Women of Courage, page 54
‘No, Mum. I’ve got to get back to work and it will be easier for me to sleep at my place, and Charity has business things she needs to attend to.’
‘Oh! OK. So long as you’re both alright. You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, don’t you?’ she says, looking straight at me.
‘I do, and thank you. It’s been a godsend being able to stay with you all. But I really do have things that need taking care of. Nana’s hanging baskets are all going to be dead now for a start.’
‘Yes, I suppose life does go on, virus or not. Well, I will miss you dear, but you must know you’re always welcome. You don’t need an invite, just turn up whenever you want,’ replies Shirley.
‘Thank you,’ I mumble, most humbly.
We’re packed and ready to leave within half-an-hour. I hug Dave softly, so as not to crush his chest which is still causing him problems. Shirley is the same height as me. She regards me for a moment and I can see her chin wobbling as she holds back tears.
‘You come back soon, you hear?’
I nod, and then we’re hugging each other to death. I’m choked on emotions. I feel like I’m leaving my parents behind, a very large part of me doesn’t want to go. But go I must. There is a time and a place for everything, and right now I belong at Nana’s so I can sort her things and look after everything.
Luke drives me back. There’s no conversation between us. I feel impoverished. Is this wonderful man slipping through my fingers? Am I really going to just let him go without a fight? He gets out of the car with me and hovers as I put the key in the door. When I open it I turn to him questioning, will he come in?
‘I best get going.’
That’s a no then. Speak woman, speak! What on earth is wrong with you? Don’t let him go like this.
‘It’s going to be strange being in a house on my own.’
His blue eyes bore into me. Won’t you kiss me? Please kiss me. Tell me everything’s going to be OK.
‘I’m working late tonight, not sure what time I will be up tomorrow, but I’ll give you a quick call before I start the next shift and check you’re OK.’
I nod. ‘Thank you.’ Please kiss me.
Luke takes one last look at me and leaves. Just like that he’s gone. What’s happened? I just don’t understand.
The house smells musty and it prompts me to move. I go around the rooms opening the windows to let fresh air in. Actually, I have tons to do. I need to do all the legal stuff, get bills changed to my name for a start. Dotty has left a will leaving the house and her small savings to me, so everything would be straight forward, but I still have to contact everyone.
I make a pot of coffee and then tackle the mountain of post piled up on the dining room table. First, I open them all with a miniature sword letter-opener, then open them all up and sort them into piles by priority.
Something is nagging at the back of my mind. I pause. What is it? I get up and wander around the house. At last, my eyes are drawn to a CD player in the kitchen. Nana used to love singing whilst she cooked. I unplug it and take it into the dining room and re-plug it in, then press play. Zach Rolands starts singing Chain Breaker. I sit down listening to the words. Do I have chains? Can God remove my chains? Heat bursts inside me. My fingers start tingling. Is this you God? Are you here? You would think after all the crying I’ve done lately that I would have no tears left. Not true. They fall like a fast-flowing river, streaming down my cheeks unchecked. Is this you God? What are my chains?
An image of my dad springs before me. Dad? Then knowledge unfolds, you might say by itself, but I think God is leading the way. Unforgiveness lies within my soul like a black, oozing cancer. Entwined with this damning condemnation, towards my dad for abandoning me, is resentment and downright hate. What an ugly word, hate. A loathing, a detesting for the blood of my blood who cares not one iota for me. Who does that? Who gives life to a new creation and then abandons them to a cruel world? Who does that?
I’m a Survivor starts to float into the room, coming out of the player. I want to be a survivor, Lord. Show me please. How do I forgive? Help me? I don’t know what else to do, so I fall to the floor and kneel. Clasping my hands in front of me, I cry out.
‘God be with me, please. Show me the way. Help me to forgive my dad. Please show me the way so this insidious heartache may be removed from me. I don’t want to live my life in the shadows anymore, fearing to love in case I am rejected. Oh, God, please show me the way.’
