Body of Water

by Stuart Wakefield

  “Oh God, son. What are we going to do without her?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Transition

  Life after Mum’s death became unrecognisable. Dad threw himself into work, rarely home in the daylight hours. I drifted, un-tethered from the real world. My plans for university shelved, I spent my days at home, feeling closer to Mum there and adopting her routine. If I couldn’t have her here then I would remake myself as her, keeping her little rituals alive. But instead of time fulfilling its healing promise, it served only to illustrate how she had been the glue that kept our little family together. Kept me together. I knew that Dad loved me but he understood so little of what made me tick. Mum knew what I was thinking before I knew it myself.

  “Maybe you’d like to come with me to the office?” Dad said one rare morning when I’d got up before him.

  “What is it, Bring Your Child To Work day?” I sounded colder than I intended but I had tired of trying to tease a conversation out of him. Now that he’d tried I should have felt grateful but I only felt irritated. “It’s okay; work is your therapy, not mine.”

  Dad looked down at the breakfast table, folding his cereal with his spoon. “It helps keep my mind off things.”

  “No.” I stood up. “It helps keep your mind on other things.”

  Dad dropped his spoon into the bowl, and frowned. “Why are you so mad at me?”

  “I could ask the same thing.” I turned away and placed my hands flat out on the counter top.

  “What are you talking about?” Dad sighed. “I love you.”

  “As much as Mum?”

  I heard him stand and then the dull ring as he placed his bowl down beside me. He hugged me and kissed my forehead. It was an exact imitation of the way Mum kissed me when I was upset. “No one loves like she loved.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Saying nothing more, Dad gathered his things and left.

  I tossed the bowls into the dishwasher and took in a deep breath before letting it out in a long sigh. I’d almost achieved what I’d wanted - a family and boyfriend of my own. Just as I thought I had a boyfriend I lost him. And now, the family that I’d finally secured had been destroyed by the most evil disease imaginable. I was nine years old again. Lost and alone.

  The doorbell rang. In no mood for visitors or cold callers I ignored it. I heard the letterbox open and something dropped lightly onto the doormat. I waited a moment and then went to see what it was.

  A little blue box lay in the hallway. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. There was no address, just my name; written beautifully in complex calligraphy. I opened the lid and gently removed the tissue paper.

  Inside were two papier-mache figurines. One an adult mermaid, the other a smaller merman. They interlocked in a hug, the mermaid kissing the merman’s forehead.

  I wrenched the front door open and mess of silk clothes, muslin bags, and tousled hair, launched towards me, nearly knocking me over.

  “Lev! Oh Lev, it’s so good to see you!” Beth cried into my neck as she held me tight. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  I hugged her for a long time, sobbing into her hair, then held her by the shoulders and straightened my arms to look at her; tanned, hair lightened by the sun, frame diminished by loss of puppy fat.

  Looking down at her bags, I laughed. “What’s all this stuff? Has Gerald kicked you out?”

  “No, silly. I’ve just got back from school for the holidays and I had to see you before Mummy and Daddy.” She dropped her bags in the hallway and ripped the silk scarf from her neck, before going into the lounge and collapsing onto the sofa.

  “Won’t they miss you?”

  “If they do, they’ll call. Oh, that reminds me,” she switched her phone off. “Where’s your dad?”

  “Work. It takes his mind off things.”

  Beth’s eyes roamed over me. She was still only sixteen but she looked more like a woman than other girls her age. “And what’s taking your mind off things? You look exhausted. Not sleeping?”

  “Not really.”

  She pulled me down onto the sofa with her and hugged me again. “You’re skin and bone.”

  “Oh Beth, it’s been so terrible without her. Dad is never here, and when he is he’s so polite to me I could scream. It’s like he doesn’t even know me.”

  “Everyone grieves differently, sweetie.”

  “No, this is different. It’s like we’re both floating away from each other and I can’t do anything about it. I want to talk to him about how I’m feeling but he avoids any conversation about Mum. It’s like he’s keeping something back from me but I can’t think what.”

  “Just give him time, Lev. I’m sure he’ll come back to you. Right now, you need to concentrate on yourself.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Beth grimaced. “Let’s start with a wash, shall we?” She grabbed my chin and scowled. “You could do with a shave, too. Then you’re going to need a good, healthy meal and a nice, long walk.”

  “I don’t go out much.”

  “Just as well, smelling like that,” she laughed. “And we need to think about getting some meat back on your bones. You had such a great body.”

  I shrugged and ran a hand through my beard.

  “What’s the point?”

  “The point is, sweetie, that you’re never going to get a shag looking like a caveman.” She stood and held out her hands to help me up.

  “But Beth,” I started to complain.

  “Not another word. Bathroom!”

  She stood in the doorway while I shaved. “You know, with a bit of work you’d make a great model.”

  I rolled my eyes. The man looking back at me in the mirror was in no state, or mood, to be any sort of model.

  She ignored me. “I think that’s why people are attracted to you - you seem completely unaware of how beautiful you are. One of the girls at school got scouted last month and she’s convinced that she’s a proper dog but the big fashion houses are going crazy for her.”

