The doctor examined Roger who allowed himself to be prodded and poked for the longest time. ‘Now, Roger, I’m going to ask you some questions and perhaps we can get to the bottom of all this.’
Roger nodded, ‘all right, but I am going mad you know.’
‘I doubt that Roger, I think you are exhausted and in need of complete rest.’
Half an hour later the doctor handed a prescription to the worried woman waiting in the sitting-room, along with some pills to tide Roger over until the Chemist’s at the bottom of the road opened again.
‘Bring him to see me in ten days or so and we’ll see how he is getting on. Try not to worry, I think he is suffering from exhaustion and stress, that job of his—which he told me about, no doubt—seems pretty full on. Any chance he might re-think his work life?’ The doctor put his coat on. ‘Complete rest will work wonders, he’ll soon get into a normal sleep pattern, the nightmares will end and he’ll soon realise he cannot go full steam ahead non-stop without something giving.’
‘I doubt it, he’s a workaholic and no amount of nagging will make him slow down. I hope he’ll take heed of your advice, but I doubt it.’ She sighed and led the doctor to the front door.
As she opened it, the doctor looked at her with a puzzled expression. ‘He kept on talking about someone called Alexa. But your name is Maddie isn’t it? I don’t wish to pry or cause alarm, my dear, but I wondered if he’s been having an affair and perhaps the strain of it has got the better of him...I hate asking, but, well, you know—conscience and all that...’
‘Roger’s not the type doctor, he would never stray. He loves me too much, I know.’
‘Of course, yes my dear. But Alexa...who is she?’ He glanced up the stairs to where he’d left Roger, by now asleep, if the shot he’d given him was working.
‘Oh Alexa, she was someone he knew briefly, just a passing acquaintance. No-one of any importance.’ The woman smiled slyly as she waved the doctor down the drive.
‘Happy 2015,’ she called after him.
‘Same to you both,’ he replied.
She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled again. ‘Not bad, not bad at all,’ she told herself. As long as Roger was happy, Alexa was happy too; she’d given him what he wanted most in the world. Roger had his Maddie back.
Stay
By Karen Hansen
There he was, walking toward her: brown curls gleaming with a hint of gold in the artificial lights of the theatre. Annie’s heart contracted; disbelief warring with reality. She froze in place, mouth agape. Mike...? Then, in a flash, she exploded with delight. “MIKE!” she raced across the polished wooden stage, and threw herself into his arms. He picked her up, laughing, and twirled around: their joy mingling and bubbling over. His shoes squeaked in protest on the floor boards, and her long black hair created a curtain: enclosing two faces in their own private little world.
“I’ve missed you so much” she sobbed. Tears ran down the tip of her nose and made glistening pools on his upturned cheeks. Mikes eyes were somehow at once tender and burning with passion.
“I’ve missed you too, Annie. You know it’s different for me now; I’d be back every day, every night if I could.”
“Different. Yeah.” Her gaze darkened; unsure. Before the truth of their situation could spoil the moment, she gave a small hiccup and kissed him deeply. His wide mouth turned up in a smile.
“God, I love you.” He gently put her down, and she looked up at him from her new perspective: a few inches below his own 6 ft.
“Do you remember when we first met?” he asked softly; brushing a strand of hair out of her hazel eyes.
“Like it was yesterday,” Annie whispered. “You were sitting on the steps in between our classrooms. I remember how after that, I used to wait for you there...and how every day you would come...and my heart, no matter how dark it had been, would always light up.” She stroked his arm, reflectively. “I sometimes imagine we are still sitting there on those stairs, pretending we don’t mean the world to each other, but inching our fingertips closer and closer...like magnets.” Her eyes welled again with tears.
Mike took her hands in his. “I’m sorry I can’t be there for you anymore, with you I mean. Things are different. I wish, I wish...” His voice trailed off, the sadness in his eyes more pronounced as he lapsed into silence.
Can’t you stay?” She asked, clutching his hands tight—as though she could keep him trapped.
