Ma, I've Reached for the Moon an I'm Hittin the Stars

by Martha Long

  ‘Oh, but that means we will be eating early?’

  ‘Yes, does that please you?’ he said, bending his head and giving me a kiss.

  ‘Oh, great, that’s a good idea, seeing as we missed out on lunch,’ I said, continuing up the stairs as he headed into his room.

  ‘Oh, that was heaven,’ I said, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray and stirring myself, pushing back the kitchen chair.

  ‘Yes, darling, it was good,’ Ralph said, standing up and making to clear off the table then tidy up the kitchen.

  I picked up the dishes and was landing them in the sink, yawning like mad.

  ‘Listen, darling, leave those to me. Why don’t you go upstairs and run a bath? It will help you relax, ease your muscles.’

  ‘Are you sure? I know you must be tired as well, even more than me, seeing as you are an old man!’

  He roared laughing, saying, ‘Get moving, woman, or you will quickly find out I am not so old as you would have me!’

  ‘What? You mean you can still . . .?’

  ‘Go!’ he said, pointing me to the door, not wanting any more guff outa me. ‘You tread on very thin ice, dear girl!’ he warned my back as I headed myself out the door.

  ‘That still remains to be seen,’ I said quietly, looking around at him, giving him a knowing look.

  He stopped what he was doing and just stared, keeping a smile on his face but looking like he was thinking. Then I turned and headed for the stairs, leaving that hanging in the air.

  Oh, yes, that was a wonderful cure the doctor ordered, I grinned to myself as I made my way out of the bathroom. Now, what will I wear for bed? My eyes lit on the silk negligee and matching top Ralph bought me. I only wore that once. Right, I might as well get the wear out of it. Especially as I am staying here with him. It’s no good when I get home. There’s nobody to see me in it.

  I walked into the sitting room, seeing Ralph leaning against the mantelpiece. He was blowing cigar smoke into the air with his head thrown back watching it billowing up and then fanning out, leaving a lovely scent of sweet air. My eyes lit up at the sight of him. He was wearing pyjamas. I very seldom see him to do that. He looked so elegantly casual with his wine-silk dressing gown and a cream pair of soft cotton pyjamas. I looked down, seeing his feet looking lovely and white, with his toenails cut evenly across.

  ‘Did you have a soak in the bath too, Ralph?’ I said, sweeping over to give him a kiss.

  ‘Yes, I followed my own advice,’ he said, wrapping one arm around me and giving me a smoky kiss.

  Hmm, he tastes so manly, I thought, feeling his skin through the softness of his nightclothes.

  ‘You look very alluring,’ he whispered, looking down the length of me. Then he lifted his eyes, letting them linger on mine, showing a softness that spoke of a deep sensual longing.

  ‘Hmm, and I find you very sexy in those pyjamas,’ I murmured, running my hand down his back, resting it just above his bottom. It felt strong and firm yet yielded to my touch as I felt the softness of his skin.

  ‘I have poured you a drink,’ he said, reaching to the table and handing me a glass of wine. ‘Cheers!’ he said, clinking my glass. ‘What would you like to do?’ he said, taking a sip of his wine as I sat myself down on the sofa.

  ‘Oh, like do what?’ I said, wondering what he was talking about.

  ‘Well, we could watch a little television, we could listen to some music, or perhaps you would prefer an early night?’

  ‘What, go to bed now?’

  ‘Not quite, but I am simply making some suggestions. It is up to you, my darling. I shall follow your wishes,’ he said, grinning at me.

  ‘OK then, what if we do both? Let us lie down on the bed and I can read aloud to you. We can listen to music, then doze off if we want to! That way we can do the lot,’ I grinned. ‘Oh, and bring up the wine and smokes! Someone, though, is going to have a smoke-polluted room, but it’s not going to be me. So that leaves you getting the short straw, seeing as I got in first!’ I said, giving him a big smile with my lips clamped tight.

  He sighed and shook his head.

  ‘You said you’d do whatever I wished, Ralph! Now you are changing your mind,’ I said, getting in before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

  ‘No, darling, if that is what you wish, so then let us do it,’ he said, picking up the bottle of wine and heading us out of the sitting room. ‘Poor Jane,’ I sighed, closing the book on Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. ‘In love with a man who can’t return her love.’

