Journey’s End

by A. E. Radley

  She zipped up his bag and looked at her watch again.

  “Did you brush your teeth?”

  He nodded.

  “And you’re wearing underwear today?”

  He nodded again.

  “Do you need the bathroom?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why are Mommy’s old work clothes in your bedroom?”

  Olivia recalled the hurried farewell before Henry had woken up on Sunday morning. Emily waking her up in her old Crown Airlines outfit that had quickly been discarded. Olivia couldn’t bring herself to put it away, so she’d left it on the chair by the wardrobe, hoping for a repeat performance soon.

  She felt heat rise in her cheeks.

  “I-I was clearing out the wardrobe,” she lied.

  “Are you going to throw it away now that Mommy doesn’t need it anymore? Because she’s not working on the airplane anymore, is she?”

  She opened her mouth to reply when the light from the hallway window changed hue.

  “The bus!” Henry shouted.

  She let out a sigh of relief.

  He grabbed the bag out of her hand and ran towards the door. Olivia quickly followed, not ready to let him vanish just yet.

  In hindsight, Olivia suspected that getting onto the bus and questioning the driver about his credentials was probably not the best move. He hadn’t seemed pleased. Henry’s first day of school was only an hour old, and she was already in a state of sheer panic.

  In truth, she had been for the past month. She was certain that schools had incorrectly calculated the correct age to take children into their clutches. Surely, Henry was too young?

  Maybe home schooling would be a good idea? She was positive she knew more than the children who were apparently qualified to be teachers these days. She made a mental note to broach the subject with Emily. It would also help with the absolute boredom she knew awaited her on days that Henry was at school.

  She’d been standing in front of the open fridge for a while, enjoying the cool air on her face. She stared at its contents. She wanted something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Her eyes drifted from the milk cartons to the various juices that lined the shelf.

  With a sigh, she picked up the bottle of white wine from the door and slammed the fridge closed. She picked up a water tumbler and poured half a glass of wine into it. She drank two large gulps without a second’s thought.

  Suddenly, she looked at the tumbler with wide eyes, slowly lowering it to the counter and taking a few steps away. She looked around the kitchen, self-conscious that someone might have seen her transgression.

  She quickly walked away, grabbing her phone from the side table as she stalked towards her office. She closed the door behind her, wanting to put more distance between her and the evil drink.

  Pacing the room, she selected a contact and held the phone to her ear.

  “Good morning,” Nicole answered quickly. “How are you?”

  “I’m a drunk,” Olivia told her.

  “‘I’m well, thank you, Nicole, how are you?’” Nicole joked.

  “Is Emily there? Don’t tell Emily I’m a drunk. Don’t tell her you’re speaking to me.”

  “Emily is out to lunch. What’s going on?”

  “I just drank wine,” Olivia whispered tersely.

  “You swine.”

  “It’s not even nine a.m.” Olivia paused by the window and looked outside. “I just put Henry on the bus to school and now I’m drinking wine. Out of a tumbler.”

  “A tumbler? Heathen.”

  “Nicole, I’m being serious.”

  “Sending your child off to his first day of school is stressful,” Nicole reasoned.

  “I’m an alcoholic,” Olivia decided. “I’ll have to seek help.”

  “You’re not an alcoholic, you were stressed.”

  “A tumbler, Nicole,” Olivia pressed.

  “When was the last time you drank alcohol?”

  Olivia leaned against the window frame and furrowed her brow in thought. “Last… Saturday?”

  “And did you down vodka from the bottle last Saturday?”

  “No, of course not.” Olivia continued her pacing.

  “Did you, perhaps, have a glass of wine with dinner?”

  “Two,” Olivia confessed.

  “Look, I’ll be blunt. You’re not an alcoholic. The fact that you reached for alcohol at a time of stress isn’t great news, but it’s certainly nothing to worry about.”

  “How can I even think that I’m going to be a suitable mother?” Olivia wondered aloud. She sat on the edge of her desk, head bowed.

