by Amanda Dick
She stared up at him with open resentment, choking back angry tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I should’ve told you, you’re right. Maggie told me you guys talked today, and I know what you want from him but I have to say that I think you’re over-simplifying this whole thing.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Okay, okay – let’s just dial this down a notch, alright? People are staring.”
She took a deep breath, glancing around self-consciously. A man dried himself off nearby and a couple of middle-aged women chatted quietly as they exited the pool, the sound echoing off the high beams above.
“Come on,” he said, making his way over to the bench lining the back wall.
Ally followed, albeit reluctantly.
He sat down with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When I drove by and saw your car there, it freaked me out. I didn’t go in then because I didn’t want you to get stuck in the middle. What I had to say was for Jack’s ears only – it was between us.”
“Except it’s not, is it? I know what you said to him, and I know you were just trying to stop me from getting hurt, but I need to do this. If you really want to help, you can stand behind me, not in front of me.”
The cracks were starting to show. The carefully constructed façade that she had spent years building up, the wall behind which she hid, was starting to crumble. Piece by tiny piece, he could see it falling, the despair seeping through. The tears gathered in her eyes now, further proof that all was not well.
“Whatever he has to say to you isn’t going to fix anything, I promise you that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can see what it’s doing to you, him being here!”
“This is my decision, not yours,” she said, tears finally working their way loose. “I need to do this, and I need you to let me.”
He clamped his teeth together, afraid of saying more. What would happen if she found out the truth about why Jack left? She was already in pieces. She was strong, there was no doubt about that, but Jack was her Kryptonite, always had been.
She seemed so much smaller, suddenly. He kept assuring himself that keeping Jack away from her was the right thing to do – deep down, beneath the guilt and the anger, he knew it. He was protecting her, for God’s sake. So why did it feel so wrong?
He reached over to take her hand. “You know I’d do anything for you, but I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can just stand by and watch you do this. The simple truth is, I don’t trust him and I don’t think you should either. You think it hurts now? Just wait Ally, it’s only gonna get worse. When he disappears again – and he will, not because I told him to, but because he’s too much of a coward to stay – it’ll be like he’s tearing you apart all over again. Do you really think you’re ready for that?”
She yanked her hand out from under his, quickly wiping her eyes. “I love how everyone seems to think they know what’s best for me,” she snapped. “Like I need to be wrapped in bubble-wrap and protected from the world. I may have made some mistakes in my life, but newsflash – I’m not made of china, I won’t break.”
Releasing the brake on her chair, she turned abruptly and headed towards the pool.
“Hey!” he called, hurrying to catch up. “Hang on a minute.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she sniffed, glaring up at him as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “There’s no point.”
She pulled the towel off her legs and lay it down in front of her at the pool’s edge. He didn’t want the conversation to end like this, but he had nothing of value to add.
She carefully lowered herself onto the towel and lifted her legs into the pool, leaning forward and falling into the water. Bobbing to the surface a moment later, she began swimming the length of the pool, leaving him to stare after her.
Eventually, he slipped into the pool himself, sprinting a couple of laps to burn off the residual anxiety. He slowed eventually, keeping one eye on her, before finally giving up the pretense and pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the pool.
He smoothed his wet hair back and tried to catch his breath, watching her. Her stroke was smooth and graceful, powerfully pulling her body through the water. To the casual observer, she looked like any other swimmer.
But she wasn’t. She had a penchant for pushing herself beyond her physical limits when she was distracted, like she was tonight. Before long, he noticed her pace had slowed. As he weighed up how to intervene without copping another roasting, she finally swam towards him. The closer she got, the more evident it became. He slid back into the water and swam towards her slowly.
“I think I might need a hand,” she said.
Without further comment, he stood up, scooping her into his arms and carrying her through the water to the concrete steps at the far end of the pool. Climbing up the steps and out of the pool, the cool air pricked his skin, in stark contrast to the warm water.
She weighed next to nothing these days. There was no denying that she had lost a lot of weight since the accident, and putting it back on wasn’t as easy as it used to be, especially since she was using her braces most days now. She never commented on how her body had changed, or not being able to gain weight, but he could see it in her eyes every time he performed the range-of-motion exercises with her. That faraway look that told him she was trying to distance herself from everything. Self-preservation, he assumed.
He set her down gently in her chair, bending down to pick up her towel and hand it back to her. She took it without a word. She looked so vulnerable, sitting there, shivering. Knowing how much she would hate the observation, he immediately felt guilty. She had fought so long and so hard to regain her independence. She was strong and she was determined and she had a stubborn streak in her that had driven him to drink on several occasions. But she wasn’t invincible.
He pushed her over to the bench and sat down with a heavy sigh. Reaching over to snag his own towel from where it had landed earlier, he wiped his face and rubbed his hair dry. She sat facing him, staring at the empty bench, shivering.
