Abbie's Gift

by M. R. THOMAS

  “Peter’s ashes, and what to do with them. We can collect them any day after Thursday. Have you had any ideas, or thoughts?”

  Abbie suddenly felt the colour drain from her cheeks.

  “Oh God, Mum” she said, putting a hand to her mouth, “I hadn’t, I just hadn’t thought. I knew about that obviously, but somehow I just hadn’t thought about it. Christ, my head really has been all over the place lately, and here’s me thinking that I’m starting to get it together, but then I forget something so important like that.”

  “Don’t you worry love, at least now though you can give it some thought?”

  “Yes, but what, I don’t really know” she said with a look of anguish.

  “Well, a good place to start would be to speak to Peter’s parents, maybe they can help you? I know that when and wherever you do scatter his ashes, I’m sure they will want to be with you, don’t you think?

  “Oh yes of course, I’m just amazed that I hadn’t thought about this, it went totally out of my head.”

  For a few moments, they sat in silence, and then Abbie said: “As we’re talking plainly, there is something that I need to help me, to help me get on with things, to help me get on with my life.”

  Her mother looked apprehensive but said nothing.

  “I need space to be alone, on my own mum, I want you to go home, your work is done here. Thank you so much but now I’m ok, honestly” she said and smiled.

  “Are you sure, really sure?” asked Rose. “Only if you’re really sure?”

  “I am sure Mum, and it’s not like you’re miles away is it?”

  “No you’re right dear, OK then.”

  “But not tonight, tomorrow Mum, if that’s all right with you? I’m feeling hungry now so let’s have something nice for tea, what do you fancy?”

  “Well I’ll have anything you want” said Rose.

  “Whatever…how about a takeaway?”

  Rose smiled broadly. “Well then, that means you are doing OK aren’t you, and getting some appetite back. I’ll phone for a Chinese about 6-ish and get it delivered. Now, where did you put that takeaway menu?” Asked Rose.

  Just before 6 pm, Rose announced that she was all packed for tomorrow, although she didn’t have much, only a holdall with several changes of clothes. By 7 pm they were sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by what Abbie thought was far too much food: some obvious dishes that she’d had before and something she did not recognise but tasted great.

  “Like a glass of wine Mum?” said Abbie, showing her the bottle.

  “Well yes dear thank you, are you joining me?”

  “I will, yes, quite fancy a glass actually.”

  Abbie poured the very pale straw-coloured liquid into the two tulip-shaped glasses, and handed one to her mum. They clinked glasses, and both took a sip; the sensual fragrance of sharp green fruit and tangy acidity hit the back of Abbie’s throat, as though she had never before tasted a good New World Sauvignon Blanc.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed, “That’s lovely.”

  Although she enjoyed her food and savoured the varying tastes and textures, she found herself feeling quite full after only a small amount. Her mum ate eagerly, enjoying it all.

  The phone rang, and Abbie thought of letting the answer machine get it as she so often did, but then decided to answer. It was Kate, just checking if she was OK and needed anything. Abbie reassured her that all was fine, thanked her again for everything, and mentioned that she had started to plan and also to sort out some legalities. Kate said she would call round tomorrow at tea time on her way home.

  Once Abbie had hung up the phone, Rose said “I’ll be away in the morning early, let you get on, but you know I’m only 4 miles away anytime, day or night, and ever only a phone call away too.”

  Abbie nodded and topped up both their glasses.

  “Mum, one day later this week, do you fancy coming into town with me to do some shopping? I’d like that.”

  “Of course love, I’d like that too”.

  Abbie again slept soundly, with none of the previous troubles with sleep tugging at her unconscious in the darkness of the night.

  Abbie woke to the sound of rain on the windows and she knew that she had slept deeply. She recalled that she seemed to go straight to sleep as soon as she’d got in bed, and she felt this was a positive sign. Peter’s dressing gown was again draped over the bed, and it looked normal, as though this was how she always slept.

  After she had showered and dressed she went downstairs, to find her mum already up and dressed and, with her bag in the hall, was having breakfast.

  “Morning dear, did you sleep well?”

  “Yes” she replied, “I did”.

  “I’m sure it will get easier as you get used to doing things again. I remember when your father died, it took me a while, but it happened, you’ll soon see.”

  Abbie had always hated having her life compared to the experience of others, but she smiled in graceful acceptance. She noticed that Rose had deliberately and carefully avoided using the phrase “when you get back to normal”.

  After a bowl of porridge and a mug of hot tea, Abbie printed off several more letters that needed to be posted. She only had three official copies of the death certificate and she recalled that it was Peter’s father who had told her only official copies would do and not photocopies. These letters would have to wait till the death certificates were returned, and besides the first three still needed posting, so she would do that today, she decided.

  Abbie felt keen to go running again today. She had enjoyed the brisk walk yesterday morning and felt that the space and fresh air would do her good.