  “It’s my understanding that most mothers turn to alcohol. Have you not seen Internet memes?” Nicole replied. “Alcohol is a coping mechanism for many, it relaxes them. As long as you know when it’s too much, or the wrong time, which you clearly did because you called me, then it’s fine.”

  Olivia sighed.

  “You’re worried about Henry. You’re stressed, and you drank some wine. How much did you drink anyway?”

  “Two—large—mouthfuls,” Olivia emphasised.

  Nicole laughed loudly. “Oh, lord, I thought you were going to say two glasses. Olivia, it’s fine, you’re fine, Henry’s fine. Just go and do whatever it is you do these days and don’t panic about it.”

  “Don’t tell Emily,” Olivia instructed, getting the feeling that Nicole was about to end the call.

  “I won’t tell Emily anything, I promise,” Nicole said. “Now, I have to go and do some work, I’ll speak to you later.”

  The line went dead, and Olivia sank further against her desk. She stared at the phone for a moment before looking around her office.

  Go and do whatever it is you do these days, she repeated in her mind. She wasn’t quite sure what that was. Since stepping away from Applewoods, she’d become more focused on other things, her garden, the wedding, Henry’s first day of school.

  Her garden had been tended to perfection, all her projects had been put into motion. She couldn’t make the vegetable garden grow any quicker, nor could she tend plants that had yet to properly take root.

  The wedding was over. Henry’s first day of school was here.

  She shivered involuntarily.

  Suddenly things seemed very cold and lonely. She scrolled through her contacts before selecting a name that used to appear much higher in the “recently called” list.

  She put her phone to her ear and waited.

  “Hey, boss,” Simon greeted.

  Olivia chuckled. “Not anymore.”

  “How are you?”

  Olivia paused. She wasn’t sure how to answer. “Fine,” she decided upon. “You?”

  “Yeah, good.” He didn’t sound certain.

  “Are you sure?” she pressed, wondering if she had managed to correctly read his tone.

  Simon let out a sigh. “Just… stressing. Sophie had a scan yesterday. Everything’s fine, but it made it more real, you know?”

  Olivia didn’t know. She remained silent, hoping Simon would continue.

  “Now I’m thinking about the nursery, the crib, the stroller, the clothes, food… there’s so much stuff. Sophie says we’ll deal with it, and we have plenty of time. But we don’t, there’s so much stuff to do. We’re bringing a baby into the world, and I don’t even know if I’ll be a good dad.”

  “You’ll be a wonderful father,” Olivia told him sincerely. Everything else sounded terrifying, but that point she was sure of.

  “But a good dad needs to have enough bed sheets, onesies, little tiny socks. This baby is going to be born in winter, do I need extra blankets? What if I overheat the baby? Babies can’t tell you when they’re hot. I’m terrified I’m going to boil the baby. I’m pretty sure you get sent to a special prison for that.”

  Olivia nodded her head, enrapt in his fear. It was true, babies couldn’t tell you anything. Olivia had been terrified of damaging Henry when she first met him, convinced she’d say the wrong thing. She’d reli
ed on the fact that Henry could speak and be reasoned with. But babies didn’t speak. She swallowed. She didn’t even know at what age babies learnt to speak. Was that something she should know?

  “And then I looked at the prices, whoa! I look at things and think, ‘This baby is going to only use that for three months but it costs a bomb’,” Simon continued, although Olivia barely heard him.

  Olivia felt panic pull at the collar of her blouse. She reached up and undid an extra button.

  “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all of this,” Simon mumbled.

  Olivia wondered how long she had silently worried and left Simon to ramble on.

  “You’re not bothering me, we’re friends,” she explained. She decided to leave out the fact that he had sent her spiralling into a panic of her own. Was she ready to have a baby? She was grateful she didn’t have one on the way.

  “We are. Anyway, enough about me, why did you call?” Simon asked.

