by K. Shandwick
It was apparent from those communications she had never gotten anywhere near her rock star crush and found her less than glamorous job of Fr8Load’s image stylists’ assistant dull as dishwater. She was more of a runner, dealing with anything from laundry to sewing and everything else they deemed themselves too qualified to deal with.
A noise in the distance pulled me out of my daydream and back to the sad reality of the situation. Shona’s chase for the high life had ended in a very degrading death when she was found blind drunk and choking on her own vomit by another crew member who had accidentally knocked on the wrong door.
Apparently, she was still alive when they found her, but her lungs were so swamped, the medical intervention she had came too late. The roadie in her room with her had been one of the crew she had gotten friendly with. His addiction of choice was Heroin, and because his paraphernalia was strewn around the room, they had initially treated Shona as if she were addicted as well.
As soon as I’d confirmed her identity, Jeffery closed the drape and led me out of the room.
“How soon can we go home?” I asked, as my eyes searched Jeffery’s face.
“They’re waiting for another round of toxicology results to come back later this morning—just to ensure there was no foul play—then they’ll be able to release Shona’s body to you. We can book you on the first flight back once we’ve finalized all the requirements to the Australian authorities' satisfaction.
Numbly, I allowed Jeffery to usher me back to his chauffeur-driven car and was driven back to the Four Seasons Hotel. Fr8Load’s band management had made the travel arrangements, arranged the consulate official, and were paying for the repatriation of Shona’s body back to Florida.
Was I supposed to feel indebted about that? I wasn’t grateful; that was the last thought on my mind, because if it wasn’t for Noah Haxby and his band, Fr8Load, my sister would be alive and at home caring for her child—not lying on a mortuary slab in some foreign country.
Thinking of the arrogant son-of-a-bitch made me seethe with temper. Life was ridiculously unfair when a guy whose name was synonymous with excess and a flagrant disregard for the morals of others could have the privileged life he led when the rest of us who stuck by the rules were dealt a shitty fate in ours.
When Jeffery reached over and took the key card from the male receptionist he passed it to me, asking if I wanted him to see me to my room. I declined. I didn’t miss the look of relief on his face before he explained he’d be back first thing the next day but would call if there was any update on “the case.”
It wasn’t until he made my ordeal impersonal that I remembered he was just doing his job. He was a stranger, yet he had shared one of the most devastating and intimate experiences of my life.
Jeffery waited by one of the tables in the lobby until the elevator doors closed softly and the car whisked me upwards at speed to the high floor where my room was located.
Noah Haxby’s personal assistant, Annalise, had made all the arrangements, and called when the front desk informed her I had checked in. I missed the call as I was in the elevator at the time and so listened to the voicemail she left. It was a courtesy call where she advised me she would pay me a visit later. I was thankful not to see her because I couldn’t have faced anyone right then. I felt beat; emotionally wrung out from traveling and what I had faced when I got there.
Chapter Two
Maggie
When I left the US for Sydney my mind had been full of ‘What if…', and ‘How am I going to get through this?’ kinds of thoughts, but as I began to face the reality of Shona’s death I felt dazed. By the time I reached the hotel, my head just wouldn’t let my mind entertain the possibility of thinking what the future held.
The bank of elevators couldn’t have been situated further from my room, but I had never stayed anywhere so grand before. Checking the doors as I rechecked the number scribbled on my key card folder I soon realized my room was the very last one at end of the corridor. Where else would I be? This is my luck.
I swear I must have used the last of any energy I had in reserve for those final steps and when I entered the room, I barely noticed the plush surroundings. One thing I couldn’t ignore was the view. From the huge corner window, I could see The Harbour Bridge to my left and The Sydney Opera House on the right… well, in fact, it was kind of in front of me.
Under normal circumstances, I’d have been excited and thrilled to have had the opportunity to experience Australian culture, but my visit to Australia was far from normal. Plus, I was worn smooth and emotionally drained.
I collapsed backwards onto the bed and instantly felt surrounded by the comfort of the deep pile mattress that sucked me in as I lay staring up at the ceiling. I still held the handle of my carry-on bag. When I realized this, I let it go, and it slid down my leg onto the floor with a dull thud.
Suddenly the previous few hours and what I’d endured crashed down on me and a strangled sob tore from my throat. I’d fought back my grief since I’d stared at my baby sister in death and a tidal wave of grief washed over me. Turning onto my side I curled up into the fetal position and sobbed uncontrollably until eventually, due to extreme exhaustion, I passed out.
Feeling the vibration of my cell in my jacket pocket pulled me from my sleep. I struggled up onto my elbows, disorientated. It was day time again, and the sun cast bright yellow rays of light around my hotel room. Squinting against the brightness, I pulled my phone out and saw the same number as the one who last called me before—Annalise.
“Hello, Ms. Dashwood? It’s Annalise here, how was your journey? I tried to call you yesterday, but your phone went to voicemail.”
What could I say? The journey was a living hell? I had to sit on a plane for seventeen hours before I saw my dead sister through a thick paned window whilst holding hands with a stranger to confirm she was dead because her driving license and passport with her pictures on them weren’t formal enough?