  ‘Oh, he loves her very much, but he is not free to marry, his wife still lives,’ said Ralph, speaking very softly as he stared into my face.

  I stared back, hearing something in his voice, seeing a multitude written into that stare. It sounded like he was talking about himself. My eyes locked on him, seeing him looking at me like he had a deep and protective love for me. I could see a longing, like he wanted to smother me in that love. Yet there was regret there, too. He looked different, like he had suddenly moved away from me and closed down a very deep and intimate part of himself. He looked sad, like he was saying goodbye to something he craved but could never have. I felt a cold band of steel wrapping itself around my chest. I shook my head. A part of me didn’t want to let go. Maybe I’m wrong, I hoped, as I dropped my eyes to get away from that fear.

  ‘What is it, darling?’ Ralph said, taking my chin in his hand and bringing my face up to look at him.

  I stared into his eyes, saying nothing. I had learned my lesson when I tried to push too hard.

  ‘Does it make you sad?’ he said quietly, looking into my face like it was just really hitting him for the first time that he had actually reached a decision. Yet he thought he was talking about the book.

  I nodded, saying nothing. We both understood now what the other was really saying.

  ‘I love you very deeply,’ he whispered. ‘I treasure you so very much, Martha.’

  ‘I know,’ I murmured, knowing that to be true, yet he was not prepared to take it any further.

  ‘It makes me miserable if you are unhappy,’ he whispered. ‘I would do almost anything to make you happy,’ he murmured, looking away with a far away distant look in his eyes.

  ‘Almost?’ I said, giving a ghost of a smile.

  ‘No, darling, I will qualify that. I would do anything to make you happy,’ he said, turning to rest his arm behind my head and slide over to lie down alongside me.

  ‘Yes, except one thing, Ralph. You are not going to give up the priesthood, are you?’ I said, hearing myself saying the words that were coming from my guts. There was no more denying it now. I suddenly knew without a shadow of a doubt, as the truth fully hit me. Yes, he is going to go back. His sabbatical is nearly at an end, I thought, feeling I was sinking, going all the way down into the bowels of hell.

  A primitive scream tore up through me as a plaintive little voice roared in my head. I’m lost again. I’m going to get smothered up in a big black hole and there’ll be nobody there but me and the dark and the cold. I’m lost. I’m all alone. I wanted to run. Get off the bed, don’t let him see that part of me. It hurts too much. He has rejected me, I don’t belong to him, he only causes pain. Don’t let him see how he’s hurt you, do not show him any more of yourself.

  But I couldn’t move. I was frozen solid from the shock. I could feel him stroking my hair, my face, as I closed my eyes with the pain. Then he lifted my head, looking into my eyes. I stared back with one last hope, seeing him shake his head. It was so slight I could only see the truth of it as he closed his eyes, nodding his agreement.

  ‘So it’s over,’ I muttered, feeling my gut twist as the pain dug deep, knifing itself through me. Then I went dead, feeling nothing.

  27

  I opened Ralph’s wardrobe, staring, seeing something of him in the clothes he wears, all hanging beautifully pressed and everything in its place. The suits covered in dust jackets, the shirts pressed and sitting in their shelves. A separate mahogany h
and-carved shelf for everything, including little drawers for his socks and underwear. I opened one at the far bottom, seeing nothing but white Roman collars. He wears those as a priest. I stared at them, thinking of the years I saw him wearing nothing else, that and everything else black. The black suit, black shoes and the long black-wool coat. The only thing offered over to the ways of the world was his different-coloured scarf. He would wrap that around his collar when he was going out, just so he would not stand out as a man of God.

  I slowly shut the drawer and closed the wardrobe. It was a man’s wardrobe, specially built for a gentleman in a century now long past. It would hold a man’s clothes, hang them the way they should be treated. Clothes were handmade then, they cost a fortune and were intended to last a lifetime, so they must be taken care of. Then a thought hit me: yes, clothes could last longer than a life, especially a marriage. They could outlive it all.

