‘Hey Rosie, it’s Kath. I’m hearing you, I’m hearing you – New Year’s Eve can be a real drag and it’s hard to keep up the pretence of being the real party animal. Maybe you could just stay home and tell everyone you were with someone else? That’s the great thing about being a cop; I am pretty much guaranteed to be working, so it’s not even something I have to contemplate. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I hope you find something to do. Talk soon, Bye.’
The three workmates looked at each other and then over at Rosie, who had heard the whole thing from her place in the queue for the till.
When she returned to the table at first Rosie tried to look unconcerned, but seeing the way the others were looking at her with such pity she decided to come clean.
As a single thirty-something and the last one standing from her circle of friends she had recently found herself in a social wasteland. Sure her married/partnered friends invited her to things, but those events were always full of other couples. She had lived the dinner party scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary too many times to mention. Besides, most of them had kids now as well, so any socialising had to be booked weeks in advance and be over by nine o’clock.
Her younger friends from work and from her netball team were the other extreme. No weekend was complete for them without getting completely written off on both Friday and Saturday nights and sleeping all day Sunday. Rosie had been there and done that in great style, but as much as she had initially hated to admit it she was now well and truly over the nightclub scene.
After explaining this she said, ‘It’s okay, you don’t all have to look at me like that. Let’s just admit it, my social life these days is a work of fiction and apart from a few half-hearted pity invites, tonight I really have nowhere to go. I wish I didn’t mind like you Bev, or that I had a spouse like you Scott or that I was a drinker like you Ross, but the truth is I do mind. I feel like a failure.’
‘Oh Rosie no you’re not, or if you are then I am too,’ Bev said as she clasped Rosie’s hand, and then told the group how she really felt about staying home.
Scott raised his hand. ‘I’ll out myself as well. I’m not at all happy with the idea of staying home alone just because Lara is working.’
Ross looked at his shoes for a while before mumbling that his night was going to be far from a happy alcohol fuelled celebration.
None of them spoke as they walked back to work. They ignored the band that was setting up in readiness for the street party and paid little attention to the Happy New Year banner that was being strung across the main street.
Scott made the suggestion tentatively at first.
While Lara had made it clear she didn’t want him to go out and have fun, she hadn’t said anything about not having work mates over for a bit of a catch up.
Ross was doubtful. ‘Sounds like you’re on a bit of a sticky wicket there mate.’
‘Well, it would have to be a quiet-ish kind of night,’ Scott said. ‘If we have a big rowdy celebration the neighbours would be sure to mention it.’
‘Quiet-ish would be just fine with me,’ Rosie said.
Thrilled at the thought of her first New Year’s Eve out of the house in almost thirty years, Bev couldn’t have been more excited if she was planning to be on the foreshore of Sydney Harbour watching the fireworks. ‘I could whip up some party food if everyone wants to contribute something to the kitty.’
Rosie offered to make some punch and bring over Balderdash which was great fun.
The only one who hadn’t committed was Ross.
‘It might be a bit of a comedown for you mate, compared to the stuff you usually end up doing,’ Scott said.
Ross sighed wearily.
‘It would be nice if you could come,’ Bev said.
‘Well it does sound like an all right kind of shindig,’ Ross agreed.
Scott informed Ross there could be no question of him staying over, that he would either have to limit his drinking to stay under the limit, or he would have to sleep in his car at least one street away as there was no chance he would get a taxi.
Ross agreed that either option would work.
There was a much higher energy level at SmallWorld that afternoon. The evening, which to each of them, albeit privately, had previously seemed to stretch out ad infinitum now had a shape to it. They had somewhere to go, and people with whom to celebrate the transition to the new year.
Bev and Rosie cleaned out the storeroom and completed the stationary order, a job which had been shelved for the past two months. They chatted easily as they worked and wondered why the task had been repeatedly put off for so long. Starting the New Year with a clean storeroom was a nice feeling.
The back corner of the workshop was a graveyard of assorted junk that nobody knew what to do with. As Scott rearranged the shelves so that each held various useable parts, placed a large box labelled ‘For The Tip’ near the door and cleared the bench space so it could be used, he kicked himself for not doing it sooner.
Meanwhile, Ross finished the tweaks to the new email system that Mr Small had been reminding him about for the last six weeks. He had to admit that it would save everybody time, now that there was a proper filter for inter-office messages. As rigid and unbending as Mr Small could be, the guy did have some good ideas.
After a call to Mr Small to reassure him that everything was shipshape in the office, Rosie gave everybody an early mark at 4.30. The day that had started with so little enthusiasm finished on a much higher note. Scott gave them directions to his house and they all waved each other goodbye as Rosie locked the door. As they headed to their cars each one of them looked forward to the evening ahead.
New Years Eve didn’t seem so bad after all.
# # # # #
‘That was an appropriate choice for today, considering what we were just talking about,’ Grace said, as she closed the book and put it down.
Edith blinked.
