Gravitate

by Jo Duchemin

  As we left the theatre, a light dusting of snow had settled on the ground, as though the world had been sprinkled with icing sugar. A handful of snowflakes wafted down from the sky and the early evening had taken on a magical appearance. I was reminded of the snow globes I had collected as a child – this must be how it felt to be trapped in one. I wished that we were in a little bubble, impervious to the outside influences that were soon to rip us apart. Marty pulled me close to him and blessed my cheek with a soft kiss. Instinctively, I went to pull away from his tender touch; a habit we’d had to endure to hide our love.

  “We don’t have to pretend anymore,” he whispered in my ear.

  I moved my lips to his, and savoured the feel of his kiss, wanting nothing but to stay safe in his arms forever. A distant rumble of thunder echoed around us. Marty put his arm around me and we walked in perfect synchronisation towards our home. Anyone who would have seen us would have thought we made the perfect couple, an example of two souls clearly in love. Nobody would have guessed that our love story would end at midnight.

  I tried to be brave, not wasting any time we had left by feeling upset, but every second seemed to slip by faster. I glanced behind me at our footprints in the snow, two people headed on the same journey. I couldn’t believe that our union, something that felt so natural, so right, was forbidden by the angels.

  We lingered on our way home, watching the snow fall and staring at the stars in the sky. After weeks of having to rush home to avoid watchful eyes – an act that had proved to be useless – it was a revelation to be able to wander about, strolling hand in hand and enjoying stolen kisses.

  All too soon, we were back at our house. The hallway, once the scene of heated desire, now felt like a pressure cooker, the echoing of the grandfather clock ticking away every second relentlessly; reminding us, with every sound, that our time together was running out and nothing we could do would stop it. I felt like my heart was breaking with every beat.

  Marty needed to ring the hospice, to explain why he would no longer be there. I listened to his phone call, biting my lip to try to stop the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes.

  “Hello, it’s Dr Glean, could I please speak to Dr Alexander.” There was a pause as his call was transferred. “Dr Alexander? It’s Marty Glean. I feel terrible for this. I’m very sorry to do this at such short notice, but I will not be available to work for you anymore.” He sounded so clinical about it, so cold. I looked at his face and it revealed the struggle he was having to stay composed. “I’ve been called to urgent business, far afield.” Really far afield, I thought sarcastically. Then I had an idea, a tiny spark of a possibility. I pulled on the hem of Marty’s jumper to get his attention. “Could you please hold on for a moment?” he said to Dr Alexander.

  “Marty, could you ask if I can volunteer at the hospice? If I could go in and sit with the lonely people who are suffering? See them off, like you do…did.” I corrected my tense and felt a solitary tear escape from my eye. He leant his head to one side and wiped my tear away from my face.

  “Why would you want to do that? It’s soul destroying work, emotionally draining.”

  “It’ll be my only way to link with you. I’d be with them at the end down here; you’d be with them at the start up there. That way, you’ll know I’m still thinking of you. I know they can’t know, and I wouldn’t want to use them that way. I just want to keep some of your kindness here.” I held my chest where my heart was.

  “No.”

  I couldn’t believe he’d deny me anything. I was stunned for a second. “Why not?” I choked the words out.

  “You won’t be able to move on if you’re still trying to stay connected to me.”

  I practically spat out my words. “I don’t want to move on. I want to stay connected to you.”

  “I know you do,” Marty sounded like he was talking to a child, “but, darling, we can’t have what we both want. I need you to move on with your life. Forget about me.”

  “Do you honestly think I could do that?” I was appalled by the idea.

  “I’d like you to try.” He resumed his phone call. “Sorry, I could forward a list of suitable replacements for my vacancy. I know they are available immediately and they are all just as qualified, if not more so, than me. I am, again, so sorry for letting you down.” He looked at me momentarily, his eyes flashing with regret. “Goodbye.” He ended his call. There was nothing to say for a few moments. The clock in the hall continued its incessant countdown of seconds, each tick sounding like the hammering of nails in a coffin.

  I took a deep breath. “Will you?” I asked.

  “Will I what?”

  “Forget about me?” I held my breath, afraid of his answer. In an instant, he was at my side, holding me against his body, caressing my back, stroking my hair.

  “Never.”

  “Then how can you ask me to forget about you?”

  “Because I can’t bear to watch you waste your life. I won’t be able to come back, as much as I’d love to. You can’t pin your hopes on us. We’re null and void from midnight tonight. Our story isn’t going to happen.” He kissed the top of my head.

  I lifted my face up to his. “Will you be moving on?”

  He gave me a bittersweet smile and shook his head, slowly. “No.”

  “Don’t you realise that this is as life changing for me, as it has been for you?”

  He sighed. “Those words make me so happy and so sad all at once. I’m so amazed that you could feel so strongly for me and so distraught that I have altered the course of your life so catastrophically.”

  “The only catastrophe here is that we can’t be together. Loving you was never a mistake.” I punctuated my statement by kissing his lips. He reciprocated and our discussion was put on hold for a few seconds.