  She was used to taking regular exercise; she had previously run once or twice a week, about two miles each time, and she also loved cycling as long as it was on paths away from traffic. At weekends she would often run with Peter and she had enjoyed this shared activity. She also liked the fact that these running sessions often concluded in hot and sweaty and somewhat athletic sex once they were home, often in the kitchen where they peeled off their clothes to put in the washer, or in the shower as he soaped and caressed her body.

  Today her legs were a bit heavy from the uphill walk and downhill run yesterday, but she felt her muscles were somehow inspired.

  The rain had eased and the sun began to shine as her mother’s taxi arrived at a few minutes after 10 am. On the doorstep, Rose fought back the tears, but Abbie was strong and she kissed her mother and promised to call her later that evening, or at any time she needed.

  “Thank you” she said, looking into her mother’s eyes. “Mum, how can I ever repay you?” Her mother didn’t answer; she simply gently touched the side of her daughter’s face and smiled.

  Chapter 4.

  As her mother’s taxi drove away Abbie went inside the house and closed the door. Leaning heavily against it, she looked at the empty hallway and felt the silence contained in the house. She listened and, apart from her own heartbeat and the faint ticking of the kitchen clock, there was nothing.

  Abbie went into the lounge and sat down on the sofa, and that overriding sense of bewilderment returned. She felt empty and this weighed her down. She put a hand to her cheek and felt it damp, and she realised that tears were again flowing, but she thought that at least she could somehow control them, and stop herself being swept again into that dark place of despair.

  Struggling to keep her composure, she sat looking at a photo of her and Peter that had been taken when they were on holiday in Venice. They were both bright-eyed and smiling at time when their love was new and they had the whole of their lives ahead of them.

  Abbie was unsure how long she sat there, but once the tears had dried up she felt a sense of relief, as though they had got rid of some burden of negative emotion, and she felt better and lighter, and able to deal with the rest of her day.

  She knew she had to continue to move forward with her plans for her life, sorting stuff, getting back to work. To her surprise though tod
ay she felt unable to focus, the motivation that she had already had begun to slip, but she was determined to somehow pull herself through.

  Abbie studied the photograph again and smiled at the image: there was such emotional energy and love in their faces, and again tears tugged at her and she felt them rise within her soul, but she fought them and breathed deeply and with an element of control regained, she headed upstairs.

  Within a few minutes she had changed in to her running gear, and she sat on the floor and stretched her leg muscles just as Peter always had advised her. She didn’t know if this was actually of any benefit though, and wondered did she ever run hard enough for it to matter? She carried on stretching anyway, and after a few minutes was outside and on the doorstep. She knew this run would be hard and a challenge as it was her first run for quite a few weeks. She felt she wanted to be taken out of her comfort zone and to hurt a little, that way she felt any excess adrenaline in her system would be put to a more practical use than grief she thought.

  After running along several roads, Abbie began to feel that she was getting into a comfortable rhythm; her breathing felt laboured but manageable. She then realised that she hadn’t put on her heart rate monitor that Peter had bought her. She used to wear it often as it helped her pace herself and assisted her fitness, but today she would have to manage without it. She would try to let her body guide her and make sure she didn’t overdo it.

  When she arrived at the park after a few minutes she decided to do a few circuits of the large playing field, but some of the rises almost caught her out a few times and she almost lost her footing and stumbled, but managed to keep her balance. Abbie had decided that she wanted to run for about 30 minutes, she felt it would be enough to push her while being physically manageable, and it was enough to absorb her attention and allow her to focus all her effort.

  At the end of the lap, she stopped and turned and looked at the parkland behind her: it was lush and a beautiful shade of green. Although it was clearly autumn, everywhere looked so alive and vibrant: some brown leaves were fluttering along the ground, while others still attached to branches flapped in the breeze. Everything felt was rich and dazzling, as though Nature itself was showing off all her glorious colours.

  Abbie was glad to be outdoors although the sky was grey and the air cool on her face, but her body was warm in her running kit. As soon as she felt that her breath was slowing she began to retrace her steps, her running rhythm now controlled and purposeful, and for a time it seemed as though her limbs were simply gliding her over the grassy surface.

  She decided to go up to the top of the hill where she had walked yesterday, suddenly resolving that her immediate short-term exercise goal would be to run around the park and playing field and then get to the top of the hill without stopping…could she make that, she wondered? It wouldn’t be easy, she knew that, it would be challenging, but the sense of the effort to come excited her.

  Once on the path leading to the top of the hill the gradient began to rise steeply so Abbie slowed and deliberately focused on her breathing, steady and controlled. The gravel crunched under the soles of her trainers as she realised the extra effort that was needed to continue upwards. She pushed the air with her arms and was aware of her heart beating rapidly. Her lungs felt as though they were bursting, that she couldn’t get the air in quickly enough for all the strain she was putting on her body. But still she continued.

  Soon her breathing turned into gasps and she realised she was panting rapidly. Her leg muscles burned and felt tighter than she had anticipated; they seemed to be slowing of their own accord despite her best efforts to keep moving. Within a few yards her steps had reduced almost to a stagger, and she could just about put one foot in front of the other. Her cheeks burned in the breeze, her breath came in gasps. Looking up at the path ahead of her it now seemed an impossible task, as she could see the sharp incline near the top, which suddenly looked impossible to her.