  I turned away as I heard the sound of a car drawing up outside the front entrance. My heart started to jump then sink. Yet my mind was accepting. I knew what was to come. I knew what the next steps would be. Ralph did not have my experience; he felt it necessary to go through the motions. Discuss his now-ended sabbatical with his superiors and hope for a miracle. He may suddenly find he can walk away from his sacred vows, his commitment. No, Ralph, I sighed wearily, I know when something has defeated me. There is no point in flogging a dead horse. No, you cut your losses and move on. The clock keeps ticking and the world keeps turning, even though yours may have come to an end. I know at the end of it you have to get back on your feet and put one foot in front of the other then stagger on. Keep going until you find your feet again. I couldn’t even feel a tear waiting to be shed. My heart had closed down. It has played this old tune for too many a long day now. It long ago learned not to waste time crying in the wind.

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs, then waited for the bedroom door to open. He walked in then stopped to look at me standing in his bedroom. We stared at each other. He was wearing a long black coat and his priest suit, but no Roman collar. He had pulled that off when it had served its purpose.

  I looked into his eyes, seeing all the sorrow in the world staring out at me. He looks exhausted; it’s showing in how pale he is. Neither of us have been sleeping too well. He would wake, or I would wake, finding one or the other of us sitting in the kitchen or slumped on the settee in the sitting room. Then he would pull me into his arms, just resting until we both fell back to sleep again.

  ‘Ralph,’ I whispered, going to him. ‘I missed you, Ralph!’

  ‘Oh, darling, I felt a part of me missing without you,’ he breathed into my hair, kissing and holding me to him.

  ‘Here, let me take your coat,’ I said, seeing him drop his leather bags and remove his scarf. He walked over to the wardrobe and hung up the coat, then started to strip out of his suit. I watched as he hung it up, putting it inside a dust sheet, then removed a pair of tan corduroy trousers and a wine jumper and white shirt. Then he slipped his feet into a pair of brown lace-up shoes and stood up, saying, ‘Come along, darling, we will take a drink and talk downstairs.’

  ‘How did the flight go?’

  ‘Yes, pleasant, we departed on time. I took a taxi from the airport to the Shelburne Hotel, then prepared for my meetings. In the afternoon I went to my order house and met with my superior. We talked. It was quite informal, all that had needed to be discussed was now done. The decision was simply a formality. Then I had the prearranged meeting the next morning with my provincial, and he confirmed everything was now in order.’

  We stayed unmoving for a long time, me sitting on his lap with my arms wrapped around his neck and my head resting on his shoulder. We were so still that we could have been mistaken for two statues locked in an embrace, carved by the tool of a master stonemason. I blinked, then whispered, ‘So, are you now organised? Have they given you your papers for the African missions? Do you have your orders from the provincial?’

  He nodded then said quietly, ‘I leave from London in ten days. Yes, my darling Martha, I shall be back working as a medical missionary. A priest doctor,’ he said, musing on the words, thinking about it. ‘The family will be arriving on Saturday to organise and take charge of the house. I must prepare myself. I shall need inoculations. All sorts of things must be done. I have a long list of things that need to be done before I take my leave,’ he said, looking into my eyes, staring, haunted with regret of what might have been, yet sounding so resigned.

  I couldn’t feel anything. Just a dead weight knowing I could never entertain any idea of the real loss and pain going through me. I kept it buried and stayed still under the dead weight.

  ‘I fly out from Paris, Charles De Gaulle airport, three days from today, Ralph. Tomorrow I will pack, and we will leave on Thursday morning, early.’

  ‘Yes, Martha, I have already made all the arrangements. I have booked rooms at the Hotel Raphael, close to the Champs-Elysées.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, beginning to feel a stir inside me, an ache. Without warning, it exploded into a sudden shot of pain shooting up through me, heading to send me into a panic. It threatened to burst me into tears. But I hammered it back down inside. I let a deep breath come and an anger. No, damn you, life, this won’t break me, it can’t even break my heart, because that’s turned into a swinging brick. I can’t even poxy cry, the pain is too deep for that. Anyway, there will be no one to see or hear, no one will come when he is gone. So don’t let go, Martha. It’s only life. You’ve had your share of happiness. You know it never lasts for long. Right, this pain will ease in time. It might even help when I get back home.