“I’ll see you soon, Annie,” he breathed, looking deeply into her face, memorising every line. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you.”
She closed her eyes in pain, and when she opened them—he was gone. 18-year-old Annie was alone again backstage, and the show must go on. “I love you too, Mike” she whispered to the emptiness.
“MICHAEL, IT’S BEEN so long...” She set her groceries down in the parking lot with quivering hands and rubbed her eyes: as though the vision they showed would be different afterward. He was still there, he looked real. The streetlights sparkled on the wet tarmac, and reflected in raindrops that sat upon his hair. His curls were the same, a bit longer; darker against the night sky. His face was worn, a little aged like her own, but the twinkle was the same. The energy. He leaned casually against her car and took a deep breath.
“Im sorry, it’s different now...I told you, I tried...” His green eyes met hers and plead forgiveness.
“Im sorry too, I didn’t mean...I mean...” She was lost for words, and the emotion was too much.
“You haven’t forgotten me then?” He touched the side of her face with a wry smile and left his hand there, questioning.
“How could I ever?” Annie broke, and fell into his startled embrace. Just as quickly, her tears turned to anger. “Why. Did. You. Have. To. Leave. Me?” she beat violently at his chest: warm and powerful under a white cotton shirt. He was damp. She wondered subconsciously how long he’d been waiting.
“Annie.” He ran a soothing hand over her head and down her back. The lack of light stripped her clothes of colour, but he thought her dress was a deep purple. Her hair was short now: a thick black bob with strands of silver. She had put on a little bit of weight; it sat beautifully on her hips and chest: the perfect hourglass figure. “You know I don’t have a choice—do you think anything could keep me away?”
She pulled back a little, and met his gaze square on. Cars passed in the semi darkness unnoticed, wheels splashing through the puddles and headlights sending scattered shafts of light between them. Her dress was purple.
“But it did, Michael. It’s been twenty years. I’m married.” She moved her left hand up into the light, and it glinted off a sapphire and white gold band. “I have children...” she said, watching his reaction: her teeth were clenched, strong emotion played under her skin.
He stopped breathing for a time. The world stood still around them. Then their hearts resumed beating, and he reverently took her into his arms.” I’m glad,” his voice was muffled and emotional; buried in her hair. His breath was hot, she felt it against her neck. “If I can’t be with you, then
I’m glad you’ve made a life for yourself, that you’ve got them at your side. You deserve the best this world has to offer.”
She clutched him tightly, her own thoughts silent. What-if’s crowded her heart, and it was too much. “I love you, you bastard,” she choked, and ripped herself from his embrace. Overloaded with confusion, she turned her back; unlocking the car and began loading her groceries in whilst she got herself under control. “Mike,” she said, making up her mind and turning to him, the word ‘stay’ on her lips...but he was already gone.
98-YEAR-OLD ANNIE LAY in a narrow, electric hospital bed: all alone, aside from the care nurse her children paid to live in and provide anything she needed. She could hear the nurse snoring upstairs: she must be loud, for Annie’s hearing was not too good anymore.
Her husband had died fifteen years before. He’d been a good man and she had loved him in her own way. She kn
ew she’d been hard to get close to: long term grief will do that to a person, but they’d led a good life; made a good family. That was more than many had.
Annie shuffled her legs around in an attempt to get comfortable. Her joints were screaming with arthritis; she would be moaning if she wasn’t so used to it now.
At least she still had her memories. That was both a blessing and a curse. As with most days: especially now she had nothing to do but lie here and dwell, her thoughts turned bitter-sweetly to her youth.
They were playing “Catch and Kiss”, running haphazardly around Michael’s house. Through a wire gate, and down the driveway - across the lawn and over a hedge. Back into the yard and through the wire gate again - laughing and shrieking as Annie stayed just one step in front of him in hot pursuit. They were six years old, and already in love. Her mumma said she was too young to know what love is, but she did. She slowed her pace a little and let him catch up. “AHA” Mike rounded the corner and tagged her shoulder. “Caught you!”
