next words. “And in my opinion, old chap, it’s her bloody loss.”

  “Thanks, Charles, I appreciate it.” Jim forced a smile. “I’d love a coffee if you’re making one, eh? I’ll go splash my face with some cold water and dump my bag in the back.” He stood and headed for the rear of the shop.

  “Certainly. Bloody good idea. I’ll get onto it.”

  The day passed without real incidence and James was happy to be thumbing through the latest batch of antique finds that Charles had procured during his recent trip to a Parisian book fair. Amongst the finds had been a rare first edition of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He had enquired as to how much the book had cost, but Charles had winced and shook his head. Obviously quite a lot then! The book was one of a select few which were locked in a cabinet not to be touched by just anyone. One had to prove the funds were available to purchase such a rare and delicate piece prior to being granted permission to handle it, and even then white cotton gloves were insisted upon.

  Jim arrived home to a message on his answering machine. He pressed play and immediately regretted it when he heard Felicity’s voice.

  “James, it’s Felicity…listen… I’ve been talking to my friend Rory and…well…he’s a lawyer, as you know… He says we can get a relatively smooth divorce… We can claim irreconcilable differences… That way we can both move on…you know, permanently… I know this is hard, James…it’s hard for me too.” She paused and Jim thought he heard her crying. “Anyway, I’ll leave that thought with you. Take care, James…. I hope you’re okay.” Her voice broke and the line went dead.

