Before Her Eyes

by Jack Jordan

  She stepped into her work trousers and tucked her shirt inside. The only thing that kept her going was the thought that it would be the very last time. One last morning, one last shift, and then it would all be over. Her uniform would be found folded in a neat pile at the top of the cliff as her body jolted with the waves below.

  Max barked loudly to the sound of the doorbell.

  Naomi rushed down the stairs and took the dog by the collar. She put her hand on the handle, then stopped. She remembered the banging on the door, the sound of it quivering with the stranger’s blows.

  She stood motionlessly with Max fidgeting by her side. The bell rang again. She opened the door with a shaking hand.

  ‘Hey,’ Dane said.

  Naomi sighed. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Can I come in? I’m on a break between shifts.’

  ‘I’m late for work.’

  ‘I can drive you.’

  It was the only way she would make it to work on time. She hesitated before replying.

  ‘All right. But I’m late, so I can’t stand around talking.’

  She stepped aside and let her ex-husband enter the house, steeling herself as he passed. He greeted Max, then kicked off his shoes and sat down on the sofa in the spot that was once his.

  Naomi shut the door and ran back upstairs for her bag. It was big enough to store her collapsible cane inside, just in case. After Max’s behaviour by the alley, drooling at the taste of the murdered woman in the air, she couldn’t take any chances. She made her way downstairs again and shrugged on her coat.

  ‘Got any beers lying around?’

  To anyone else, the request for alcohol so early in the morning would have been queer. But Naomi knew that his unusual shift patterns at the hospital had affected his body clock. As the rest of the town slept, he had been working.

  ‘Don’t you have another shift today?’ she said as she slipped into her shoes.

  ‘One beer won’t hurt.’

  ‘It might hurt your patients.’

  ‘I’m a nurse, not a doctor. All I do is hold sick bowls and empty piss pots all day.’

  ‘I told you, I’m late for work. I don’t have time.’

  ‘I’m driving you; that knocks fifteen minutes off your journey.’

  ‘Dane, I said no. Max, come.’

  Max’s claws tapped against the hardwood floor until his fur brushed against her trousers. She strapped the harness around his torso.

  ‘Ready.’

  She listened to Dane squeeze into his shoes and walk towards the door. He sounded more tired than usual. His breaths were laboured and his movements slow and heavy, as though he had slept as little as she had. They had always been in sync, before the separation. Her heart drummed against her ribs and her fingers twitched by her sides as she fought the urge to reach out and touch him. Dane and Naomi hadn’t fallen out of love; they had been ripped from each other like a ribcage cracked in two.

  She opened the door and breathed in silently as he passed, inhaling the clinical smell of the hospital and the scent of shaving foam that seemed to linger on his face from morning to night. She longed for him to touch her, to hold her in his arms just once, but as soon as she breathed out, the pain flooded back into her chest.

  He would never forgive me for what I did.

  Dane walked down the path towards the car as Naomi locked the door.

  ‘Morning, Naomi,’ George said from the other side of the low brick wall. He was out of breath. Heat radiated from him despite the nip in the air.

  ‘Morning, George.’

  ‘Hey, Max.’

  George leaned over to stroke the dog. He smelt of fresh sweat.

  ‘You coming?’ Dane asked from the car. ‘I thought you were late.’

  ‘See you around,’ George said.

  ‘Bye,’ she replied.

  She heard him unlock his front door and walk inside, and wondered what he did in there alone; whether he was as lonely as she was.

  Max jumped into the boot of the car. His tail brushed against the wet ground and flicked rainwater into her face. She wiped it away as she shut the boot and headed round to the passenger side, where Dane was waiting for her. She heard the car door open.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, and got inside.

  Dane closed the door. Naomi’s heart raced as she heard his footsteps move around the car and stop at the driver’s door. Even after two years, her body was still claimed by him, reacting to his every word and movement. As he sat behind the wheel, she wondered if he kissed like he used to, or whether Josie had taught him something new. He switched on the engine and turned the heating up high.

  ‘Who’s that guy? He didn’t live there before.’

  ‘George. Jane is renting the house to him. She lives in the Isle of Wight now.’

  Max panted heavily in the back of the car, steaming up the windows. Dane pulled out of the parking spot and drove off down the road.

  ‘Know him well?’

  ‘George? He’s my neighbour. It’s normal to be on speaking terms.’

  ‘You don’t have to get defensive.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  She listened to the whine of the engine, the growing revs before each gear change.

  ‘Did you hear about Cassie Jennings?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s so awful. I can’t help but think about Hayley.’

  ‘I’m sure everyone in town is today,’ he said. ‘Grace all right?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to her. She’s angry with me right now.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Why do you automatically think it’s my fault?’

  ‘You said she was angry at you; you must have done something.’

  ‘How’s Josie?’ she asked.

  She listened to the grumble of the engine and the rush of cars on the other side of the road.

  ‘She’s fine. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered why you came to see me instead of her.’

  ‘She’s at work. What’s got you today?’

  Naomi sighed. ‘Sorry. I find it hard sometimes, this friends thing.’

  ‘Just because we aren’t married any more doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.’