Annie looked at him shyly. “Aren’t you going to kiss me then?”
He looked nervous. “Ok then,” and quickly pecked her on the mouth. “You’re IT,” and ran away.
‘...Oh Mike...’ tears welled in her faded eyes, and caught in the lines of her face; trickling through the creases like old river beds. Mike...
It was their High School Ball. Her grandmother had made her dress, it was a cream silk off the shoulder gown, and showed far more of her breasts than the old woman was happy with. Her long raven hair was piled high on her head: it had taken hours at the hairdresser. Her makeup too, was finally perfect. She admired herself in the full-length mirror of her bedroom, fresh skin and pouty pink lips.
There was a knock at the door. “Annie, Mike’s here.” her mum called, and she slowly walked down the wine-coloured stairs, making a grand entrance.
He was wearing a matching cream tailcoat. As she approached, he unveiled a beautiful garland of miniature cream roses for her head. “I crown thee: Queen of my Heart,” he said, gallantly placing it into her carefully pinned curls. He extended an arm, which she took with a smile. “C’mon Annie, let’s show the world how beautiful you are.”
ANNIE WAS FULLY SOBBING into her pillow now, as she allowed the memories to take hold. She’d given Mike her virginity that night, in the back of his car. She’d never felt more alive, or more beautiful. Everyone said they’d be married. They were the childhood sweethearts who would never be parted. The perfect couple. The would stay together forever.
Annie’s face screwed up in a grimace, as her heart gave a lurch. “Mike...” she groaned out loud for perhaps the millionth time “...Why did you have to leave me?”
“I never did, Annie.”
She whipped her head around, neck joints cracking, and stared into the darkness of the room. “Mike?” her tremulous query reached into the shadows, and one detached from the wall. She peered as hard as she could, trying to make out his features...But her eyesight was failing.
“It’s me Annie, I’m here.” He moved close to her bed, and she made out his beloved face. She was afraid to look away in case he left again, her eyes were stinging.
“It’s been sixty years, Mike...I think I’m dying...”
“I’m so sorry, my love...I was only allowed three visits, I had to choose carefully. I could have used them all up in an instant.”
Her eyes closed involuntarily in acknowledgement, but when she opened them, he was still there. He moved closer, and stroked her weathered face—tracing the lines time had left.
“No matter how long it’s been, Annie—I will always see you as you looked the night of the ball.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, white now as snow. “You could have been in a wedding gown, and not looked any more beautiful than that night.”
“I never stopped loving you,” her old voice cracked as she reached a hand to cover his. Her skin felt paper thin beneath their hands, and her heart beat erratically. She dove bravely, one last time, into the memories she didn’t like to touch.
“I remember waiting at school that day for you, that horrible day...” her voice contorted, her breathing harsh and irregular. Mike gazed down at Annie sadly, lovingly. “We were learning a dance exercise in the school hall, and I didn’t have a partner. All the other girls were matched up with boys, but I was waiting, watching for you.” Her eyes focussed somewhere in the distance, but she kept her hand on top of his: making certain he was there, that he was listening. “It was the last week of school: just after the ball, before Christmas. I stood at the side of the room, and I watched and I waited.
When the doors to the Hall burst open, I thought for sure it was you - but it was only the Dean. He pulled Mr. Olliver out into the hallway, and I just knew something horrible had happened, something terrible...”
She groaned in pain, and tried to shift her body to a more comfortable position. Mike helped, and soon she was settled again.
“Michael...” she sighed “Mr Olliver came back into the room, and he couldn’t look at me. He said there had been a terrible accident...” Annie was finding it hard to speak now, and Mike brought his face closer to hers; showing her he was there, that he was listening. “A terrible accident,” she whispered, her face somehow young and frightened. “You had been driving to school, when a logging truck crossed the centre line. You had no chance...” She was barely whispering now: all the life gone out of her voice. “You were killed instantly.”