  She stepped out of the bathroom reluctantly as I slipped off my underwear and stepped into the shower. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this. My entire family has seen your willy.”

  It was the first time she’d mentioned Shaun, although indirectly. Even with the hot water pounding my body I felt a chill run through me. I finished my shower, dried myself, and wrapped a towel around my waist before opening the door.

  “Why are you here, Beth?”

  “Because you need a friend and I haven’t been much of one.”

  “We haven’t spoken in over two years and you’ve made no attempt to contact me. Why are you here?”

  “How do you feel about a workout? Mummy’s trainer is gorgeous. I think you’d make a good match.”

  “I’m not interested in him and you know why.”

  “Shaun isn’t coming back.”

  “Why not? Where has he gone?”

  “Please don’t ask me to tell you. I can’t say, but he isn’t coming back. You have to face that.”

  “I’m tired of facing stuff. I’ve faced stuff all my life. Right now, I need a little dream time.”

  “Mummy’s trainer is dreamy.”

  “Pack it in, OK? What’s going on?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “He’s married.”

  “What?” I wiped wet hair from my brow, not really hearing her.

  Her eyes darted nervously around the room then cleared her throat. “Shaun. Shaun is married. I didn’t quite know how to tell you but I knew I had to.”

  My mouth dried out in a second and I struggled to speak. “When?”

  “June. I’m so sorry.”

  I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig into my skin. “I don’t believe it. I don’t fucking believe it!”

  Beth squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her hands together. She started to babble. “His rugby scholarship didn’t work out. Daddy was furious and demanded that he join the army. He met this girl
and-”

  I didn’t want the details. I didn’t care. “I’ve been locked away, grieving for Mum, pining for him, and he’s off playing soldiers and fucking some bird.”

  “He’s not happy.” She looked scared of me, ready to run.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that the first guy I ever really cared about, and who I thought cared about me, has quite happily fucked off and left me behind? Where’s my fucking wedding ring?”

  Her face flushed. “You’re talking about my brother.”

  “Your brother is a coward. Oh yeah, big hero on the rugby field but a pussy at home - terrified of Daddy. And as for that sack of shit, I hope he rots in hell. Shaun needs to grow a fucking backbone and face up to his sexuality. If he doesn’t want me then fair enough but at least have the guts to accept the fact that he likes a cock in his gob.”

  “I can’t listen to this. You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. I can’t be in the middle.”

  “Best friend? We’ve been in each other’s company for a couple of days and suddenly we’re best friends? What kind of friend doesn’t talk to her friend after seeing him thrown out of her house? What kind of friend does that? You are in the middle, Beth, but you chose not to take sides in this.”

  “Are you asking me to choose?” Her voice was hot now.

  “You do what you have to do. I’m not going to ask you anything. I was fine before you and I’ll be fine after you.”

  She gathered up her things and stormed towards the front door. “You can be such a… wanker! Go fuck yourself, Leven, but I guess that’s all you’ll ever get to do while you’re locked up in this bloody tomb.”

  And she was gone.

  We didn’t speak for days. I holed myself away at home, refusing to go out or to see anyone. Not that anyone was breaking down the door to see me. I hadn’t had a telephone call or email in months. Even cold callers had given up on me. Part of me was quite happy with that but the other part, the part that had been so happy to see Beth again after all this time, thumped dully in my gut.

  I felt creepy doing it but I watched her house closely during that time, taking careful notice of when she jogged down the front steps and ran up the road towards the park.

  Steeling myself one morning I pulled on my running gear and waited for her to leave. I gave her a five minute start and then followed in her direction.

  I wasn’t as fit as I had been and struggled to reach the top of the hill. As I gasped for breath, doubled over with my hands on my knees, I heard her voice beside me.

  “I choose you.”

  I burst into tears and crouched down.

  Beth patted my back. “We all let you down, Lev. I’m so sorry. I choose you.”

  I grabbed hold of her and crushed her into my chest, hoping that this one good thing would last.

  But there was more news to come.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Letter

  Beth made a stand against her father. He didn’t like it - I could hear him yelling from across the street - but he was no match for her. She had proven to be as fiery as her hair and as cutting as her mother. He finally conceded when Beth aced her final serve.

  “Christ, it’s not like he’s ever going to be my boyfriend, is it?”

  When she came skipping through my front door in her running gear she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and launched herself onto the sofa as usual. I never knew why she did that; she was always back on her feet in moments.

  I was so proud of her for standing up to him. She possessed all the courage that Shaun lacked. I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms, smiling at her. “Now, come on. You would have liked me as a boyfriend, wouldn’t you?”

  She tried to keep a straight face but failed. “Ugh. You’d be terrible.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” I straightened, frowning.

  She stood and walked over to me, biting her lower lip, and then placed her hands on my shoulders. “You’re sexy, sweetie, but…”

  “But what?”

  “You’re a mess.” She shrugged, and bounded for the door, calling over her shoulder. “Come on, time for a run.”

  I sulked until we reached the park and then settled into the reassuring routine of both our route and our easy conversation.

  That evening, Dad came home at a reasonable hour. It threw me completely but I managed to prepare a meal within thirty minutes of him appearing in the doorway like some ghostly apparition.