  “Claudia, I can’t bear to think of you going through the rest of your life not feeling this way about someone. Please, you have to try.”

  My bravado was slipping. I’d lost the battle and the reality of saying goodbye to him, forever, was looming. “I don’t know how I’ll live without you.”

  “You will. You lost your parents, you were devastated, yet you survived.” He gave me the tiniest hint of a self-deprecating smile and continued: “Losing me will be nothing compared to what you’ve already been through.”

  He was right, in part. The untimely death of my parents had plunged me into a pit of despair, from which I never thought I would escape. There had been times when I’d thought death would have been a better option than carrying on without them. Remembering that time, the lowest point of my life, when I’d begun planning on joining my parents in death, planted a seed of an idea in my head. I knew, before I discussed it with him, that he would never agree to it.

  “Marty…you know you will be meeting people as they arrive up there…what would happen if I turned up?” The words were just a whisper in the silent house.

  His face was horrified. He looked furious and I started to shrink away from him. He held my face in both his hands, staring into my eyes. “You are never to think that way. Never.”

  I risked further fury with my next question. “Would we be able to be together?”

  He shook his head, disbelief etched across his beautiful features. “You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Then, stay alive.”

  I was beaten. I couldn’t go against his wishes. “You’ll be watching me?”

  A ghost of a smile danced on his lips. “I will. I don’t think I could bear not to watch over you.”

  I let my tears speak for me. I wished I could do the same for him. To not know anything about him would be unbearable. “Is there anyway for you to let me know that you’re OK? You’ll be watching me but I’ll have no way to know how you are.”

  “I don’t know. I
don’t know if I will be OK. I used to help people and then move on. I couldn’t stay around for long, not without them noticing that I am eternally youthful. I’d miss them, but I’d soon distract myself with my new assignments. But you, you changed that. I am different. It’s irreversible, I can’t go back to how I used to be. I am forever altered and I have no idea of how I will cope with just being an angel again. But it will make it easier for me if I know you are living your life as if I never came to you.”

  “I’m irreversibly altered, too.” I was panicking now, time was slipping away and I had nothing of him to hold on to. “Please think of a way that you can just let me know that you’re alright. What about feathers? Didn’t you say angels left feathers for people?”

  “We do.” He hesitated.

  “Can’t you do that?”

  “Will you move on, if you’re always on the look out for messages from me?” His eyes searched mine. I looked away, trying to avoid the question, but he wasn’t letting it go. In the end, I stumbled over the words:

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s not good enough. If you want me to find a way to contact you, you have to promise to move on.” His eyes pleaded with me to promise, and I could feel my eyes pleading with him not to make me promise. My heartbeat filled my ears. I closed my eyes. I’d lost.

  “I promise.”

  He kissed me, holding me close, relief cascading through his body.

  “Thank you.” He said the words like a prayer.

  I was sobbing, unable to stop myself, unable to be brave, for my sake or his. “It’s really going to be over isn’t it? This is really the end?” I cried.

  He nodded sadly. “The Dominion do not change their minds.”

  The clock chimed. Midnight.

  “Marty?” I could hear the begging in my voice. He kissed me, a passionate, yearning, insatiable, goodbye kiss.

  “I love you, Claudia.” His voice was cracked, broken. Like both our hearts.

  “I love you.” The lump in my throat didn’t prevent me from speaking the truth.

  The clock continued to chime. I stared at Marty. He started to become pale, the window frame behind him becoming more visible. I touched his face, watching him fade away, becoming more and more translucent. He reached out to wipe my tears away with his thumb, but this time I couldn’t feel his touch. He melted away and I was left looking at the window, watching the snow fall soundlessly.

  Chapter 16

  I don’t know how long I stood staring at where he’d been standing. I cried soundlessly, as I waited for him to reappear, unable to believe he was truly gone forever. My tears echoed the descent of the snowflakes outside; an endless supply of broken dreams. As the time passed, and I realised he was not coming back, the silent tears became uncontrollable, primal howls of pain. I collapsed to the floor, shattered. I sobbed until I didn’t have any more tears left, growing colder with every moment that passed.

  I would have stayed there, broken, forever. The only reason I moved was the thought of Marty watching me fall apart, desperate to make me better, but powerless to help. I wondered how he was feeling. Was the pain compounded for him, dealing with his own grief and bearing witness to mine? Did the sight of me, heart ripped apart, make him regret ever meeting me? The thought produced a fresh batch of tears and an ache in my chest. I had told him it was better to have loved and lost, but right now the pain was too overwhelming to find anything positive to hold on to. I couldn’t have him wishing we’d never met. I considered how I would feel, if our places were switched and I was looking down over him, observing his pain and suffering. Yes, it was definitely harder for him, and I had to try to be stronger, I couldn’t hurt him anymore.

