by Amanda Dick
Overwhelmed by a sense of finality that numbed her emotions, she balanced with one palm flat against the floor, reaching over for her chair with the other. Dragging it closer to her, the wheels squeaked gently against the floorboards. She transferred up into the chair and sat there, watching her bare feet resting on the floor.
She thought about what she was about to do. Her stomach contracted, as if her body was trying to protect itself somehow, one last-ditch attempt to change her mind. Sweeping the guilt aside, she lifted her legs up and nestled her feet into the footrest.
Screw everyone else – this was her wish. It was her life, after all. She was tired of putting on a brave face, tired of being conscious of everyone else’s feelings – tired of putting them before her own. She had been selfless for long enough. Now it was her turn.
She released the brake, glancing down at the canvas. She stared at it, the hollow black eyes staring back at her. For the first time, she saw it for what it was.
A reflection of her soul.
As they reminisced, Jack felt as if she had reopened the book of his life and only good memories came pouring out, washing away the pain, if only temporarily. He felt whole again.
These past few years, because everything seemed to hurt so much, he had shut out memories like these, only allowing himself to wallow occasionally, the pain of what he had lost too great. Now, buffeted by Ally’s smiling face across the table from him, he felt as if a little piece of him had been regained. A sense of fullness and warmth enveloped him as he pushed all the negative, self-loathing thoughts aside and concentrated on living in the moment.
He excused himself to get another round and she handed her empty bottle to him, their fingertips touching. Goosebumps crawled up his arm and he smiled down at her. She smiled back shyly and he almost floated to the bar.
Leaning against it, he pushed the empties across and waited his turn. This time, he didn’t really care that at least half a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on him. Dave was nowhere to be seen. Curious stares didn’t even register. He glanced over towards Ally, but her attention was focused on something across the room. His inner smile faded when he realised she was watching the dance-floor. Several couples and a few large groups were dancing, along with one guy who looked like he had already had more than his fair share tonight.
“Same again?” Harry asked.
Jack nodded and turned back to the bar. He watched Harry dispose of the empty bottles and grab another two beers. Money changed hands.
“Thanks,” Jack said, taking the bottles as Harry moved further down the bar to serve other patrons.
Ally was still enthralled by the dance-floor. He stood at the bar, watching her. What must it be like for her, knowing she couldn’t get up there with them? He remembered a time when she used to kick her shoes off and climb up on the table with Maggie and Jane, the three of them shaking their booties till someone dragged them down again. He remembered being that someone on more than one occasion, throwing her over his shoulder amid much laughter. The sadness, the intense longing he saw even from this distance, shredded his insides. Slowly, he made his way back to her through the crowd.
She glanced up as he put the bottles down on the table between them and slid into the booth.
“You looked miles away, just then,” he said before he could stop himself.
“Did I?”
She smiled, but he could tell she wasn’t really there. He felt as if he had interrupted something. He turned his attention back to the dance-floor, mostly to give her some time to compose herself. The drunken guy he had spotted earlier threw himself into a group of revelers before being promptly shoved aside. He lost his balance and careened into a table, sending the occupants scattering.
He smiled in spite of himself and turned back to Ally. “I think someone’s night is about to come to an abrupt end.”
She nodded, the tight smile still in place.
“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously, fully aware of the tightrope he was walking.
She didn’t answer immediately, taking a slow sip from the bottle in front of her. “Yeah, I’m fine. There are just times when I… ”
She glanced towards the dance-floor, frowning as if she was making a decision that might change the course of history. He waited patiently, but it became clear she wasn’t going to continue.
“Do you miss it?”
Idiot!
Why couldn’t he manage the simple task of keeping his foot out of his mouth?
“I miss a lot of things.”
The answer may have been casual, but the look in her eyes was the complete opposite. He kicked himself mentally again. He didn’t know if she meant for him to see that pain, but he had. Now he felt like an intruder, a voyeur. Worse still, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen it.
“No one’s ever come straight out and asked me that before.”
“Probably because it’s a stupid question. I’m sorry, I didn’t – “
“Don’t ruin the moment by apologising,” she said, and he had to lean closer to hear her over the music. “It’s kind of refreshing, to be honest. No dancing around the subject – excuse the pun. But we don’t have to do this now, I’m pretty sure it’d spoil the mood. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”
He sat back in the booth and nodded, curious but not willing to push it. If she wasn’t ready to discuss it yet, he could wait. He racked his brains for another topic instead. Something safer, this time.
“Okay. Well, why don’t you tell me about this exhibition of yours?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Dad’s got a couple of newspaper articles on his fridge.”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten about that. He was so great about it, really supportive.”
