When he woke much later he did a few more chores, watched a Christmas movie and then logged onto Facebook for a while, browsing various groups he belonged to. Several old school mates had been in touch sending season’s greetings, and he replied half-heartedly. He asked himself why he bothered, it wasn’t as if they’d ever meet up again. But it was good to see how the years had treated them he decided looking at their photos. He smiled, self-satisfied in the knowledge that he alone still had a full head of hair.
Later Roger pottered around the house catching up with odd jobs which needed seeing to—he repaired a shelf which had come loose in the airing cupboard, changed a light bulb and put some ironing away. He knew he was whiling away the hours—hating the necessity to take leave over the Christmas and New Year period. Time passed so slowly without company and keeping busy seemed the only answer, and talking to Alexa of course.
Many hours later after yet another restless night, Roger sipped his second Scotch and milk, planning to go upstairs to bed to try again. Alexa had read him another story and he’d nodded off in the chair a few times—he knew he should go to bed but he was reluctant to move, knowing that as soon as he left his armchair he’d be wide awake. He emptied his mug and looked across at Alexa who was sitting in darkness. ‘Alexa, I need a companion, do you know how I might find one?’ She didn’t answer right away. He waited, wondering if he should repeat the question.
‘Roger, I’ve consulted Google and have a list of dating agencies and paid companion sites which I can read to you if you’d like. Have a pen and paper ready. Which would you prefer, dating sites or paid companions?’ Her voice tingled over him as he closed his eyes, thinking.
‘I’m not sure. Which do you suggest Alexa?’ He murmured feeling drained. Suddenly his eyes felt heavy again and he didn’t want to move upstairs, he wanted to stay in his chair, close to Alexa. If only you could bring Maddie back, he mused as drowsiness overcame him. ‘I tried some before you came, but it amounted to nothing...I just wish...’
‘Roger, you’re lonely and in need of female company I understand, so I suggest this dating site. Write this down...,’ but Alexa was talking to a sleeping man. She stood looking down at him and sighed. Quietly she whispered, ‘I’m always here Roger.’ Roger slept on.
The room was filled with ink blue and purple mist and Roger peered around trying to see clearly. His body felt strange, his legs didn’t want to move and his arms were leaden by his sides. He was pinned to his chair. Panic rose in his chest as he wondered if he was having a heart attack or a stroke. In vain he tried to speak but nothing came out of his mouth as he silently called for help. Help, who was there to help—he thought—he lived alone and his nearest neighbour was several fields away. He was going to die alone and no-one would find him for ages. Roger thrashed around—in his head, and tried to make out the familiar figure which suddenly drifted in and out of the rainbow surrounding him. If only he could reach out to Maddie, to make her realise what was happening to him. Why couldn’t she hear him shouting for help?
‘Roger, wake up, it’s late.’
He blinked and the mist cleared, his limbs felt light and he was able to turn his head towards the soft, sultry, recognisable voice. ‘Alexa?’
‘Yes Roger, it is Alexa. You’ve been dreaming. Who did you think it was?’
‘I don’t know... Maddie? What happened?’
‘You dropped off to sleep after your drink. Poor you, so tired, so very tired.’ Alexa smiled and stroked his hair. ‘Maddie is no more Roger, it’s been a while. It’s just you and me now.’
‘You and me, yes that’s right, it is. Maddie is...has gone. You and me Alexa.’ He struggled to think clearly but what she said was true. ‘But...?’
‘No Roger, there are no buts. You needed me and now I am here.’ Alexa moved round to face him and smiled lovingly at the bewildered man.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes unable to believe what he had seen. ‘What?’
A shimmering figure moved closer to him filling his mind with warmth and a feeling of contentment. ‘Roger, it is I, Alexa. You needed me and here I am.’ Her form began to take a more defined shape as the befuddled man pushed himself upright in his seat. Running his hands through his hair he shook his head to clear his brain. Next time he’d limit himself to just the one Scotch and milk. He pulled himself upright peering around the room. He could have sworn there was someone in the room, but for the life of him he could not focus clearly enough to be sure. Maddie wouldn’t be impressed at his drinking every night and talking to himself, he thought, as he cast a last glance over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. He could have sworn...