After a while lost in prayer and sobs I feel prompted to switch the disc. I look through the shelves, and my fingers land on Lauren Daigle.
‘OK, Lord.’ I replace the disc and press play. You Say escapes the speakers. Lauren’s voice catches at something within me instantly. I feel a fluttering of wings within my chest. ‘Oh, Lord, oh Lord.’
‘You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
You say I am held when I am falling short
When I don’t belong, oh You say I am Yours’
The words of the song tear at my soul, ripping away years and years of rejection and beliefs of being worthless. The amazing realization that God has always been with me during my ‘absence’ and that He never once rejected me, crash into my soul like a gigantic wrecking ball. With a Berlin Wall impression, my barriers of self-preservation come crumbling down.
Chapter 16
Luke’s not answering my texts. I’ve so much I want to say to him, have to say to him, but how can I do that if he won’t talk to me? Three of my texts asked what I’d done wrong. I’m loath to call him in case he’s driving a client, or I’m just chicken, I guess.
I’m so grateful that we’re allowed to meet people out in public now. Judith has met me in the park and we’re just about to go for a walk. It’s so lovely to see her again.
‘How have you been? Gosh, wish I could hug you. This is really hard isn’t it?’
‘You’re telling me,’ answers Judith. ‘My parents have been in bits every time we’ve turned up in their garden to wave hello to them. Mum just won’t stop crying. Sometimes I think we should stop going, it would be less painful.’
‘I know, must be so hard for them though, not being able to hug their grandchildren.’
‘I can’t wait to go back to normal.’
‘Nor me,’ I answer. ‘How’s John doing?’ During the early stages of lockdown he’d been staying at a friend’s house, who was also an ambulance driver, for fear of bringing Covid home to his kids.
‘He’s great. It was so hard with him staying away. He spoke to us every day through Zoom, but honestly it’s not the same as having him home. The kids went mental when he turned up at the door and told them he’d come home.’
‘Must have been hard for you; having to do the home-schooling on your own.’
‘It isn’t too bad actually. We’ve got books from the school to follow and we do a lot with help from the lessons they’ve put on-line. Technology is fantastic! I would have hated this years ago when we weren’t all internet savvy! Also, thankfully, they’ve been able to play in the garden every day to burn off their energy. Thank God for this amazing weather.’
‘It really does feel like a godsend doesn’t it.’
‘Sure does.’
We exchange news for a while. I realize I’ve missed this one-on-one chatting a lot.
‘So, Luke eh? Who’d have guessed?’
I grimace at her. ‘I wish it was me and Luke. Something’s happened and he’s not talking to me.’
‘Go and speak to him and get it sorted. It’s probably something and nothing.’
‘He’s not answering my texts.’
‘Charity! That’s so impersonal. You need to go and see him, talk to him face to face, and just plain outright ask him what’s wrong. You don’t want to lose him do you?’
‘No, not at all. I think I’m scared of being rejected. Every time I pick up the keys to go and drive over to his house I start feeling sick, and just don’t go.’
‘Girl, where’s your courage? You gotta grab life by the horns, or it’ll all slip past you before you know it.’
I know she’s right. Somehow I’ve got to drum up the courage to go and face him.
‘Promise you’ll go and see him.’
‘OK, I promise.’
‘Today!’
Really? Shouldn’t I build up the courage first?
‘Oy, you, today right?’
‘OK.’
I’m sitting outside Luke’s house in Macclesfield, trying to drum up the courage to go and speak to him. Deep inside me I know what the problem is. It’s because I haven’t told him I love him. I know it, but I’ve just not wanted to admit it. He probably thinks I’m still not over Roland. Which I so am. I guess I was over Roland years ago, round about the time he admitted to his third affair something inside of me had died. On top of that, in hindsight I think I can safely say although I loved him, it wasn’t the love between a wife and her husband. It was more friendship, lovely in the first years, but not complete. More like a jigsaw with three pieces missing. You can still see the picture clearly, but you know it’s not right, not perfect. I understand now that I accepted it because I thought it was all I deserved. And if I didn’t love completely, I couldn’t be rejected and have my heart broken completely.