‘I really related to it,’ Grace admitted. ‘I hate New Year’s Eve and I thought I was the only one who did. But going by this story, maybe I’m not alone with that.’
Edith raised an eyebrow. Although unsure if she was agreeing or disagreeing with her, Grace had learned enough about her new friend to know that she wanted her to elaborate further.
‘There’s a lot of pressure to celebrate on New Year’s Eve,’ Grace said. ‘Some years that can be a good thing. Like when you’re a kid a whole new year seems really exciting, but when you get older it can just remind you of what you haven’t managed to achieve in the previous year.’
This time Edith eyed Grace in such a way that it was impossible not to interpret what she was thinking. ‘Yeah I know twenty is still pretty young. But sometimes I feel really old.’
Grace had certainly not intended that statement to be anything other than an honest appraisal of her own life. But catching a glimpse of Edith’s stricken face she realised she had touched on something a lot deeper. She didn’t know if the other woman was expressing sadness about her own life or about the fact Grace was so powerless to do anything good with her own. All Grace knew was that despite her reserve and stunted emotional wellbeing, she could not sit and watch a widowed stroke victim in a nursing home sit and cry without offering her a little comfort.
Hugging is such an instinctive human act, Grace realised as she held Edith’s frail body as it trembled with grief. She couldn’t remember the last time she had hugged anybody, but apparently it was like riding a bike, you never lost the knack. No words were spoken, really what could she say that would make Edith’s circumstances any better? But she knew that was not what Edith was seeking.
The moment eventually passed – as they always do – and Grace moved back to her chair and back to other elements of the story.
As she bid Edith goodbye Grace wasn’t sure how to feel. Although the other woman was recomposed and apparently back to normal, a deep melancholy continued to emanate from her. Wasn’t that fair enough though? Even upbeat people had bad days sometim
es.
They were like two unconnected pieces of the same puzzle – Edith who had the right attitude and the confidence to live a normal life but was held back by a broken body and Grace who could physically go anywhere she wanted to go but was trapped by the confines of her mind.
Seeing gnome man coming down the hall towards her Grace made an effort to smile as he passed. But this time he zoomed right by without so much as glancing at her. Grace sighed wearily; obviously she was giving off some pretty sad vibes today. Putting her head down she hurried to the exit, determined not to infect anybody else.
* * * * *
The New Year’s Eve after her high school graduation was supposed to be the most amazing of Grace’s life. Her birthday was on New Year’s Day and she loved the fact that she could ride the coattails of the party night of the year to ensure her eighteenth birthday was celebrated in style. She and her friends back home had started planning the party back in Year Eleven.
Of course things were different when she went away to Strauss, but plans for the big night had remained fixed. Her best friend Alex emailed regularly with updates on the playlist or the menu and kept track of the financial contribution they were all making to the event. Renting the penthouse at Q1 in Surfers Paradise had not come cheap, but divided amongst ten they all agreed it was worth the investment.
Grace never found out if the others had gone ahead with the big party. Of course it wouldn’t have been her birthday party anymore, but it was still New Year’s Eve and it would have been fun to host a big celebration there anyway. By then she had changed her mobile number and closed her old email address and Facebook account to prevent any contact. She assumed they were so mad at her anyway that they probably did go ahead just to spite her.
If there was one thing the past few years had taught her, it was that familiarity meant safety. After four visits, Rosehill Gardens had become familiar to Grace, comfortable even. Leaving the haven of her car and walking to the front door felt safe now. Greeting people as she walked along the hallways towards Edith’s room could still be confronting, but only if it was somebody she didn’t know. And even then generally it was fine. They all smiled, they were just grateful she volunteered her time to spend with Edith. Grace was just another face, another person who shared a little of the load and helped make their days at Rosehill a bit easier.
Her pulse increased a little as she approached the nurses’ station. It was one thing to say hello when you walked past someone in the hall, but it was still easier if she could just slink past unseen. But then again they had a closed circuit TV monitor on their desk so she would be in their line of vision. It would probably seem very rude not to say something.
She may have stood there all morning dithering if Janice – one of Edith’s nurses – hadn’t looked up. ‘Hi Grace. I guess it must be Tuesday if you’re here?’ she said with a smile.
‘You said it,’ she replied with a return smile, before resuming her journey to the east wing. Doubt plagued her mind for a moment. Was ‘you said it’ the appropriate response? On the spur of the moment it had seemed like a quick, clever remark but now it seemed odd and awkward. Hesitating a second she turned back, frantically trying to come up with something else. But Janice was already engrossed in her paperwork again. Grace relaxed.
So used to seeing Edith ready and waiting for her, Grace was shocked to enter the room and see two nurses tending to Edith, who was lying flat on her back on the bed. Marion was also there, dusting around the window frame.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude … I’ll leave,’ she mumbled, hastily attempting to back out of the door.
