If Only

by Yvonne Beattie

  I feel like someone just punctured my lungs.

  “Wha…” is all that escapes me before I feel more tears running down my cheeks. My throat feels like it’s been doing lunges, it hurts so badly.

  “Oh, lovie, I know. She was a tough old bat, was our Maggie,” Deb comes and sits beside me, putting her arm around me. “I told her she should have told you, but she was quite adamant that she didn’t want any fuss, she didn’t want anyone’s pity, she just wanted to be remembered as she was. You’re lucky really, she was great over Christmas, really great in fact. The last few weeks have been up and down, and well, this week, she basically never woke up. Marty went to check on her, as usual, and we knew it was the end. She slipped away peacefully yesterday morning, and she was happy, Rachel. Truly, she was a happy old woman. You all brought back a lot of memories from her youth over Christmas, and she seemed to bounce about full of life. It was just what she needed.”

  I manage to find some air and take a deep shaky breath, “Was… was she on any treatment?” I ask. I know how she loved to do her hair, I can’t imagine how brutal chemotherapy would have been on her and her frail body.

  “No. It was slow progressing because of her age, and she declined all treatment reasoning that she didn’t need any more ‘time’, you know Maggie. She was only latterly taking painkillers which Marty kept an eye on,” she says.

  “I really had no idea, at all,” I say feeling useless, and even more annoyed with Marty, though I know it’s not his fault.

  “I know, dear. It was what she wanted, she protected you from the worst,” she tries to make me feel better again. “That’s just Maggie to a tee.”

  “I wish she hadn’t,” I tell her feeling somewhat annoyed, although I know it’s silly, as I’ve only known them all for a matter of weeks. I have no right.

  “Maggie really loved you, you know,” Deb says giving my shoulders a squeeze. “I think you reminded her of herself.”

  I give an involuntary snort, “If I’m anything like Maggie when I’m that age, I’ll be a happy lady. Well, if I’m even lucky enough to live that long.”

  Deb hands me my cup of tea again, and I take it this time, thankful for it.

  “Here is Marty,” Martin Senior announces craning his neck to look out of the window.

  I instantly go rigid and my heartbeat has gone haywire.

  “Hey, take it easy,” Deb says to me quietly. “He regrets what he did, I know it. If you like him, be patient. Just go easy on him, ok?”

  I look her in the eye feeling like I want to give her a good shake. I know she is his mum, but what about me? Who is looking out for me in all of this weird secrecy? I’m sick of it. I grudgingly give her a small nod, and turn to watch every gorgeous inch of him walking through the front door.

  The funeral is organised for Monday morning, and I hadn’t thought about filling in the time between Saturday afternoon and Monday, I was in such a rush to get back up here.

  Marty and I said a few awkward words to each other when he came in, I ditched my bags in the spare room I had slept in at Christmas, then decided to go for a long walk by myself. The fresh air is just what I needed, it’s a very cold and brisk day, but wrapped up well, I’ve begun to work up a bit of a sweat. I walk and walk, until before I know it, I’m standing outside the chalet we stayed in over Christmas. I can’t help feeling happy about the memories we made there, all of us. So much seems to have happened in the very short amount of time, between us arriving before Christmas, and then now. I find myself chuckling to the memory of Bex and I slipping on the steps the first day we went skiing, and of course, the silly board game night…

  I carry on walking without thinking about where I am going again until I end up outside of Maggie’s place. The lovely white picket fence, the ivy still framing her entry gate, the little blue stenciled flowers on her white picket fence. Every little piece of the place is a reminder of Maggie.

  “Hey, Rach?”

  I look up to see Marty standing at Maggie’s front door, looking expectantly at me.

  “Hi…” I say, surprised. I didn’t expect to see him here. I left him safely tucked away at his parents house.

  “Do you want to come in? I actually have something for you,” he smiles warmly at me, a far cry from the look on his face when he finished with me at the bar.

