Dead petals, p.18
Dead Petals, page 18
In even his most drunken of states, he still somehow managed to put out fresh food and water for Mister Whiskers. The cat seemed to be the only creature that could stand to be around him anymore.
At least when he was out he couldn’t drink, unless he took his flask with him—which he sometimes did—and hated himself for that too. He had intended to just walk, to get out of the house that was feeling more and more like his prison, and just walk.
But he ended up sitting on a bench at the park.
Apart from four or five boys playing football, the park was pretty much empty. His heavy, bloodshot eyes stared at the place where he last saw her blowing him a kiss. He’d promised her they’d play Mario Kart.
The events churned over and over in his mind, questioning his thinking, asking why, marking the places where a different decision might have led to another outcome. An outcome where Charley and Fiona were both safe and sound at home waiting for him.
A muddy football rolled to Gary’s feet. He tapped it with the side of his shoe, rolling it to the young lad who was running over to retrieve it. The boy picked it up, but instead of returning to the game, he walked over.
“Hi, Mr Wright,” the boy said.
Gary looked more closely and realised it was the young lad who he had spoken to on the day Charley disappeared, the one who had seen her leaving. He was taller now and had filled out some.
“Hello,” Gary said. He searched his alcohol-befuddled mind and somehow dredged up his name. “Kevin, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He seemed to take in Gary’s dishevelled appearance and his bloodshot eyes, perhaps comparing the way he looked now to the way he looked then. “I’m sorry you didn’t manage to find Charley.”
Gary’s mouth widened a little, but it didn’t really pass for a smile. “Me too.”
“I miss her at school. She was always kind. I remember one time I’d forgotten to bring some sugar for the Home Ec class and she gave me some of hers. I think it left her a bit short, but she gave it to me anyway.”
Gary nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like Charley.”
The boy turned the muddy ball in his hands, glanced at his football mates, then back at the ball again. “My mum died last year,” he said.
Gary watched him turn the ball. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
The boy nodded, his eyes on the ball. “Sucks to lose someone you love, don’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Had she been ill?” Gary was thinking about his own mother and her long battle with cancer.
Kevin’s friends began calling for him to return to the game, but he ignored them.
“No, it wasn’t anything like that. My mum always had troubles up here.” He pointed to his temple. “Mental problems. Depression and all that. My dad looked after her. Last summer, not long after Charley went missing, we were having a barbeque in the garden. My dad went to get the sausages and burgers from the fridge and while he was gone, my mum took the bottle of lighter fluid and sprayed it all over her face and down her front.”
Gary listened with growing horror.
“I shouted for my dad, but we had music playing on the stereo and he couldn’t hear me. I tried to stop her, but she got the clicky-lighter thing and set fire to herself.”
He looked briefly toward his mates again, but his eyes were far away.
“She started screaming and running around like she’d suddenly realised setting yourself on fire isn’t such a good idea. My dad came running out and got her on the ground. He tried to put the fire out with his hands, but then his hands were on fire too. I remembered a video we watched at school one time about smothering a fire, so I grabbed the cover for the barbeque and my dad managed to put the fire out with it.” He paused, eyes full of the painful memory. “She was burned pretty bad by then though. All her hair was gone and her face was...bad. Dad called for the ambulance and they took her to the hospital, but she died a few days later. My Gran said it was a blessing.”
“I’m sorry,” Gary said. “That must have been a horrible thing for you to see.”
Kevin silently turned the ball for a moment. “I have nightmares about it sometimes, but not as much as I used to.”
“That was quick thinking, about the cover.”
“Yeah.” He looked at the ball, still turning it in his hands. “If I’d been quicker though, maybe she wouldn’t have died.”
“Maybe,” Gary agreed. “But thinking about what you could’ve done can drive you crazy.”
Couldn’t it just.
The other boys were shouting and impatiently gesturing for him to return to the game.
“Anyway, I’d better get back before they throw me off the team.” He smiled a little, showing goofy front teeth. “I hope you feel better soon, Mr Wright. You can’t stay like this all the time.”
“Like what?”
“Sad,” the boy said simply.
They locked eyes, and something passed between them. A common pain. The pain of loss.
He turned then, drop-kicking the ball to the others. One of the lads bounced it off his chest and deftly took control of it.
“See you later, Mr Wright,” he said, jogging off to re-join the game.
Gary watched him wave and shout and vie for position. He thought again about how resilient people could be, how they were able to recover from the most horrible of things. Kevin had lost his mother in such traumatic circumstances, and yet there he was, playing football as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
It’s easier for a child than an adult, Gary reasoned.
Kevin dribbled the ball past the older boys and shot for the goal. It was a good try from that distance, but it went wide. The others called ‘bad luck’. One of the older boys ruffled his hair as he trotted downfield to take his position.