‘No, Grace wait,’ Marion called. ‘It’s okay, they’re almost finished.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes it’s fine,’ one of the nurses assured her as she adjusted the nasal prongs and moved the portable oxygen tank back against the wall. The tall and big boned nurse was familiar but Grace couldn’t read her name tag.
Grace hung back near the door until the nurses were finished then approached cautiously. It was strange to see Edith wearing just a normal nursing home gown with her hair in a simple plait and her face devoid of makeup. The nurses had raised the top end of her bed a little, but she was much lower down than normal and Grace felt too tall and imposing as she stood near the bed.
‘You’d better sit down Grace,’ Marion said, ‘you’d be a bit overwhelming from that angle.’
Needing no further prompting, Grace sank down into the armchair and tried not to look too closely at Edith.
‘She’s all right,’ Marion reassured. ‘Just a chest infection. It’s part and parcel of being bed ridden.’
‘That sucks.’
Marion let out a peal of laughter that ended with a snort. ‘Indeed it does!’ she gasped. ‘Well said hon, I’ve never heard you use an expression like that before.’
‘Well, I don’t usually…’ Grace began.
‘Grace stop apologising! I wasn’t criticising you, just stating a fact. I like that you said it – you are right, it does suck. Please don’t feel you need to censor what you want to say around Edith. She likes people to be up front, don’t you lovie?’
Edith blinked, somewhat tiredly Grace thought.
‘All right,’ Grace said. ‘Do you think they still want me to read today if Edith isn’t well? I can make another time if you want.’
‘No, don’t go. All this morning while Edith here has been turned and jabbed and had her back pounded so she didn’t choke on her own phlegm she was looking forward to your visit.’
Grace wondered just how the cleaner knew this but didn’t like to disagree.
‘Trust me Grace, she loves having you come to visit.’
‘I like it too,’ Grace replied, her voice catching a little. How was it that she, Grace, who was so insignificant in the outside world had come to mean so much to another person? She was glad Edith couldn’t see her eyes misting over as she leaned down and hauled out the book, ready to embark on the next chapter.
# # # # #
Audrey was surprised by how calmly the idea of suicide came to her. It wasn’t in the midst of a horrible anxiety attack or a crippling bout of depression; it just slipped into her mind one day as she sat in her favourite armchair listening to the clock tick in the oppressive silence of her house.
Never had she entertained such a thought before. Starting life as sickly baby who had battled the odds to survive her first couple of years and then as a frail teenager and adult, Audrey’s fighting spirit had always carried her through.
But now all she felt was an aching loneliness.
Looking at the photograph of Martin on the coffee table, Audrey still couldn’t believe the cruelty of it. Strong robust Martin had cared for Audrey throughout their marriage and had even passed up his own interests and dreams to keep her comfortable and as healthy as possible. It was Martin who had held her hand before the risky, experimental heart surgery that had unexpectedly transformed Audrey’s life at the age of fifty-eight.
Just when she had been given the opportunity to repay his dedication by being able to travel and go hiking with him as they had always dreamed, he had been struck down by a rare terminal lung condition and within a few short months he was dead. Now a year since his passing, Audrey missed him more every day, rather than less. Those who said time healed all wounds didn’t have a clue.
The thought percolated in Audrey’s mind over the following week. It would be easy enough to do. She still had a cupboard full of her old heart medication, an overdose could be taken quietly and she could just drift off one night.
Yet something held her back.
Repeatedly, she asked herself why she just didn’t get it over with as she ate breakfast, lunch and dinner alone in her quiet kitchen, in her spotless house. There were no children to be upset by her passing, nor did she have siblings of her own.
But there was always a reason to not do it just yet. She hadn’t yet cleaned out the spare room, she hadn
’t finished the photo albums and her garden wasn’t quite in bloom yet – it wouldn’t do to leave it in the in between stage.
Besides she didn’t want Martin’s family or her elderly aunt and cousins to have to sort through a mess. Nor did she like the idea of being one of those poor people found weeks or months after their death, because nobody noticed they were missing.
Having dithered for weeks, Audrey made her decision one lonely Monday morning as another endless day stretched out in front of her. Right, she decided, I’m going to get the garden in shape and put my affairs in order.
Checking her calendar she noted Dr James was due for a home visit in three weeks on Monday the 25th. A cheerful, practical, middle-aged woman, Dr James was used to dealing with death and wouldn’t be too traumatised to find Audrey dead in her bed. I’ll just make sure I hide all the evidence, Audrey decided. It will just look like I passed away peacefully in my sleep.
Much more settled now that she had made up her mind, Audrey compiled her to-do list, surprised how many items were on there but confident she could get through them in the time she had left. It was ironic, really, that now she was planning to die she had more motivation than she’d had all year.
Upon collecting her mail the next day, Audrey found two pamphlets nestled between her phone bill and bank statement. She sighed in annoyance, couldn’t those people read? What was the point of having a “no junk mail” sticker if nobody took it seriously?
Room 46 & Short Story Collection Page 9
