Loneliness

Coming and Going

© 2002 Hal Westhead

Sally looked at herself in the mirror. She was not impressed.

"Oh God. Do I really look like that?" There was no one to hear her question, and her anguish. That was the major part of the problem. She knew it was her own fault for peering at herself before she was ready to face the world. Even the soft-focus provided by no contacts lenses was not enough of an antidote for the view that met her this morning.

For some reason the solitude of being widowed had all come to a head this grey October morning. Nothing had outwardly changed - well not in any dramatic way. She had dragged herself through another anniversary of Ed's senseless death a little more than five years previously . Ageing just kept on happening at its own remorseless pace, and Sally fought it back with whatever aid cosmetics could provide. Her friends were just as lovely and just as annoying. Nonetheless, this morning the whole history of being alone had decided to descend on her, leaden and suffocating.

Stepping back from the mirror she shuffled the towelling robe off her shoulders and allowed it to slip down into an inelegant heap on the bathroom carpet. Sally took a long hazy look at herself.

"Not too bad for a mother of three, I suppose, but long past its 'seduce by' date." She ran her hands firmly over her stomach and remembered the feel of Ed's hands on her skin. Thinking that there was no point dwelling on what could not be, she briskly stepped into the shower and started the process of getting herself ready for the world. The shower too held memories: too many shared playful moments with Ed for it not to. She concentrated on getting herself fresh and presentable, trying to drive the past back into its closet.

Smartly dressed in a rather conservative grey skirt and white top, with her 'face' on and her hair tamed, she went down to the kitchen for breakfast. Breakfast was always the hardest time. It was the most constant reminder. Before the accident they had almost always had breakfast together. Other meals were in the hands of chance and sudden business arrangements, but breakfast was one of the rocks of their togetherness. It was often bathed in 'morning after' tenderness. Now sitting alone at their table in their kitchen, eating the habitual toast and reduced-fat spread, Sally could feel the solitude creeping up like a chilly choking smog.

Her eye was caught by the business card that had been pinned to the top right corner of the kitchen noticeboard for months. She remembered the evening Melanie had offered it to her with a wicked twinkle in her eye. Sally was shocked to realise that the card had been there for almost eighteen months, neither used nor thrown away. It simply remained there, kept in limbo by an indecision that Sally found hard to admit to. Its black shape with gold lettering was very striking. Sally knew it was there, as though it was whispering to her: 'Go on, phone me, what have you got to lose?'

What the card actually said, with elegant directness, was:

Dr Habib,
Psychic Therapist,
Bereavement a speciality.

This and two phone numbers were the only things printed in plain gold lettering on the soot-black background. Sally could have recited what it said without ever looking at the card again. She had read it over and over. She had held it over the waste bin time and time again. Each time the card had somehow earned another reprieve and had been returned to its corner of the noticeboard. This morning its silent whispers were particularly insistent.

"All right," said Sally in a voice edged with irritation. Addressing the business card from across the kitchen, "I'll give you a try. Now just let me get on with my breakfast in peace." The card, naturally enough, remained inscrutably quiet.

Ed had gone into hospital for a routine minor operation. He'd been waiting for it for months, but routine surgery has a habit of being postponed. Sally now wished it had been postponed forever and simply forgotten. The operation went well, completely routine, until the infection set it, the complications, the rush to intensive care and the final sickening phone call. Sally could still hear the words echoing in her head, the words telling her that she really ought to get to the hospital urgently. Even after five years she wept when she dwelt too long on that last visit to the hospital. After the initial disbelief and anger passed off (in their own bitter time) came the first crevices of hollowness. She spent a lot of time with Melanie. Melanie was patience itself. Sally knew what true friendship was: it was Melanie.

Theirs was a strange friendship, and few people who knew them both ever expected them to become such firm, fixed friends. On one side was Melanie. She had biblically 'had' more boyfriends before she was twenty than Sally had coyly smiled at in the whole of her life. She was up for anything: flamboyant, passionate and intimate. She threw herself at life and seemed to enjoy the bumps and scars that resulted. Sally was the shadow to her bright flame: conservative, reserved but warm. Sally frequently was driven to beetroot blushes by Melanie's uninhibited conversation. Melanie, by contrast, envied Sally's steady, loving, faithfulness. Although she could never imagine living Sally's life, she saw in her someone who had found their soul-mate and was content in ways that she would never be herself. Sally was the swan and Melanie the hummingbird. Ed's death touched Melanie deeply. The utter, casual, brutal unfairness of Ed's death pained her bitterly. Sally was left bereft by the loss, but Melanie was stabbed through by its pointless tragedy.