  ‘How does Josie feel about you constantly coming to visit your ex-wife?’

  ‘She’s fine with it.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I want to see you. You’re my best friend. You’ve been in my life for over fifteen years.’

  ‘Yeah, and you ruined it.’

  ‘Don’t start, Naomi. That’s not fair. You’re the one who ended it.’

  Her hands started to shake. She gripped the sides of the seat.

  ‘What’s not fair is you dropping by like everything’s fine. You didn’t fight for me, because you wanted children. You made that decision. You left me just as much as I left you.’

  ‘You made the decision by refusing to even think about the idea.’

  Blood rushed to her face. ‘Of course I thought about it! I thought about it for fifteen years. You left because you weren’t getting your own way. We were fine as we were.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ His hands clenched around the steering wheel until the leather squeaked beneath his palms.

  ‘I’m doing the normal thing, the right thing. I’m trying to move on. You come round like everything’s fine and rip open old wounds every time they start to heal.’

  ‘Well I’m not leaving things between us on bad terms.’

  ‘That’s how divorce works. We’re not supposed to be on good terms.’

  He smacked the dashboard with a heavy fist. ‘That’s bullshit! You’re just trying to push me away.’

  Naomi rubbed her face and sighed into her hands. It was only then that she felt the tears. She swiped them away and swallowed down the resentment – he had chosen his desire for children over her. If she weren’t still in love with him, she would hate him for the choice he had made.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  �
��You can’t keep coming over pretending that everything is how it used to be. We can’t be friends any more. You need to respect that.’

  The car came to a stop. Dane lifted the handbrake and turned off the engine.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You don’t though, do you? You’ll be round again next week as though this never happened.’

  ‘I miss you sometimes, all right? Am I not allowed to miss my wife?’

  Silence fell. The wind curled around the car. Faint raindrops pattered against the glass.

  ‘I’m not your wife any more, Dane.’

  ‘I know.’

  She listened to the sounds of his sad, shallow breaths. If only she could surrender herself and give him what he wanted. She knew that she could kiss those lips right there and have him back without a word. But she couldn’t give him what he wanted, and he would never forgive her for what she had done. They couldn’t surrender to each other when her secret was pushing them apart.

  Even though he had Josie, Naomi realised that Dane was as lonely as she was. They had both lost their birth mothers at a young age and struggled through life until they found each other. Now they had to face the world apart.

  As she began to get out of the car, she felt his hand on her wrist.

  ‘I still love you, Naomi. I always will.’

  She snatched her hand away before what he had said could sink in, but it was too late. She had heard them, the words she had longed for.

  She followed the car round to the boot, tracing her hand against its cold exterior until dirt coated her fingertips. Her hands darted to her face and wiped the tears away again, smearing the grime from the car beneath her eyes.

  Dane’s footsteps crunched on the gravel drive and the boot opened with a faint squeak. Max jumped out with his tail wagging against the body of the car and sniffed the gravel at their feet. She reached for his harness and felt Dane’s hand place it in hers. She missed those hands.

  She felt him wipe the dirt from her face and shivered beneath his touch.

  ‘Every time you think you miss me, remember Josie and how that would make her feel.’

  He went to say something, but swallowed the words down and coughed. His hand slipped from her face.

  ‘Thanks for dropping me. Come on, Max.’

  Max led the way round the café towards the back door. A sob rattled Naomi’s throat. She swallowed it down and placed her hand on her stomach.

  She resented her womb, the empty vessel inside her that society demanded she fill. How could she protect a child when she struggled to protect herself? Why couldn’t Dane understand? And she couldn’t be a parent, not with her birth mother’s blood running through her veins.

  She stepped into the utility room and took a deep breath. Max filed in beside her, panting restlessly, and settled down in his basket with a sigh. Old Daisy, her boss’s wire-haired terrier, didn’t even stir in her bed.

  ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get your walk, Max. I’ll take you out at lunch, okay?’ She rubbed his head and made her way inside.

  The kitchen was always hectic, even when there were only a couple of customers. Nick, the young dishwasher, would be standing by the sink waiting to scrub pots older than his years. There had been a second washer until two weeks ago. Nick would be the next to go, leaving Naomi to pick up the extra work, until finally she would have to go too, after more than two decades of walking across the same floorboards, leaving only Peggy and Mitch to run the café until it shut down for good. When they found out that she had committed suicide, maybe they would let Nick stay on as the waiter. Silver lining.

  ‘Hiya, love,’ Peggy said from the stove.

  ‘Morning.’

  ‘You hear about Cassie Jennings?’ Mitch asked from the breakfast table beneath the window.

  ‘Awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Someone in the offie this mornin’ said it was a robbery,’ said Peggy.

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Peg,’ Mitch said, ruffling his newspaper. ‘No one slits a girl’s throat for ’er purse.’

  Naomi took her apron from the hook on the wall and tied it at the back.

  ‘The police said it wasn’t being treated as a robbery,’ she said, remembering the news footage. ‘But I don’t understand why else someone would kill an innocent woman.’

  ‘Some people are like that, ain’t they,’ Mitch said. ‘Killin’s a thrill for ’em.’

  ‘But why her?’

