A Small Part of Me

by Noelle Harrison

  Luke goes into his own room, turns on the TV and lies down on the bed. He fingers the leather bracelet around his wrist and then goes into the bathroom and stares at the mirror, in the dark. He looks like an intruder, tall, shadowy, with long hair.

  He picks up his notebook and pencils and leaves the room. It’s early still and he can hear music on in the bar downstairs.

  CHRISTINA

  Christina has only been asleep for an hour, but she fell into a deep, terrifying dream. She turns on the beside lamp and looks over at Cian. He’s curled around Walter, lost in sleep. She gets up and pulls the covers over him and thinks for a second. She knows that once Cian is asleep he never wakes up until five or six in the morning. Without hesitating she gets into her jeans and top and slips out of the room. She needs a drink.

  Her nightmare was this: she was dressed in a long white nightie and was in a building up high, like she was a princess in a turret waiting to be rescued. But the place she was in was no castle. It was a prison. It was a madhouse. When she looked around her, she saw a mass of people, so many she found it hard to move through them, and as she pushed forward the tops of their heads, the whites of their faces, turned into the crests of waves and she was trying to walk through water. Logic told her to swim, but she persisted on walking, going deeper and deeper so that the salty sea was going into her mouth, making her cough, and now it was touching the bottom of her nose and suddenly she was completely immersed. She looked around her in the water and everything was crystal clear. Silver fish flickered past her and purple urchins marked her path. In the distance, swimming towards her, was a seal. She looped around her – she had to be a she by the way she moved, by the look in her eyes and her long, strong whiskers and mottled, waxy skin.

  Christina reached out to touch the seal, this ghost queen of the sea, and the animal fled. It turned back once more, stopped short of her and looked at Christina which such intensity that she could read what she was saying with her eyes.

  And Christina replied, ‘It’s okay, I forgive you.’ The seal turned then and swam off. At this point Christina’s feet started slipping on the soft, liquid sand and she knew she had gone too far. How was she going to get back to Cian now? In this moment she knew she was drowning, and that was when she woke.

  She walks straight up to the bar and orders a whiskey. She feels cold, and she hopes the drink will warm her. She counts out her last few dollars, then turns around looking for a space to sit. Her eyes hit Luke’s. She colours.

  What’s he doing here, in a bar? He doesn’t drink.

  He smiles at her. She has no choice but to go over.

  ‘Hi,’ she says awkwardly, sitting down. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Just having a soda,’ he says, ‘and drawing some more.’ He doesn’t even look at her whiskey, says nothing as she sips it.

  ‘Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop,’ he smiles. ‘I must have a compulsive nature.’

  Luke leans over his notebook and continues his work. She gazes across the table at his long brown fingers.

  ‘So what about Cian? Is he okay on his own?’ Luke asks, head still bent down to drawing.

  ‘Yeah. He never wakes, not till the morning, and anyway, I’m only going to be a minute.’

  ‘Right,’ he says, but she thinks he’s judging her.

  ‘I’m not a bad mother,’ she says defensively.

  ‘I never said you were.’ Luke looks up, surprised.

  ‘No, but you implied it.’

  ‘Hey,’ he says, ‘it’s none of my business.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Stupidly she can feel tears prick her eyelids. ‘It is none of your business.’

  He looks up and stops drawing. ‘I’m sorry, Christina,’ he says. ‘The last thing I want you to think is that I’m judging you.’

  ‘You’re making me feel like I’ve done something wrong. You’re making me feel how all the others do.’

  ‘Who are the others?’ he asks, his eyes suddenly dark.

  ‘My father and my stepmother and even my husband. They all think I’m pathetic.’

  ‘Well, that’s not true.’

  ‘You’ve no idea what it’s been like for me, none at all.’

  ‘You know,’ he says smartly, ‘there’s no use dwelling on that.’

  She feels hot now, angry with him. ‘How dare you say that? You know nothing about me, or my life.’

