“There’s nothing to forgive.” He leant his head down to rest upon her chest.
They lay like that for a while before Adam spoke again.
“Emma, I still miss him desperately. It hurts so bloody much.”
“I know,” she said in almost a whisper.
“I keep going over and over what happened and just wondering if I had done anything differently, would things be different now? If I had braked coming up to the crossroads after seeing the first car go through . . . or if I had gone through faster. It drives me mad, all the endless combinations and permutations of scenarios and wondering what might have been.”
“Adam, love, it wasn’t your fault – I keep thinking the same thoughts myself – what if I hadn’t gone out that day, what if I had stayed at home – but all they do is send you doolally and drive you demented.”
This was the first time she had ever said this and the weight of what she was saying was felt by Adam.
“I’ll never know if I could have done more, Em. But it all happened in a moment. There was no time to react.”
She remained quiet; it was hard to hear what happened. It felt like an open wound just discussing it, she had to take it slowly and let each piece of hurt settle in before she could discuss it some more.
“There was nothing you could have done,” she said then. “It was just chance. We were just so, so, unlucky, weren’t we?” The unjustness of it all hit her again, a wave of unfairness washed up her body and she felt the anger rising after it once again, until it caught in her throat and tears began to flow.
Adam rubbed her hand.
“Do you think we’ll ever be the same again?” she asked.
“I can’t say that, Em, I don’t know. Probably not, if I’m honest. Sometimes I miss him so much it feels like a physical longing to hold him, or I can’t breathe with grief if I think about him.”
“Me too – some days I couldn’t even get out of bed with the pain. That’s why I was so distant from you, because when I looked at you I saw Fionn. You were a constant reminder of him and it was too painful to be around you. I’m so sorry, but he looked so like you, you know.”
“I know.”
* * *
The next morning a counsellor came around to speak with Emma. Adam left them alone and went to get a coffee. He sat in the coffee dock with a few other lonely souls flicking through magazines. He mulled over the events of the last few days which seemed light-years away from what went before. The grief that had pushed them apart had now drawn them together again.
The counsellor was satisfied that, after all Emma had been through, she had reached rock-bottom and with Adam by her side she would now start to heal. He had advised them to seek couples therapy or even go alone to get help with their bereavement.
Her doctor was happy with her recovery so he allowed her to be discharged. Together they went back to their home.
* * *
It felt strange being back in their house. Emma felt as though she was looking at it with fresh eyes, new eyes, almost like the first day that they had got the keys and moved in here.
They went to bed together that night and slept wrapped in each other’s arms – once a familiar routine, they slotted easily back into it again. The touch of his skin was still the same and she was surprised at how much she had missed it.
Adam lay awake for a long time, while Emma still under the influence of her tablets, slept heavily beside him. It was a new beginning for them.
Epilogue
In a garden children ran and played, a mother brought out a homemade birthday cake with lemon buttercream icing in the shape of a butterfly. She bent down to light the four candles but had to do it a few times as the flame kept being extinguished by the gentle breeze. Then the children and adults all stood dutifully around the table while her four-year-old daughter beamed as everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’. When it was time for the little girl to blow out her candles, her brother barged in to do it for her.
“Let Ava do it herself, Jonathan!” the mother chided.
“She’s not able to – I have to show her,” her bossy older brother replied.
Ava let her brother show off to the crowd as he helped her blow out the four candles with over-exaggerated breaths. The cake was cut and served up to everyone. The children had to be harangued to pose for some photos and shouted ‘cheese’, revealing big toothy grins before running off again, weaving in and out through the other guests like a train as they chased each other with the younger children trying to keep up with the older ones. They zigzagged around sun chairs, prams, buggies and babies sleeping in their grandparents’ arms and a long wooden table laden with treats, leafy salads and bowls heaped with ripened fruit, a jug of homemade lemonade and a cake stand stacked with pink and yellow cupcakes. White, willowy butterflies flitted through the hot air and honeybees could be heard buzzing about their work.
A man with a newborn in a sling was feeding some bits of burger to a chocolate-brown dog while chatting to the host who was turning sausages over on the barbecue, the smell of charred meat wafting in the summer air. Chinese paper lanterns hung from trees billowing in the breeze.
The mother returned inside to the welcome coolness of the house to get more food. She opened the fridge, took out a bag of salad and shook it into a bowl before tossing it around with some balsamic vinegar and olive-oil dressing. She grabbed a packet of ice-creams and a bottle of chilled white wine and put them onto a tray with the salad. Passing back out through the hallway, she glanced at a photo in a silver frame of a baby lying on his front, body raised up by his arms, his smile beaming at the camera. She stood momentarily just looking. She smiled wistfully at the photo of her baby. It was just like he was smiling back at her. At moments like this her heart literally ached with wishing she could hold him in her arms again and he could be included in the celebrations, running around with all the other children.
“Mammy, mammy, where are the ice-creams! We all want the ice-creams! We are soooo hot and hungry!” the birthday girl exclaimed dramatically from the doorstep. Her mother snapped back into the present, to where she was needed.
“Coming, love, I’ll be there in a second.”
Balancing the tray in one hand, she kissed the tip of her index finger and planted it firmly against the glass of the smiling baby before walking back out into the garden.
In a Moment Page 28