Albatross

by Ross Turner

  There had been other people at the beach, undoubtedly there always were, but she never saw them.

  She was never looking.

  She only ever saw Clare.

  “I…I’m…I…” She stumbled, floundering in her own embarrassment.

  Luckily though, he rescued her, and perhaps not for the first, nor the last.

  “Were you with somebody?” The stranger asked her.

  “C…Clare…” Jen eventually managed.

  What was happening to her?

  “A friend of yours?” He enquired, tilting his head slightly to one side and smiling.

  “My sister…” She replied, at last managing to string two words together without stammering.

  “I see…” He replied mysteriously. “And is it her you’re in such a rush to meet?” He asked, flitting his eyes to their hands, still touching, somehow seeming to be posing his words as a statement of fact, rather than a query.

  “We, she…I’m meeting her…” Jen managed, though admittedly with great difficulty, returning to her stumbling as his eyes swept briefly over her, taking in everything about her in a single glance, or so it seemed at least.

  Even still, he hadn’t released her hand, and his hold was gentle and firm all at once. His fingers were warm against her cold skin, and she liked it.

  As he spoke again, he released her from his grasp and she felt suddenly bitterly lost, and fell immediately into her deep, unending emptiness once more. It swallowed her whole in all its enormity, and Jen felt as though the ground had been wrenched out from beneath her feet.

  She had been rescued, even if for barely a few minutes, and now, once let go, she plummeted into despair yet again.

  How could this happen?

  She couldn’t let him go…

  “I’d better let you go so you can meet her then…” He replied, as if confirming her deepest, darkest fears, and he tilted his head slightly in saddened acknowledgement.

  But, hard as she tried, and as desperately as she might have wanted to, Jen could not find the words to reply. The rushing emotions that barraged her so heavily robbed her of her breath.

  She managed a nod, but no more, and only barely at that.

  Turning to leave, distraught, his words like rough velvet stopped her once again.

  “Can I ask your name?” He requested politely, raising his eyebrows almost unconsciously and turning his mouth up at the corners in a cheeky smile that, if she had not been so deeply off balance, would have told Jen volumes about this particular young man.

  “Jen…” She eventually managed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m Jen…”

  He bowed his head slightly and opened his hand in a rather unseemly grand gesture to her: something that she wasn’t expecting.

  She felt the strange and burning urge to reach out and grab it.

  She so desperately wanted to.

  But she didn’t.

  “Until we meet again then, Jen…” The stranger bade her a gracious farewell.

  And in that moment something overwhelmed young Jennifer that she had never before in her life experienced. Considering that she had barely felt anything besides misery and dejection for so long now, it sent her blood coursing and racing through her veins like wildfire, stirring her overwhelmed emotions into a maddened frenzy.

  She wanted him to kiss her.

  She wanted to lean in so that he could.

  And somehow, she could see that he knew it too.

  But he only smiled, seemingly ever the gentleman, and after a few moments, her heart in her mouth, Jen managed to sir herself into movement and passed through the heavy wooden doorway that he still held open, and out into the cold of the night.

  Her heart fluttered continuously, and she didn’t feel like she had butterflies in her stomach as much as they swarmed through her entire body, colonising in her chest it seemed.

  “Oh, and, by the way…” He called calmly after her, and she turned to face him one last time.

  Her cheeks flushed afresh and her heart still pounded furiously against her ribs, lust filled for the first time in her life.

  “I’m Deacon…”

  Memoria Lane

  That night, for the first night in a long time, when she arrived home, Jen didn’t immediately race out onto the roof. When she appeared in the kitchen, pulling her hoody off over her head, her mother was pleasantly surprised to see her, especially after the incident with Caroline.

  “How was work, sweetheart?” Dyra asked her youngest daughter.

  “Yeah…I, good. It was good thanks. How are you?”

  Immediately Dyra could tell that something wasn’t quite right.

  What had happened?

  Perhaps she’d come to tell her what she’d been waiting to hear for so long now, one way or another.

  Hopefully.

  She’d been waiting for months.

  But when Jen came and sat down, perching across the table from her mother, there was something in her daughter’s eyes that Dyra had never seen before. And she had absolutely no idea what it was.

  Not that that was anything new.

  “Are you okay?” Dyra asked.

  “Yeah, I think so…” Her daughter replied.

  “You think so?” Dyra questioned immediately, concerned, as a parent always will be. “Did you get home okay? What’s happened!?”

  “No, nothing, it’s fine. I got home fine.” Jen reassured her, of course knowing exactly why she was asking that.

  “So what is it?” Her mother pressed.

  She thought she knew what her youngest daughter’s next breath would be, but after a few more anxious moments, she realised in fact that she had been wrong. She was surprised. Pleasantly so, in fact, although she was still worried.

  Taking a deep breath, Dyra decided it was time to take the plunge.

  “Did you walk home with Clare?” She asked then, her tone cautious and her gaze upon her daughter warily.

  “What? Oh, not in the end, no….” Came Jen’s reply, which shocked her mother even more, so much so that Dyra could find no reply.