  “Keep going, just keep going” she said to herself, but all her body could do was gasp for air, and she had almost slowed to a standstill, the knot in her stomach making her feel sick, and she knew that today the hill had defeated her.

  Abbie stopped completely; so big were her gasps for air that she hardly made any noise at all. She stood with her head down and her hands on her hips, eyes closed; all she could do was breathe and wait for her body to recover. Eventually as she regained a sense of control, her heart rate slowed and her breathing again felt normal. Although she had not beaten the hill, she still felt inspired; this is good, she thought, this is what I need to do.

  Within a moment she was off again up the path, running towards the hill top. She drove through the air with her arms, but her legs rapidly became huge lumps of muscle, unable to move as fast as she wanted, sapping her strength and her breathing rapidly became impossible to control.

  No, no! She thought, as she fought to keep going, heart pounding, perspiration breaking out on her forehead and face. She pushed on, determined to do it, but nausea again hit her hard and she tried and failed to gulp air into her lungs. A sense of dizziness rapidly came over her; she momentarily closed her eyes and said “No!” loudly and firmly. In an instant…was it real or imagined, she didn’t know… her whole world seemed to shift sideways and upwards. It was such an odd sensation, almost as if her consciousness had rattled around inside her.

  Abbie stopped running and the world around her stopped its momentary spin and returned to its usual position. She wiped sweat from her eyes and face as she again tried to fill her burning lungs that now felt far too small for their purpose. The sweat stung her eyes, yet she was still determined to reach the top of the hill. What if I feel strange or faint again, she wondered, but then found herself thinking ‘just don’t let it happen’ and, after a minute or so when her gasps had subsided into heavy breathing, she was able to move and headed off up the path. She was sure that, if anyone could see her, she looked like someone in obvious pain who was just attempting to run.

  Now it felt like she was moving in slow motion: her maximum effort produced little forward motion and, at the final crest at the top of the hill, her legs would no longer move as she wanted, and she had to slow to a walk, but she was there at the top, despite the stops, and she was elated at her achievement, as mundane and silly as it was. She felt good.

  Abbie kept moving and focused on her breathing, it will get better and easier she thought. Her throat was so dry she wanted to drink, but then realised she hadn’t brought any water with her. She tried to produce some saliva in her mouth, but her exhaustion and overall dehydration prevented this. A drink would have to wait, but she could not ever remember being this thirsty.

  Abbie felt the breeze beginning to cool her and was suddenly aware of the dampness of her clothes on her skin; she knew that she should not let herself get cold, so as soon as she felt able she set off down the path towards home.

  Legs of jelly preventing anything other than a rapid walk, coming down she again felt light-headed and a bit dazed. Once she reached level ground she made more determined efforts at running but her body had other ideas: her legs were now beginning to ache continually, and she realised her body had given its all and could do no more.

  Sudden pangs of hunger gnawed at Abbie’s insides, and she felt hollowness in her stomach that she knew only food could satisfy. Also, there was the unmistakable oncoming sense of a headache, most likely due to getting overheated and dehydrated she thought.

  Nearer home the slow motion running effort had deteriorated further, and Abbie’s legs had completely seized up. The final few 100 metres were at walking pace but when she finally crossed the threshold to the house she smiled to herself; her body was exhausted but, for the first time in ages, she was inspired both mentally and physically and it actually felt good to be alive.

  By the time on the kitchen clock, Abbie estimated that she had been running for some 45 minutes, a bit over what she had planned. She gulped two glasses of cool refreshing water, h
er thirst almost unquenchable, but as the cold water hit her stomach, she was reminded how hungry she was; starving in fact, so a shower would have to wait. Abbie stood in the kitchen and devoured a pineapple yogurt, the first thing that came to her hand when she opened the fridge. The sourness tingled at her taste buds; food had not tasted better in days. After this, she ate some lean meat as she stretched out her aching legs in the kitchen. Abbie chuckled to herself when she realised that she was eating from the open packet straight out of the fridge, something that she would tease Peter about if he didn’t use a plate or sit down to eat. Abbie smiled at this unexpected behaviour and thought that maybe she was turning into him, but then she didn’t mind if she did.

  After a brief snack that seemed to fill her empty belly very quickly, she was aware of getting cool, so for few more minutes she did leg stretches, hoping that tomorrow the pain would not be too bad.

  Chapter 5.

  Once upstairs Abbie stripped off her damp running clothes and enjoyed the warmth and soothing comfort of the hot shower. It caressed her aching frame and, as her body began to relax, her limbs felt suddenly heavy and she had an overwhelming sense of tiredness and longing to lie down and rest.

  Abbie thought that a brief nap would do her good but at the same time felt guilty that she should be doing other things, but then she realised that she could do as she pleased, she had no-one to answer to. As she stood in the shower, she remembered how she and Peter would shower together after they’d been running, then go to bed and enjoy each other; the sleep that followed was blissful.