  I’m not sure that I want to be in there without Maggie, but I reluctantly agree. I’m fully aware it will be the very last time I’ll ever be in her house, and I would love to feel close to her again.

  “I’ve just boiled the kettle,” Marty says closing the door behind me. “I’ve been sorting out some of Mags’ paperwork, and I saw you walking down the street.”

  “Oh,” I’m waiting for him to tell me tea is the answer. To what, I have no idea, but I’m feeling sarcastic, and frankly, I’m struggling to be in the same town as him, never mind the same room.

  “I guess I left things on a shitty note, didn’t I?” he tries to talk.

  “Hmm…” I close my eyes and look away from him, at the beautiful artwork still hanging on the wall.

  “I’m really sorry, Rach. I was wrong on every level. I never intended to get so involved, and I certainly didn’t expect to fall…” he stops short and diverts his attention, just as he grabs mine.

  “Marty?” I’m looking at him more intently. What was he going to say?

  “What does it matter? We had fun, and that’s all it is… or was,” he shrugs.

  “Bu…” I instinctively go to try and talk to him more about it, about what he really feels, if anything, but he’s moved on.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he says. “Well, it’s actually something from Mags,” he gets up and quickly crosses the room to where her desk is. He picks something up and about turns walking back over to me, “Here you go.”

  I look down and see it is the book that I gave to Maggie. The one I bought in the supermarket. The one I read, then Bex read. The one I brought over to her on a whim thinking she might like it.

  “I don’t want it, Marty. It’s just a silly book,” I push his hand away, but he lays it down on the table beside me.

  “I think you should open it up, Rachel,” he says. “I only opened it by chance this morning. I saw it lying on Mags’ desk, and picked it up as I knew you said you’d given it to her, and I was thinking about you coming up today.”

  I shrug childishly.

  “Rachel,” he says my name impatiently, “Just do me one last favour. Open the damned book,” and with that he turns and stalks out of the room.

  ‘Screw you!’ I scream silently at him as the door closes loudly behind him. How dare he tell me what to do. How dare he ask me for any favours. How dare he bloody well even talk to me. It’s a stupid book. I shove it aggressively across the table and just as I do so, the front cover pings up, being the over read paperback it is. All wrinkled and used, no longer the pristine glossy book I had first bought. Aside from that though, it’s the blue ink that has grabbed my attention and I quickly stand up to retrieve it back.

  I hold it for a moment, at arms length then, I slowly open it to the first page, and completely lose my composure, all over again.

  Marty drives us back to his parents house in time for dinner, and I can’t help the small smile that is playing on my lips as I look out of the car window.

  “Thanks, Marty,” I say to him without looking at him.

  I feel him look at me for a fraction of a second and then straight back to the road again, “You’re welcome, Rachel.”

  He said it very quietly, thoughtfully, and I know he is struggling a hell of a lot more with all of this than I am. He has a lifetime of memories with her, and most of all, she was his confidant. He told me that before, and I remember it vividly. I can’t imagine, and frankly, I don’t really want to even begin to imagine, how he is really feeling.

  I carefully reach over and slowly take his hand. Neither of us looks at one another, but he gives my hand a small squeeze, and I know I can
’t stay angry with him forever. Whatever his reasons are, I have no idea, but I know within myself, I’m glad to have been part of this family’s life for the last few weeks. I’ve cried a river, but it’s been worth it.

  I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  Chapter 31

  “Please go to dinner with me before you leave,” Marty asks me quietly after Maggie’s funeral tea and once everyone else seems to have gone their own ways. I’m not sure how we manage to be the only stragglers left behind.

  It was a very small funeral as wished by Maggie. She wanted only family and a small selection of close friends in attendance. I felt truly honoured to have been asked to come along. I just wish we could have had more time. Joel was asked to come along too, but he couldn’t get away from work on such short notice, and I know he is really cut up about it. He and Maggie got along like a house on fire.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Marty,” I try not to look him in the eye, just being close by him is killing me.