I’m frightened. My dad deserted me. My mum, my husband and my only other relative died on me. Everyone leaves me, it’s like I’m cursed. I don’t want to be rejected again. I mean, what is there to love about me anyway? I’ve not worked a day in my life. I tend to think of myself first before others, there’s no getting around that, I know I do. Nana told me once that would be different once I had my own kids. But I’m getting old. Maybe I’m past childbearing age? I’m not rich anymore. What about me would make any man want me?
Right, that’s it. I’m off. I switch the engine back on, put the car into gear...
TAP. I glance up to see Luke knocking on the car window. I turn the engine off and unwind the window.
‘You coming in then?’ he asks.
Well, it’ll look silly if I run away. ‘Yes.’
He doesn’t wait for me, so I follow him into his house.
It’s a delightful semi-detached on quite a steep hill. It’s got a lovely cottage vibe going on. It’s the kind of house I might have purchased if I hadn’t kissed goodbye to my late husband’s inheritance.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ he says, as I’m hovering in the hallway. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes please.’
Luke makes us coffee and we sit at the kitchen table.
I wrap my fingers around the cup and wonder how to start.
‘Sorry I didn’t answer your texts.’
‘That’s OK, you were probably busy.’
‘Umm.’
Come on, Charity, you can do this. ‘I have something I would like to say to you.’
‘That’s what I thought when I saw you sitting in your car.’ He grins at me and raises one eyebrow. I feel a portion of our old connection come back.
‘I want to explain why I didn’t tell you I love you.’
‘I think that’s pretty obvious, no need to explain.’
‘It’s not because I don’t love you, Luke.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ Gosh, he’s not making this easy. ‘Everyone leaves me,’ I blurt out.
‘I’m still here.’
‘Yes for now. But eventually you’ll tire of me, and you’ll leave me.’
‘I’m not Roland.’
‘No, of course not. I’m not saying you’re like him.’
‘Are you sure? Because that’s what it sounds like to me.’
‘Everyone leaves me.’ It’s a sigh of a sentence, a breeze of confession that I’m not worth loving, not forever anyway. That eventually, everyone leaves, including Luke.
Luke scrapes his chair and inches closer, he takes my hands in his. ‘Look at me.’
I look up.
‘I’m not everyone else, I am me. And I love you, Charity Byron. I’m not planning on ever leaving you. You’re like warm socks on a cold day to me.’
‘What?’ I laugh. I can think of more flattering comparisons.
‘My Nan knitted me a pair of multi-colored socks when I was little. She told me she’d made every stitch with love, and that it was her love in the making that would always keep me warm. You’re like those socks. I loved those socks so much I wore them until I couldn’t fit into them anymore. I still have them in my sock drawer, as a keepsake and reminder that my Nan loved me.’
Luke reaches up and smooths the hair on my forehead to the side. ‘I know I’ve come into your life when you’re going through a lot of pain. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I have loved you for a long time. I can’t believe how lucky I am sometimes when I’m holding you. Gosh, Charity the love I have for you is like a furnace inside me.’
‘Oh.’
‘You have to be brave as I have to be patient. If we do move forward together I know there is a happy ending for us. Will you take a chance on me?’
I nod. I nod again, and again. Like a nodding dog in a car window, up and down, up and down. I throw my arms around Luke’s neck, then lean back and gaze into his beautiful warm eyes. ‘I love you,’ I say, and then my lips are on his. Life is for living. Fear is the thief of joy, and I refuse to submit to its claws anymore. I will be adventurous. I will live my life. I will be courageous. I will sail the seas and ride out the storms.
Chapter 17
On the 14th July masks become compulsory. I feel self-conscious as I put on my white face mask and enter the supermarket. In the doorway I stop, spray a cloth generously with antiseptic spray and wipe as much of the trolley down as I can. Sorry, I say in my mind to the people queuing behind me. Better to be safe than sorry.
