“Sure..uh... well,” Noah stammered, sitting up straight with his head down, “It was about a month ago, when it happened... and they said it would be good to come to this group, but I don't know...”
“It's okay, Noah,” Sandra said kindly, “Take your time, there is no judgment here, only support.”
“Okay.. well, about a month ago, my best friend was killed in a car accident,” Noah said. Everyone listened intently, letting him tell his story. Jack looked over at Sandra, who seemed to stiffen a bit.
“The thing is, well, he was more than my best friend.. we were lovers,” said Noah, keeping his focus on his shoes, “But no one knew, because we hadn't come out to our families and the few friends that knew we were, uh, gay, didn't know he and I were seeing each other.”
“That must be very difficult for you, to keep that part of you hidden,” said Sandra, “When we are in love, we want to share it, shout it from the rooftops. I can't imagine how difficult this has been for you.” Jack was impressed with her kind words, and ability to draw a person out, because Noah just started spilling it all.
“Yeah, exactly, but it all came out after the accident. His parents went crazy, blaming me, that if we hadn't committed an immortal sin, their son would still be alive,” Noah's voice began to crack.
“It wasn't your fault, Noah,” Sandra reached over for his hand.
Noah pulled away, “No, it is my fault... because... well, I was driving when we crashed... I killed him. I killed Elliot!” Noah started sobbing, wrapping his arms around his ribs, as if he could hold the pieces of himself together with his arms.
Sandra stood up, and knelt beside Noah, “No, it wasn't your fault, Noah.” She repeated herself several times as she rubbed his back, letting him cry.
The group sat in stunned silence, and then others joined in with Sandra, consoling Noah. Jack sat quietly, thinking that if Noah had been driving the truck that killed his Madeline, he probably would have leapt across the circle and strangled him. Anger was surfacing in Jack, but he kept it bottled. This wasn't the place to unleash on a kid who was about as devastated as he was after Madeline's death.
Once Noah had calmed down, Sandra went back to her seat. Letting Noah collect himself, she asked Jack if he would like to share his story with the group. Jack looked at Noah, seeing what a crumbled mess he was and tried to put himself in his shoes. The grief was real, he could see it. Accidents happen, without fault or blame. Was this the missing piece of his own grief?
Jack cleared his throat, “Well, about five months ago, my girlfriend Madeline went to work and never came home. This was in New York, I moved there to live with her eight years ago. I was planning to propose to her that night, had the ring and everything. It was about 8pm when I got the phone call from the police, telling me there had been an accident. She was hit by a truck while crossing the street.”
Sandra wasn't looking at him, she was focused on the floor in front of her, glancing over at Noah every so often to make sure he was okay. Jack thought this was a bit odd, but he attributed it to the fact that maybe something similar had happened to her. He wished he could see those clear blue eyes while he was speaking, but he drew what strength he had from inside and continued.
“We had met right here, in Hackney, at Nana's cafe,” Jack reminisced, “And it truly was love at first sight. She was amazing, and I couldn't believe my luck in meeting her, finding my one true love. She was here for a brief time, covering the Prime Minister elections for the Wall Street Journal, a New York newspaper, and we spent a month together here. I knew after the first day I would follow her to the ends of the earth, just to revel in the light she cast wherever she was.”
Sandra looked up, clearly with pain and sympathy in her eyes, and spoke quietly, “That sounds almost magical, Jack.”
“It was. Madeline was magic, in every way...” Jack choked on his words, coughed and went on, “I loved her so much that when she was gone, it was like I lost the will to live.”
A man to Jack's left chimed in, “I know exactly how that feels. When I lost my wife, Kate, it nearly broke me. I've been coming to this group for six months now, and I promise you, it helps.”
“Thank you, that is comforting to know,” said Jack. “I would give everything to have just one more day with her. It's what my heart wants, but my head knows that will never happen.”
Sandra shifted in her seat, wanting to walk over and hug Jack, but knew that would not be the right thing to do. She let him speak until he felt he was done.
