Life After Light

by E. S. Maria

  Mum said that her decision to go on that first date with this weird Aussie college boy was the best decision she ever made.

  Thanks to Dad’s decisiveness and brazen behaviour, he eventually married the girl he saw his future with.

  I always loved hearing their story. Especially since love at first sight doesn’t always happen to everyone. But even after going through two devastating broken hearts, I still have some belief that someone out there is waiting for me. I knew from the beginning that my future was never going to be with Atticus, though I naively wished that it were because I loved him with everything I had.

  And looking back, I may have fallen for him since that first day he pissed me off.

  But our story started out the wrong way, and maybe that became our downfall.

  And then Paul came into my life in a way so similar to how my parents met. I thought I had my chance at forever with him, and I was so determined to keep my perfect boyfriend that I swept the pieces of my still-broken heart under the rug and away from view.

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  But those pieces didn’t stay hidden forever.

  And unfortunately, they decided to show themselves at the worst possible time.

  After a number of minutes driving in a straight line, I feel the car making a right turn. I count the number of turns after that, trying to memorize the route in my head.

  I know it’s a silly thing to do. It’s not like I can drive myself here or anything.

  The car finally slows to a stop, and I feel Mum’s hand cover my own.

  “Hold on, I’ll collect you on the other side,” she tells me.

  My hands start to feel clammy from the nerves. I’ve been here before, and the first time was the worst. But now I’m back, not only to apologise again, but just to talk. I used to love that about Paul―how easy he was to talk to, and how good he makes me feel after venting out to him about random stuff. My problems never fazed him. He was the calm to my chaos. And if the situations were switched, I used to do the same for him too.

  But sometimes, I feel like he drew the shortest stick from the stack. I was the lucky one because he loved me regardless of my shortcomings. And compared to him, I had plenty.

  He was perfect, and he made me perfect by association.

  But even perfect people have their limits.

  Mum opens the passenger door and helps me out before walking me towards Paul’s plot. She tells me that Paul was cremated, a fact I failed to ask as I went through my various stages of grief. They have a family plot, and apparently it’s beautiful, with luscious, green grass and white flowers surrounding the headstone. Most of Paul’s cremated remains were scattered in the ocean because that was where he’d usually be found when he was still alive. But they kept a part of him here so that his loved ones had something more tangible to hold onto.

  I wish that I were there when they performed the scattering of the ashes. But I had no right to … he didn’t even want to have anything to do with me in the end.

  The truth hurts so much that I clutch my chest tightly.

  Mum finally stops walking so I can untangle my arm from hers.

  “We’re here,” she says, “I’ll go back to the car, and I’ll wait for you there. If you’re ready to leave, just wave up at me, and I’ll come and get you, okay?”

  “Thanks, Mum. And I’m sorry for the hassle,” I tell her softly.

  “Mija, it’s no hassle at all. I’m your mother, and being your mother is what I’m good at, okay?”

  I smile back, trying not to choke on the tears, “Okay.”

  She kisses my temple, and I feel the breeze on my skin as she turns to walk back to the car.

  It takes me a long moment to collect my thoughts, feeling nervous and speechless all of a sudden. I had the words memorised in my head, but now they’re all muddled up and unrecoverable.

  Stepping forward, I reach out for Paul’s headstone.

  “Hi, Paul,” I whisper. “I just realised that I forgot to get you flowers. I’m sorry about that.” I pause to sit down, legs crossed, my hand is still on what I’ve been told is black marble. Memories of those times he bought me flowers come flooding back, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Remember when you used to give me flowers? I knew that most of the time you didn’t really buy them. They were the same flowers you had in your garden. I hope you didn’t get in trouble for doing that, but I want you to know that I loved them all. They were all beautiful, though I sure hope your garden recovered from all the thieveries.”

  I’m chuckling softly, though my eyes begin to water. I squeeze my lids shut, breathing slowly through my mouth to calm myself down.

  “I can’t get that night out of my head, Paul. I can’t get over how much I must have hurt you. After everything you’ve done for me, for us … I don’t know why I said what I said. We were going to have a great future together, and I fucking messed up. I. Messed. Up. Now I can’t take it back.”

  A few stray tears fall from my eyes, and I swipe them from my cheek. “I just wish I got the chance to tell you that I love you before you left. You will always have a place in my heart that nobody can take. You knew that I didn’t want to fall in love again, but gosh, you were so damn charming. You made it so easy. I miss our conversations. I miss how our life was so good together. I just miss … you. But I know what I did, and I know I messed up. You probably don’t want to hear this again … but I thought I got over him, Paul. I really thought I had no more love for him. But don’t worry, I’m not going to speak his name. We both know who I’m talking about, and you heard me babble this explanation before … before the …” I let out a shaky exhale, my chest tightening with anguish.

  “I don’t know how to move on from here, Paul. You always were the decisive one between us. I just … I just need some sort of sign that it’s okay for me to move on, and I’ll figure out the rest. I’m just lost … and I’m scared,” I pause for a few moments, trying to collect my thoughts.