Gary headed back home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kevin’s words stayed with Gary for the rest of the day. He kept off the booze that night for the first time in many weeks. He fed Mister Whiskers, and when he’d eaten a little something himself, he pottered around the house; punching cushions and tidying up. He fell asleep watching TV, eventually crawling into bed around twelve thirty, pretty much sober for the first time in weeks.
In the morning he felt as if something had changed, though everything was exactly the same. The two most important people in his life were still gone, but he felt their absence even more powerfully than before.
Yet, he couldn’t deny this new feeling of positivity and possibility that had settled over him.
He showered, shaved, and ate a bowl of cereal at the breakfast bar, all the while thinking about Kevin and his mum. He’d been wrong yesterday when he’d told himself that getting over a loss was easier for a child. The problem was that he’d made it harder for himself, surrounding himself with anger and bitterness, refusing to allow himself to grieve and start the hard road back to normality. He just had to get on with his life. It was what Fiona had been telling him, but it had taken the strength of a twelve-year-old boy to knock it into his thick skull.
He decided to do something real about it. He’d take the pictures for re-framing and hire some people to fix the damage to the house, so the next time Fiona called, everything would be back in order. Not only that, he would go to the office to look at taking up the reigns again.
Thinking about a plan made him feel good. It made him feel positive and in control again.
But there was one final obstacle standing in the way of making a true recovery, something he needed to do.
Standing at the door to Charley’s room, he gazed at the white, ceramic rectangle with her name written across the face. His mind cast back to Greece and the street artist painting the details, while Charley excitedly told him how she wanted it to look. She’d laughed as he painted her name with a flourish, and turned to look back at them, her eyes sparkling, her smile lighting up the night.
Charley.
He placed his hand gently over the plaque, his fingers hooking over the top edge. He sucked in a small breath, his stomach tightening in nervous knots, then prised the plaque from the door. It wasn’t difficult. The plate made a ripping sound, leaving two sticky foam squares behind on the paintwork.
He took a moment to gauge how what he’d done made him feel and was surprised to find he didn’t feel much of anything.
He turned the plaque over and stroked his thumb affectionately over her name. Next to the door was another of the half-circle console tables that Fiona liked so much. This one had all of its legs. He placed the plaque gently into a small wicker basket on the table top.
Steeling himself, he went into the room.
The air was stale, the light stifled by the half-drawn curtains. He looked from her old toys and chalkboard to the posters she’d stuck up on the wall, her keyboard, bed, the dresser cluttered with her things. A few colourful sculptures sat on the windowsill gathering dust.
All of it just as Charley had left it that day.
Seeing her things again weighed heavily on him, dragging on his new positive attitude like dead weights.
He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on the sheets, his fingers lightly touching the place where she had lain.
After a while, he was able to speak.
“I’m sorry, Charley,” he said, “but I think it’s time now. I need your mum back...” And saying those words brought forth unexpected tears. “I need her. And it seems the only way for me to get her back...is to let you go.” He shook with emotion, holding on as best he could. “I’m sorry for leaving you on the park that day. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dad. Wherever you are, Charley, I promise I won’t stop hoping. I’ll never stop hoping, even if everyone else has. But for now—just for now—I have to try to move on without you.” He bowed his head. “I love you, Sweet Pea. I miss you so much.”
He wiped away the tears and picked up one of the black bags that still lay discarded on the floor. He opened one of the drawers and looked at Charley’s clothes. The pastel colours were laid out, all neat and ready to be worn.
He closed the drawer.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he whispered and left, feeling the soft click of the door as it closed quietly behind him.
Kate was seated at the desk, as usual, when he walked into the office. When she saw him, she smiled and rose to meet him. “Gary. It’s so good to see you.”
Kate was a middle-aged lady with a gentle way of speaking, which was somehow soothing. One of the guys in the office once joked that if his parents died in a plane crash, Kate was the one he’d want to break the bad news to him. Gary had a great deal of respect for her and felt heartened by the warmness of her welcome. It wasn’t the awkward, can’t look you in the eye, don’t know what to say, mutterings he had encountered before, but a warm-hearted greeting from a woman he had known for a long time.
“Thank you, Kate,” he said. “It’s good to see you too.”
“I’m so sorry for what happened. Would you give my love and prayers to Fiona?”
“I will,” Gary replied. “Thank you.”
He excused himself and entered the main office. Each developer had his own workstation with an assortment of photos, models, and bobbleheads from Star Wars to Iron Man. Bob Jameson saw him first and was immediately on his feet to greet him. Rounds of handshakes and commiserations followed, but through it all, Gary was aware of the ones holding back. The ones who didn’t know what to say to him. One guy was so mortified by his presence that he kept his eyes glued to his monitor the whole time.
“Where’s Lance?” Gary asked.
“Where do you think?” Bob said with a grin and hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Gary felt the chill as he let himself into the server room. The air conditioning unit and server fans droned out a constant hum that could easily drive you crazy if you thought about it too much.