  “Oh…” Was all she managed in her surprise.

  “I think I might go to bed…” Jen stated then, rising slowly, and admittedly wearily to her feet.

  “Okay, sweetheart…” Her mother replied, practically jumping to her feet also, not really knowing what to say or do.

  “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jen said fondly then, bidding her mother a good night and embracing her before disappearing up the stairs, leaving Dyra sat alone and shocked in the kitchen.

  Jen’s sudden change of heart, even though it was only slight, left her mother dumbfounded, and she looked after her daughter as she vanished up the stairs and to her room.

  “Goodnight…” She called after her, her voice trailing off somewhat.

  After a few moments relief crept through Dyra’s chest and a slight smile touched her lips. Pushing herself to her feet, she wandered through into the lounge and collapsed onto the faded leather settee that sat back up against the wall closest to the kitchen.

  She felt suddenly weightless and exhausted, as at least a little of the heavy anxiety that she had carried with her fell suddenly from her shoulders.

  Naturally, Jen did eventually find her way up onto the rooftop, crouching and locating the spot where she was most comfortable on sea view side.

  This time though she didn’t take her Walkman with her.

  She had even tried briefly to fall asleep in bed, but she had not had much success.

  Her thoughts still raced and her body still felt the after effects of Deacon…

  “What happened?” Clare asked her, sliding carefully along the slanted rooftop in her plain, white dress, luminous in the night, crouching slowly to sit by her younger sister.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to meet you…” Jen apologised immediately, misunderstanding Clare’s question completely.

  “No, not that…” Clare replied, waving off her apology as
if she’d accepted it before it had even been made. “I meant, what happened with Deacon?”

  “What? Oh, erm…I…I don’t know.” Jen stumbled, phased even at the sheer mention of his name.

  “See!?” Clare exclaimed then, her voice carrying perhaps further than she’d intended through the dark night from the rooftop.

  But she didn’t care, and it didn’t matter anyway.

  No one would have heard her.

  Jen flushed again, and Clare saw it even in the dim light.

  “That! See! There!” She exclaimed again. That’s exactly what I mean!” She chuckled, pointing at Jen’s furious blushing. “Even just his name!? Really!?”

  “Stop it!” Jen begged, covering her ears and burying her face, though of course that made no difference whatsoever.

  “How’s he done this!?” Clare laughed then. “You even wanted him to kiss you didn’t you!? Admit it!” Clare jested seriously. “You’ve never wanted that before in your life!”

  “He…I…I really don’t know…” Jen floundered helplessly.

  She had no answers to give.

  “Jenny…” Clare said then, smirking, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head at her younger sister.

  Jen looked her older sister in the eyes and knew in an instant exactly what she was thinking.

  “Don’t say it…” Jen warned, though there was a pleading tone in her voice too.

  But it mattered not. The words were already on Clare’s tongue.

  Jen knew what they were anyway.

  Either way, regardless, there was no way she could have escaped them.

  Her older sister’s voice rang true like bells echoing out over the vast shoreline.

  “You’ve fallen in love.”

  Sleep came quickly when Jen eventually crept back down into her bedroom, but her mind did not rest, and all through the night her crazed, muddled up thoughts turned into exhausting dreams that left her feeling even more drained than before.

  Jen saw herself in her dreams on Memoria Lane. She clocked the street name sign straight away. Not that she’d needed to check it, for this was the street where she always met Clare from work, and she recognised it immediately.

  The streetlights were bright, but few and far between, and lit lonesome yellow spotlights all the way along the lane for as far as she could see in either direction.

  Trees and shrubs and bushes lined the narrow lane on both sides, broken here and there by gaps of darkness that shrouded around harrowingly.

  Usually there would have been cars flitting past, crossing paths here and there for brief, fleeting moments where the lane occasionally widened. There were crossing places, after all, but here, now, in her dream, Jen’s mind was frantic and silent all at once, and no cars passed by that night.

  Next, Jen found herself walking along the lane, meandering through the darkness of the night, crossing paths every hundred paces or so with one of the yellowish spotlights. The cold did not affect her, even though she was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt, for of course that would only have been her mind playing tricks on her.

  Although, what else are minds for if not for playing tricks?

  Jen’s was certainly having a field day.

  She rounded a corner that appeared from nowhere, still following the same lane, and continued on down towards the shop where Clare worked. It wasn’t quite in view yet, but no matter how far she walked, it never got any closer.

  Regardless, she continued, knowing it would eventually appear. Either that, or beforehand she would meet her older sister on her way home from work. They usually crossed paths in the middle somewhere.

  There was no real sense of time in her dream, but if she had to guess, Jen would have likely deduced that far too long had passed, and that Clare would usually had found her by now.

  Perhaps she’d finished late?

  Suddenly a rustle off to the side of the lane startled her, and Jen’s attention focused in on the blackness intently. She couldn’t see a thing, but the noise sounded again, forcing fear to course through her body.

  Shouting for help, her voice carried far and wide through the endless night.

  But nobody came to her aid.