  It felt too sudden and was not the news he wanted. It cut him to his core and he felt physical pain at her words. Divorce. That was that then. It really was over. Jim leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. Divorce.

  ~~~~~

  Felicity, on the surface of it all was handling things remarkably well, only on the surface. She still couldn’t help wondering how much of this was her own doing and how much was the influence of her mother. Penelope had never really liked James. She didn’t dislike him per se. She just didn’t like him for her Felicity. Felicity had potential. She had goals. She had ambition. Since university Felicity had shone in her field of Art History and everyone said that she would go far.

  Jim knew that after graduation Penelope had hoped that this silly fling with him and Felicity would just fizzle out. Much to Penelope’s chagrin, it grew and grew. Jim was a very intelligent man, an erudite scholar in fact, just like Felicity, but whereas he had been admitted to Oxford via a Scholarship, Felicity came from a long line of Oxford fellows, her father included. It was the expectation that she would simply follow in their footsteps.

  On hearing the news of the break up, Penelope had insisted that Felicity come home to stay with her and her father. She wouldn’t hear of her newly single daughter staying with friends. She needed to be around family. Penelope was very persistent.

  “Good morning, darling.” It was Monday morning after the weekend and Penelope was in rather high spirits. Felicity, on the other hand, was not.

  “Good morning, Mum.” Felicity yawned and stretched. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face drawn and pale.

  “Are you feeling better, dear? I heard you crying quite late into the night.” Penelope knew that her daughter was far from feeling better. She was broken hearted from the events of the weekend. Penelope had assured her that it was sure that this was for the best. After all, James just didn’t fit in with her lifestyle. He hated her friends, knew nothing about art, apart from the knowledge she had imparted, and he had no ambition. None. Not a jot. He was just happy to write stories and read old dusty books. He had graduated with a First from Oxford. The world was his oyster, but it was almost as if he had done it all just to prove to himself that he could. After that he was done trying, done achieving.

  He had always said that when they had children he would be more than happy to be a stay-home dad so that Flick could continue on in her career. Initially, she had thought it very supportive and sweet, but then the more she thought about it—and the more her mother went on about it—the more she decided that it was just laziness. Penelope had talked about nan
nies and the fact that they would obviously have one. What would be the point of him staying home? Just so he could watch TV or tippy tap on his wretched old typewriter?

  “I’m not great, Mum, to be honest. I feel drained. Completely drained.” She rested her chin on her hand as her mother poured her some fresh coffee.

  “There’s no wonder, darling. You should maybe call in sick today, dear. Catch up on rest?” her Mother suggested.

  “No, I can’t. We’re meeting with the Tate this morning. It’s a really big deal, Mum. They want me to go out to New York to see some potential pieces for the gallery. Nilsson- Perkins recommended me as the best dealer to go. If I call in sick, I’ll look like a flake.”

  “Perhaps Rory will take you out tonight to cheer you up?” Penelope adored Felicity’s lawyer friend, deeming him a much more suitable mate for her daughter. Felicity rolled her eyes and didn’t answer. Her dad walked into the large kitchen where the two women were sitting, and Felicity was grateful that the discussion was over before it started.

  “Good morning, Poppet.” He kissed his daughter’s head affectionately. “How are you bearing up?” He gave her a knowing look. She burst into tears. “Oh, Poppet, don’t cry. You can always go back to him. You know he would take you back in a flash. Tell him you’ve made a terrible mistake.” Her Father took her hand and stroked her hair.

  “Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Edgar!” Penelope chimed in. “What on earth would she do a silly thing like that for?” She stood to leave the room. The two were clearly at loggerheads over the situation.

  “Because she clearly still loves him, Penny, that’s why!” His frustration with his wife’s cold demeanour was evident. “Can’t you see what you’ve done?” he continued. “You’ve put all these silly ideas in her head and she’s started to believe you! She adores Jim.” He squeezed his daughter’s hand as she sobbed. She sat upright and pulled herself together.

  “No, no, Daddy, Mummy is right. James is just not the right man for me. I need to get over him. I need to focus on work. In fact, I am going in today.” Her father opened his mouth to protest but she held her hand up to stop him. “It’s over two hours away and so I need to go get ready. I’ll let them know I’ll be late. I’m sure they’ll understand given the circumstances.” She sighed. “I think perhaps staying with Polly will be better for me too if I’m honest.” She smiled sadly. “Not that I don’t appreciate you having me home…it’s just…not as far to travel…and I need to work.” She looked to her father and then to her mother. Neither spoke. Their conflicting opinions on the matter momentarily silenced. She rubbed her hands over her face to rid herself of the tears, donned a fake smile, stood, and left the room. As she walked down the hallway she paused as she heard her father speaking.

  “I hope you’re satisfied with the mess you have caused, Penny. You’ve meddled once too often in their relationship. I honestly don’t understand why you couldn’t just let her be happy and be in love. I can’t support you in this. Frankly, I think it’s unforgiveable.” Penelope gasped at her husband’s harsh words and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Edgar to sit in silent torment over his daughter’s heartbreak.

  Felicity felt awash with emotion. She hated the thought of her parents fighting over this and turned to walk back toward them. Hearing footsteps, however, she decided she couldn’t face the confrontation and dashed toward the stairs.

  Chapter 2

  January 2010 – Eleven Months After the Break-up

  “I just don’t get it, Jim. It’s breaking my heart to see this happening to the two of you.” Edgar rubbed his forehead and shook his head. The decision his daughter had made to leave the love of her life eleven months ago still dumbfounded him.

  Jim had managed to visit his old friend and father-in-law one last time prior to making his journey north. Edgar was saddened that this may be the last time in a long while.

  “I know, Ed, but we’ve tried to work through it. Comes a point you can’t try any more. You just have to admit defeat.” Jim tried his best to smile but struggled under the weight of emotion in the air.

  “She’s a silly, silly girl. She’ll regret this. I know her, Jim. She will. One day when you’ve moved on and met someone new, she will realise what she had.” Edgar patted Jim’s arm affectionately.

  He looked down at his hands, unable to respond. How could he? What could he possibly say? After a long, thoughtful pause he spoke. “I didn’t want any of this, Ed. I honestly don’t know what I did wrong. I supported her. I was there for her. We were saving for a house, you know. I reckon we could have afforded one. I was willing to put all my inheritance into one. She just wouldn’t commit. I really thought we both wanted the same things. I think we did at first.”

  “I know, son. I remember how excited she was when you got engaged. She lit up when she looked at you. I wish she could think for herself and not listen to…” Edgar’s words trailed off as if he felt he had said too much.

  “Listen to whom, Ed?”

  “Oh, nothing. Don’t take notice of me… I was looking forward to grand kiddies.” Ed’s lips quivered as he spoke. Jim squeezed his arm.

  “Aye…I know…I know. We had a pregnancy scare once, a couple of years back.”

  “What do you mean?” Ed sat upright as this news.

  Jim began to explain the events of July 2008. It was after Felicity had recovered from a throat infection. She had been taking antibiotics, which had affected her contraceptive pill…

  ~~~~~

  July 2008 – Seven Months Before the Break-up

  “So what does it say?” Jim was almost boiling over with excitement. Felicity remained taciturn as she stared at the little white stick, her hand shaking. After a while she blinked as if coming out of a trance.