  He stays calm. ‘I can guess,’ he says.

  She feels like he’s winding her up, but his face is deadly serious, his wide, high cheekbones slanting into his glittering eyes. He watches her and she feels like she’s his prey. Who is this man anyway? Why does she think she can trust him?

  ‘You’re doubting me now?’ he says, reading her thoughts.

  ‘No, its just…’ she starts, confused. ‘You’re making me angry because…because…no one ever listens to me.’

  ‘I am,’ he says. She shakes her head. ‘Why are you on the run, Christina?’ he asks her.

  She’s horrified. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come on. After what Cian said today, I kinda worked it out.’

  ‘I had to do it,’ she says tightly.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Take him, take Cian. It was killing me, Luke. That’s all I’ve done all my life – be a mother – and then they took that away from me, told me I wasn’t fit to mind my own children. But it’s not true, you have to believe me, it was all a terrible mistake.’ She’s shaking now, and in her upset state she can feel her heartbeat quicken, her breath come short. She’s losing control again.

  ‘Hey,’ Luke says, taking her hands. ‘It’s okay. Just look at your son.’

  She stares at Luke. ‘What do you mean?’ she says shakily, gasping for breath.

  ‘Just look at your beautiful boy. You made him, you’re rearing him and I think you’re doing a pretty neat job. Nothing is black and white,’ he continues. ‘All these laws and regulations, they just make things messy, destroy lives. Soon they’ll make us have licences to be parents!’

  She laughs weakly, feeling her panic subside through his reassurance. She takes another sip of her whiskey. It burns her mouth but makes her feel more solid.

  ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he says firmly.

  ‘How do you know?’ she asks.

  ‘Because I know you.’

  Their eyes lock and as she stares at him she can hear a sound, like the rush of falling water around her, and then strangely, behind it, another sound – whiz, whir, whiz, whir.

  ‘But we’re strangers.’

  ‘We were never strangers, Christina.’

  She knits her brow, confused. What does he mean?

  He takes up another pencil and bends down over his work. She can see that it’s an abstract drawing, a tight knot of curves and waves and that he’s using blue, grey and white in the picture.

  ‘Luke, why did you and your wife break up?’

  ‘Because we were fighting too much and we didn’t love each other any more. The usual.’

  ‘Declan and I hardly ever rowed, but when we did it was bad,’ she says. ‘But we separated because of me, because of what I did.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’ Luke asks.

  ‘No, not for a long time. I suppose not for years,’ she says wistfully.

  ‘So why did you stay together for so long?’

  ‘Because of the children, and the house, and because he was my husband…and, well, that was it. Where I live everyone’s married and no one gets divorced.’

  ‘Even now?’

  ‘The community is like a family and you just become part of this one big thing, and if you leave your husband, well, you’re on your own then, an outcast. I’m not saying every single couple stays married forever, but most do. It’s just the way it is.’

  ‘It sure is different in America,’ Luke says, closing his notebook and slipping the pencils into his shirt pocket. He stretches. ‘Well, I guess I’d better get to bed. Are you coming with me?’
r />   She nearly knocks over her drink. ‘I…’

  He laughs then, a rich bass tone. ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean with me. I meant up to your room with me.’

  ‘Right,’ she says, feeling foolish, reminded of her behaviour the night before. ‘Yes, I’d better.’ She knocks back the whiskey, nearly choking, and follows him out of the bar.

  Outside her room, she pauses. He stands behind her and she can sense the height of him. It feels nice, like she’s protected.

  ‘Would you like a coffee or tea? We have a pot in the room…’ Her voice peters out.

  ‘What about Cian? Will we wake him?’

  ‘No, once he’s out, he’s out.’

  ‘Okay, sure.’

  They go into the dusky room. The lamp is still on and casts a golden glow about the space. She walks over to the coffeepot and switches it on.

  LUKE

  He watches her moving. She flits about the room, light and quick. He wants to ground her. Her top rides up her torso as she pulls her hair back from her face and he catches sight of her belly, a few tiny stretch marks worming their way across her skin. He wants to touch her there.