  Maggie’s funeral was extremely emotional, and I feel completely done in. I now have to drive all the way back to Aberdeen, and I have a tension headache. The last few days have been a lot to contend with.

  “Please… Please don’t leave without letting me explain to you,” Marty says and gently takes my hand that’s dangling by my side.

  I can’t help but look up and into his handsome yet somber face. I feel like it’s all just too much. I never intended on meeting him in the first place, and I’ve been dealing with a broken heart for nearly two months. I’m not sure that I can deal with him explaining anything to me.

  “Marty… I don’t know…” I sigh heavily and look up into the scattered grey clouds and see one single ray of sunshine that is escaping through and highlighting one of the faraway snow topped hills.

  “Look, I just need you to know why I am broken, why I had to let you go. Please, just let me explain.”

  “I just don’t think I can stand the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. Don’t you think we should just let it be?” I take my hand firmly away from him.

  “Please…” he tries again and I know he isn’t going to give in without a fight.

  “OK, just… I don’t think I can eat anything, let’s just go for a walk,” I suggest and start walking away from him, not giving him the option to try and persuade me otherwise.

  I hear the gravel crunching beneath him as he comes after me, “OK, wait up.”

  I slow down slightly. We walk in stilted silence for a short while and I wonder when he is going to start talking. Just as I’m about to say I need to get going, I hear him clear his throat.

  “I was married,” he says, and I stop short and turn to look at him, open eyed, shocked.

  “Married?” I ask for clarification.

  “Yeah. I know it’s completely clichéd, but I thought we were going to be together forever, but we were only married for two short months,” he stops to compose himself, “…before she was killed,” he swallows hard.

  “Oh… Gosh…” my hand has made its way to my face and is covering my mouth. I am horrified.

  “It’s ok,” he says as he leans forward and rubs my shoulder to comfort me. “I can talk about it now, it’s just… it’s difficult, you know?”

  I nod slightly feeling awful that he feels the need to see that I’m ok, “I really had no idea,” I basically stutter as I study his face.

  In a way, I can’t believe he hasn’t mentioned this before, but then we were so busy having fun, enjoying Christmas, doing nothing of any relevance really. We never did get into any nitty gritty. It all seems so frivolous now.

  “I know you didn’t, Paula said she let it slip about the accident. I… I, um, I honestly didn’t think our relationship would ever come to having to talk about it, but when she told me that she had mentioned it after you had left… because I told you to… Ugh…” he messes his hair with his hands in frustration. “I’ve been kicking myself since you left, and I’ve missed you like crazy. I, honestly, I just wish I could be the man you deserve, Rach. I really do, I just don’t think you deserve all my baggage.”

  I watch him as he seems to shake his head in agreement with himself.

  “I think it should be my decision whether I’d choose you, baggage or not,” I surprise myself by saying out loud.

  He appears to stop short and looks up at me.

  Neither of us says anything for a few moments while we stand and just stare contemplating one another.

  My heart rate has picked up at the possibility that he might still want to be with me, but I’m not really sure what either of us truthfully wants.

  “What happened, Marty? To your wife, I mean,” I ask. I just feel the need to know what happened. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is…”

  He sighs and seems to withdraw back into himself.

  “There’s a bench over there, let’s go and sit down,” he motions to it and starts guiding me over to it.

  We sit in the cold, dry, wintery afternoon, and Marty spills the tragedy he has lived with for the last five years.

  “So, we met at university. Sarah was her name. We were both studying to become doctors. She wanted to be a surgeon, but I’ve always wanted to be a general practitioner; you know, the person you see when you go to the doctor when you don’t feel well?” He explains to me, although I already know what a GP is. “Anyway, I had finished my foundation training and had started on my GP training. She was doing the same, but was working as a registrar at the hospital. Ultimately, she wanted to be a cardiologist. We barely saw each other, but we knew that was how our lives would be, and we accepted it knowing the time we got together was extra special. I guess we appreciated it more than most.”

