A Thousand Roads Home

by Carmel Harrington

  ‘Well, there is no need to be so crude,’ Erica said.

  ‘It must be difficult, so many in one room,’ Ruth said.

  ‘There isn’t a spare inch that doesn’t have a pile of clothes on it. But it’s better than my car …’ Melissa replied.

  ‘I got some plastic storage boxes from the St Vincent de Paul charity shop down the road. I keep our clothes in them, and stack them in the bath. Then take them out in the morning when we shower,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Nice one,’ Melissa answered. Her two youngest boys came running into the lobby, crashing into Ruth.

  ‘Luke, James, I told you both to stay in the room!’ Melissa admonished.

  ‘Sorry, Mam,’ they both chorused.

  ‘We wanted to show you our pictures,’ Luke said, holding up a crayoned picture of a house with a big garden. A large yellow sun hung in the bright-blue sky.

  ‘Look at my robot!’ James said.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Melissa praised them both. ‘Go on up to the room and put them in my special folder.’

  ‘I want to stick them on the wall,’ James said. ‘That’s what my friend does in his house.’

  ‘No art work on the walls,’ Erica said. ‘Have you seen this article in the paper? I can’t get a word from that one.’ She pointed at Ruth, who was now dusting the lobby coffee table and chairs.

  Melissa said, ‘People have their reasons for saying no to property.’

  Erica sniffed. ‘I always say beggars can’t be choosers. Just this morning I said that to my Billy. It says here that someone refused a house because they didn’t like the colour of the carpet.’ Erica shook her head in disbelief. ‘And another one because they wanted somewhere closer to their mother. Well, boo hoo for them. I’d love to live near my daughter. But she’s in America.’

  ‘Where in America is your daughter?’ Ruth asked, hoping to steer Erica away from the subject of housing.

  ‘She’s in Maryland. Married to a state trooper. Lovely man. And I’ve got three grandchildren that are getting so big. Thank God for FaceTime … I told my Billy only last night that we’d miss out on so much if it wasn’t for technology.’

  Melissa coughed. ‘You can’t believe everything the papers say. There are plenty of valid reasons why people turn down housing, you know.’

  Ruth and Erica turned towards her in surprise.

  Then tears began to fall down her face in large splashes, hitting the counter top. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in between sobs. ‘I don’t know where that came from.’ She wiped the tears with the back of her hand.

  Erica reached into a drawer in front of her and handed her a pack of tissues. ‘Here you go.’

  Ruth and Erica watched Melissa blow her nose noisily. ‘I haven’t had a good cry in nearly a year, because there’s just nowhere to have one in private without the kids seeing.’

  ‘I do enjoy a good cry, too,’ Erica said. ‘Last night I watched that show, Say Yes to the Dress. Cried my eyes out, don’t mind admitting. This woman was there with her daughter. She had cancer. The mother, not the daughter. The saddest thing I’ve ever seen. I lost sleep thinking about her. Now Billy isn’t a fan of the show, but then again he’s a man and they don’t get the whole wedding thing like we do. Am I right?’

  Ruth felt dizzy listening to Erica sometimes. She turned her attention back to Melissa, who was now sniffing back the tears.

  ‘Once the kids are asleep Ciara and I just read. The TV would keep the boys up,’ Melissa said.

  ‘I like to read, so that is not a problem for me,’ Ruth said. ‘But I understand about the lack of privacy. DJ is nearly ten and a half and it is beginning to feel unnatural. He needs his own room somewhere he can be without me. And I do, too.’

  ‘I’ve been offered a house,’ Melissa said. ‘Last night. I got a call.’

  ‘And that is making you sad?’ Ruth was puzzled. ‘It is good news.’

  ‘It’s nowhere near my requested locations. It’s in Donabate,’ Melissa said. ‘That’s practically in the countryside.’

  Ruth felt envy snake its way around her. ‘I would not care one iota where the location was, once they offered us a home.’

  ‘Hear hear,’ Erica said. ‘What is the house like?’

  ‘I haven’t seen it yet. I don’t think there is any point. It’s too far out.’