“Shhhh Annie. It’s ok now,” Mike said tenderly. “I never really left you. I came to see you the following year, didn’t I? in the theatre? And later in your life, for a moment in the carpark. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay then, I wish the rules were different. Time’s different there, and I’m here now... Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’ll stay with me?” Fear and hope mingled on her face and she fluttered her fingers toward him. “Stay?”
He took her gently in his arms, cradling her. The white bed sheets draped her body like a Roman Goddess. He grew bright somehow: a light in the darkness, and spread golden wings: covering the two of them. They locked eyes, and as peace crept over her, Mike kissed Annie for the final time: long and passionately.
“I’ll lead you where you need to go, my love and then...know this: when we are born again...I will find you.” Michael promised.
“I will find you too.” Annie sighed, lost in his eyes, unable to look away. Then, reluctantly, her hazel eyes closed: silver lashes fluttering down to lie softly against her pale face. Michael stayed, holding Annie, until the last of the breath escaped her body like a butterfly from the cocoon.
My Mother
By Rianne Moss
Bam!
“Tell your father I love him,” my mother muttered.
She spoke these last words as she fell to the ground and curled up into a foetal position as a pool of blood surrounded her. Her frame went lax and her crystal blue eyes were open wide, but their sparkle had vanished. Her look of disbelief was frozen in my mind. In a matter of seconds, she’d gone from being a vibrant woman to a dull corpse.
The gunshot still rang in my ears as a man bolted for his car. His black cloak swayed behind him, and a navy-blue bandanna covered his face to mask his identity.
I moved away from my mother’s body, staring at her blood seeping into the ridges of the ungraded path. My heartbeat thumped through my chest. The thoughts swarming through my head spun around and around like a race car on the track.
It had happened so fast. The gunshot flew through her, spattering little fragments around. Since he’d vanished before I could blink, I couldn’t even be sure whether the shooter retrieved the shell casing. I stood there like a coward. A power, an internal struggle that was out of my control consumed me. My feet didn’t move. They felt like they were sinking into the earth as if the ground had become quicksand. Why wasn’t I doing anything?
Men and women ran from their homes toward my mother. A priest from the nearby church approached
her, clutching a wooden cross, and his eyes narrowed. He knelt in front of her and spoke a prayer.
Joseph, the town’s fire chief, picked up her hand and pressed two fingers to her wrist. “She’s gone,” he whispered as he carefully set her hand on her chest. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, saying a prayer in her honor.
My mother had attended church, and some of her closest supporters were here. Some of them sobbed while others moaned in anguish. Every one of us grieved in our own way.
Blue and red lights surrounded us and lit the area. Police cruisers swarmed around the woman who had given birth to me. Paramedics arrived, followed by the fire volunteers. Joseph joined the rest of his crew as they gathered around, whispering among themselves. The two EMT workers checked my mother again. Did they expect some kind of miracle to happen? With that much blood loss and the grayness in her face, anyone with half a brain could tell she was dead. My insides were shattered into a million pieces, but I was a realist. No amount of praying, hoping, or begging would bring her back.
Joseph lowered his gaze. “I told her over and over again not to wander around outside alone.” There was a hint of dismay in his voice. “I don’t understand what she was looking for.”
My mother was a strange woman. She and my father were inseparable until he started seeing her best friend, Grace. Everyone seemed to know before my mom did.
She had once come home from a late night out. She had on her favorite pair of gauchos and the oversized cardigan I’ve seen in so many photos of her. Her hair was curly and parted, though she normally wore it straight. It was voluminous and glossy from the tons of moose she applied. She looked like a model out of a ‘80s magazine. She had said those were the best times of her life.
Still, after that day she was never the same. She’d always been a vibrant woman, but thereafter all she’d wanted was to be alone and to talk silently to herself about my Dad and me. She’d whisper lullabies to herself like the ones she sang when I was young.
Love from the Other Side Page 6
