Guiding that vulnerable pair of eyes back to solid ground made him feel a million dollars. The fact that they were attached to a pretty face was purely coincidental.
So it was that he was up to wave goodbye to Chloe and the kids as early as 8am. They were visiting grandparents and staying the night while Francis was the one who had to stay behind and look after the dog (often a convenient excuse considering the in-laws’ cats).
Thinking ahead on the meeting, he found some nerves still upon him that his efforts might have been in vain. He was not a psychologist and the behaviour of individuals that have become suicidal was a subject he knew little of. Maybe he should have taken her to a psychiatry ward, he thought, and when she did not turn up quite on time he could not help fret as to the soundness of his wisdom. But it was not long before his fears were calmed; Sam walked into the café and smiled that slightly embarrassed grin again, if wider this time. She had taken pride in her appearance and looked very much the vision of youth. No one who saw her this morning would imagine that bright young thing to be suicidal or carrying the kind of hurt Francis had seen in her eyes at GW Bridge.
She apologised for being late and ordered a latte, then insisted on being apologetic once more for taking up his day and assuring him he need not be any more charitable than he already had. Francis waved off such suggestions, simply saying he needed a coffee and wasn’t going anywhere. At last she settled and sunk back in her chair and they began to talk, as he had promised on the bridge. The conversation began casually and Francis would not have pressed on more serious issues had she not gone there herself. An openness soon found her, however, and an unburdening of many woes then followed.
Unguardedly she told him much on all the challenges she’d faced in life, on all the miseries and complications that had dragged her down growing up on the streets of New Jersey. Some of the woes were predictable; poverty and bullying. Some less so, especially where her family were concerned. All of our lives succeed in being both statistics and personal and her household certainly didn’t fit into any pie chart. One key tragedy in her life had been the failure of her family to care for her brother, who was both physically and mentally disabled. She’d loved him dearly, but her parents’ exhaustion and subsequent separation meant he was taken away from his home, into institutional care. Francis could tell she had never levelled herself with that outcome.
There was surely more though. As upsetting as her teenage years had been, Francis knew there was something recent. A catalyst of some kind that had led to what he was pleased to hear Sam call her ‘stupid decision’. Maybe this would be too much to discuss with a man she hardly knew, but they were at ease in each other’s company and she must have found him a good listener.
‘It happened three weeks ago,’ she began, after a thoughtful silence. ‘Our place was robbed; all our valuables gone.’
‘Thieves cause more harm than they realise,’ Francis replied, recalling the upset a robbery had once caused his family.
‘It seems silly to say but… All my life when things have been taken from me, when loved ones have come and gone, I always took comfort in mementos. Keepsakes and things. I guess I didn’t realise how much little things meant to me.’
‘They took things that were irreplaceable?’
‘I don’t even think they were thieves.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘They took jewellery and stuff sure, but they even took photo albums. Of all the things to steal! I think it was a vindictive act, undertaken by people I’ve fallen out with. Made to look like a robbery but crueller still.’
‘And you know who did it?’
‘Not exactly. There are a few people I could suspect but what would be the point? The cops just thought I was clutching at straws anyway but deep down I’m sure it was someone I know behind it.’
‘It’s disturbing enough to know someone’s been in your house.’
Sam nodded, took a long sip of what was her second latte then continued.
‘For some reason, the whole sense of loss just brought everything flooding back. As if it was all raw again and had never gone away; all the hurt, all the disappointment.’
‘Like opening a can of worms,’ said Francis, supportively.
‘A what?’
‘A can of worms. You never heard that expression?’
Sam shook her head; it amused him the way she was looking at him. Sometimes confusion is the best source of humour.
‘What’s so bad about worms?’
‘They wriggle.’
Sam found this funny and it felt good to see and hear her laugh out loud. Somewhere here was the tonic he needed after all. Forget alcohol. Seeing such emptiness on the face of one so young transformed, if just for the span of one silly joke, into delight was what had really been missing from his days. In less than a decade his own first born would be leaving school and facing the wide world and he needed to believe it would be more welcoming than it had to this young lady.
‘Well,’ she went on, ‘wriggling worms really would be too much, but the whole thing was enough without them, in truth. I couldn’t stop crying for over a week and then it was like I just went numb, like there was a nothingness inside that I just couldn’t bear. That’s when I ended up waddling on over to lemming central.’
‘There are surveillance cameras there, you know. You don’t want people’s last memories of you as being a waddler.’
‘I don’t think it’s permitted to make me laugh right now.’
‘No?’
‘No, the therapists I know completely ban humour from their offices.’
‘Well they need you to be depressed so you’ll go back and pay them more.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Absolutely, otherwise they’d get depressed. Where would the world get to?’
‘You’re unbelievable.’