“It sounds like it’s kind of a big deal, according to the newspaper anyway.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
He watched her carefully from across the table, the chasm between them feeling smaller the more they talked. The music still made conversation challenging and the bar was still crowded, yet it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. She picked up her beer and drank slowly, avoiding eye contact.
“I’m happy for you. You deserve this,” he said.
“You think so?”
“Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like a fraud. I keep thinking I’m going to get found out.”
“What do you mean?”
She wouldn’t answer him – or couldn’t. She picked at the label on the bottle instead, before taking another long drink.
“Do you ever feel like you’re stuck in someone else’s life?” she asked finally, setting the bottle down again and looking over at him. “Like this isn’t where you’re meant to be, or who you’re meant to be… or whatever? Like you got lost somehow and you just ended up here and it doesn’t matter how hard you try to be somewhere else – to be someone else – you can’t seem to escape?”
Her eyes pierced his soul, intent on uncovering his deepest, darkest secrets. He found himself unable to look away.
She shook her head then, smiling thinly. “Never mind. I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Just ignore me.”
He debated whether or not to answer her or let it lie. He decided on the former. “No, I get it. I feel that way too sometimes.”
“You do? What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d be able to enlighten me.”
She smiled. “You’re asking me for insight?”
“You’re the artist – I thought it might be a question of perspective or something.”
“Sounds like a cop-out to me,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Anyway, something tells me I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Speaking of which,” he indicated her bottle. “Drink up. You’re lagging.”
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Maybe,
” she grinned. “But the joke’s gonna be on you when you have to carry me out of here.”
He winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
Her grin widened as she shook her head, scanning the room. “I’d forgotten how busy it gets in here on Fridays.”
“I was meaning to ask you about that. No more Friday night debriefs?”
“We haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Really?”
The Friday night debrief was a long-standing ritual. They would all meet here after work on Friday and generally stayed until closing. It was a gateway into the weekend – say goodbye to the pain of the working week and usher in the weekend with a lot of laughs and a few beers.
“I think that was my fault,” Ally said, the smile gone now. “I told them they could come without me, I didn’t need to be there, and I didn’t mind. But they wouldn’t.”
“Because of how busy it is here?” he asked, reading between the lines.
She shrugged, as if it was a foregone conclusion.
“Couldn’t you all have gone somewhere else instead?”
“Why? Because of me?” she frowned. “Why should they? It wasn’t their problem, it was mine.”
“Something tells me they wouldn’t have seen it that way.”
She shrugged again. The bar was getting noisier. Jack watched as a large group burst through the main door. He glanced over at Harry, who was also watching them, his expression dark. The group elbowed their way to the bar, amid protests from other patrons who were unimpressed with their behaviour. It was apparent they had had a copious amount of alcohol already and were well on their way to being completely smashed.
“Shit,” Ally mumbled.
“What?”
Her attention was fixed on the group and the colour drained from her face.
“What is it?”
“I think we should probably go.”
“What? Why, what’s the matter?”
He followed her gaze, spotting Andy McLeish, holding court at the centre of the bar, laughing raucously. Jack’s blood began to boil just watching him. He turned back to Ally, who was trying her best to look inconspicuous. She was clearly nervous, and from what Callum had told him and what he had observed himself the other night, he could understand why.
“I met him the other night,” he said, nodding in McLeish’s direction.
“You what?”
“That night I went to talk to Callum, I found him here. Along with Mr. Personality over there.”
“What happened? He and Callum didn’t – “
“He was just shooting his mouth off. Nothing happened,” he lied.
“Thank God. You need to keep away from him, Jack – he’s pure evil, and he’s got just enough between his ears to bring a whole lot of trouble down on you just as soon as look at you.”
“Yeah, Callum told me about that.”
Ally looked more and more uncomfortable by the second.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said.
Ally didn’t waste any time. She grabbed her crutches from under the table and shuffled sideways in her seat. Straightening her legs, she used the table and the back of the booth to hoist herself up.
He noticed that several pairs of eyes were on her but she was too preoccupied to notice. He moved in front of her, shielding her from prying eyes, his protective instinct in overdrive. Shifting her weight, she reached over for her crutches.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, looking over his shoulder, nervously judging the crowd of people between them and the door.
“I’ll take it slow,” he assured her.
He shot a glance towards Andy and his entourage as they made their way towards the door, but thankfully they appeared to slip away unnoticed. Heading slowly through the throng, he kept one eye on Ally and the other on the door. It seemed to take forever, but after several minutes they were finally making their way out onto the street and into the cool night air.
They trudged away from the bar in silence. He tried to think of something to say to lighten the atmosphere, but nothing came. As a result, the mood remained sombre.