“The thing is, what really got me, is that up until this moment, I thought no else could understand my pain. People always said 'I'm so sorry for your loss' but they didn't get it, or at least I didn't think they did,” Jack said, feeling the anger bubble up, “And Noah, when you were speaking, for the first time in I don't know how long, I felt anger. Anger at the person who did this to Madeline, but that's not right either. Accidents happen, without anyone to blame for them.”
Sandra felt like she wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out. Not an appropriate response for a counselor. She sat in silence and let the group take on its own flow.
Another woman spoke up, “Oh I know all about the anger. When I lost my son in Iraq, I was pissed off at the government, him, the whole world. It took me months to work through the anger, because his death seemed so senseless.”
The group continued on discussing the various grief stages, and Sandra kept the flow going as needed, but felt such overwhelming guilt, she was unsure if she could continue running this group in the future. She had to, it was part of her own therapy. But it wasn't going to be easy, not with Jack here.
At the end of the night, everyone shook hands and exchanged hugs, and went their separate ways. Jack walked, taking in the warm night air and feeling better than he had in a long time. It felt good to talk about these things, like a weight being lifted off his chest. As he strolled home, he thought about Sandra, and how she seemed to get quieter as the evening went on. Maybe that was what a good counselor did. He also still wanted to know how soft her hair felt, and if he could really go for a swim in her ocean blue eyes.
Part 3: Falling in Love
For the next month or so, Jack continued with the therapy group and his private sessions with Michael. He was able to write a piece for Mark, which was cause for celebration. Mark came by his flat and took him out for lunch.
“Where we headed?” asked Jack, while Mark waiting patiently as he put on his shoes.
“Nana's, of course!” said Mark enthusiastically. “I am dying for a cup of that beef barley soup those ladies make.”
“I hear ya,” said Jack as he grabbed his keys and they headed out the door. The summer day was warm, and Jack was clad in just a t shirt and jeans. Mark, having come from the office, still had on his suit, but took his jacket off on the walk over.
“So how is the therapy going?” Mark asked, “Is it helping?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Jack responded, “I wrote something for you, didn't I? And if you tell me it was shite, I will tell my therapist that you pick on me.”
Mark laughed, “Yeah and then it would get back to Marcy, and she would make me sleep on the couch, or worse.”
The two friends laughed and joked as they went to the cafe, Mark almost beaming at Jack. He was so happy that his friend was coming back to himself. He had tried imagining what it would be like to lose Marcy, and he didn't even want to think about it because it was too painful.
The grabbed their usual outdoor table at Nana's and ordered Pellegrinos while they looked at the menu. Jack took a look around, smiling and truly happy to be here at his favorite cafe with his mate. His eyes lighted upon a redhead who was sitting two tables over, engrossed in a book. She was alone, and it took Jack a minute to realize it was Sandra.
“Hey Sandra!” Jack waved as she looked up, “Come over and join us.” Hesitating, she looked at Mark, then back at Jack, who was now motioning for her to join them, getting up and pulling out a chai
r for her. Reluctantly, she marked the page in her book, picked up her purse and came over.
“Mark, I would like you to meet Sandra, she runs the group I go to on Tuesdays. Sandra, this is my boss and dear friend, Mark, for without whom I would surely be dead by now,” Jack said as he gently pushed her chair in as she sat to join them.
“Hi Sandra,” said Mark, reaching across the table to shake her hand, “I suppose I should thank you for helping my friend out here, he's really coming back to his old self.”
“Oh no, please,” Sandra said as she shook Mark's hand, “I just facilitate the group, it is all up to them what they make of it and take from it. Thank you for inviting me over.”
Jack smiled, feeling something akin to happiness, a long forgotten feeling, “It's our pleasure. Besides, you are saving me from having only his ugly mug to look at through lunch. Yours is much prettier.”
Sandra blushed, “Thank you, Jack, that's kind of you to say.” She warmed at his compliment, thinking maybe joining them was a great idea.