  ‘She was in the wrong place, wrong time, I say,’ Mitch said. ‘Cassie didn’t seem like the kind of girl to get into trouble, let alone get cut up into strips.’

  ‘Stop it now,’ Peggy said. ‘I’m feeling sick.’

  Peggy was in her fifties, with a voice as thick and sweet as treacle. Even a scalding bath couldn’t draw the smell of cooking grease from her skin after all her years of standing at the stove. Naomi loved that smell.

  Mitchell had just celebrated his sixtieth birthday. Most of his hair had fallen out over the last twenty years, but he still had a thinning grey ponytail pinching the few remaining strands together at the nape of his neck.

  ‘Can’t help thinking about Hayley Miller,’ he said, lighting a cigarette.

  ‘That was so long ago, Mitch,’ Peggy replied. ‘And they never found a body. We don’t even know she’s dead.’

  ‘Oh there’s a body all right,’ he said.

  ‘Now stop this talk,’ Peggy said, putting a plate on the table. ‘Eggs and rashers with hashies.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Tea for you, love,’ Peggy said, and placed a mug in front of Naomi.

  ‘Thanks, Peggy.’

  Mitch had the same breakfast every morning. Naomi wondered how he managed it. He stubbed out his cigarette, folded his newspaper and put it beside him, on the left like always.

  We’re all fools. We’ve cemented ourselves into our routines and now we’re stuck. Move the paper, Mitch. Move the damn paper.

  ‘What do the papers say about the murder?’ she asked.

  ‘Sources this, sources that. Why don’t they just admit they’re making shit up and be done with it?’

  ‘Mitch,’ Peggy warned. ‘Don’t swear in front of Nick.’

  Nick was so quiet and reserved that Naomi had forgotten he was in the room.

  ‘It’s true, ain’t it? And the police won’t say much neither. Of course they’ll say it’s a one-off. They can’t have people knowing they’re as much in the dark as we are.’

  Naomi thought of the person at her door the night before. She parted her lips to tell them, but swallowed down the words.

  ‘You all right, darlin’?’ Peggy asked, stroking Naomi’s hair. ‘You don’t look well.’

  ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’

  The bell above the front door rang.

  ‘That’ll be Derek,’ Naomi said.

  ‘At least have a sip of your tea,’ Peggy replied.

  Naomi took a sip of scalding tea and walked through the kitchen to the diner. She had been working there long enough to know where everything was: nine tables with space to walk between them without tripping even if the place was full, which it hadn’t been for years. She took her pen and pad from the pocket of her apron and headed for Derek’s favourite table.

  ‘Morning, Derek. Usual?’

  She listened to the wind whistle through the gap beneath the front door and press against the window panes.

  ‘Hello?’

  The chime above the door danced noisily in the wind.

  ‘Anyone there?’

  Naomi thought of herself shivering in the doorway of her house with the stranger standing before her. She stepped back towards the safety of the kitchen.

  The window shattered so loudly that she barely heard her own scream. She fell to the floor with her hands out, forcing shards of glass into her palms.

  ‘What the hell’s going on in there?’ Peggy shouted. ‘Naomi! Mitch, get in here!’

  She rushed to Naomi’s side and rested a hand on her back.

>   ‘Are you all right?’

  Naomi lifted her hands and felt warm blood trickle down her wrists.

  ‘What happened?’ Mitch said.

  ‘Someone threw a brick through the window,’ Peggy replied. ‘It could have hit Naomi. Look at her hands!’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Get the car, Mitch, she’ll need stitches.’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly.’

  ‘There are shards of glass deep in your hands, love. You’re not fine.’

  ‘Who the hell would do this?’ Mitch asked as he walked towards the window, glass crunching beneath his soles. ‘Now we’ll have to close the damn café!’

  ‘Mitch, the car!’

  ‘All right!’

  He stormed back into the kitchen and out the back door, slamming it behind him with such force that the whole building seemed to quiver.

  ‘Come on, love, let’s get you up.’

  Peggy slipped her hands under Naomi’s arms and lifted her to her feet. The wind howled through the broken window.

  ‘Nick, call the police and then start sweeping up this glass.’

  ‘You can’t leave him here alone,’ Naomi said, her voice noticeably shaking. ‘What if the person who did it comes back?’

  ‘I’ll take you to the hospital. Mitch can stay here with Nick.’

  Peggy led her out the front door and into the cold, blustering day. The wind chime was louder now, screaming in her ears as they passed beneath it and crossed the gravel driveway. The wind sent her hair slanting to the left and cooled the blood streaming down her arms.

  ‘Mitch has pulled the car up out front. I’ll open the door for you.’

  She heard the laborious purr of the engine. The door opened with a squeal. Peggy rested her hands on Naomi’s hips and eased her into the car until she was sitting down, blood dripping onto her lap. Peggy reached over with the seat belt, the smell of Mitch’s breakfast stained into her clothes.

  ‘I’m taking her, Mitch. You go in with Nick and wait for the police.’

  Mitch got out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him.

  ‘There,’ Peggy said as she fastened the seat belt. ‘Hold your hands up, darlin’, and don’t clench them like that.’