Breakfast finished, Sally decided she was not going to allow the leaden weight of lethargy and guilt bring her to a halt again. All of her friends, most especially Melanie, had told her not to rush into anything. They all advised Sally to allow time to do the work of healing and not to expect too much of herself. After all, Sally was in pain after Ed's untimely death. He had been ripped from her, leaving a bloody ragged wound in her soul. Her friends could see her distress and all believed that she was ready to accept anything that would relieve the agony - no matter how ultimately addictive, debilitating or habit forming it turned out to be in the long run. Many of them had tried to solve their past woes with drink, disastrous relationships and (most crippling of all) prescription drugs. They all had their instructive tales to tell. Sally needed no convincing. There was only one real, close, tangible piece of Ed she had left: the pain. It wasn't much but it was the most immediate presence she had of the person who still meant everything to her. Healing meant losing half her life. So now her friends worried about her. She wasn't healing, wasn't moving on. Melanie had even told her to her face that she was clinging on to the past and being self-indulgent. Sally looked at the black and gold business card and could feel the muscles of her abdomen tighten with guilt at the thought of the infidelity it was inviting her too.

"Hi Sally," said the very dozy voice on the phone, "are you OK? Is something wron...?" Melanie's struggled as long as she could but the irrepressible yawn stamped out the final sound of the word. Melanie whipped the telephone handset away from her mouth and yawned noisily and enthusiastically.

"I'm fine thank you Melanie ... well no, I'm not fine at all really. Could we meet later? It's nothing really that urgent. You don't need to come right away. Tomorrow would be fine if you are busy .... but are you free this morning? Are you busy?"

Melanie made no attempt to interrupt Sally since she seemed to be making a very good job of doing that all by herself. In the course of many conversations with Sally Melanie had learned a very important lesson: don't interrupt too soon. This rule applied just as well to direct questions as to idle musings. What, with anyone else, might have been a genuine opportunity to break into the conversations, was mostly likely not that with Sally. It was far more likely to be just the next meandering verbal country lane, simply explored because it was there, and not leading to where Sally really wanted to go. It was an important part of the journey for Sally, but not really for her fellow travellers.

Melanie did not do mornings. Everyone who knew Melanie knew that about her. Consequently, Melanie knew that a call from Sally this early meant something serious.

"Sally love, its only just gone 8.15 in the morning. If you are calling me, of all people, at this time then I'd better get round straightaway. It'd damn well better be serious."

"No don't be silly Melanie ... really you don't need to rush round ... makes it sound like the place is on fire or something. It's really not that serious. Later today would be fine, tomorrow even ... I'm not going to die if its the day after am I? Is it really that early? I am sorry for disturbing you. Didn't notice the clock."

"I'll be round in about 15 ... no make that 30 minutes. Will you be all right until then?"

"Oh Melanie you are such a love. Thank you - I'd love to see you this morning."

"Thirty minutes then. I'll see you then. Get the coffee on - strong and black."

The phone hummed. Sally held on to the handset for a while, wondering what to do next. There was always plenty to do, but not the right sort of something. All the energy which had driven her into making the call was now just swirling round with no place to go. "Until Melanie arrives," she thought. Sally's imagination wandered on to the most likely reason Melanie would be exhausted and in need of a shower this morning. It was like picking at a sore: it did not help how she felt, but she couldn't stop herself.

Just before 8.45 the door bell rang. It was Melanie, on time for once, and looking a vision of doubtful taste in a pink jogging suit and trainers, with her recently washed blonde hair imprisoned by a large cheap plastic hair clip.

Melanie said hello and walked straight in and to the kitchen. She never stood on ceremony with Sally, and in any case the aroma of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen was more than she could resist. Sally shook her head in disbelief and mild disapproval as she watched Melanie back heading towards the kitchen.

When Sally got to the kitchen Melanie was already seated on a stool, sipping coffee from a mug.

"I've poured one for you." She gestured to the table where a cup of coffee stood waiting. "It's just unnatural having your breakfast coffee in a cup ... with a saucer. However today I'm pandering to you."

Melanie looked at Sally and waited. Sally sat at the table and drank her coffee. Cups and saucers at breakfast were part of her life with Ed.

"Well?" Melanie asked when she could contain herself no longer.