“Who you callin' ugly? Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Mark jibed at Jack.
Laughing, both men enjoying the good natured banter, Jack turned to Sandra, “So have you been here before? The beef barley soup is delicious.”
“Only once, it was before a session over at the hall. I do love a good beef barley, but was hoping for something lighter. It's so nice and warm out!” Sandra took her sunglasses off, and Mark took note of her deep blue eyes.
“So Sandra, I can tell from the funny way you speak, you aren't from England. I am guessing New York? Did you know my pal over here from the Big Apple?” asked Mark, teasingly.
Sandra shifted in her seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the mention of New York. She recovered quickly and said, “Actually, I am originally from Boston and my grandparents on both sides came from Ireland.”
“Of course they did, your red hair and amazing blue eyes tell that tale for you,” said Jack.
She smiled coyly at him, “Thank you. Always full of compliments, aren't you?”
“Only for pretty ladies,” Mark answered for Jack.
They had a fun lunch, where most of the time Jack and Mark were teasing each other to Anya's amusement. When lunch was over, Mark insisted on paying for all of them. “Consider it my thank you, Sandra, for all your great work with the bereft. I have my friend back, thanks to you and his psychiatrist.”
“Actually, I think the credit goes to you and your wife, from what Jack says,” replied Sandra, “This is the friend you mention, who saved you from your... how did you put it? 'Home of squalor'?”
“Yeah, that was him,” said Jack, “And I pay him back by giving him great writing, even if he does call it shite.”
Laughing, they all left Nana's and said their goodbyes on the sidewalk. Sandra left the two men and headed to her car, thinking how much fun she had, and just how handsome Jack really was. His sense of humor tickled her and hoped she would see him again soon, outside of the group.
Mark walked with Jack back to his flat and decided to broach a taboo topic, “So, that Sandra is pretty amazing. And amazingly pretty.”
Jack looked at Mark, surprised, “Don't even think about it, mate.”
“Wait, what? Me? Good God, man,” Mark looked horrified, “I didn't mean for me, you git, I meant that you seemed to be fairly taken with her!”
Jack paused for a moment before answering. His knee jerk reaction was to show the horror he had just seen on Mark's face because he could never betray Madeline, just like Mark would never betray Marcy. But, Madeline was gone, and he had to accept that and move on.
“She is beautiful, I will give you that,” said Jack as they approached his flat, “But don't you think it's too soon? I mean it's barley been six months since Madeline died.”
Mark put his hand on Jack's shoulder, “Mate, only you can decide what your heart wants, when it wants it. Don't be afraid to get back into life. I am not saying propose to Sandra tomorrow, I am just saying it might not hurt to ask her out on a date. She is clearly interested in you. I saw the way she looked at you, laughed at your stupid jokes.”
Jack punched Mark in the arm, “You dumb bloke, you're just pissed because you don't understand half of my jokes!”
They parted ways, still laughing, and Jack was headed to tackle some writing. Maybe things were getting better after all, and wouldn't it be honoring Madeline to move on with his life?
After the next group session, Jack hung around for a few minutes, hoping for a private word with Sandra. Finally, the last person had left and Sandra was packing up her things as Jack approached her.
“Hey there,” Jack said smiling, “Today's group was really good, don't you think?”
Sandra looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and said, “Yes, I think people are really benefiting from sharing their stories. There's a saying “shared pain is lessened and shared joy is increased” or something to that effect.”
“I couldn't agree more with that,” said Jack, “Speaking of shared joy...”
Sandra cocked her head and smiled, “Yes?” She had a feeling she knew what was coming and she was powerless to say no, the attraction to him was overwhelming.
“I was wondering if you would like to go out for dinner with me some evening,” Jack said cautiously, feeling a nervousness that he had not felt in almost a decade, “I mean, I know you are my group counselor, but we are both adults, and truth be told, I find you not only extremely beautiful but your kindness touches my heart.”
