For some reason Adam didn’t feel entitled to grieve. Although he had lost his child too, so much focus was on Emma as the mother that people expected him to be the strong one. They assumed he should be the one helping her through her grief and supporting her. It was as if she had a monopoly on the grief. He was expected to be a man, to be stoic and strong. He wasn’t allowed go to pieces. But it wasn’t easy.
He had no doubt but that Emma attached some of the blame to him and he could understand it. Who knows, he might have done the same himself if the roles were reversed? He knew it wasn’t her fault; she needed to blame something, to lash out at someone. When she looked at him, he knew that was what she was thinking; he could see it in her eyes. What if he had been driving slower? What if he had left the house a minute later or didn’t decide to go to see his parents that day? He constantly wondered the same thing himself. And so the weight of his own guilt and Emma’s blame, while never actually voiced, stood between them, growing by the day until the wedge grew so wide that they were where they were today. He couldn’t help getting more and more frustrated by her behaviour. It wasn’t his fault, he wanted to shout.
And then one day, Emma had come into the kitchen in her work suit. He had been amazed to see her properly dressed and not in her pyjamas. Her hair was done, she still looked pale and tired but he could see pieces of the old Emma that had been missing for months now. She didn’t look at him, she had just grabbed her bag and walked out the door, but it was a start. He stood watching after her in disbelief and hoped that she might finally be starting to heal but his hopes had been short-lived. She worked all the hours possible so she was never at home. He barely saw her and when he did see her, she still wouldn’t talk to him and continued to act like he wasn’t there.
Recently things had gone from bad to worse between them; he hadn’t even seen her this week. He knew he should be helping her; he was trying to be understanding of what she was going through but instead he just felt angry. He was rapidly losing patience and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was tormented too – why couldn’t she see that? She needed to stop blaming him and accept that nothing would ever bring Fionn back.
* * *
When Fionn’s first birthday came around, she didn’t know quite how she was going to get through it. It should have been a happy occasion: a party, a cake, new toys, maybe his first taste of chocolate, he might have been walking or he might not. She felt robbed and cheated and so angry for losing out on all of this. Her mother had tentatively suggested that it might be a good time for her to visit the graveyard but she had never been able to get the courage up to go there. She couldn’t bear the thought of him lying there cold and alone, her baby. Her mother felt it would do her good but she wasn’t able to face it. So on Fionn’s birthday she had tearfully written him a card, filling it with words trying to express just how much she loved him and missed him and was sorry for everything that had happened. She held onto it for him, she would take it to the grave someday, just not yet.
Part IV
50
January, 2011
From the kitchen Emma heard the doorbell sound. She opened the door to see the postman standing there. The long evenings had started to come in and dusk was falling. A rush of leaves swirled up at her feet. He had a parcel that she had to sign for and a letter. She thanked him and closed the door. The parcel was for Adam so she left it on the hall table for him. She looked at the address on the letter through the cellophane pane of the envelope. To the parents of Fionn White. She felt a lump in her throat. Emma opened the white envelope – normally these letters were reminders about his vaccines or from a PR company trying to sell her something for the milestone that he should be at now if he were still alive. She knew she should probably throw these things into the bin but for some reason she never could. She still hadn’t been able to summon up the strength yet to ask them to take his name off their databases. But this letter had the red ink of the state harp on it. The gummed seal tore in parts so she stuck her finger inside and pulled it along to open it. She unfolded the white paper and read down through the letter.
The text began to dance before her eyes. It was Fionn’s death certificate. There it was in black and white on paper. She looked at the shortness of his life written in front of her: Date of birth June 6th 2009; Deceased December 14th 2009. Six months old. Just six months. There it was in black and white in front of her – he was no longer considered to be a person of this world. The finality was overbearing.
She felt her knees buckle beneath her and she reached out to grab onto the post of the staircase. She used it to guide herself downwards so that she was sitting on the bottom step. Just as she thought she might be starting to heal, taking tentative steps forward, this had come and knocked her off balance again. She wasn’t expecting it; it was like a below-the-belt punch coming at her, leaving her reeling in its wake. She needed to see his face as if somehow by looking at him it would confirm that he had been a real person. She ran upstairs and into her bedroom. Pulling out the drawer of her bedside table, she reached for his photo. The smiling baby staring back at her, so happy and full of life, was so at odds with what had happened. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe this had happened to him, that he was gone and never coming back. The pain tore at her chest. The unjustness caught her again as it always did and she felt the sting of tears building up behind her eyes before spilling down her face. Would she ever get over how unfair the whole thing was? If only she had control, could turn back the clock. It was unfair that they didn’t get a second chance. She screwed the lid off her tablets, swallowed two back and waited for the heavy sensation to come and numb the pain.