Sally did not reply. Instead she stood up and walked over to Melanie. She moved in very close, much closer than Melanie expected. Sally's idea of personal space was quite a bit bigger than her friend's, so Melanie found it really surprising to have her bit of the room so intimately invaded. Sally handed over the black business card in a rather secretive manner, as though she thought she was being watched while doing something that she shouldn't.

Melanie instantly recognised what she had been given. Her eye's widened.

"Have you been to see him?" She asked quite incredulously. Knowing of the unique service Dr. Habib provided she doubted that Sally could have been to see him.

"No - but I'm going to. I've decided I've got to."

"When?"

"I haven't made an appointment yet. That's what I wanted to speak to you about. What do you know about Dr. Habib?"

Melanie had been the one who had given the card to Sally in the first place. It had been a source of constant mild amusement to Melanie that the card remained on the noticeboard, neither used nor discarded.

"He's tall, black, well-built," Melanie winked, "gorgeous and totally genuine."

"How do you know? How can I be sure? I don't think I could stand building my hopes up and then being let down."

Sally had done the rounds of therapists. They had all told her the same hard message, each in their own warm fuzzy way. Until Sally wanted to get on with life she was wasting her money and their time.

"Sally, this is something you've just got to do. Either do it or forget about it. You will know when you meet him."

Melanie took hold of Sally's hand and held it in hers. She knew how hard this was for Sally. Trying out a new dress shop was an adventure for Sally, so the prospect of visiting Dr. Habib was interplanetary exploration. She had never in her wildest dreams imagined that Sally would ever make use of the elegant business card.

"Sally love, I could introduce you to a dozen people who would all say Dr. Habib will change your life, but really you've just got to decide whether you can face this."

Sally hovered in front of Melanie for ten seconds of agonised inaction. She thought she had decided, but (so she discovered) not quite enough to move. Melanie knew, even in her still half-awake fog, that Sally needed her there. She had lots of experience of letting go: Sally did not want the experience, but needed it.

Sally took the card back and crushed it in an over-tight grip. That was it. She turned briskly and marched to the phone. Without turning towards her friend she asked, "Will you come with me?" Then, quietly, added, "I don't think I can do this by myself."

"Of course I will. You don't need to ask." Melanie had seen Sally's solitary torment for too long. Sometimes she just wanted to shake Sally and tell her to get over it, but she knew that, satisfying as it would be, it wouldn't do Sally any good. That was not the way to exorcise Ed's ghostly shadow.

Sally had loved Ed before he even knew her. She had slept with him before he'd even smiled at her. Sally noticed him one day as she walked between lecture halls at the University. The moment she saw him a fire was lit within her. She had no idea who he was, what he was like or how she was ever going to be introduced to him, but she knew for certain that they were one soul in two bodies. Ed, the real, living, flesh and blood person, became the embodiment of Sally's romantic fantasies. He was more real, more heroic in Sally's mind than any human being could live up to. Hero's live in the world of myth and don't succumb to post-operative infections, or even have minor operations in the first place. Sadly, the Ed who hugged and kissed her, the Ed who shared breakfast with her, was tinged with mortality and had left her in cold solitude.

"I have been expecting you to call." The voice on the other end of the phone was deep and sonorous, filled with West African music. Sally was taken aback. She had expected (and hoped) to speak to a receptionist and just make an appointment. She thought she was simply going to buy a ticket to see the lion and instead she had stepped right into the lion's den.

"Oh ... err ... "

"I am sorry. I seem to have taken you by surprise." The voice spoke each word carefully. "I am Dr. Habib. You wished to speak with me?"

"err ... yes ... I wanted to ... err .. book an appointment ... or whatever."

"I am free to see you this afternoon at three o'clock."

Sally was not used to an appointment system like this: no receptionist, no waiting, and no negotiation. She felt that she had not so much been offered an appointment as told when she would be visiting him.

"Please bring a friend with you. You will probably feel a little exhausted afterwards." She noticed how each melodious phrase was highlighted by the trill in the way he pronounced the 'R's. Already she felt she could trust him. Dr. Habib also seemed to inhabit her world of myth. He was not making any effort to be charming. He seemed friendly but businesslike.

"OK ... right ... three o'clock this afternoon ".

"Perhaps you would like to tell me your name?"

"Oh ... right ... sorry - Sally, Sally McIntyre."

"I will see you at three o'clock Mrs McIntyre. You will need the address."

Sally took down the address and a few brief but clear instructions on how to find it.

When Sally said goodbye she realised that she was speaking to a dead phone. She was a little annoyed by this. She was walking across emotional hot coals, and he did not even have the courtesy to say 'goodbye'. Sally was looking for any excuse to back out. She did not want to back out just yet, but wanted the security of knowing she had some reason she tell herself (and Melanie) if she got cold feet.