  “Is it okay if I come visit you once in a while? Someone has to drive me here though, and unfortunately, Brook and Patty can’t come with me either. I’m sure that they’re studying in the city as planned. It sucks though because I pushed them away. I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me.. I guess I thought that they wouldn’t want to be friends with me anymore since I’m scarred and blind. Maybe cutting my ties with them was the best thing to do. Yeah, I know, it’s so superficial. I can imagine your eyes rolling,” I chuckle softly.

  “But you know what? They’ll visit their families since the school holidays have started. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a chance to catch up with them, right?”

  The constant silence fills the gap in-between my one-ended conversation with Paul. But I don’t care. In some cosmic way, I can feel his energy surrounding me, and it’s peaceful … calming. I reach down towards the bottom of the headstone, and breathe a sigh of relief when I feel the square, plastic case with my CD still inside of it.

  “I’ll wait for a sign, my Dear Mister. I’ll wait for you to tell me it’s okay to move on. I owe you at least that much.”

  I press two fingers against my lips, and then I touch them against the headstone.

  “I’ll see you around,” I whisper with a smile, wondering if he’s chuckling on the other side from the obvious pun. I stand back up, waving my hand up like Mum said.

  “Are you ready?” I hear Mum say after a few moments.

  “Yeah. And I’m kind of hungry.”

  Mum laughs, “Not a problem. I’m treating you for lunch in that restaurant we used to go to when we had our girls’ day out.”

  I frown at the thought, “I’m not sure about that. People we know will see us.”

  “And so?”

  “Mum … I don’t know. I mean, people might stare at us, then, ask you questions. And I don’t even know if what I’m wearing is suitable.”

  “You look beautiful as always, Hannah. And you’re dressed quite nicely. So I don’t want you ma
king any more excuses, okay? Now if only you’d go to that appointment I tried so hard to get, then you can work with a guide dog …”

  I shake my head, sighing, “I know it wasn’t easy to get an appointment with them, and you fell from the stairs and everything because you got way too excited when they confirmed an appointment. But I don’t know if I’m ready to go through with getting my own guide dog.”

  “Why are you hesistant, Hannah? It will help you be more independent, isn’t that what you want?”

  “It is, but I don’t know. It just feels like that’s it for me. Like I’ve thrown in the towel and accepted defeat,” I pause for a second, trying to think of a good compromise for my mum. “Okay. I’ll go to that appointment at the Guide Dogs Association with you. I’ll listen to what they have to say, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Mum suddenly gives me a tight squeeze, “Thank you, mija, that’s all I wanted. And don’t you start with me about accepting defeat. You are not defeated, Hannah. You have Spanish and Scottish blood running through your veins so you have that fire in your belly. What you’re going through right now should only feed the flame.”

  I smile at Mum’s highly emotional rant. I just love her spirit. And she’s right. Maybe I should stop treating this as a handicap and make good use of the second chance I’ve been given.

  “Alright, calm down. Message received. But right now though, the fire in my belly is making me hungry. Okay, let’s eat out, but can we go to Colt’s instead? I want to introduce you to my new friend.”

  Colt’s Corner is packed according to Mum. No surprises there. It always is. But as soon as we step inside, I hear Nicki’s voice call out my name, followed by two small arms giving me a hug, which I happily return.

  “Oh my God, Hannah! You’re here!”

  I break into a smile, “I am! And I’ve brought Mum. Mum, this is Nicki Colt. She was in my year, and her family owns this café. She, um, is actually the one who invited me to join the support group I went to because her father—”

  Mum thankfully saves me from finishing my uncomfortable statement when she cuts me off with her reaction, “So you’re responsible for convincing my daughter to finally join a support group. Thank you, dear child, I am so happy you approached her on that day. And I know who your father is. I remember how he was always very nice and very proud of this place.”

  “Well, that’s actually why I stayed, so I can help run his café. I’m planning to pursue my degree when I know I’m comfortable with leaving this place even if it’s only temporarily. Oh, what am I doing? Let me get you seats!” We start moving, with Mum guiding me around the tables until I’m finally seated.

  “Thanks, Nicki. Mum said your café is pretty full right now.”

  “Yes, but I’ll make sure you guys have a table whenever you come around,” Nicki tells us.

  “You are such a sweet girl. I’m sure your father is looking down on you from heaven, thinking how lucky he is to have a daughter like you.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs Mackenzie. That means a lot,” Nicki says, sounding all choked up, “and can I just say that your daughter was one of the nicest girls in school. We just didn’t run in the same circles, but she always had a smile on her face, and she was … she was very kind,” her words make my chest hurt because I remember being that happy girl, always carefree, with a big smile on my face.

  It’s crazy how things can change in a matter of seconds.

  My melancholic thoughts are broken by Nicki’s voice, “Okay, so ladies, who wants to hear the specials for today?”