  Still crying, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and rested on the floor. It was a start. For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of the time when Marty had left me crying in the hall, how he had come back and carried me to the sofa. What would I have done if he hadn’t come back? I would have eventually risen and repaired my life, surely. I decided to stand up. My legs felt like jelly, numb from spending so much time on the floor. I staggered up to our bedroom, remembering that it was just my bedroom now. I looked around the room. It was exactly as I had left it this morning. Everything I could see was in its place, the room still had its familiar comforting scent, there was nothing noticeably different. It was hard to accept how much life had changed in the few intervening hours. I’d almost been killed by a falling stage light, been saved by the love of my life, been summoned by powerful angels, and then lost the love of my life. Part of me hoped it was all a bad dream and if I could wake up I’d be safe in Marty’s arms.

  I crept into the bed, not bothering to brush my teeth. Marty’s scent still lingered on his pillow and I gratefully pressed my face into the soft cotton, longing to capture the way it felt to embrace him. I tried to imagine him being here with me, clinging onto the memory, refusing to let it fade away like he had. I stayed in that position, breathing in the precious aroma left on the pillow, until I drifted into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

  When I awoke, I had that moment when you first wake up and think everything is OK, before the memory of the events that had occurred the previous evening came flooding back to me. My stomach churned as I recalled the awful details. It wasn’t a nightmare, it had been real, and I was now alone. I struggled to stay strong, to not break down again. I had no idea of the time, and as I glanced around the room, trying to locate my mobile phone, I noticed Marty’s book where he’d left it on the side of the bed. I immediately picked it up, desperate to have something tangible of his. I held it against my chest, as though it would be able to mend my broken heart. I turned off the bedside light. It was still dark outside, and I no longer cared about the time. I had nothing worth getting up for. I lay on my back, in the darkness, still clinging onto Marty’s book, too upset to sleep. I cried constant, silent tears, which raced down the side of my face and made my hair damp where they came to rest. I hoped Marty wouldn’t be able to see me in the dark. My thoughts were also dark, and I started plotting ways to kill myself, if I ever found the energy to leave our bed. I knew I wouldn’t do it. The only reason standing in my way was Marty. There was a twisted irony – I couldn’t live without him and I couldn’t die for him. Still, it gave me something to focus on other than my pain and I tried to conjure up elaborate plans that I knew I wouldn’t see to completion.

  I’d fallen asleep again, waking with a start at the sound of the telephone ringing. It was light outside the windows, and I knew from the almost blue glow of the light and the excited shouts of children, that the snow had settled overnight. I struggled to pull myself upright and reached to the bedside table for the phone.

  “Hello?” I sounded groggy and weak.

  “Claudia? Are you alright?” Aunt Sandra’s voice replied. She sounded concerned.

  I swallowed, trying to make my voice sound more normal. My mouth was dry and I now regretted not brushing my teeth last night. I had a lot of regrets about last night though. “Yeah, I’m…” dying of a broken heart? Depressed because my angel-love left me? Irreparably destroyed? Planning elaborate methods of suicide?

  “Hung over?” Aunt Sandra guessed.

  I sighed. “Something like that.”

  “You students. You sound really bad. And you’ll get no sympathy from me, it’s all self-inflicted.” She giggled and I felt like crying again. My wounds were self-inflicted, I should have asked Marty to leave before I fell so deeply for him.

  “I know.” I was struggling to speak.

  “How’s Marty?” Hearing his name cut like a knife, I flinched involuntarily.

  “He…he’s left.”

  “For a lecture?” Of course, she still thought he was a medical student. Part of me desperately wanted to play along with her assumption, to create a pretence where I could expect to see him walk through the door at any moment.

&
nbsp; “No…he’s left…” me, I thought, “here.”

  “What? He moved out?” Sandra sounded shocked.

  “Yes.” I bit my lip to stop from crying, staring at the ceiling in an effort to stop my tears spilling over.

  “But…he was perfect.” I could almost hear her jaw drop to the floor over the phone.

  “He was.” A sob broke through my voice.

  “Claudia, when did he leave?” Her anxiety made her voice sound clipped. I could imagine her worrying, thinking I would no doubt fall apart again, and wondering who would be able to look after her children if she had to come and pick up the pieces of my life again.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm her fears, even if they were entirely right. I could never explain why Marty’s leaving was having such a profound effect on me. Nobody would ever understand this. “Last night,” I said, finally.

  “Why?”

  Her simple question was the hardest one to answer.

  “Claudia? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Why did Marty leave? Did something happen between you two?” Her perceptiveness startled me. I figured there was no reason to lie about my feelings now, I just had to keep his secret safe.

  “Yes, we fell in love.” My attempts to hide my distress crumbled away, and my voice crackled with emotion.

  “Claudia, I hate to ask, but why did he leave?”

  My body shook with a huge sob. “He had to help other people, really far away.”

  “He’s volunteering abroad? He’ll be back someday, maybe you can pick up where you left off. You’re both so young, if it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.” Sandra was always the eternally hopeful romantic. I hated to burst her bubble. Her assumption about him working abroad made sense and I’d use that if anyone else asked where he was. It was as close to the truth as possible.

  “I hope so.” I knew it was hopeless, but in my head I pictured a daydream, where the Dominion realised their error and sent him back to me. I revelled in the montage my brain created of our reunion. Reality felt like a slap in the face when I opened my eyes.