The Forever and The Now, page 28
I stared into the kaleidoscope of lines and corners and colours and hope and peace and healing during challenging times. And love.
And love.
And love.
Kate hadn’t realised but I’d labelled each crane, each gift, with the meaning she’d given it. I picked one out and flipped it over. There, in the tiniest writing, even smaller than hers, was peace.
I placed the crane on top of the pile, and pinched the wing of the final crane, the blue not-quite crane. The edges cut at my heart, the lines lifting skin, and I wanted to hurl it towards the door.
But I didn’t.
“You’d get cranky at me,” I whispered, and ran my fingertips across the bowl’s burnished exterior. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d want me to keep it, and live its potential, and…” I stared at the wall. “I will, sweetheart. Eventually.”
Properly demonstrative tears refused to fall. Perhaps they were still in line at emotional immigration, and I wondered what that looked like to other people. The lack of big tears.
I rubbed at the bowl again. Aladdin’s lamp. My muscles tightened.
“Hi,” I whispered. Whispering was important if I wanted the silence to stay. My teeth clenched.
“Ah, fuck.” My lungs pulled air; a tiny inhalation. “Shit. Swearing. Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I love you. I’m so sorry.”
The little nose tickle, the hot breath, and the immigration agent who handed back their passports, declared their arrival.
The tears—properly demonstrative tears—fell so quickly that they were skates on ice, and my fingers rushed to cup my jaw and wipe the pools that formed in my palms across the tops of my thighs. My breathing couldn’t match their speed, and eventually gave up, simply escaping in sobs that staccatoed in threes, then stopped, and then again, one, two, three.
As I leaned the bowl against the pillow, because the birds were in the rain, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Can we come in, Aunty Bron?” I turned at the voice and looked vacantly at JJ and Siobhan, standing as if they were ready to retreat even though they wanted to step forward.
“I don’t know,” I said in confusion.
“Oh.” JJ nodded. “Right. Of course. We’ll be out there,” she waved in the general direction of the kitchen, “if you need us.”
I hummed, accidentally sucking salty tears between my lips. “Thank you. That means everything, JJ.” I swiped at my face, and beckoned. “Sorry. Come in.”
Siobhan, who hadn’t said a word, which was a noteworthy moment for the McIntyre annals, chose to sit in the armchair, and JJ sat next to me, smoothing out the mattress dip.
Silence
“I’m going to swear, okay? Just giving you a heads up,” JJ said, the sharpest edge to her voice.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Fucking fucking fuckity fuck,” she spat, her eyes filling with tears.
I turned and held her gaze. That collection of words pretty much summed it up, so I pulled her into an embrace that matched the intensity and our faces looked over each other’s shoulder. “Good swear,” I said, somewhat in admiration.
“Yeah.” She breathed deeply and withdrew. “It’s in my DNA.”
I huffed a laugh, because of course JJ would find dry humour in the humidity of grief.
My tears returned, quietly sneaking up and meandering down my skin.
“It’s so fucking unfair.” Siobhan’s eyes glistened as she added to the perfect profanity.
“She was my person, Shiv.”
“I know. Anyone could see that.”
“Oh God.” My voice broke and JJ held my trembling hand. “The space that Kate filled. What do I fill it with now?”
Siobhan pinned me with her gaze. “Kate. You keep it filled with Kate.”
“Wasn’t long enough.” I knew Siobhan would understand the not-even-half sentence.
Siobhan laced her fingers together against her chest and turned her knuckles white. “No. But you were each other’s person every day for five years. You were each other’s person even when you were on that stupid, amazing, sensible break.”
I stared at her intently. “We were supposed to be the forever pair. The HEA.”
She shrugged empathetically. “Life isn’t always a happily ever after, hon.”
I hissed wetly through my teeth. “What a stupid saying. Happily ever after. So stupid.” I went to clench my fists then realised that I had one hand wrapped around JJ’s. I got the feeling that she would have understood.
“No, it’s not.”
Siobhan hadn’t broken eye contact, like if she looked away, I’d disappear.
“No, it’s not,” I agreed.
“They could call it a happily forever,” JJ suggested.
“That would be an HF,” I replied vacantly.
“Shit. That wouldn’t work. Then it’d be a holy fuck,” Siobhan stated blandly, and I wanted to laugh like I always did when Siobhan’s wit sliced through conversation. But I couldn’t, even though she’d tried so hard.
My face crumpled. “Shiv…”
We stood at the same time and Siobhan helped me fall to my knees where I burrowed into her chest, sobs wracking my body, as she whispered that she knew.
Later, after everyone had reluctantly departed, after I’d thanked people for their kind words, after Janine insisted that she was sleeping on the couch, after Mum stated that the bed in the spare room looked comfortable and she’d be trying it out for the night, I sat in the armchair and cradled my bowl of cranes.
I contemplated the half-finished origami, and tried to envision finishing it. But I couldn’t. It would remain incomplete, overflowing with potential and possibility because it occurred to me that I did get a forever.
I got Kate’s forever.
Kate gave me her forever and she gave me her now.
The End
About the Author
KJ writes stories because her imagination takes the wheel. Permanently anxious and overly fond of cats, KJ lives in Bendigo, Australia. She is married, and a mum, and has been told that she's funny. That last one is debatable.
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K J, The Forever and The Now