  After a delicious lunch, Mum decides that a spot of shopping will be a good way to burn off what we just ate. I am hesitant at first, but other than my friends, I used to love a shopping day with Mum. And if I want to continue to move forward with my life, I need to start by reconnecting with Mum again. All I have to do is get over the obstacles I’ve imposed on myself.

  Sounds good on paper, but harder to achieve.

  Come to think of it though, nothing great ever comes from anything easy, right?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The days leading to the weekend came and went with me taking more steps forward. Mum took me shopping again yesterday, and Brodie has been taking me to the beach in the mornings. It’s great to hear the sound of the waves crashing, and sometimes, I just lie on the sand, listening to an audiobook, while he surfs. I miss surfing. And maybe someday, I will again. But now, I can’t even bring myself to waddle legs deep in the water, let alone go for a swim. As much as I know how good a swimmer I am, or how adept I am in the surf, not being able to see the waves coming, or not seeing whatever it is underwater makes me feel way too vulnerable for comfort.

  But one thing I’m happy to do with Brodie is play music. He asked me two days ago to help him practise for his surprise acoustic performance at Peak. I was admittedly surprised at this request, thinking Atticus is around, why not ask him like he used to before? I have a feeling that this is a pity practice, like he thinks that I would jump at a chance to play with him again.

  Don’t get me wrong, I did jump at the chance. But I drew the line when Brodie said that maybe I should sing a couple of songs onstage. I mean, I want to move forward … but with baby steps … not gigantic leaps.

  I haven’t asked my brother how long he’s staying. I know he said a couple of months, but his is the type of job where you go where your agent books you. They’re still new in the industry, and they are supposed to be doing radio gigs to promote the band. As I’m playing guitar alongside my brother in our makeshift studio, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll go back into my shell when he leaves, or will I take the chance and step out into the world on my own.

  And what about Atticus? Is he still around? And why am I even thinking about him again? But there has been no sign of him. He hasn’t dropped by as far as I’m concerned. And it’s not like I’m going to ask Brodie if he’s paid him a visit.

  When Atticus left me all those years ago, I noticed how Brodie seemed relieved that Atticus broke it off with me. Sure he was pissed, but the relief was definitely there in his eyes, and I couldn’t forget that. I never talked to him about it though. Now it feels like it is too late to ask Brodie about the whole thing. All I know is that in those rare times when he actually talked about Atticus with me, he said that Atticus only cared about his music and nothing more.

  I already knew about this when Atticus and I got together. I knew more about him than I’ve let on with anyone else. Atticus opened himself to me … showed me who he was and where he came from, and why he was who he was. And yet, I still loved him, foolishly thinking that maybe it was not just his music that could save him. I could save him too. Because even though I knew that he cared about his music, I also knew that he cared about me tremendously.

  At least that’s what I believed in.

  But I guess my brother was right all along.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try singing even one song onstage?” Brodie asks after practising one of the songs he’s playing in the acoustic session.

  “You’re kidding me, right? I mean in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly stage material.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Erm,” I wave my hand up and down myself, “have you seen me lately?”

  “Erm,” he says sarcastically, “have you seen Stevie Wonder onstage?”

  “Oh, come on, don’t compare me with him. He’s a fucking legend. He’s phenomenal. I’m a scar-faced, wannabe guitar player with an average sounding voice. Granted, blindness might actually work to my advantage since I can’t see anyone laughing at me, or looking on with disgust. Believe it or not, my hearing is actually more acute now, and if I hear nothing but silence after I finish baring my heart and soul in front of them, I’m going to be shattered, Brodie. I honestly wouldn’t know what I’d do in that scenario except cry my eyes out. ”

  “How can you even be certain that’ll happen? Yes, I know it sucks that you lost you
r sense of sight, but then you go and tell me your hearing is a lot better now. So if that’s the case, how come you can’t hear how good your voice actually sounds? I mean, come on, are you serious? Atticus was right, you know. You’ve no idea how good you are … how amazingly talented you are.”

  My eyes start to water, and I turn away, sniffing sharply as I blink the tears away.

  Atticus said that? He actually thought I was good at this? When he left, I concluded that he was just bullshitting me all those times. And now my brother, the same guy who I know was totally opposed to what Atticus and I had, is now agreeing with him?

  This is rendering me speechless.

  “Will you at least do one song? It’ll be with me. Yes! Sing a song with me. It’ll be cool. Brother and sister tag-team taking on the world! Okay, well, at least Avoca Beach, anyway.”

  I snort out a laugh, “We’ll see … maybe.”

  “You gotta tell me now. I have to organise my playlist.”

  “Geez, pressure much? Fine, I’ll sing … uh … a cover of “Strong” by London Grammar on my own,” I answer way too quickly for comfort.

  Shit! That’s not an easy song. Why did I say that? And why did I say I’m singing alone when I had my way out of that?

  Baby fucking steps!

  “Yes … yes! That is perfect! Your version is fucking epic! You’re gonna make this one song your bitch. Trust me.”