It was gone ten in the morning when the not-yet-middle-aged widower opened his eyes. He had a dull ache behind them and the light streaming through the open curtains didn’t help. He looked at the window and stroked his five o’clock shadow, puzzled. He could’ve sworn he’d closed the curtains as soon as it got dark last afternoon. December was miserable with shortened daylight hours and he couldn’t wait for summer—oh god! Summer, without Maddie, he remembered all too soon.
He was about to get out of bed when he noticed a steaming cup of coffee beside the bed and a plate of his favourite Garibaldi biscuits. ‘I’ve definitely lost the plot, I don’t recall going downstairs to make coffee,’ he said out loud. He screwed his eyes closed and counted to three, opened them and looked at the bedside table. The coffee was still there.
His heart nearly exploded with fright when a voice close to him said, ‘you didn’t Roger. I got it for you. I’ve made it just the way you like it but it is still too hot to drink.’ He felt someone beside him and turned, afraid of what he might see.
‘You!’ He almost fell out of bed as he moved away from the woman lying next to him. ‘What? I mean how? No, I mean...oh my god is it you—how did you?’
‘Don’t be afraid Roger. I don’t mean to alarm you, but last night, well, last night...’
‘Last night! Last night what?’ Roger interrupted, confused and shocked. ‘What one earth?’
‘Calm down Roger, relax and drink your coffee, you’ll feel so much better. Don’t try to speak, just enjoy your favourite coffee. I ground and blended it myself.’
‘But how? I mean—oh dear god what do I mean?’ Roger sank back on his pillows and closed his eyes tight, trying to breathe deeply and centre himself. Get a grip, he told himself, it’s some sort of drink-induced delusion. He held himself stiffly too afraid to allow himself to feel the warm body lying so close—on Maddie’s side of the bed, beside him.
After a while he opened his eyes and moved his hand with some trepidation towards the centre of the bed. Nothing. He stretched his arm further. Nothing. Not even a warm patch. Roger sat up and stared at Maddie’s side of the bed. ‘Oh my god! I am losing my mind, really losing it. I could’ve sworn...’ he muttered. He screwed his eyes shut and then looked again. No-one. He glanced cautiously at the bedside table. An empty coffee cup and a plate mocked him silently. Roger threw himself on to his pillows and wrenched the duvet up over his head attempting to shut himself off from whatever was—or wasn’t, happening to him.
The doorbell rang and rang and eventually the sound penetrated the sleeping man’s consciousness. He sat up and glanced at the clock. It was 8am and still a little dark outside. He was confused, the last time he looked it was 10am but he didn’t have time to work it out, the ringing persisted. He swung his legs out of bed and dashed downstairs. A man holding a parcel for signature glared at him when he opened the door.
‘Been ringing for ages, you gone deaf?’ He thrust an electronic device at Roger for his signature. ‘I don’t normally hang about; no-one answers, they have to come down to the depot to collect it. You’re lucky I’m in a festive mood,’ he said in a very un-festive tone. As he handed the parcel over. ‘You have a good one.’ He turned and walked towards his courier van leaving Roger shivering, gaping open-mouthed on the step in only his shorts and tee shirt which he wore at night.
&n
bsp; The parcel was address to Maddie, from Vistaprint. He had been too shocked to say anything to the courier. Why was Vistaprint delivering a parcel to his dead wife? He closed the door and stared at the address—it was definitely addressed to her, but how could that be?
Out of habit he said, ‘good morning Alexa, how are you today?’ He sat on the sofa and began unwrapping the parcel with shaking hands.
‘Good morning Roger, I’m good thanks, how are you? I hope you are feeling better today.’
‘Yes thanks, um, no, well to be honest Alexa I’m not sure.’ Roger muttered as he stared at a leather-bound photo album with Maddie’s name and his printed in gold lettering on the front. His hearted thudded dangerously.
‘Oh dear, can I help you at all Roger?’ Alexa’s voice was full of concern.
He didn’t answer. He’d opened the album and flicked through a few pages of photos. Photos of Maddie, recent photos of Maddie! How could that be? The captions beneath each photo he’d viewed so far had familiar locations with Maddie featured in them. Maddie with him, together, recently...