  Erica pointed to her newspaper and sniffed, ‘One in four.’

  ‘I spend all day looking at my mobile phone, willing it to ring. I would give anything to have an offer like yours,’ Ruth said.

  Erica heaved herself up from her chair and pointed a large stubby finger at Melissa, ‘Well, missy, you better watch out that you don’t lose your place on the housing list. And serve you right if you do.’

  Melissa’s face hardened. ‘I am allowed to refuse an offer when it’s on reasonable grounds.’

  ‘Which you don’t have,’ Erica said. ‘Have you heard of public transport? This one and her boy take two buses every day to get to his school! And I’ve not heard her complain once. Not once.’

  Melissa turned on her heel and walked out of reception.

  ‘I hope it stays sunny for her, is all I’m saying,’ Erica sniffed. Then seeing Ruth’s face, which had crumpled with disappointment and annoyance, she said, ‘Ah, now. Don’t be fretting. You’ll have your turn.’

  Odd whispered in her ear to hold onto hope. Ruth continued cleaning the lobby and tried to think of only good things. Every day since they lost their home she held on fast to something good that happened, so that she did not lose herself in a cloud of emotion.

  Yesterday DJ brought home a note from school complimenting him on his homework that week. The Library and the homework club made a difference. She was proud of that.

  She put her shoulders back and tried to smile as she wiped another smudge from the coffee table. It is getting more difficult to hold onto hope, Odd. But I shall keep trying.

  45

  TOM

  Sheila died in the end. Another wasted life. Tom needed to get away from the park and his bench. From DJ’s questioning every five minutes when he came across him. From Ruth always reminding him of the man he once was. He moved to the waterfront and sat watching the Irish Sea. It was bitterly cold and the wind bit his face, seeping into his bones. He didn’t care. About that, or anything. He closed his eyes and returned to the darkness …

  Life became one of two parts. Before and afterwards.

  After the funeral, when family and friends had finally gone home, leaving their fridge and freezer overflowing with food and the house filled with flowers, it was just the two of them again. Tom was grateful but relieved when the last car, with his sister in it, drove away from their driveway. Cathy had not spoken a single word since they came home from hospital.

  Shock, the doctor said. Give her time. Tom did not leave her side. And all the time the crushing devastation of their loss crippled him.

  His boy. Taken from him.

  ‘Speak to me,’ Tom begged.

  If she heard him, she did not show it.

  Days became weeks and still she remained silent. Tom cooked her breakfast, lunch and dinner. He made her coffee and he blitzed her favourite strawberry and banana smoothie. She took it all without a word. If he touched her, she got up and walked away.

  Tom knew that his wife was locked in a world of pain and he had to find a way to bring her back. His own heartache he wore like a badge and he never wanted to lose it. Every waking second was for his boy. But he could not continue if he lost Cathy, too. Seeing her in turmoil gave him focus, reason to continue.

  The breakthrough happened almost two months to the day after they lost Mikey. Tom awoke when the early morning sun found its way through the curtains and filled their bedroom with golden shadows. He turned to his left and saw the gulf that was now between him and his wife. The years of her pushing her bum into his tummy, his arm across her body, were gone. He missed those days. He was bereft, unanchored.

  He turned his body on its side a
nd moved close to her, pulling her into him. He felt her body stiffen in protest, but he didn’t stop his insistent pulling of her, into his embrace. He never spoke a word, just silently put his arm around her. He felt the warmth of her begin to seep into him. She struggled for a moment, perhaps two, then relaxed into his embrace. He let his shoulders relax and he sank his head back onto the pillow. And they stayed like that until the alarm rang, alerting him that a new day had begun.

  When he got up, she didn’t speak, but she looked at him and he saw something give in her eyes.

  For ten days he held her, despite her efforts to keep him away. If she remembered how they used to be, she might come back to him.

  And finally she did. As he climbed into bed with her one night, flicking the lamp off as he did, she broke the silence.

  ‘You wake up one morning and lose everything. Just like that. It’s all gone.’