“Okay,” I replied in a soft, defeated voice.
“I’m down in the lobby. May I come up to your room?”
Although, the last thing I wanted was to face someone from Fr8Load’s crew, I knew it would have been rude to decline. She’d been kind to me. Despite everything, her concern throughout had sounded genuine, and she was the reason I could afford to fly to Sydney.
“Sure… I’m a mess, but... okay.” I sighed heavily because I didn’t have the energy or the will to resist anything, all fight had momentarily left me. The only true feeling I had was the weight of burden in the pit of my stomach that my horrible nightmare was far from over.
Rising to my feet, I wandered over to the window and pressed my hot forehead against the cool hard glass. Staring down at the people far below on the street, I connected with how far away from me they were. My thoughts flitted, and I wished I could have been any one of them rather than who I was at that moment and what I had to face.
My phone rang again, pulling me out of my drifting thoughts, and I answered, half expecting Annalise to say she was outside the door. Instead, it was Jeffery from the Consulate.
“Hello, Margaret. This is a quick update. I just put in a call to Dr. Spence on your behalf. He said he would chase the lab for the toxicology reports and he’d call you back. When he does can you update me so I can make arrangements for repatriation of Shona on my end?”
I don’t know why, but I became very disappointed in Jeffery. Gone was the compassionate man from the day before, instead there was someone focused on tying up loose ends. He went on to inform me he’d arranged for the delivery of my luggage which had been left in the trunk of his driver’s car. From the two sides of Jeffery I'd encountered, I could see why he was suited to the position he held.
Thanking him for his assistance, I ended the call because neither of us had anything else to say. His brisk manner during the call caught me off guard. I don’t know what I expected of him or even if I expected anything at all, but the officious tone disappointed me.
I walked over to the nightstand, placing my phone down and shrugged out of my jacket for the first time since I had left the plane. The linen material was crushed and shabby, like I’d slept in it, which of course, I had.
Reaching down, I pulled my carry-on bag onto the bed and opened it. I took out the spare electric-blue silk blouse I had placed in there, along with a set of underwear and some black high waisted pants. Everything else was in my stowed bag. At least I had the presence of mind to pack a spare outfit in the event my bag got lost.
Dr. Spence’s call coincided with Annalise’s arrival. Opening the hotel suite door, I gestured at my phone, and waved her inside.
“Hello, Margaret. It’s Colin Spence here, we met yesterday. I just want to let you know that the toxicology profile for your sister has come back clean of any other substances. The official record will state that Shona died of asphyxia due to the inhalation of stomach contents.” The confirmation was heartbreaking, but I felt oddly relieved there had been no other drugs involved.
There was a pause in his delivery then he continued, “So that concludes my findings in Ms. Dashwood’s case. I can now tell you I will be releasing your sister’s body for repatriation. I’m just going to contact your guy at the American Consulate who I’m sure will conclude matters quickly on his end, and you can make arrangements to leave for home.” He paused for a few seconds and I wondered if I should say something, but I had nothing to say, so he continued.
“Once again, I’m very sorry for your loss, Margaret, and if you have any questions you need to ask, you can contact me on this number.”
I mumbled something I don’t recall and concluded the conversation, then stood staring down at the plain white comforter on the bed. Nausea swept through me and my stomach began to heave. Ignoring Annalise, I sprinted for the bathroom and threw myself forward, barely making the bowl. Pale green bile spewed from my mouth and the smell was putrid. My throat burned, and my eyes stung with fresh tears.
For a few minutes I hovered, unsure if there was more to come, then I stared up at the mirror through mascara streaked eyes. A fresh new wave of grief rushed at me until once again, I couldn’t hold back my sobs.
Closing the seat, I flushed the toilet, and I slumped down onto it. I lay my head on the cold marble countertop near the sink as the smell of pungent vomit in the air made my stomach roll over. Strangled noises tore from my throat. I sounded like a wounded animal, my once silent grief escaping into the air around me.
Annalise knocked softly on the bathroom door but didn’t wait for me to answer. When she entered, her heels clacked rapidly on the ceramic tiles as she made her way toward me. She took a white toweling face cloth from the display by the sink and without speaking, scooped my hair away from my neck and placed the cool, damp cloth over the back of it. Her caring gesture made me cry all the harder because apart from Jeffery holding my hand the day before, no one had shown me much in the way of comfort.
“It’s okay, honey, just let it out. Let it all out,” she said, encouraging me to cry. Placing a hand on my back she rubbed small circles across my shoulder blades which I found instantly soothing. After what seemed like an age, I stopped crying, but my body was still wracked with sobs as it tried to recover from the prolonged bout of irregular breathing.
My cell phone rang in the bedroom. I ignored it, but Annalise left me and answered it. The low murmur of her voice from her side of the conversation continued for a couple of minutes before she ventured back into the bathroom.
“Margaret, that was Jeffery Barker, the American official dealing with… your sister,” she said after hesitating. "He’s asked if you want to be on the outgoing Florida flight later tonight or if you want to recover from the journey first?”
