Absolution(14)

But now he was back, and he brought the truth with him. She found herself questioning whether the courage, independence and sheer willpower that she had built up over the past few years would be enough. Suddenly it all seemed like smoke and mirrors.

It was so easy to let go – to reject reality and all its limitations and just lose yourself. Occasionally, in moments of weakness, when she was worn out and disheartened, she allowed herself to daydream. Jack had never left, the accident had never happened, and she was still whole – in mind and in body. Because she didn’t feel whole anymore, and deep down she knew it wasn’t just because of the accident. It was because Jack had left and taken a piece of her with him. His rejection cut deep and it didn’t seem to matter how determined she was to ignore it or what she tried to fill it with, that hole had never gotten smaller. In her darkest hours, she was afraid that, despite her best efforts, everyone else could see it too; ugly, ragged, raw and bleeding.

Taking a careful breath, the hot knives digging further into her spine, she mentally prepared herself to move. Counting silently to three, she reached over for the medication and bottled water on her bedside table. Her body automatically tensed against the movement, bringing a new wave of pain down on her. She rode it out, counting the seconds until it eased. Then she opened the small bottle and tipped a pill out onto the covers. She picked it up and slipped it onto her tongue, taking a clumsy sip of water to wash it down. Capping the bottle, she let it fall onto the bed beside her. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside.

He can’t see me like this.

Helpless, immobile, slightly nauseous from the pain – this was not the face she wanted to show the world. This wasn’t her. There was a separation, a difference there that she was determined to show anyone who cared to look deep enough.

What will he see? Will he look deep down, past all this, and see that I’m still here?

She didn’t want to talk to Jack, not yet, but she knew she would have to eventually. When she did, she worried about how he would perceive her. She wanted him to see her as strong, together, whole. She definitely didn’t want him to see her like this.

The pain began to ebb, the medication leaving her slightly light-headed. Normally she would give it a few more minutes before attempting to get up, but she could barely stand to be in her own head right now. The pain would push all thoughts of him out of her mind and she was prepared to put up with it if it meant a blank canvas for a few precious minutes.

Gritting her teeth, she reached down to remove the pillow from between her knees. She awkwardly pushed herself up onto her elbows, a low moan escaping as she grabbed a fistful of sheet. Tom’s face hovered in front of her eyes. She had met him for coffee in town a couple of days before he died. She had no idea it was to be the last time she saw him. Her heart ached with loss and she was filled with a sudden, overwhelming guilt – that she hadn’t spent enough time with him, that she hadn’t told him often enough how much she loved him, that she didn’t take the time to make sure he knew how much she appreciated all he had done for her. He had become like a father to her and she had taken it for granted, despite losing her own father and knowing how temporary life was. She should have known – she should have told him.

She forced the thought into the back of her mind as she pushed herself further upright, breathing through her teeth. Sitting motionless for a couple of minutes until the pain eased again, she reached over to pull her wheelchair closer. Maneuvering her body to the edge of the bed, she slowly transferred into it, the ache in her spine flaring once again. She breathed through the pain, sitting still for a moment, her heart racing.

She tried to prepare herself for Tom’s funeral today. She could do this. It would be truly awful and it would break her heart, but she could do this – for Tom and for herself.

She tried to think about something else, but the only other image that popped into her head was that of her own father’s funeral – the glossy wood of his casket glinting in the sunshine, the flowers almost completely covering it, her grandmother sitting beside her, sniffing into a pristine handkerchief, her soft blue eyes brimming with tears.

She was painfully aware of how alone she felt right at this moment. Her mother had taken off a couple of months before her second birthday and she barely remembered her. Her father had raised her until his own death from cancer when she was fourteen, and she had come here, to live with her grandmother – a new town, new family, new friends and a new life. It was a good life – she adored her grandmother and settled into small-town life easily. She liked not being anonymous – she loved walking down the street and having people smile at her and say hello. It was completely different to her life in the city, but no less happy. Then, six years ago, her grandmother had also passed on. Her death had left a huge hole in Ally’s life, but by then Tom and Jack had become her family, too.