  Then, still staring in terror at the darkness before her, visible only barely by the dim reaches of the yellow light from the streetlamps, Jen saw a silhouette detach itself from the trees and bushes and undergrowth.

  It was the figure of a man.

  All of a sudden she was petrified, and desperately yearned to run. But, hard as she tried, her legs would not budge.

  As much as she willed, her body would not listen.

  It was as if she had been trapped there endlessly, unable to escape, for a very long time.

  The figure approached, seeming to glide above the ground in the faint light, hazy and unclear, and as it moved, Jen’s stomach turned and lurched in terror.

  But then, as the figure continued to draw ever closer, her feelings stirred anew.

  She suddenly felt alive and renewed, invigorated afresh for the first time. And as the silhouette separated itself from the shadows, breaking away from the darkness, her heart lifted and her spirit soared as she saw who in fact it was.

  Deacon.

  He didn’t speak.

  And Jen couldn’t.

  She was tongue tied again.

  A chill wind whipped between them, but it was not cold.

  The streetlamps dimmed and blackened, but still they could see.

  Jen was only human, and a barely functioning one at that, yet, now she felt as though she could fly.

  It was as if she was stood back in the doorway to The Rusty Oak, seeing Deacon for the very first time, and she imagined it would always feel like that.

  At the very least, she hoped it would.

  Sunlit Chorus

  Dyra awoke slowly, hearing the murmuring of voices in the distance that doesn’t quite startle you to consciousness, but instead rouses you gradually and leaves you groggy and confused. She blinked awake a few times, groaning inaudibly as she did so.

  It was only as her senses awakened, sluggishly, one by one, that Dyra was able to gain any sense of focus whatsoever.

  Light streamed in through the crack between her curtains, blinding her momentarily, but that wasn’t what grabbed her attention the most.

  Straining to hear as best she could, once she’d finally realised what it was that had awoken her, Dyra cocked her ear to one side and focused intently. But it was no use. The sound was too far away and the walls were too thick. All she could hear were murmurs. She couldn’t make out any words.

  Rising from beneath her quilt and swivelling round to the side, dropping her legs off the edge of the bed, she stood up and reached for her thick, grey dressing gown, pulling it on over her nightclothes.

  She silently opened her bedroom door and stepped slowly out onto the landing. To her right was the stairway leading up to Jen’s bedroom, and to her left were the stairs leading down to the hall. Out on the landing she could hear more clearly the murmurs that had stirred her, and now she could tell that they were indeed only one voice.

  Jennifer’s.

  Pacing down onto the stairs, she moved gradually, pausing for a moment as her gaze briefly caught the picture of the three of them: herself, Clare, and Jen, all stood outside the house when they’d first moved in.

  Dyra stared at it blankly for a moment, totally lost in thought, her expression unreadable.

  Eventually moving on, she continued to descend the stairs, and Jennifer’s voice became clear enough to make out the occasional word, but still hers was the only voice Dyra could hear.

  And then it all went quiet, and there was not a sound to be heard.

  Dyra pressed on, growing only more confused.

  But then, all of a sudden, just as she reached the penultimate step, about three seconds from turning the corner and entering the kitchen, the loud banging and scraping of pots and pans startled her, and it was all she could do to keep herself from cry
ing out in shock.

  Her hand came up to her mouth to conceal any escaping sound, and even as it did, she heard Jennifer’s voice again, clear as day this time, and the sound brought tears to her mother’s eyes.

  Her youngest daughter burst out in song once more, perfectly in tune, singing a melody that Dyra knew all too well.

  Jennifer, so troubled of late, was singing a love song! And not just any love song, but in fact, the very song that Dyra had chosen for her wedding day.

  Her stomach churned and her spirits lifted enormously.

  Cooking and singing!

  The tears that had been welling in her eyes streamed instantly down her cheeks, and Jen’s mother retreated back upstairs, just as silently as she had come.

  Feeling herself go weak at the knees, she slumped back against her bedroom door and slid down to the floor.

  Great surges of relief flooded through her in enormous waves.

  Perhaps everything would be alright after all…

  It was another ten or fifteen minutes before Dyra had dressed and composed herself enough to venture downstairs once more.

  She heard Jen’s voice again, this time even before she’d made it halfway down the staircase, and she was still singing, though now it wasn’t Dyra’s wedding song, and she managed to just about hold herself together.

  “Good morning sweetheart.” She greeted her youngest daughter with a broad smile as she entered.

  Jen was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, as per usual, but there was something about her that morning that made it look like the sunbeams streaming in through the window had been cast for the sole purpose of illuminating her every flowing movement.

  “Morning mom!” Jen replied, breaking tune for barely a moment, tending expertly to scrambled egg with one hand and lightly buttering toast with the other.

  She had always been a marvel to watch in the kitchen, Dyra thought to herself, as she observed Jen dance and juggle and sing in a display of great skill.

  It was most definitely something that cannot be taught, but instead simply something that is learned only through a love of cooking.

  “What’s the occasion?” Jen’s mother asked, pulling a chair up at the table and pouring herself a glass of orange juice that Jen had already laid out ready, along with placemats, cutlery, and a variety of seasonings.