“I know you thought you were helping,” she said finally. “But I really need to do this. I need to talk to him, I need to know, and I need you to back off for a while. Please?”
He continued to dry himself off, then stood up and wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking the end in to hold it in place. She wasn’t going to give up, he realised, watching as she rubbed at her legs half-heartedly. He wasn’t surprised.
He sat down again and reached over to turn her chair around and drag it backwards so she was in front of him. He started kneading her shoulders firmly, the muscles taut beneath his fingertips. After a few minutes, he eased off slightly. Her shoulders were shapely and toned, testament to the strength of her upper body. Also testament to the strength of her spirit.
“Okay,” he said, standing up and bending low to take hold of the handles of her chair. “If that’s what you want.”
She let him push her towards the changing rooms, something she rarely permitted.
“I do,” she said, the words coming out with a deep sigh, laced with both relief and fear.
An ache rose up in a wave from his gut, lodging in his throat. He was going to regret this, he could tell. He stopped beside the entry to the women’s changing room.
“I wish Tom were here,” she said quietly, taking control of her chair.
She propelled herself slowly into the changing room, her head bent as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
CHAPTER 8
“Some choices we live not only once, but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.”
- Richard Bach
Jack had been waiting for half an hour, he realised as he checked his watch yet again. Standing up, he paced the length of Ally’s porch before sitting down again in the same spot.
He had slept on the couch last night. Desperate for peace, he had polished of
f the rest of the whisky and waited to pass out. Only, it hadn’t happened as instantly as he would have liked. He had lain on the couch, staring at the ceiling as it spun before him. He tried to conjure up some words of wisdom that his father might have offered, had he been there. All he had successfully done was give himself strange, fractured dreams last night and a giant hangover this morning.
He turned his hands over, studying them. Bruised knuckles stared back at him. Was Callum right? Should he go? Was he only doing this for his own selfish reasons, or did he really think he could make a difference? He recalled Ally’s discomfort as they had talked about the accident – the pain was clear and raw, and he wanted to shrink away from it but he found himself caught. He had been hiding from it for so long, it seemed like it was part of a nightmare, not completely real. But seeing it like that, having it pour out of her and slam into his stomach that way, was something else entirely.
Callum hated him, he saw it in his face, never mind the words that spilled out of his mouth. He didn’t blame him, either. Deep down, he had hoped for some sign that there might be a chance he could claw their friendship back from the brink, that he hadn’t screwed it up for good. He knew now that that was clearly a pipe dream.
He felt like he was drowning. He wished his father was here – he would know how to stop everything from falling apart. Self-pity tried to claim him as he desperately struggled to keep his head above water.
This morning, eager for some peace, he had decided to go to the cemetery to visit his father’s grave. He got as far as the cemetery gate but he couldn’t make himself get out of the car. Ashamed and angry, he had driven back to the house and locked himself inside. He spent the rest of the day in there – wandering, lost, his mind in pieces. At one point, he found himself staring at the notes on the fridge door.
Church newsletters. Shopping lists. Articles from the local paper. Appointment reminders. Handwritten notes. Everything looked normal, yet in reality it was the opposite.
Then had come the epiphany, of sorts.
He drove straight to Ally’s house before he lost his nerve. Only she wasn’t here. Determined to talk to her, he settled in to wait.
Glancing up towards the road, he saw tunnels of light punching through the darkness. His gut clenched as the car turned into her driveway. This was her decision, not his. He just had to let her make it. He owed her that, at the very least.
He stood up, raw knuckles grazing against his jeans as he shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the chill. From the shadows, he watched her unload a wheelchair from the back seat, unfolding it and expertly clipping on the wheels. She hoisted herself out of the car and into the wheelchair, so preoccupied that she didn’t even notice him.
His heart raced. He felt like a voyeur. Considering he had expected to see her in a wheelchair all this time, why did it bother him so much to see it now?
Now or never.
He stepped out of the shadows and made his way down the path towards her. She grabbed a sports bag from the back seat of the car and dropped it into her lap, turning to close the car door.
“Hey.”
She whirled on him, clearly startled.
“Sorry,” he held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His shadow engulfed her as the security light from the outside of the house illuminated them. He felt like he was in the spotlight, which in more than one sense, he was.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming around like this, I know it’s late.”
She recovered quickly. “No, it’s okay. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. I didn’t know if… it doesn’t matter. Do you want to come inside?”
“Thanks,” he smiled thinly.
He followed her up the path in silence, hanging back as she navigated the ramp alongside the steps easily.
“Come in,” she said over her shoulder, reaching up to unlock the door and using the doorframe to pull herself over the threshold.
He followed, closing the door behind him as she deposited her keys on the hall table. She dropped the sports bag onto the floor beside her and they stared at each other awkwardly.