Lance looked up from the console he was working at, the concentration on his face lifting and turning to delight when he saw who’d just walked in.
He clasped Gary’s hand and shook it warmly. “Good to see you here, Buddy. What brings you to the cave today?”
“I dunno,” Gary replied. “I guess I’ve started thinking about coming back...wanted to try it on, see how it feels.”
Lance smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. And how does it feel?”
Gary glanced about the familiar surroundings. Being back in the office made him think of the old days when they were trying to get WebTech off the ground. Vying for clients. Bidding for contracts. It had been an exciting and extremely satisfying time.
“It feels good,” he decided, though that wasn’t entirely truthful. It also reminded him of the long hours he’d spent doing what he thought was important to secure his family’s future. Working beyond what was necessary and refusing to gear down, even when the business had soared even higher than any of them had ever dreamed it could.
What he wouldn’t give to have spent those hours with Charley and Fiona.
Lance saw his melancholy expression. “You okay?” he asked.
Gary swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m getting myself back together. I need to show Fiona that I’m ready and she can come back. I need her to come home.”
Lance nodded. “She wants to come back, you know?”
Gary raised his eyebrows. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“A little. She misses you.”
Gary wanted to say, so why doesn’t she come home then? But he knew the answer to that, it was standing right here in this server room.
He nodded. “I suppose I should speak to Ed,” he said, “but I’m not going too.”
Lance made an awkward face. “Yeah,” he said. “I heard about that. Ed’s tried gunning for you, but Michelle, Sam, and I have kept him in check.”
“Gunning how?”
“Just bitching about how long you’ve been off and how it’s affecting the business.”
Gary shook his head and frowned. The situation with Ed was something he would have to deal with, but not yet. “And is my time off affecting the business?”
“Nah, why would it?” Lance said and laughed, but then he sobered a little. “Seriously though, it could be better. Ed and Michelle are good, but a ship without its captain can end up in dangerous waters, you know?”
“Point taken,” Gary said. “We’ll sort it out once I get back on my feet. I’m going to check my office and stop by Michelle. Is she in today?”
Lance said she was.
Gary leaned in the doorway and knocked on the frame. She glanced up from the monitor, and for a moment it was as if she didn’t recognise him. Then she smiled, but it was a smile weighed with sadness.
“Hey,” Gary said. “Hard at it as usual.”
Michelle came around the desk and gave him a warm embrace, but it had been such a long time since he had been that close to anyone that it made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sorry when she broke away.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, day to day, you know?”
Michelle nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“Just checking things out. I’m thinking of coming back. It’s been long enough.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said, then her smile faltered. “Lance told me about Fiona.”
“Yeah,” Gary replied, but he didn’t want to get into that.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, especially with how good you were after the miscarriage. It’s difficult to know what to say with everything that’s happened.”
“That’s okay, Michelle. Who does know what to say? It’s not something any of us have had to deal with before.”
“I know,” Michelle said, suddenly teary. “I still should have called you though. It’s just that, with losing the baby, and then this happening to Charley...it all kind of got on top of me.”
Gary placed a hand on her shoulder, it was all he could manage, and wondered how it was that he could end up comforting others about Charley, rather than the other way around.
She composed herself, wiping her eyes and sniffling a few times. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re a lovely man, Gary. This shouldn’t have happened to you. It makes you wonder what God is thinking.”
Gary wanted to get away. His previously buoyant mood was sinking fast. “I believe he works in mysterious ways,” he said, without any attempt to hide the sarcasm.
He said a hasty good-bye and headed to his office. Some things had been moved around in his absence. He angled the phone and straightened the desk pad.
After saying a brief farewell to the others and promising to be back soon, he returned to the car, pulling his coat lapels in against the cold. The flat grey slab of sky extended right to the edge of the horizon.
The visit to the office had not been as bad as he had feared. At least the initial awkwardness of getting reacquainted with his colleagues was over. He could finally start the business of putting his life back together.
It wasn’t a great idea, considering the new path he was trying to take, but he drove the route home that took him past the park.
His intention had been to simply drive slowly by, as a sort of final nod and acknowledgement that he was putting what happened here behind him. But he eased on the brake and stopped in almost the exact spot as he had dropped the girls on that far away afternoon. School was in, so the park was absolutely deserted, almost desolate. Even if this had been a Saturday, it was far too cold and grey for slides and swings, probably even too cold for Kevin and a game of football.
He recalled Charley backing away from him and blowing that final kiss.
Drive away now, just drive away.
He opened the door and got out.
This is the last time you do this, he promised himself. The very last time.
He stood at the edge of the park, melancholy thoughts of what was and what might have been, juggling for position in his mind. Despite his earlier strength and what he had said at the office, he felt as if he might collapse right there on the wet grass and never get up.