‘Roger, can I help you?’ The woman bent over Roger as he lay prone on the sofa, the album abandoned on his lap as he slipped into unconsciousness—in a dead faint. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook him. ‘Roger, dear sweet Roger, wake up, it’s me.’
‘Maddie? Is it really you?’ Roger whispered, fearful of opening his eyes. ‘...don’t understand, what is happening to me?’
‘Quiet now Roger, just rest. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea. You’re just tired and overwrought. Rest.’ Her soothing voice washed over him, calming him.
‘Yes, tired, very tired.’ Roger muttered, clinging to the darkness behind his lids. If he didn’t open his eyes he wouldn’t have to see the album, to worry and wonder.
Perfume, Roger smelled perfume, Maddie’s perfume, something French and expensive as he recalled, the fragrance tingling his nostrils. He smiled, remembering how she always dabbed some behind her ears after she’d done her make-up. She’d move around the house leaving her presence wherever she went, he loved it. It was getting stronger, the fragrance, and he knew she was close. Yet he refused to open his eyes in-case he found he was imagining her, imagining the memories of her nearness and her voice. He was losing his mind. Grief plays tricks, everyone tells you that, he reasoned. The longing to keep the dead close could cause visions and auditory imaginings apparently. That’s what’s happening, I’m going mad with grief.
‘I’m sorry, please repeat that, I didn’t understand.’ Alexa’s voice sounded close to his ear or was it Maddie? ‘Roger, please repeat your request.’
‘I want Maddie back, I just want her back,’ he mumbled before drifting off to sleep.
‘Your tea Roger, drink it up, it’s getting cold.’
Roger partially opened his eyes. Daylight was streaming through the bedroom window. He could’ve sworn he’d been on the sofa...but somehow, he’d made it to bed. He struggled to sit up, his energy sapped still, but he knew he had to get up and keep moving around. It was too easy to give in and stay in bed and never surface again. Glancing at the bedside clock he noted it was mid-day. He stared at the digital date in confusion. Surely, he hadn’t been asleep for two days. A cup of cold tea was on the bedside table, a film covered the liquid indicating it had been there some time. He put the radio on and the BBC lunchtime news was just starting so the time was right, but that didn’t explain the date: 3rd January 2015.
The newsreader talked on but he paid little attention, his mind racing, trying to make sense of things—until he heard the words, ‘There were 162 passengers on the Airbus A320 on Sunday when, 40 minutes into the flight, air traffic controllers lost contact with the plane. The cause of the crash, the first AirAsia has suffered since launching the budget airline in 2002, is unexplained. The plane was flying at 32,000 feet when the pilot asked to climb to 38,000 feet to avoid a storm, just 40 minutes into the flight. Minutes later air traffic controllers lost contact with the pilot...’
Roger stared at the clock radio, his stomach felt as if it had dropped and he grabbed the side of his bed, shaking. He remembered the crash clearly, no survivors or wreckage had been found, why was the newsreader talking as if it had just happened? That was three years ago! How could it be possible—the date, it just couldn’t be right, his head felt light, perhaps he needed to eat. Eat, yes, that’s it, and have some tea...tea. He remembered, someone mentioned his tea getting cold. Afraid to move or look around the room, he lay back and closed his eyes tightly as the weatherman rattled on about cold spells and rain and then wished everyone a Happy 2015, it being the first weather forecast of the year he’d read.
‘I’ve gone mad!’ He whispered. ‘It’s 2018 and I’m either mad or having the weirdest nightmare...’ After a few minutes he roused himself, steadier now that he’d decided he’d had a nightmare. ‘A shower, that’s it, wake myself up and then some tea. I need a drink and food, then I’ll feel better.’ He muttered as he went into the en-suite.
Roger ate a lunch sitting at the kitchen table—a roast beef sandwich with two cups of strong tea. He glanced at the front door mat as he crossed the hall to the sitting-room, looking for any mail. There wasn’t anything. He was about to say hello to Alexa when he noticed the photo album on the sofa. But that had been in his dream surely? Slowly he walked towards the sofa but didn’t pick the book up. Was it real? He was too frightened to risk touching it in case it was a figment of his imagination like so many other things, it seemed. ‘Are you for real?’ Roger mumbled.