Three o'clock came around very slowly. Sally could not settle to doing anything, and wandered from room to room first starting on one task and then another. Melanie had gone to the fitness centre, assuring Sally that she would be back by two o'clock at the very latest. Sally had no further trouble with ghosts that morning. The greater worry cast out the lesser distress.

Melanie was as good as her word. By quarter past two they were in Melanie's car and on their way. Melanie already knew the route and thought it would only take about twenty minutes to complete the journey. She kept that to herself and hustled Sally into the car. She just could not bear to sit and watch Sally wandering about like a caged leopard. At least if she was in the car she was strapped into one place.

Melanie concentrated on driving and made occasional encouraging noises to Sally. Sally chattered away, exploring every conceivable 'what-if', but never waiting for Melanie to contribute anything of substance to the conversation. Melanie for her part was happy to let Sally preoccupy herself.

They arrived quarter of an hour before the appointment. Melanie had driven quite sedately and taken a few long-cuts to extend the journey by a few minutes. The area where Dr. Habib had his consulting rooms was a suburban residential street with plenty of street parking at that time of day and Melanie found a parking place very close to the house.

"Here we are." Sally hardly needed to be told that they had arrived, but Melanie felt she had to say something. When Sally had made no move to leave the car after two minutes, Melanie said, "I'll come with you to the house." Without further ado she got out of the car. Sally got out a few seconds later and stood on the pavement by Melanie with white knuckles and a tense expression.

"After you." Melanie was determined that Sally was going to keep the initiative. She could vividly remember her own experience with Dr. Habib. Sally had to do this for herself.

Sally looked at the crumpled card, got her bearings and set off on the few yards walk to the front door of the undistinguished suburban house. There was nothing in the least gothic about it: a simple 30's semi with boring green paintwork. The small front garden was mostly covered in lichen-covered crazy paving. Three exposed patches of earth supported rose bushes. They looked very cared for. Everything seemed very neat and not in the least flamboyant.

The brass digits screwed to the front door confirmed that they had arrived at the address Sally had written down. The only indication that this was not simply another suburban dwelling was a small black plate beneath the letter box bearing the name 'Dr. Habib' in elegant copperplate lettering.

Melanie stood slightly further back from the door. This was Sally's appointment, and she had to be in the driving seat. Sally looked for a doorbell, but not finding one grasped the brass door knocker. It was large and heavy, and felt very satisfying to her grip. It hit the striking plate with a resounding bang. It seemed very much in keeping with the impression Dr. Habib had made on the phone.

The seconds passed and Sally felt her tension rising. She felt that until the door opened she still had the option of running away, like a child knocking on a front door and fleeing. She felt cold and shivery. The day was cold and cheerless, but her sudden chill was more the work of anxiety than the weather and she knew it. Then she heard the door catch being turned and saw the door starting to open. She swallowed hard, wondering what she was doing here.

"I am pleased to see you Mrs McIntyre. I am Dr. Habib."

Sally put her hand to her mouth and gasped. A tall, very dark man with a round face and smiling eyes opened the door and greeted her. As she looked at him Ed was there too. Dr. Habib was much taller and more muscular than Ed had been, and yet they seem to occupy the same space in the doorway, scintillating between one existence and the other.

"Do come in." Dr. Habib turned now to Melanie and said, "Please return for Mrs McIntyre in exactly one hour and thirty minutes."

Sally shuffled into the hallway as though half in a dream. As the closing front door dimmed the hallway she heard Ed's voice saying, "I have missed you Sally. This will be our only time together."

Sally turned. Although it was still Dr. Habib standing by the front door, he now seemed to have more of Ed about him than of the mysterious psychic therapist.

"We must use our time well. You will never again be able to touch me and hold me. But for the next ninety minutes we can together just as in life ..."

She flung herself into his arms to feel an embrace which she thought lost to her forever.

" ... and then our lives together will be complete and we must go our separate ways."

Sally breathed in the familiar reassuring smell of her beloved Ed as she felt the warm of this chest against her cold cheek.

The first person Sally broke the news to was her eldest daughter Julia. She had not spoken to Julia since the appointment with Dr. Habib. Julia could hardly believe that the animated, happy voice on the end of the phone was that of her mother. She was shocked to complete silence when Sally announced that she was going to have another baby.

Sally looked at herself in the mirror. She shared a smile with herself.