I scoffed at the suggestion I could recover from something like my sister’s death by having an extra night’s sleep. The flight wasn’t the issue, it was the trauma of the whole situation and there was no way I could see I would ever recover from what had happened. Besides, I was desperate to get back to poor little Molly.
When I told Annalise I wanted to leave right away, her face paled. My initial thought to her reaction was she was worried about my health given I’d been vomiting in her presence. However, when I explained I had to get back to Shona’s daughter she couldn’t hide her shock. She had no idea Shona even had a child. Once she understood the position I was in, she made no further comment about me staying there.
I was surprised when she stayed while I rang Jeffery back; however she left promptly after she’d heard the arrangements for my return to the USA, and I figured like Jeffery, I was part of her job. With the Consulate taking care of the return flight, her work—at least until we got home—was done.
An awkward moment passed between us and it felt like she didn’t know what to say, so I made it easy for her and asked her to leave because I had to bathe and take care of my appearance before Jeffery arrived.
It was Malcolm, Jeffery’s driver, who picked me up and drove me to the mortuary alone. Shona’s casket was being sealed for the journey, but once again, I had to go to view before they did that to ensure the correct body was being transferred. It was yet another heart-wrenching task, which along with the unexpected ones, added another layer to my traumatic experience. My ordeal appeared never-ending, and the continued suppression of my distress when dealing with officials wore me down.
Somehow, I got through it with the help of yet more strangers, and with five hours before I had to be at the airport, I found myself back at the hotel—wrung out from yet another round of grief-stricken tears.
After the second viewing, I was wracked with guilt over some of the arguments we’d had in the past. The last conversation I’d had with her the day she left, replayed those harsh judgmental words I’d thrown at her.
It had been a difficult, explosive exchange of words about her selfish attitude because she’d left Molly with our neighbor to go shopping by herself the day before. During the spat, names and labels were traded in both directions because neither of us could compromise. The vivid image of her angry contorted face that morning as she shouted into mine remained; her index finger jabbing at my chest as Shona read me the riot act, then spun on her heel and stomped toward my front door.
She had been furious when she left, banging the door with such force the glass shattered into sharp, angry shards which fell to the ground at my feet as I followed behind. Leaving me in a furious mood, I cleaned up the mess she’d made before I went to work. I had no idea of her intentions to leave the same day and it was the last time I saw her.
Since she had joined the crew there had only been two emails. No calls, not even a five-minute Facetime to the precious little girl she gave birth to. My heart clenched painfully again when I thought about poor little Molly.
An image of her beautiful innocent little face staring at me before I left came to mind, her huge brown eyes full of hope when she asked if her mommy was coming home. I didn’t tell her about Shona because I would not have been able to leave her in grief to do my duty toward her mother otherwise.
When I thought of how I would break the news to her daughter, it changed my feelings of guilt to enraged anger. I was so fucking furious at her leaving Molly that way, for putting me in the position as guardian for her daughter when she should have had her mom.
Exhaustion had become a familiar feeling as I lay on the bed and slipped into a dreamless, fitful sleep for a while. Apart from emotional grief wiping me out, my body clock was all over the place. After a forty-five-minute nap I filled the tub in the hotel bathroom and got into the water. I sat motionless, fighting back the sadness that appeared to be only one deep breath away since I’d found out about my little sister.
By the time the driver picked me up, I was dressed in my outfit from earlier. He took me to the airport and led me to the desk I had to check-in at. It was obvious everyone I came into contact with had been briefed because they all behaved with the same compassion.
At the
airline check-in I was upgraded from business class to first. I was surprised to be in business on the way back in the first place because I had flown out in coach… and the government was paying for my ticket home.
When the undertaker asked if I wanted to accompany my sister’s body to the cargo hold of the plane, I didn’t. I thought the journey home would be hard enough without the image of them stowing her there stuck in my brain.
Besides I had no more left to give because I knew I’d have to save the little I had in reserve to support Molly to the best of my ability.
I used the extra time to visit the chapel to pray for the strength to see that through instead.
Glancing at my wristwatch, I noted I had less than half an hour before take-off and panicked that I may have missed the flight. Luckily the departure gate was only a short walk from the place of worship, but I heard my name being announced in a frustrated sharp tone over the loud speaker system as I reached the check-in desk at the gate.
“Sorry, I’m here. I was praying.”
The flight attendant rolled her eyes as she pursed her lips, visibly annoyed when she snatched my boarding pass out of my hand and scanned it. When she glanced at the details on her screen, I watched as shock registered on her face and her eyes instantly softened to the point where when she met my gaze they were full of pity.
“Ah, Margaret Dashwood? All right, honey, Greg here is going to show you to your seat,” she said, gesturing at a tall, dark haired cabin attendant. “If you need anything, just let him know. He’ll be on hand for your flight home, okay?” She handed me back my boarding pass as she nodded her head in my direction, but looked at Greg as if to say, “This is her.”
Instantly, the uniformed cabin attendant stepped up beside me, gave me a tight smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared on his face, and guided me through the departure gate by my elbow all the way to the plane. I wondered if he thought I was going to be an issue during the flight and his attitude made me feel defiant. That feeling helped me stay strong to face the journey home.