  “Erm…it has a cross… I think that means it’s…positive.” Her eyes welled up with what Jim presumed were happy tears. He grabbed her in a bear hug and showered her with kisses.

  “Oh, Flick! We’re going to be Mummy and Daddy!” He spun her around.

  “Put me down!” she shouted at him. He immediately placed her back on her feet. He was a little surprised at her tone but put it down to the shock of the news. She’d come around.

  She just stared at the stick in her hand.

  “Flick, staring at it won’t change it, sweetheart.” His voice was tinged with sadness at her reaction.

  “It can’t be right...it can’t be… I can’t be pregnant, Jim. Not now. There’s too much going on. We’ve not bought a house… My career is going well… You’re still at The Book Depository, which pays next to nothing… We’re not ready.” She sat on the side of the bath, her eyes staring into space once again.

  “How can you not be happy, Flick? We’re married. I adore you. This wee bairn will get spoiled by its grandparents. I’ll be the best dad—”

  “Stop it, Jim. Please. I can’t think straight. I can’t do this. Not now!” She stormed out of the bathroom pushing past him and slammed the door to their bedroom.

  ~~~~~

  Jim didn’t sleep well and neither did Felicity. She went downstairs very early and after a while he heard her talking on the phone. He pulled on his shorts and walked down to the lounge where she sat, phone in hand.

  “Yes, yes, I have a urine sample ready from this morning. Yes…okay…uhuh…okay…okay, see you at nine. Thank you…bye.” She hung up.

  Jim sat beside her, “What was all that about?” He rubbed her back gently.

  “I’ve made an appointment at the doctors. I need to get this confirmed officially, Jim. Then I can decide what to do.”

  “Decide what to do? What do you mean decide what to do? We’d prepare to have a baby, surely there’s no other decision involved?”

  “Jim, this is my body. And my career. I have to make sure that I am ready for this.” She was calm as she spoke. Her voice was low and quiet.

  Jim tried to smile. “Hang on…there are a lot of I’s in there… What about me? And what, exactly, are you saying?
Are you saying that there’s a chance you’ll get rid of our baby?” He stood and ran his hand through his messed up, morning hair.

  Felicity didn’t look up. “I’m saying I’ll have some decisions to make.” She wrung her hands in her lap.

  Jim began to pace the floor, “Oh…oh you’ll have some decisions to make, eh? YOU not US?! Oh right…right…I get it. I get no say in this? My child, our child, and I get no say?” His voice became louder.

  “Don’t raise your voice at me, Jim. This is hard enough as it is.”

  “What’s hard? We wanted kids. This is a no-fucking-brainer!” He flung his arms in the air in exasperation. What was she thinking?

  “I will not speak to you whilst you are acting like this. I’m going to get ready.” She stormed back upstairs into the bathroom and locked the door. He followed her and shouted through the barrier she had put between them. Again.

  He leaned his head against the door. “Well, I’m coming too! I need to be a part of this, Flick. You can’t shut me out!”

  “Whatever, Jim,” she mumbled.

  ~~~~~

  The doctor’s surgery was overflowing with people coughing and sneezing. Felicity sat silently staring at her hands. Jim watched as myriad emotions made their mark upon her face. She should be excited. I just don’t get this. He was about to take her hand in his when the doctor called her through. Placing his hand at the small of her back, desperately needing contact, Jim accompanied Flick through into the room to see the doctor.

  “Good morning, Felicity. What can I do for you today?” The female doctor beamed at them both but didn’t address Jim.