  ‘Coffee? Tea?’ she asks.

  ‘Coffee, thanks.’ He sits on the end of her bed and looks over at Cian. He used to love watching Sam sleep. It was when he could feel all the hurt of his marriage subside.

  Christina comes over with a small white cup and hands it to him.

  ‘I would’ve done the same thing,’ he says.

  She looks surprised. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If they hadn’t let me see Sam, I would have taken him as well.’

  ‘Well, I was allowed to see Cian, but not a lot. And it was like Declan had all the power. I couldn’t put one toe out of line or he’d be down on me like a ton of bricks.’

  ‘What about your other son? Johnny?’

  She looks down at the floor and speaks almost in a whisper. ‘I asked him, but he wouldn’t come with me. He’s doing his Leaving Cert – his final exams. They’re very important.’

  ‘I nearly didn’t get any visitation rights at all,’ Luke says.

  ‘Why?’

  He sighs. He can feel the burden of this weighing him down. He has to tell her.

  ‘Because I hit my wife.’

  She looks shocked. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she says instantly.

  He bows his head, the shame of it still hurting him. ‘I did. I could tell you why and I could give you a thousand explanations and tell you that she was a bitch, and that I was drinking, and that she had been abusing me for years and I never, never beat her, but Christina, I can think of no excuse. I hit someone smaller than me. I hit a woman. It makes me sick.’

  ‘Is that why you stopped drinking?’

  ‘Yep. I had stopped before that but it had been a bad day, a bad week and I just thought I’d have one beer…once I started I couldn’t stop, it was like I felt diseased, you know, insane. I just went crazy.’

  ‘We all make mistakes,’ she says simply.

  ‘I guess we do,’ he says, ‘but in that one moment when I made that choice, when I raised my hand and slapped her face, well, I may as well have done it to my kid. I’ve destroyed his life by splitting the family.’

  ‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘I always used to think that you should stay together for the children no matter what, but I don’t think that’s right now. It’s better to be who you really are than someone you’re pretending to be.’

  ‘I could go with that,’ he says. She’s made him feel better; she hasn’t judged him.

  Cian stirs in the bed.

  ‘It’s late,’ she says. ‘We’d better go to sleep.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, putting his cup down on the dresser. ‘Thanks, Christina.’

  They stand awkwardly at the door, then she reaches over and hugs him. ‘No, thank you,’ she whispers in his ear.

  GRETA

  Now when she wakes, alone in her tent, she realises that she wants the love back. Like the way she had felt about Tomás, she wants that for Henry. She wants to give him everything because now she’s no longer afraid. She doesn’t know how it happened, but overnight the beast has faded away. It’s no longer snapping at her heels.

  She lies still for a moment, feeling her breath on her cheeks and the beat of her heart. She can hear the click of the camera. Henry’s already up, busy taking pictures of the scenery. She decides to make pancakes. Surely that will please him?

  Little white clouds dart across the sky as she mixes her batter. She takes out a bottle of maple syrup while the pan heats up. Henry is walking back up the beach, his camera slung over his shoulder.

  He smiles when he sees her cooking. ‘Pancakes! That’s a treat.’

  ‘I thought so,’ she says evenly. ‘For our last morning.’

  He squats down by the fire. ‘Want some tea?’ he asks.

  ‘Sure.’

  He puts a pan of water on the fire while she takes off the golden pancakes and slides them onto two plates, liberally dribbling syrup over them.

  ‘Thanks,’ Henry says shyly.

  They eat without speaking. Henry makes liquorice tea and hands her a steaming mug.

  ‘Henry,’ Greta begins, ‘I’ve been thinking…’

  He looks at her, his eyes guarded.

  ‘I’ve been a fool,’ she continues. ‘But you see, what happened to me…the fact that my husband signed me into an asylum…well, that’s made it hard for me to ever trust again.’