  He wanted to scream at her that she’d not lost everything.

  You have me.

  But he didn’t want to frighten her, make her close up again. So he simply said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she whispered. ‘I should be with him, wherever he is.’

  ‘How can you say that? The only reason I keep going, putting one foot in front of the other, is for you.’

  She was silent again.

  ‘Do you blame me for not saving him?’ Tom whispered.

  Silence. Hesitation. Then denial. ‘No.’

  ‘I blame me,’ Tom confessed.

  Cathy sat up in the bed and reached out for his hand. ‘In the past, when bad things happened in our lives, there was always light at the end of the tunnel. But now, there’s only darkness. I’m not sure I can find my way back to the light.’

  Tom had never heard anything as profoundly sad in his life.

  ‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to live, how to be me,’ Cathy said.

  ‘Neither do I, love. But we have to keep going, until we find a way to get through the day. We have to try to find a way to make the pain stop.’

  ‘And until then?’

  ‘We do the best we can to make it to the end of the day. We become each other’s light.’

  Tom looked around their house. Four bedrooms that would never be used. Two reception rooms, that they thought were so important to have, so that Mikey would have his own space when he got older, to hang out with his friends. The large dining room, to cater for all of Mikey’s pals for birthday parties. All the plans they had for this house and now all of them seemed redundant.

  The house taunted him.

  ‘I miss the flat,’ Tom said.

  ‘Then let’s go back there,’ Cathy said.

  Tom grinned. ‘I could have an extra half-hour in bed if we moved back. Do you think …?’ He stopped, unable to finish the question.

  ‘You want to know if we’ll regret leaving the house that we lived in with Mikey?’

  She always knew what he was thinking. ‘I loved this house. But now, all I can see is a team of paramedics, with bright-yellow jackets. The neighbours at their gates, watching, wondering what the ambulance was for and the shock on their faces when they saw us. The nursery a crime scene. I see all of that.’

  Those same images burned Tom. If he didn’t find a way to put the fire out soon, he didn’t think he could make it.

  ‘I say we move. And if the flat doesn’t work for us, we move again. We keep moving until we don’t have to any more.’

  Cathy came back to him. Until the next time the darkness swallowed her whole once more.

  46

  TOM

  Now

  They came at Tom fast. He opened his eyes when he heard the thud of their feet as they ran towards him down the boardwalk. Four of them. Dressed in black, hoods low over their faces. Two held large sticks, like clubs. Not a social visit, so. Tom sat up and held his two hands up in defence. Bette Davis bared her teeth and charged towards the first two. Before he could arrange the thought from his head into a reasoned sentence, to ask them to desist, the first blow hit his back. He fell forward, face into the cold concrete path as he saw Bette Davis fly through the air.

  Heavy, laboured breaths filled the air. His? Or theirs? Grunts and shouts, from each, as they kicked and hit his body in continuous barrage. He felt his nose crunch and splinter, as a foot connected with his face.

  ‘That’s enough,’ a voice said, breathless with exertion. Tom recognised that voice.

  He kneeled down low, so that his face was inches from Tom’s now bloodied mess. Recognition passed between the two. Bobby. Sheila’s boyfriend. He spat on Tom, then hissed, ‘Interfering old bastard.’ He stood up, taking Tom’s rucksack with him.

  No! Not that. My things … No!

  But Tom could not speak. All he could do was watch through half-closed lids as they rummaged their way through his rucksack.

  They found what they were searching for. His doctor’s bag.

  ‘He’s as good as dead,’ a faceless hoody said, glee lacing each word. He bounced up and down, nervous energy abounding through him.

  Where are you, Bette? Come to me. Good girl.

  Bright lights filled the street. Headlights from an oncoming car. He saw Bette limping towards him, blood dripping from her face.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ Bobby said.

  They ran but not before giving one last kick to his abdomen. Tom felt another rib crack and closed his eyes.

  The car slowed down and he heard voices.

  ‘Is that man OK?’ a young woman asked.

  ‘He’s probably pissed,’ a man answered.

  ‘Is he bleeding, though?’ Her voice again, more urgent this time.