An uncanny but momentous moment trumpets my entrance as I walk into the set of a science fiction movie. A one-way system is marked by red arrows and barricaded aisle entrances. I can work out how far I’ve walked around the shop by the two-meter distance yellow stickers on the floor, by the way, the ones that most people seem happy to ignore! The ones that look suspiciously like toxic waste markers! I’m reminded of a sixties film clip I was shown once on YouTube, where they advise you to keep insect spray so you can kill the plethora of flies that will bombard you after a nuclear bomb! I kid you not, not only are the yellow hazard stickers the same but I’m still, after all this time, pondering on how the flies get to survive.
I stretch back as far as my rather stiff spine will allow when some, to be polite let’s say... gentleman, leans in front of me to reach some celery. Oh, but my mind is having a heated debate on the things I’d like to say. I have a strong impression that I want to enact a scene from Dirty Dancing when Baby repeats back to Johnny ‘this is my dance space, you don’t go into mine and I don’t go into yours’. I’m playing the whole thing in my mind, swinging my hand out in front of me in a circle. Of course I could never get away with wearing the tiny pink outfit she wears, but hey a girl can dream and I have the little white pumps at least. But back to the point, are these people not watching the news every day? Repeated public announcements tell us, Hands – Face – Space. Come on man, this is only going to go away if we follow the guidelines. After five minutes of an internal rant I ponder on the possibility that I might need to get out more!
Do I tell him what I think? No, of course not, I smile politely and take a step backwards so he can eat his heart out on celery sticks. At least the shelves are stocked again. The manic urge to fill my trolley has thankfully abated. At the tills I overhear one of the staff talking about Little Fires Everywhere and I just have to jump right on in.
‘Wasn’t it great,’ I add my pennyworth. Maybe they’re used to people desperate to talk because they allow me into their staff inner-circle with welcoming smiles and encouragements to continue. I’m like a runaway train, full steam ahead for not only that program dissection but also another two. Me, the person who doesn’t like to talk much, especially to strangers, totally at home and comfortable talking to the ladies who really are becoming like family as I make eye-contact and smile at them each time I come to do my once-per-week shop.
As I drive home the song Hungry Eyes is playing on a loop in my mind. Nothing else for it, tonight I’m going to have to watch it again.
Time slips by. It’s not possible to explain what fills the days, or where they go to. Most of the time, I have no idea which day of the week it is. I was most upset yesterday when I’d realized it was Sunday. I only have a rum and coke on Friday and Saturday nights. I have just two each night, but I enjoy them. They are the treat that signifies that it’s the end of another week. Somehow I’d gone right through the weekend without realizing it, I felt deprived. Luke burst out laughing when I told him on our daily video call. He rubbed it in by saying he hadn’t forgotten it was Friday and had enjoyed a couple of cans! I miss him so much. He hasn’t had a day off since going back to work. He says it’s great for his bank account. I’m not so sure it’s great for our relationship though.
Chapter 18
Thursday 5th November, Bonfire Night and the second Coronavirus lockdown has begun. There’s a general atmosphere of doom and gloom. I feel low. The bravado from March has long since dissipated. Gosh, but will this ever be over? I know it’s for our sake that we’re here again. Still, I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. Maybe it would be better for herd immunity to be allowed to develop, get it and get over it? I think of the nurses and doctors, no then they’d never cope, of course it’s best to try and keep everyone virus free. Still, the economy, job losses and depression, all are taking a terrible hit. And I don’t mean financial depression; I mean the general population depression. Will we ever go back to normal? Does normal even exist anymore? Have our lives changed so much that there will never be a returning to where we were? Is our ‘crazy’ going to become our children’s ‘normal’? Are face masks here to stay? Gosh, I hope not. Still, my cold sore was covered up nicely today and no need for makeup... small mercies maybe?