Francis almost thought so himself. He’d looked forward to the second meeting but still expected the atmosphere to be pretty gloomy. Someone had once told him you have to laugh or else you’d cry and for sure something along these lines was at work, but there was something else also. By laughing together at a time neither had expected to, there was no denying that they were enjoying each other’s company, or feigning pleasure just to be polite. A Good Samaritan can come to someone’s aid, but what people really need over the long term is friendship. Francis thought he sensed the seeds of one growing here, all the more genuine for being unlikely.
Returning to a more serious tone, before Sam had to disappear for one of her bar jobs, her confiding in him turned to a desire to express gratitude.
‘I know I called it stupid,’ she told him, ‘but I am scared. It was a yearning in me to have it all over with last night; seemed to overwhelm me. I would have jumped, which means you saved my life.’
‘Sam, have you ever heard the expression “If you save a life you become responsible for it”?’
‘Actually, that one I have heard.’
‘So,’ he went on, ‘all I want to know is that you won’t give in to that yearning until at least the next time we meet – and if it gets unbearable just pick up the phone, now you have my number.’
There was a reluctant smile on her face, but he sensed her giving in to the favours he was offering. This time she accepted without any apologies for interrupting his busy workload or family life. It was difficult to plan ahead at this time of year, but they agreed to meet again before Christmas – even if in the middle of some hectic shopping spree – or else she would call him if her ‘yearning’ did not improve.
Before leaving she told him that she did not care if someone they knew saw and got the wrong idea, she was going to give him a hug. Francis stood up to embrace her, they smiled warmly then she turned and left.
Sitting back down as if he still had a coffee to finish, Francis watched her disappear into the Times Square crowd. All the shops and cafes on her way were decorated with nativities, Santa Clauses, snowmen and reindeer. He made a wish that i
f he hadn’t used up all his Christmas magic as a child, then whatever he had left owing would go with Sam and guide her on her way. He knew that witnessing joy and happiness at this time of year can add sadness to even our good memories. Exposing the distance between the present and the past. The one present he wanted was to see her emerge strong and renewed for the New Year and whatever life she deserved to lead.
Chapter 3
After their coffee, days soon returned to the hectic Christmas rush that both professional and personal life demanded. Francis felt different though. Worries seemed temporary and working hours taken with a pinch of salt. Colleagues often fell into the trap of placing apocalyptic connotations on each new stage of business life. All that felt extreme now, to put it lightly. He’d seen a young life come close to oblivion and subsequently felt reminded of what had real value in the world. Let the offices stress and bustle; at some point, regardless of whether the work was done, they’d stop and it would be Christmas. He’d never been slack so why trouble over the outcome? What will be will be, as long as life goes on.
Francis even dared admit that something like the spirit of Christmas had found him – so long as Sam was true to her word. Was this how paramedics felt when they saved a life? If so he at last understood why someone would choose what he always imagined to be a horrendous profession.
Unburdening one’s cares with friendly help is an overlooked gift. Though she didn’t know it, Sam had helped him in return. Busyness had robbed him of the joys of life though he had much to be grateful for; a loyal wife, three wonderful children and a profession in which he was respected. Some kind of change was needed though, over the long term. He realised he wanted more days that were not full of chores. That rather than waiting and hoping for them, he should make such days happen and not be shy of making people organise themselves around him for a change.
Little did he know it, but the surprise of saving a life was destined to be far more than a single uplifting moment. It would prove a life-changing one. Although he expected to see Sam again before Christmas, he was unprepared for the likelihood that coincidence would bring them together again. And coincidence can cause us to suppose we are destined to meet.
A week and a half passed and another evening of drinks came around. This time was far more casual and Francis even quite fancied a drink this time. Christmas was coming and he’d neglected any sway towards pretence. The occasion was an old friend’s 30th birthday. He’d been invited for a few drinks on a Thursday night. Back on Times Square of all places – indeed, but a short walk from where he’d met with Sam 11 days previous.
The gathering was quite loose; invitations largely spread by word of mouth other than for Francis and Steve. These three, who included Jim the birthday boy, went back years. Francis hadn’t been in their company for several months so had always wanted to be present, despite that he was needed decorating the house. Also present was Steve’s partner Edith, who brought with her two additional friends he’d never met before; Roger and Jeremy, who were art students at Berkeley College.
After meeting at 7, for an hour or so the evening was relaxed and uncomplicated until they moved on to another bar. Francis didn’t get the name of the place but instantly noticed there to be a younger crowd and a livelier atmosphere. The bar had been suggested by young Roger who was itching to beat someone at pool. Once able to indulge in such a feat, Francis declined a game in favour of catching up with his friends. He’d been at school and college with Jim and, although their lives took different routes, they kept in touch (Jim was actually godfather to Francis’s children).
At some time during their conversation it became apparent that another group had joined them. Evidently Roger had seen some fellow art students he knew and so the more the merrier. Francis did not pay any attention to them, however, until it was demanded that the birthday boy at last play a game of pool and so their reminiscence of school days was cut short. So it was that Francis then found himself being introduced to the new arrivals. Later he would reflect he must have had his head in the clouds for not noticing who one of them was. Then again, she hadn’t noticed him either until someone said ‘and this is Sam’.