  Henry sips his tea and looks away at the horizon.

  ‘That hurts me for you,’ he says quietly. He turns and looks at her. Yesterday’s anger has gone. ‘I’m sorry, honey. I was just so shocked. I felt like an idiot because I always knew there was something. I should have asked you years ago.’

  ‘No, I should have told you.’

  ‘It just makes me feel so bad that you’ve suffered alone for all this time. It hurts to think that you could never fully trust me.’

  Greta gets up and walks over to her husband. She sits down next to him and takes his long, bony hand. ‘I do now.’

  He turns to her. ‘And it’s not too late, is it?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  They kiss and Henry wraps his arms around her. She falls back onto the sand. His large palms frame her cheeks and they both close their eyes. Silently, working from sense rather than thought, she undresses him, and he her. The ocean crawls up the beach and tickles her ankles. The sand dips beneath her and cradles her, the bright sky strokes her head and Henry makes love to her. She feels him inside her more intensely than ever before.

  This is it. Their love is complete; she feels it like a ring around her. It has taken twenty years to come to this, and yet it holds her in awe, surprised. She swims in her husband’s eyes and he picks her up, casting the sad Greta of her dreams aside.

  CHRISTINA

  ‘The last time I took this road, I saw five bears,’ Luke says. She looks at the fine dark hairs on his arm as he rests his hand against the wheel.

  ‘Really?’ says Cian, incredulous.

  ‘It’s not so unusual,’ he says. ‘You see, it was late summer, and they’re out looking for berries.’

  ‘Do you think we’ll see some bears today?’

  ‘We might. You just don’t know.’

  Her son is glued to the passenger side window, and she sits in between. Christina scans the roadside, hoping to see a large dark shape.

  She would like to see a bear too. It looks like bear country. The road is empty and wide, winding, and hilly with thick spruce forests on either side. Every so often the trees clear and they come across a small creek, its banks littered with rocks, its shores full of shadows.

  ‘Look, Walter,’ Cian says, holding his teddy up to the window. ‘You might find your mammy or daddy.’

  ‘What are you like?’ Christina laughs, tickling her son as he wriggles in his seat.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ says Luke.

  It is, she thinks as she
looks at the sky, clear and unblemished, and watches the heat haze shimmer above the road. Everything is bigger here, wider. She feels like she has more space to breathe. I could live here, she thinks, and then smiles to herself. Who knows what might happen after today? She feels ridiculously calm. It’s insane, she knows, but Luke makes her feel better and she likes being with him. She sneaks a look at him now. His profile is strange. His nose is large and he has thick lips. Studying the side of his face you would think he was an ugly man, but if you looked at him straight on, took in the force of his eyes, their depth and compassion, he became the most attractive man she had ever met. She squirmed in her seat. She was thinking like a schoolgirl.

  It didn’t matter that he had hit his wife. He had chosen to tell her this terrible information about himself, and she had seen his shame. She could identify with that. They weren’t so different. She knew she could trust him.

  Christina digs her fingernails into her right palm.

  ‘Not long now,’ Luke says, looking at her. ‘Are you okay?’

  She nods, suddenly nervous.

  Now the straight grey tarmac cuts right through the rainforest and she feels like they’re blazing a trail. They’re moving too fast and she desperately wants to back pedal.

  ‘Do you mind if we stop somewhere?’ she asks Luke, her voice cracking, her throat dry as dust. ‘Just for a little walk? I need to get my head together,’ she continues, her earlier calm prickled by nerves.

  ‘Sure,’ he says.

  A few moments later he pulls in off the road and follows a track into a gravel car park.

  ‘Where are we?’ Cian asks, pushing himself up by the elbows and peering out the window.

  ‘Long Beach,’ Christina says, reading the sign.

  They get out of the truck and follow a small sandy path through the undergrowth until they come out onto the sand. What she sees takes Christina’s breath away. She has never laid eyes on such a place in her whole life, even in her dreams.