  ‘Nah. He’s just a bum.’ The engine revved and they were gone.

  Tom lay on the street, bloodied and bruised. He wanted to go home so badly.

  But only darkness came.

  47

  TOM

  Bette Davis was scared. Her master, her best friend, had not moved for the longest time. She licked him, nudged him, but he would not wake up. So she did the only thing she could. She rested her head on his legs and did her best to keep him warm.

  Grief never leaves you. Tom and Cathy did not want it to. They clung to it, wrapping its sharp shards around their skin.

  The sound of an ambulance in the distance made Cathy shake. ‘All these years later and still …’

  Tom nodded in understanding. It was the same for him. ‘Part of our life will always be unfinished.’

  Cathy looked at her husband and tried not to cry.

  ‘When Mikey died, so much of the future we thought we were going to have died too,’ Tom said.

  ‘Not in my dreams,’ Cathy whispered. ‘Our future is much nicer there.’

  ‘If only I could close my eyes and dream a different version of this life,’ Tom said.

  ‘You can dream anything you want. Just close your eyes. Go on.’

  She placed her hands gently on his eyes and he closed them. He listened to Cathy’s soft voice weave a story for him.

  ‘Can you see him? Blond curls, turning ash now that he’s a little older. He loves the park. Look, he’s walking between the two of us now, his little hands in ours …’

  ‘We swing him between us!’ Tom said.

  ‘Yes! And Mikey is screaming, “Higher, Daddy, higher,” and I say, “No, be careful,” and you shush me, telling me I worry too much.’ Cathy reached over and caressed Tom’s face.

  ‘Keep going …’ Tom begged.

  ‘He loves fruit, especially mangoes, but we can’t get him to eat his vegetables. We’ve tried everything.’

  ‘I never ate vegetables either. And look at me …’ Tom cut in.

  ‘Remember his first day of school – he was so brave! Even though he was scared, he wanted to be a big boy so badly, he just walked into his classroom …’ Cathy said.

  ‘… Like a boss! You had to wear sunglasses, because of course you were crying …’

  ‘… and you t
ried so hard to pretend that it wasn’t bothering you, but you left very quickly so no one could see your tears,’ Cathy said.

  ‘Who, me? Tough guy?’ Tom replied, with tears flowing down his cheeks. ‘He’s a clever one, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes! He’s articulate, his vocabulary is outstanding. He excels at maths and I don’t understand that because neither of us is any good at it!’ Cathy said with pride.

  ‘What does he want to be when he grows up?’ Tom asked in a whisper.

  Cathy leaned in close and whispered back, ‘Why, he wants to be just like his daddy. A doctor.’

  And Tom understood where his wife went to when the darkness took over and she became silent.

  He learned that no matter how hard he tried to break through he could not reach her. Because she liked it in the darkness. Years went by. He learned to live with her silences, until they did not hurt him any more.

  He worried about her state of mind, of course. He spoke to Annemarie, Cathy’s parents, Breda. They all told him that if this was Cathy’s way to deal with the loss of Mikey, so be it.

  But he fretted. What if one day she decided to stay in her make-believe world and not come back to him?

  Today was a good day, though. He was in his favourite chair in what had become their reading room. And opposite him was Cathy. Her legs were curled up under her bum and she was leaning onto a pile of cushions. Always with the cushions.

  She looked up, aware of his eyes on her. A small pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and he pushed his own a little further down his nose so she wasn’t blurry. They had been through the best and the worst times of their life, together. And the invisible bond that was between them still felt like coming home to him. Their shared history – tears, joy, love, loss – was irreplaceable.

  ‘What, my love?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘If someone saw us, sitting in silence here, reading, what do you think they’d say?’ Tom asked.

  ‘That we’re a couple of almost blind, boring golden oldies?’ They both laughed.

  Their life after Mikey’s arrival changed in ways he could never express. Their hearts got bigger. And then when he left, the joy went for a long time. But they found it again in the small moments in their lives. Like this. The raw nerves left open and bleeding from their grief had begun to heal.