* * *
When Emma woke again everything seemed blacker. The room was still cloaked in early-morning darkness but nothing was as dark as how she was feeling inside. Today was one of those days that felt as though someone had turned out all the lights. It had been a while since the blackness had descended upon her with such strength but now it felt like it was smothering her until she could no longer breathe. She knew Maureen would understand if she didn’t go into work today.
She fell back asleep and managed to sleep right through the day and was only woken by the doorbell ringing. She opened her eyes and remembered where she was. The clock on her locker told her it was after six in the evening. She lay there hoping that whoever it was would go away but they were persistent so she dragged herself out of bed and trod downstairs to answer it.
“Hi there,” Zoe said softly as she opened the door. “I rang you in work and they said you hadn’t come in today, so I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing?” She took in Emma’s red-rimmed eyes and stained face. “Aw pet, today’s a tough one, isn’t it?”
Emma let her in silently and Zoe followed her into the living room. She sat on the couch beside Emma and encircled her in her arms.
“His death cert arrived today.” The tears built up inside and spilled down Emma’s face again.
“Oh Emma!” Zoe hugged her tight. She felt a bit puzzled. How could the certificate have taken a year to come, she wondered. “There, there, pet. It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Emma’s whole body shook with tears until her cheeks stung and her nose was running, streaming with watery mucous.
Zoe felt wretched watching her friend in this state. She was useless to her; nothing she could do or say would change anything.
“I just miss him so much, Zoe. It never gets easier. People keep telling me that time is a great healer but it isn’t – the pain never goes away. It’s always there, constantly, and I’m so tired of crying. I’m just so tired.”
“Oh God, Emma – I’m so sorry.”
“It’s just . . . so . . . so . . . final.”
Zoe rubbed her back while Emma cried hard.
A while after, Emma said she was exhausted and wanted to go back to bed.
Zoe helped Emma into bed and watched as she fell asleep instantly, worn out from all her t
ears. She stayed there stroking Emma’s hair softly. It was painful watching her friend fall apart and knowing there was nothing she could do for her. So much time had passed but it was all still so fresh. While Emma snored gently, Zoe tiptoed quietly out of the room.
* * *
Just as Adam was dismounting his bike, he saw Zoe letting herself out their front door.
“Hi, Zoe.”
“Hi, Adam,” she said somewhat awkwardly. “I just called in to check on Emma.”
“How is she?”
“She’s not too good actually. You see, Fionn’s death cert arrived in the post today. She’s taken it pretty badly.”
He took a sharp breath. “Jesus!” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh God, Zoe, I wanted to spare her that. I asked them to address it to me.”
“Why did it take so long to come, Adam?”
“It was just a copy, Zoe. Em’s parents mislaid the original in the months after his death and I only recently steeled myself to send for another.”
His eyes began to brim with tears and he had to do everything in his power to keep it together.
“I’m sorry, Adam, I really am. I can’t imagine what you’re both going through.” The man standing before her, the man who used to be tall and strong, now was broken.
“Is she in her room?”
She nodded. “I’m worried about her, Adam. She’s in a bad way up there.”
“Well, she won’t talk to me. It’s still as if she can’t bear to look at me or she blames me or something. When she looks at me all I can see is contempt in her eyes.”
“It’s not easy for her.”
It’s not easy for me either.
“I know but she just keeps pushing me away. I just want to get inside her head to understand exactly what is going through her mind about me. Surely by now she should be coping better.”
“I really don’t know what to say, Adam. I know you don’t want to hear it but be patient with her, it’s still quite soon. And today is bound to be another setback.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He let out a heavy sigh.
She nodded and turned away. He watched her walk off into the dusky evening.
Adam let himself into the house and picked up the white letter that Emma had left on the hall table. He unfolded it. To the parents of Fionn White. That’s why she had opened it. He had asked them to address it to him. He stared at the text. That was it: Fionn was gone. A piece of paper was all they were left with. He stood and broke into sobs as the grief flooded down upon him. He longed to hold Emma and to have her hold him back. He missed the closeness of his wife.
He climbed the stairs and stood outside her door. He had long since given up calling into her but he needed her right now. The lights were off and he could hear from her slow and heavy breathing that she was sleeping. He tiptoed across the floorboards. In the darkness, he looked down at her. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow around her. He reached out to touch her skin; his fingertips stroked its softness while he brushed the strands of hair back off her face but she didn’t wake.
Adam slept fitfully that night. When he finally drifted off, the dream was back again with terrifying force, menacing him in the darkness, looming over him like a spectre waiting until he went to sleep to appear. It was all disjointed. Driving along. The sun. The blinding sun. The frost-tipped hedgerows. Trees. The house. The gate. The bend. The crossroads.
His body bolted upright as beads of sweat ran down his bare chest. He tried to catch his breath as he sat trembling in his own bed.