  Olivia sighed. “I’m a drunkard.”

  “No, you’re not,” he told her.

  Simon didn’t beat around the bush. It was one of the things that Olivia loved about him. He said what he thought and that clarity often relaxed her.

  “I just drank wine. In the morning!”

  “Gonna do it again?”

  “No!”

  “Well, there you go then. Call me when it becomes a habit.”

  She considered arguing the point but knew that Simon wasn’t going to back down. He’d tell her she was being ridiculous, and maybe she was.

  “I saw an article that said a baby’s first year can cost over nine thousand pounds,” Simon said.

  “What?” Olivia balked. “That’s preposterous. On what?”

  “Everything!” Simon cried. “I had no idea babies needed so much stuff. I’ll make a list for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Well, yeah, you’ll need the same when you and Emily have another. You’re still planning on doing that, right?”

  Olivia swallowed nervously. They hadn’t spoken about it much, focusing on getting Emily’s career up and running before moving onto the next life-changing hurdle.

  “Probably,” she replied half-heartedly.

  Simon paused. “This might not be my place to say, but, do you want to talk about it?”

  “I…” She trailed off. “We’re waiting to see what happens with Emily’s work.”

  “Ah, I see. So, what are you doing in the meantime?”

  “Finishing up with the house. We still haven’t finished decorating and furnishing,” she lied. She’d sorted those details out within two weeks of moving in. “Busy, busy.”

  “I painted the nursery at the weekend. Well, it’s called the nursery now. Used to be the box room where I kept my PlayStation. But, apparently, the baby needs a place to sleep, so I moved the PlayStation to the living room.”

  “What a gesture,” Olivia joked. “Simon, may I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you worried that the baby will inherit some of your traits?”

  Simon chuckled. “Wow, I’ve missed working with you.”

  Olivia didn’t know how that was relevant and silently waited for the answer to her question.

  “I suppose,” Simon finally replied. “I don’t put much thought into it. Luckily, I’m healthy, so I don’t need to worry about the baby inheriting an illness. Maybe they’ll need glasses like I do. Maybe they’ll get really thin hair when they hit twenty-five like I did. I don’t know. What’s done is done. Hopefully they’ll be just like Sophie.”

  “I hope they’ll be just like both of you,” Olivia replied honestly.

  “Just without my big ears,” Simon joked. “Sorry, I just noticed the time. I have a meeting so I have to go. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Olivia agreed.

  They exchanged their goodbyes, and Olivia hung up the phone. She tapped the edge of the phone to her lip as she pondered what to do. She’d already promised Emily that she’d not interrupt her during her first day at her new job.

  “It’s so quiet in here,” she mumbled as she looked around the room. “Too quiet.”

  9

  Emily leaned back in her chair and tilted her neck slowly from side to side. She hadn’t ever had a job where she spent hours at a desk, staring at a screen. She thought she would enjoy the rest, but she was finding that she felt cooped up instead. Not to mention that her neck and shoulders were definitely complaining about their suddenly sedentary lifestyle.

  She stood and walked over to the window as she had grown accustomed to doing recently. The writers’ room was small, just two desks facing each other in the middle of the room. Several large whiteboards filled the walls behind each desk.

  Windows overlooked the street below. The scene wasn’t much to look at, but it made a difference from staring at the words on the screen.

  The door opened behind her, and she turned to see Carl walk in. He wore his oversized dark green, quilted jacket, which had pieces of paper flowing out of its large pockets.

  “Hi,” he greeted.

  “Hi, how’s it going?”

  He nodded and hung his coat up on a nail that he frequently used as a makeshift coatrack.

  It had only been a couple of days, but Emily already felt she had a good handle on Carl’s personality. He was weird. Maybe weird was a little strong, he’d certainly be called eccentric if he had money. But she didn’t think he did, and so weird was more suitable.

  He pulled out his office chair and sat down.