  ‘Ralph,’ I said, hearing a tightness in my voice as I steeled myself. ‘We won’t ever make contact. It will serve no purpose. We will just cause ourselves more harm than good. So when we say goodbye at the airport, that will be the last time we will ever see each other.’

  ‘Yes, Martha, I do understand we must make a clean break. But,’ he said, taking in a deep breath, ‘I want you to take my address at the mission. You must promise me that if you ever need me you will contact me immediately.’

  ‘Yes, if it is a matter of life and death, Ralph, I will contact you, or . . . you will contact me.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, giving a nod of his head as he stared very hard into my eyes, letting me know this is first and foremost of paramount importance. ‘You can make contact with me very quickly if you go through my order. They have the means to do that, darling. So please promise me you will not hesitate if you need me?’ he said, taking my face in his hands, looking at me like he had gathered all the love to be had in the world and now he had it and wanted to give it to me.

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered, almost shattering into a million pieces from the loss of him. ‘Oh, Ralph,’ I sighed wearily. ‘I never thought it would end like this when we were so happy,’ I whispered, stroking his face and running my hands through his thick hair, feeling it soft and silky and so familiar to my touch. Then I gently kissed him, stroking his face, getting the smell of his soap and the faint scent of his aftershave. It mixed with his very own manly scent that is unique to him. A scent that means Ralph, someone that makes me feel safe and warm. It brings me peace and makes the world seem less threatening, not so big, like when I have been lost in a world of strangers. One where I am known only by a name but it means nothing to anybody. With Ralph, I could walk up to his door in the middle of the night and knock. He let me in because to him I was somebody. I was Martha, someone he loved. For a while I had found what I have been searching for all my life.

  But fuckin typical! I was robbed. Life is a robbin bitch! There I had been, spending my life living like a haunted and hunted Carmelite nun. Being Mother Earth to Sarah, then, when that job is done, what do I do? Gobshite! I pop me head over the parapet and go searching for love. Where else but to Ralph? The one man who loves me and I would give my life for. Only problem is, he loves Mother Church more! You knew this! You may be a fool but you’re not
that much of an eejit! Ah, fuck ye, Martha! You walked yourself into this. Jaysus, I must have been on the sunny side of the street when they were over on the rainy side giving out brains, I sniffed, lifting my head to stare at Ralph, wanting to scream like a lunatic with the frustration! Choke him for running off on me, better that than attempt murder on myself. But there must be something I can do! I can’t stand sitting here steaming with the stupidity of myself.

  Suddenly an ear-splitting shriek from the phone ringing shattered the silence, knocking us back into life. Our heads spun to it, reminding us that the world still carries on.

  ‘Sorry, Martha, let me take that,’ he said, standing up and walking over to the bedside table to pick it up.

  I looked over at him, listening as he spoke in French. I heard him mention Jacques and me ears pricked up, seeing Ralph’s face drop. Then he finished and put the phone back in the hook, looking thoughtful. He looked at me, seeing I was wondering what that was about.

  ‘Martha,’ he sighed, sounding tired. ‘That was Jacques. He would like to host a farewell dinner party for us both tomorrow evening. How do you feel? Seven-ish, his house for dinner?’

  ‘Would you like to go?’ I said, seeing he wasn’t all that interested.

  ‘Darling, if you wish, of course we shall go.’

  ‘No, thank you, Ralph. I want to spend all the time left to us without any interference from the outside world.’

  ‘Thank you, my sentiments exactly,’ he grinned, looking more cheerful. ‘I shall make our excuses to him and take pleasure in it.’

  ‘Why, Ralph?’ I said, seeing him look vengeful.

  ‘Ohh, that blighter! Do you know what he said to me when we discussed my departure from France soon for the missions?’

  ‘No! What did he say?’ I said, beginning to get annoyed without knowing why, but because Ralph looked upset.

  ‘Quote verbatim! “I wish for you, my good friend Ralph, bon voyage! But now you must allow me to take care of Martha. Tragically, you have abandoned her to open season! I shall take her under my wing and introduce her to some of my finely honed French charms!” Can you believe the cheek of the bloody devil? Confound the dammed rascal! I told him I would knock his bloody block off if he dared throw his cap at you!’