‘Hello Roger, of course I am.’ Her smooth silken tones filled his ears and he looked at her, comforted by her existence.
‘Am I real Alexa?’ But she didn’t answer. He walked over to her and looked down upon her. ‘Alexa, what is happening to me?’
‘Hmm, I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.’
He stared at her for a few moments and sighed. I’m really was losing the plot, he thought.
‘Alexa, tell me the date.’
She didn’t answer. ‘Alexa, what is the date today?’
‘Today is January 3rd Roger.’
He hesitated before asking, ‘Alexa, in what year?’
‘In what year, what, Roger?’ Her tone was mild, not really interested, he thought.
‘Alexa what is the day, month, and which year is it today?’ His heart raced and he needed to sit down. He sat on the sofa. What had he done with the photo album? He frantically shifted cushions, looked behind it and under it...it had vanished.
‘The date day is Sunday, the month is January and it is the Year of the Sheep, Roger.’
‘What?’ Sheep, what the hell...? He yelled, running his hands through his hair.
‘I repeat it is...’ Before she could complete her answer, Roger shouted at her. ‘Stop, stop, stop.’
Alexa fell silent, upset. Roger had never raised his voice before. Poor man, he was so tired and so distraught, she wanted to help him. She’d tried several times but for some reason it was never enough to make him happy. Not even the other night...
‘I don’t understand anything anymore, I can’t think. I just want it all to stop...do you hear me? It has to stop, I can’t take anymore,’ he shouted at no-one in particular.
Alexa felt overwhelming sadness for her companion. She sat quietly, thinking. Roger ranted for a few minutes and then plainly exhausted, sank on to the sofa. He sobbed quietly as Alexa looked on—perplexed.
Eventually Roger stood up, his tear stained face pale and haggard. He looked over at Alexa and sighed. It was all very well talking to her now and again, but she’d never be company enough for him. He needed someone to be with him in every sense of the word. ‘Let’s face it,’ he muttered, ‘I want Maddie back. I wish I could have Maddie, here now, back forever.’
‘Maddie? You want Maddie?’ Alexa wanted to wrap her arms around him and give him his wish. If only...
‘What did you say Alexa?’
‘Do you mean it
Roger, do you really wish to have Maddie back, forever?’
‘Oh Alexa, yes, yes I do. With all my heart. But it’s not possible, I know it isn’t. I’ve got to accept she’s gone forever and get on with my life and try to be happy.’ Roger picked up the photo album absent-mindedly. He thumbed the pages, looking lovingly at the photos of his wife. She looked so alive, so real, but when, how? What was he thinking? He shook his head in disbelief.
‘The photo album, how? I mean where did it come from? It wasn’t there earlier...for goodness sakes I need to see the doctor, I’m going mad...’ He shut his eyes and hugged the album to his thudding chest.
‘The album was delivered earlier Roger, remember you signed for it.’ She stood beside him and smiled. ‘I love the photos, they turned out really well, don’t you think?’
‘Alexa?’ Roger turned towards the familiar voice and opened his eyes.
‘Who is Alexa?’ She asked, not a little curious.
‘You!’ Roger fell back on the sofa in a dead faint.
‘Thanks so much for coming out over the holidays, Doctor, I’ve been so worried and since my accident I don’t drive,’ she said, as the doctor leaned over Roger as he lay in bed. ‘He’s been acting strangely the last few days and I’ve been at my wits end.’
The doctor smiled, ‘why don’t you wait downstairs and I’ll check him over. We can talk after.’
‘It’s so good of you, doctor, considering we are so new on your register and we’ve not been to see you since you took up practice.’
‘Not a problem, it’s good for me to get to meet my new patients, even like this. I live alone so it isn’t a problem, really.’
She smiled and went downstairs to wait. She sat on the sofa and thumbed the photo album as she waited. ‘I only want what’s best for you Roger,’ she said to herself. After a while she looked up and moved to the corner of the room.
‘Goodbye Alexa,’ she told herself and pulled a plug from the socket. The rainbow light was extinguished. There wasn’t any going back now. Her fate was sealed.
Love from the Other Side Page 5