  He pauses for a moment, and while it’s nice getting a little background, I sort of wish he would just press on and tell me what happened.

  “We got married at the end of October. She always wanted an autumn wedding, she loved the colours, the smells, the dark cosy nights. She died at the end of December… the thirty first of December,” he says and closes his eyes.

  My breath hitches, and I think back to him turning up drunk at the chalet to get me on New Year’s Eve, and how the whole evening went south. No wonder he was a mess, it was the anniversary of his wife’s death, and he never once mentioned her to me. No one did. I wonder what he was thinking when he played the piano with me that night at the bar, and when he kissed me for the last time. I wonder if he was thinking, at all.

  “She finished her shift at the hospital and was coming to the bar to meet me,” his eyes flash over at me. “Her two best friends were Paula and Izzy. She grew up in that bar. The girls were friends from school, they were always together.”

  “Oh?” I can’t help the surprised expression on my face. “I met Izzy, she did my nails at the salon.”

  He doesn’t seem to hear me.

  “A friend of Sarah’s was dropping her off at the bar after their shift finished. It was a really foggy night. Visibility was poor, you can imagine…” he takes a quick breath. “As she was crossing the road to the bar, a car clipped her. She was killed outright. It was Izzy’s boyfriend, Justin, who was driving. The thing is,” he stops and shakes his head in denial, “I’ve been so angry with him for so long, but I know, I know, it wasn’t his fault. He was driving below the speed limit because of the poor visibility, he hadn’t been drinking or anything, he was doing everything right. We were mates. Sarah was merely crossing the road, and if she hadn’t hit her head on the side of the curb, she would likely still be alive…”

  I wipe a tear from my cheek quietly.

  We both sit in silence for I’m not sure how long. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say. I don’t suppose anything I say or do can make a difference.

  “That night,” he eventually carries on, giving me a short glance, “ruined my life. It ended Sarah’s life. Paula and Izzy have never been the same since, and Justin is, well, Justin is merely a lost
cause. Not to mention our families and other friends. No one likes to talk about it, it’s a small, close knit community we live in, but we all had to somehow find a way to carry on.”

  The tears are streaming down my face, much as I try to stop them. It’s all just so sad.

  “After it happened, I threw myself back into my work. It was that, or curl up and die myself. Maggie is the one that got me through most of it. She is… or was… so amazing to me. It’s because of her that I decided to take a sabbatical from work. I knew she was dying, she wouldn’t tell many people and swore mum, dad and I to secrecy, I just felt I owed it to her, to get her through it as comfortably as possible. I had to give her this small portion of my life, she more than deserved it, though she hated me not practicing medicine, I know she was delighted to see me everyday. And I was so happy to be able to spend the time with her. She really loved you, you know,” he turns and gives me a sad smile. “Sometimes it doesn’t take long to get to know someone. You’re an open book and you just seemed to get one another, you know what I mean?”

  I sniff loudly and roughly wipe my tears away with my fingers.

  “It’s ok, you know,” he says and I turn to look at him. “She lived a mostly good life, of course it had its ups and downs, but she died happy.”

  “I think she did too,” I smile at him, and at the memory of Deb telling me the same thing. “I’m so sorry, Marty. For everything…”

  “Yeah, it’s not something I talk about often, but I just felt that you deserved an explanation. I really, really like you, Rachel. I just can’t be the man you need me to be, my heart died a long time ago,” he turns away from me, and I know it’s over much as I want to fight for him.

  “I wish I could change things, Marty. I really do,” I say through new tears that I don’t bother to wipe from my cheeks. “Friends at least?” I ask and put my hand out for him to take and shake on it.

  He gives me a relieved look, and nods in agreement, taking my hand firmly, “Friends. I’ll never forget you, Rachel.”