  He prodded his food, and responded to my questions about his day with nods and shrugs, which made me increasingly frustrated. Why bother sitting down with me if he was going to remain silent? We’d both be better off if he just shut himself away in his study and ignored the situation instead of me. I’d adjusted to that. He’d adjusted to that. So why change things and make things uncomfortable? I’d had enough of coming away from our rare interactions feeling more miserable than I was before. If I couldn’t have a mother then at least let me have a father.

  But during the silences I felt Dad’s eyes on me. Whenever I looked back they’d flick back to his mash, pitted with absent-minded stabs from his fork.

  “Potato isn’t like fine wine, Dad. It doesn’t get better with age.” I felt bad as soon as I said it. He must need the love and reassurance I craved so badly but he refused to open up and let me in. My perseverance had turned to frustration.

  Shifting in his seat, he swallowed, so thin now that his throat bobbed like an apple. “Did Mum ever talk to you about her family in Orkney?”

  I tapped my lips with my fist as I thought, but all I could remember was the day Mum had given me my pendant.

  “It’s from your Auntie Margaret.” She’d placed it around my neck with a flourish. “It’s for your protection. You must never take it off.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “If you don’t take it off, you’ll never have to find out.” She smiled and kissed my forehead. “But I give it to you with one condition. You must promise me that you will never go into the water. No water of any kind. Do you promise me?”

  I’d shivered at her words, recalling my nightmare of the dead dog. How could she have known? Had she guessed? “But-”

  “Promise me. No pools, no rivers, no oceans. I lost my parents in the water, darling; I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

  At ten years old I was so concerned about what might be lurking out there, poised to strike the moment the pendant and I were separated, that I forgot to ask anything about its sender. Mum wanted me to stay away from water. I had no problem with that.

  I wished I had the pendant now. Beth had searched her house several times but there was no sign of it. It had been a symbol of protection from the heritage that Mum and I shared. True, it was a heritage I had never known but that didn’t alleviate my feelings of guilt at its loss. I broke my promise, swum with Shaun, lost the pendant, and now Mum was dead.

  Dad prompted me. “Well, did she?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really. Apart from her parents she only mentioned an aunt, and that was only once. I never thought to question her. Didn’t you meet her family? I mean, you were married. What about the wedding?”

  “It was just the two of us. She said that her surviving family would never approve of her marrying a Southerner so we did the whole eloping thing. She had as much flair for the dramatic as she did the romantic.”

  That sounded just like Mum. She had a way of getting what she wanted in the most difficult of circumstances and making the very best of it when she did so. Who would care that their families weren’t there when the excitement of running away eclipsed any guilt she might have felt?

  “Weren’t Nan and Granddad mad that you married without them being there?”

  Dad shrugged. “My dad was like your friend Shaun’s. Once he realised that he couldn’t control me he lost interest. He kicked me out at sixteen.”

  This was a revelation to me. On the few occasions that we had seen Dad’s parents there wa
s an omnipresent strain and I’d assumed it was some unresolved family argument but I’d never realised that Dad had been thrown out of his home. I felt closer to him for knowing this. We’d both been rejected by our families. How much worse had it been for Dad at his age? “What about Nan? Didn’t she stop him?”

  “She thought whatever she was told to.” Dad had bored a tunnel through his mound of mash, lost in feelings that I felt guilty for having resurrected. “Would you like to meet them?”

  “I have.”

  “Not my parents, Mum’s family in Orkney.”

  My arms crossed, I leaned away from him. “Mum can’t be replaced.”

  “I know son, I know. I just thought…”

  My first instinct was to get up and walk away but this was Dad’s first real attempt at talking to me in the two months since Mum’s death. If he had something on his mind I wanted him to feel comfortable enough to open up and talk. Really talk. Getting defensive wasn’t going to do that. I gritted my teeth and sat back in as natural a position as I could muster but consciously thinking about being natural made it harder. I nodded, conveying my understanding, and we talked into the late evening, sharing stories of all the funny things Mum did, or said.

  Finally, unable to ignore my tiredness, I bid Dad goodnight. “It’ll be OK Dad, you’ll see.”

  His eyes shone with tears. “You think so?”

  I hugged him tight and went to bed. Whether I believed it or not he needed to hear it.

  The next morning, still in bed, I enjoyed the sun that streamed through the window and warmed my face. For the first time I hadn’t woken from the nightmare. I’d still had it but the raw emotion was absent and I watched the events unfold with detachment. Feeling contented and rested, I enjoyed my slow, easy breathing, and the distant sound of children playing in the park. I stretched, catlike, and rolled over, my limbs loose.

  Thinking about Mum, I decided that today would be a celebration of her memory rather than my usual moping about. I padded into my bathroom, showered and dressed, loving the feeling of a fresh cotton shirt on my body and the hug of my favourite jeans. I opened my bedroom door, intending to pick up the paper, sit in the bay window, and watch the world go by. The park would be busy on a sunny weekend like this and I enjoyed seeing the families walk to and fro. In the mornings the children would be so excited they’d run ahead of their parents and in the afternoons they’d be slumped in their arms, fast asleep.