He saw every hour change on the clock. His mind was whirring with activity. His world had been thrown upside down and it never got any easier. Today was another hurdle, another painful reminder when he had hoped things might be starting to get easier for them. He was free-falling and life felt out of his control. And he had lost his wife too. The one person he should have been able to count on kept pushing him away. He felt so powerless. Where could they go from here? He was slowly going around the twist from her torturous ignoring of him. She didn’t want him around her. She didn’t want him any more. Months of anxious worry were climaxing to realise his worst fears.
51
Zoe went home and poured herself a large glass of wine. She needed it. It had been awful seeing her friend and knowing there was nothing that she could do or say to help her. She had thought Emma was finally starting to take baby steps forward but the arrival of the death cert had been a major setback. Then there was Adam too, he had seemed devastated when she had told him. She phoned Steve and he insisted that he and Dave would come straight over to her. When he came into her apartment, he wordlessly wrapped her in his strong arms as she sobbed into his shoulder.
It felt like Zoe had known Steve for years. Of course she knew it was a time-old cliché but since the day she had met him he had felt like an old friend. They never had any of that awkward conversation-making or running out of things to say to each other – they had always chatted openly and easily. She was amazed at how quickly they had fallen into a routine. He would call into her a few evenings during the week and then she would join the thousands of others making the mass exodus out of the city on a Friday evening where they would spend the weekend together holed up inside Steve’s seaside cottage. He would have a huge feast waiting for her when she’d get in the door. Rack of lamb, chunky vegetable soup or steak and homemade chips – always followed by a delicious homemade pudding. She joked to him that he was having a detrimental effect on her waistline but he loved cooking things and getting her to try them out.
Steve was good and steady, dependable. In his own way he was romantic too; he would pick wild flowers for her or if he spotted something quirky at a market, he would buy it for her as a surprise. She and Dave often went along to markets with him where she watched him at work in his stripy canvas apron, strolling around offering people samples. She was amazed to see he had a lot of repeat customers that came to the market on the same day every week just to stock up on his produce. He would be selling a loaf of bread and then he would suggest they try some of his relishes or jams, and because of his friendly nature no one seemed to refuse; he was a natural people person. And what was great was that he was in his element, there in the outdoors with people, doing what he loved. It made Zoe think twice about all the years of being stifled by her own job. Steve had balls, he had followed his dream, and there was an awful lot to be said for that.
Dave was doing well too. He was growing into a wiry young dog, always leaping up and running wild around the place. They would usually go for a long walk along the beach on Saturday morning with Dave running off ahead of them chasing the sticks they threw, before sprinting back again with the stick firmly gripped in between his teeth. They would try to prise it from his mouth but he wouldn’t let it go so they would have to find another one to throw for him. Then he would act brave and chase the waves as they lapped the shoreline, but when they broke and washed out across the sand towards him, he would run back scared. Steve and Zoe would be helpless with laughter. It was still hard to believe that it was all down to Dave that they were together. It definitely was fate.
After a long walk on the beach, they would come back up to the cottage, Dave shaking sand everywhere while Steve would feed her some more of his treats. He would light the fire and the two of them would cosy up on the couch, reading or watching a film, sometimes sipping a glass of red wine. They felt as comfortable in silence as they did talking. She hadn’t felt this relaxed since she didn’t know when. She felt as though she belonged there and it had been a long time since she had felt like that. Even as a child she had never felt as though she truly belonged because she had been passed around so much. If you had asked her a year back if she could have ever envisioned being contented by such a lifestyle she would have laughed. She had always loved the hustle and bustle of city life, but she was surprised to find she enjoyed the quiet contentment of spending time with Steve in his remote cottage.
She had even worked hers
elf up to tell Steve about her childhood and her mam but instead of being horrified like some of her exes had been, he took it all on board and listened. He didn’t offer platitudes or sympathy and she had found it much easier to open up to him than she had anyone else before. When she had told boyfriends in the past about her upbringing they would start with the ‘poor you’ routine and, inevitably, even if they didn’t mean to, they would start treating her differently. It would make her feel guilty then about the fuss they were making and she would wonder if they were with her because they felt sorry for her or because they genuinely liked her? But it wasn’t like that with Steve.
When they went to bed together that night Zoe, worn out from her tears and worry about Emma, fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Steve wrapped her close in his arms and spooned her from behind as Dave snored gently on a rug on the floor beside them.
52
After hours of tossing and turning, Adam got out of the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. Reaching up to the top shelf, he pulled down his holdall. He packed it with most of his clothes and threw in some toiletries. He reached into the wardrobe and took out a pair of trainers and the shoes he wore to work and took some suits and put them into a bag. He looked at a photo of himself and Emma and Fionn that hung on the wall. He took it off the hook and held it in his hands. He stared at it briefly before packing it in with the rest of his belongings.
He knocked on the bedroom door where Emma was. As usual there was no greeting. She was lying in the darkness. He wasn’t sure if she was asleep or awake. He switched on the light and saw she was awake but she didn’t look at him, instead her two eyes stared straight ahead.
In a Moment Page 25