As they rounded the corner onto the side street and his car, she suddenly stumbled. He moved quickly to catch her before she fell, grabbing her around the waist.
“Whoa - are you okay?” he said, still holding onto her as she hurried to right herself.
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
Reluctantly, he let her go, afraid he had grabbed her too hard. “I’m sorry – that was just instinct. Did I hurt you?”
“Just my pride, but I’m sure I’ll live. The lighting out here is crap,” she said, clearing her throat. “Makes it kinda hard to see what I’m doing.”
He remembered what she’d said about having to see her legs to control them.
“How about I bring the car closer?”
“Thanks. That’d be great.”
“No problem. You going to be okay here for a minute?”
“I’m fine as long as I don’t try to walk,” she smiled tightly. “How’s that for irony?”
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“And I’ll be right here.”
Her tone reeked of frustration. He headed for his car at a brisk walk, heart pounding. This was not how he was hoping the night would end. It was all he could do to stop himself from running back to her, but he forced himself to jog the last few steps to his car instead. He drove back up the street, double-parking and leaving the engine idling as he jumped out and made his way over to her.
“Your carriage awaits,” he bowed slightly, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort.
She flashed him an anxious smile before slowly making her way towards his car. He hovered behind, just in case, but she managed to get herself between the parked cars safely. Waiting while she eased herself in, he closed the door behind her and made his way around to the driver’s side.
He could not have foreseen any of this. This is what it was like for her, all the time? Something stupid like bad lighting becoming less of an inconvenience and more of a real safety issue? The simplest things turning into one hurdle after another? The guilt that he had successfully managed to push to the edge of his subconscious over the past couple of hours seeped in again, turning his stomach.
He climbed into the car and pulled out onto the quiet street. The tension in the air was palpable. Ally seemed closed off, staring out the side window. The easy companionship they had shared earlier had disappeared.
The lights from the car behind them reflected off his rear-view mirror and he squinted, tilting it slightly. He took the next corner slowly and the car behind did the same. He frowned, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
“I’m sorry,” Ally said.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“This wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for tonight,” she mumbled, echoing his sentiments.
“Are you kidding? I think you’re just looking at it all wrong.”
That got her attention. She turned to him, frowning.
“We got a head-start on tomorrow’s exercise regime by walking three miles to the bar. I got to catch up with Dave again, which was great because he’s always been a fun guy. We got to make like James Bond and do the hasty exit thing before the Bad Guy caught on – oh, and don’t forget the part where you nearly kissed the sidewalk. I mean, I’m not sure what you call a good time these days, but in my book, that’s a hell of a night out.” He glanced over at her and caught the smile she was trying to hide. “Oh and let’s not forget the fact that I’m still sober enough to drive and the night is still young,” he winked.
“All very valid points. I guess I was just looking at it all wrong.”
“The glass is always half-full, Miss Connor,” he ribbed, turning his attention back to the road, his heart a little lighter.
As he turned into her street, they lapsed into silence once again. He slowed down as he approached her house, pulling in
to her driveway and setting off the security light. The car was bathed in the eerie glow as he cut the engine. The silence became louder. She stared at her hands, wrapped around the crutches resting between her legs.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked finally.
“Sure.”
“Does driving make you nervous? I mean, since the accident. Was it easy, to just get back behind the wheel again?”
He thought about it for a moment. “It wasn’t easy. It took a while to get my confidence back,” he admitted. “And I’m definitely a more cautious driver now, because of what happened.”
She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Why did she want to know that?
“How about you?” he asked. It was a risky move. “You drive, don’t you? Does it make you nervous?”
She shrugged, still studying her hands. “This hole in my memory where the accident should be, it kinda comes in handy sometimes. I’m not a nervous driver or passenger or anything like that, but learning how to drive with hand controls took some getting used to.”
She fidgeted with her crutches and he got the feeling she was building up to something.
“I had an accident about a month after I started driving again,” she said finally. “It wasn’t anything serious, just something stupid, really.”
“What do you mean, stupid? What happened?”
“I was still having trouble with my balance, and my seat belt wasn’t pulled tight enough. I took a sharp turn a little too fast, I think, and I fell sideways, ran off the road.”
“Oh shit.”
“I wasn’t hurt or anything,” she smiled shyly. “I just felt like such an idiot.”
He could imagine how daunting it must have been at the time, despite her bravado.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever told about that – the truth, that is.”
“Really?”
“I told Tom and Callum that I just lost my concentration for a minute. There was no way I was going to tell them what really happened, I was too embarrassed. It was a rookie mistake, one of those ‘live and learn’ moments.”
She turned her grandmother’s ring around and around on her finger.