“Do you want coffee? Or maybe a beer, or something?”
He nodded, even though his stomach lurched at the thought of alcohol. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
She smiled, a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and turned to head down the hallway. He fought not to stare as she powered her wheelchair with smooth, even strokes. He struggled with the image, pushing aside a flashback from another time – Ally striding down this same hallway wearing purple boots with two-inch heels and a long, flowing dress. Slowly, he followed her.
Watching her prepare the coffee machine, his resolve began to crumble. Was it fair to make her decide?
She pulled out two mugs and set them on the table before flicking her wet hair over her shoulder.
Desperate to fill the silence suddenly, he gave small talk a shot. “You’ve been swimming?”
“Yeah, with Callum. It’s kind of a Sunday night ritual,” she said, lifting a handful of wet hair and sniffing. “I stink of chlorine. I should probably go rinse my hair. Help yourself to the coffee, I won’t be long.”
He stepped into the kitchen as she moved to pass him and his hand shot out, latching onto her shoulder.
“I need to ask you something,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I want to do the right thing here, so I’m asking you what you want. If you want me to stay, I will. But if you think that it’s just screwing everything up, me being here, then I’ll go. It’s up to you.”
Silence descended on them, the grandfather clock in the hallway marking the seconds as they passed.
“Do you want to go?” she whispered, a vulnerability that took his breath away bobbing just beneath the surface.
“No. But if you want me to, I will.”
Her chin trembled and she looked so frightened, he fought the urge to reach down and take her in his arms.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Four Years Earlier
Callum sat on the step outside Jack’s house, waiting. When Jack finally came outside, tugging a Pearl Jam t-shirt down over his jeans, he grinned at Callum and slapped him on the back, sitting down next to him.
“Cool shirt, dude. That new?” Callum asked, grinning back at him.
“Present from Ally.”
“Nice. You all set for later?”
“Yep.” Jack patted the pocket of his jeans.
“Nervous?”
“Kinda.”
“You know she’s gonna say yes.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Wow,” Callum raised his eyebrows. “Married – you. Dude, don’t look now but I think you’re a grown-up.”
Jack chuckled.
“You’ll be getting a mortgage next. Just seems like yesterday we were setting fire to Jolene Parker’s hair on the school bus,” Callum mused. “And now it’s all over. Married, mortgage, then kids and all that other scary shit.”
“Funny, I thought a best man’s job was to keep the groom calm? Not freak him out.”
At that, Callum beamed. “Best man – I’m gonna be a best man. This is gonna be the best bachelor party ever. Ever – I swear to you, I won’t let you down.”
“If you have anything in mind that’s gonna see me naked and tied to any traffic sign anywhere in town, just forget it – right now.”
Callum just grinned wickedly.
“I mean it. Not cool. At all.”
Callum feigned seriousness for a moment. “Okay. Got it. What about strippers? Where do you stand on strippers?”
Jack fumbled over his words, trying not to smile.
“You worry too much. You’re like an old woman in a dude’s body. Chillax, okay? It’ll be fine. Leave it to Uncle Callum.”
“Really?” Jack stared at him. “Old woman in a dude’s body?”
“Calling it like I see it.”
/> “Jack! Where are my purple boots?” Ally called from inside the house.
“In the kitchen, where you left them!” Jack called back, shaking his head. “I swear she’s the quintessential artist sometimes – completely oblivious to mundane things like time management. Just as well she’s got a damn fine ass.”
“I’ll remind you about this conversation on your fiftieth wedding anniversary – right in front of everyone, grandchildren included. I’m sure they’d love to hear about the damn fine ass grandma had, back in the day.”
Jack chuckled, blushing slightly.
“I might slip that little anecdote about her ass into my best man speech, too.”
“Shhh – keep your voice down!”
Callum feigned horror, then he jumped up and stood on the path in front of Jack, clearing his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us here today. As some of you may know,” he indicated an imaginary crowd with a wave of his hand, “the groom and I have known each other pretty much forever.”
“For God’s sake, keep your voice down!”
“Settle down, grandpa, she can’t hear us,” Callum grinned, climbing the steps and sitting down next to him again. “What do you think she’ll do, when you ask her? Scream? Cry? Jump you, right then and there? Is there such a thing as post-proposal sex?”
Jack shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “God only knows.”
“I bet there is. In fact, I’ll bet my van on it.”
“That’s not much of a bet – you can’t even drive that piece of crap yet.”
“Not far off it, though. Just one more paycheck and she’ll be good to go. Thanks for the lift tonight, by the way. I feel like I’m cramping your style though – are you sure it’s okay to come with you guys? I can get a lift with Mitch –“
“No, it’s fine. You can help take my mind off it till we get home.”
“So what are you gonna say? Have you got a little speech worked out in your head or what?”