Surprised at his openness, Sandra was touched, “Yes, Jack, I would like that very much.”
Jack's heart soared, feeling like he could conquer anything, “Great! Would Friday night work for you? I could pick you up around seven?”
“That's perfect,” Sandra grabbed one of her business cards, writing her address on the back of it, “Here is my address and my cell number is on the front if anything changes or you have trouble finding my place.” She was cautiously optimistic, as she didn't want to get her hopes up too high. Was she going to be his rebound? Or could this turn into something more? Either way, she was willing to risk it. It was the least she could do for him.
“Great! I will see you Friday then,” Jack took a chance, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. She turned slightly, offering it to him and her hair brushed his face, so soft and smelling like honeysuckle.
It was like a bit of heaven touched him.
Jack had to keep himself from skipping out of the hall, not wanting to thoroughly embarrass himself in front of her. As he put his hand on the door, he looked back and gave her a little wave. She smiled and returned it, feeling like just maybe this was how it was all meant to be.
Friday night came quickly, and Jack found her place with ease. It was in his old stomping grounds near London University Hospital. He buzzed her flat, and waited on the stoop. Through the glass, he saw her coming down the stairs in a short black dress, heels and white wrap around her shoulders. Her red hair was down, styled in waves and to finish her exquisite look, diamond pendant with matching earrings sparkling around her face.
Jack was speechless. He knew she was beautiful, but he had always seen her in jeans and sweaters or t shirts. He was blown away by how incredible she looked. When she came out, he stood there, mouth agape, unable to speak.
“Are you okay, Jack?” Sandra asked, concerned.
Jack regained the uses of his jaw after a few tries to close his mouth, “Uh... uh.. yeah... I just.. wow. I mean, you look absolutely gorgeous!”
Sandra smiled, blushing from her head to her toes, “Thank you, Jack. I don't think I have ever had a sweeter compliment from a man, certainly I don't think I have ever rendered one speechless before!”
He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, leading her down the steps onto the street, “I have no defense, except that your beauty is blinding and I am thankful I can still see.”
Laughing, they climbed into the car Jack borrow
ed from Mark, who happily lent it to him when he found out for what it would be used. They drove over to a cozy little French restaurant, one that Mark had recommended to Jack as a “special” place to take a lady.
They were seated in a private corner, made for two people who desired a little privacy. Jack could barely take his eyes off Sandra. Her blue eyes sparkled along with the diamonds she wore. Her dress was fitted, showing off her curvy figure, making Jack want to see more. Like what was under the dress.
As Sandra perused the menu, he tried to keep from staring at her so he focused on ordering a bottle of wine. They agreed upon a Chenin Blanc, and once it was poured, Jack raised his glass, “To an evening spent with the most beautiful woman in all the British Isles, may you enjoy the evening half as much as I already have.”
Sandra blushed again, chuckling, “You do have a way with words. Given that you are a writer, I suppose that is a good skill to possess.” She clinked his glass and sipped her wine. She was quite taken with his handsome good looks as much as he was with hers.
Throughout the meal, they were so focused on each other that they barely noticed the fine French cuisine laid out before them. They were hungrier to learn more about one another than food. Jack was constantly amazed by how easily she could banter with him, and maintain her kind nature. She was one of the sweetest women he had ever met. A warm feeling began to spread through his body, emanating from his heart. At first he thought it was the wine, but then he realized, no this wasn't going to his head. Dare he name it? Could it be... love?
As they shared coffee over crème brulee, Jack took Anya's hand and kissed it softly, looking into her eyes, “Sandra, I don't know what I have done in this world to have loved two incredible women in my life, but I must confess, I am clearly falling head over heels for you.”
Sandra leaned toward him, her lips grazing his cheek, she whispered, “The feeling is mutual.” She pushed down the guilty feeling that started to bubble up from her gut, but if she was going to have something real, something that could last a lifetime, she couldn't go on without telling him the truth.
What the Heart Desires Page 3