  “Nicole said she can’t make dinner tonight, she said she’d call you,” Carl said suddenly.

  “Oh, okay.” Emily smiled. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “And Martin is still not happy about the first hospital scene.”

  Emily frowned. “What now?”

  Carl pulled his keychain from his pocket and slowly worked his way through the large bunch of keys. “Dunno. He was shouting.”

  Emily watched as he located his desk key and unlocked the drawer. He pulled out his laptop and placed it on the desktop, meticulously wiping the top with his shirtsleeve.

  “So… what are we going to do?” Emily pressed.

  Carl shrugged. “Wait for the meeting with Nicole tomorrow.”

  Emily didn’t like that idea. She was working on that scene right now. If there was a problem, then she needed to know before the run-through the next afternoon.

  “Maybe I’ll call him,” Emily suggested as she walked back to her desk.

  “No.” Carl’s head snapped up. “No, um, I’ll call him. I don’t want you to have to deal with his bad mood. Sorry, I should have dealt with it while I was there, but he was being, well, Martin.”

  Emily chuckled. “Yes, Martin is special.”

  “I’ll call him. In fact, I’ll pop out and do it now. I was going to get a drink anyway. Can I get you a tea? Or a latte? You like lattes, don’t you?”

  Emily nodded. “I do, a latte would be lovely.”

  Carl stared at her for a few seconds.

  “Everything okay?” Emily asked again.

  He shook his head as if to clear the mental cobwebs. “Yes. Yes, sorry, I… I was thinking about something.”

  He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and gestured towards the door.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

  He turned and opened the door, nearly walking into Hannah as he did.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled and stepped around her before rushing from the room.

  Hannah rolled her eyes and shook her head at the retreating man’s behaviour. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

  “Carl’s being his usual bizarre self, I see?”

  Emily smiled. She was glad to hear that she wasn’t the only person who thought Carl a little odd, but she wasn’t about to openly talk about him behind his back.

  “Coffee run,” she explained. “And making a call.”

  Hannah w
alked over to the window and looked out. “Oh yes, you don’t get any signal in here, do you?”

  “No, something to do with the roof?”

  Carl had explained it to Emily during her very brief introduction to her new office, but it had quickly tapered off into a ramble about the building’s previous use as a school.

  Hannah turned around and thrust her hands into her pockets.

  “Cold, too!”

  Emily laughed. “Yeah, it’s an interesting place to work.”

  “You’ll be out of here soon, working in the theatre. Then you’ll be craving a solid desk,” Hannah told her.

  “I don’t know, Carl seems to think we’re a week behind.”

  Hannah sat on the edge of Emily’s desk. “Carl isn’t known for his optimism… Oh, is that your little boy?” She pointed to a picture of Henry with Olivia on Emily’s desk.

  “Yes, Henry.” Emily looked at the image fondly.

  “And your… sister?”

  “Wife,” Emily corrected gently. She hated the coming-out conversation, it was necessary as she didn’t want to start her new work friendships with lies. But she was also aware that some people reacted poorly to the news.

  “Ah, sorry, I didn’t want to presume. Some people are offended if you suggest they might be gay,” Hannah said with another eye roll.

  Emily let out a small sigh of relief.

  “So, are they here in England?” Hannah asked.

  “No, they’re home in New York. I’m commuting.”

  “Wow, that’s some commute! Nicole did mention that you held some of the rights to the play. Is that how you got this job? Sorry if I’m being nosey, just seems like a hell of a commute.”

  “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Emily reassured. “Yes, I have a deal with Nicole. I’ve given up some of my royalties, and in return I’m working in the industry to get more experience. I wish I didn’t have to travel, but it is what it is.”

  Hannah blew out a breath. “Wow, I don’t think I could cope with that commute. Wouldn’t it be easier to move the family over here?”

  Emily chuckled. “Oh, Olivia won’t travel.”

  “No?” Hannah asked in surprise. “You’re going to be apart a lot, aren’t you?”