‘Hi there,’ he said, holding out his hand and only realising it was indeed his Sam as their palm touched. Neither of them were prepared to see each other in company and there was a strange pause as their hands and eyes met at the same time.
Francis snapped out of it first.
‘Hi Sam, pleasure,’ he said, then made an over-deliberate show of turning his attention away as if there was something incredibly interesting at the bar. This was for her benefit. He thought they’d just about gotten away with the awkward silence. If not then admitting they knew each other would demand some kind of creative explanation. No doubt Sam had kept their meeting and the story behind it secret from every other human being. In confidence they’d met and it would have been reckless not to respect that, even in casual association.
Their eyes didn’t meet again until Francis returned from the bar with a drink. He allowed himself a brief smile in her direction – one it was good to see warmly returned – but then gave no other clue that their subplot to the group’s gathering existed. Awkward moment avoided therefore, they were allowed to relax into the evening as if everything was entirely normal.
Once again the inflating group elected to move on to another bar, with Jim reflecting that he had never felt so popular. During the hour that followed their pretence was kept up, even towards each other. But the evening would once again see Francis come to Sam’s rescue, though this time in a different way.
The group had been lucky in finding a large and unoccupied circular table in Harry’s Bar, which they ended up reclining on in an ever more liquored state. Their evening had reached that time when voices were getting louder, their laughter looser and conversations more viciously sarcastic. Of everyone present, it was definitely Roger who was largely responsible for the merriment proceeding in this way. He’d been the loudest and most boisterous one of them all evening. The more drink he had the more he looked to hog every conversation, to be the one making the jokes and laughing the loudest (even if it was only at his own jokes). Soon everything that came out of his mouth was utterly hilarious and clearly Francis wasn’t sophisticated enough to get the jokes or else he too would have laughed as loud. Despite this, the drunkenness wasn’t an issue, everyone remained smiling and good-humoured, even if Roger’s unintentional Santa Claus impression must have secretly been grating them all by then. At least this was until his humour suddenly targeted in on Sam and then Francis actually started to listen and to be bothered.
In retrospect he should have seen it coming. Roger had begun with the birthday boy sitting next to him then proceeded to move around the table indulging in some kind of phoney interrogation ritual designed to mock whoever’s turn was next. Having finished his character assassination of Sam’s friend, his ‘Ho ho ho’s’ calmed momentarily in order to begin again with Sam as he proceeded on his way around the group.
Life must be wonderful when everyone finds you funny. Of course, up until that point everyone had been humouring Roger with their politeness – not that he knew it. Now that Sam was the selected target and expense of what he called humour, however, some kind of clash was scheduled. Sam might be as thick-skinned as anyone when it came to being the butt of a joke, but Francis was not going to take that chance. Not with the vulnerable mind-set she’d recently been in.
Regardless of how well she had recovered, he doubted she would feel sound enough in mind to deflect Roger on her own. There was also the likelihood to consider that his humour was becoming even more clumsy the more drink took effect; the last thing Sam needed was to feel like a fool in front of an audience – including the man she had recently confided her life’s miseries in. He even thought he noticed her flick a glance his way as if this very issue was a concern. She wasn’t enjoying being the centre of attention suddenly and there was no way to politely ask Roger to calm himself
without really making an issue of the situation. Something needed to be done, but without embarrassing Sam or ruining the evening’s atmosphere for everyone.
Even if he was being over-protective therefore, Francis was poised to turn the tables on the self-elected ‘funny guy’. Opportunistically he paid attention, without making it look like he was part of the conversation, with the aim of making Roger everyone’s source of amusement instead. This is the only way to topple a joker, by outdoing them. Though it was against his usual manner so would not be easy. Typically he did not hog the limelight in company or speak bawdily. This was through fear of being inappropriate, however, not because he wasn’t capable. Being the oldest in the group gave him a sense of confidence as well and, though he wasn’t as drunk as Roger, he’d had just enough to feel devilish.
When would the opportunity arise?
Previously, Sam’s friend (Francis had forgotten her name) had been teased for wanting to become a school teacher. Roger was the type of person to jump on negative stereotypes and apply them. He had mocked her for wanting a profession that pretends to the world it works hard, while enjoying lots of holidays and catching up on sleep in exams.
Now targeting Sam, Roger had begun by saying, ‘So, how about you, Gloomykins, what do you want to do with your life in five years’ time?’ Then for everyone’s benefit, ‘She knows I call her Gloomykins don’t worry.’
‘Why so you can tease me as well?’ Sam responded. She was on to him immediately.
‘No, come on,’ he replied, with false sincerity. ‘We’re all sharing our life’s missions here, so now it’s your turn. Tell me, what do you want to be?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Well what are you interested in?’
‘Conservation.’
What the Heart Desires Page 8
