…

Some coincidences could never be explained.

It wasn’t long after Janine had died that I was sent out of the room while the hospital staff did whatever they did after a patient died.  I was by the nursing station, and two were talking.

“You wouldn’t believe it.  just as one patient died, the other came out of her coma.  The exact second.  It had to be divine intervention or something.”

I didn’t ask, but I could guess.  I walked up the passage to Margaret’s room and looked in the door.  She was awake.  Well, her eyes were open, and she didn’t look like she was in a coma, but I wasn’t a doctor.

But I had to wonder if there was a connection between the two events.

Those last few days with Janine were impossible.  I don’t know if she realised the pain she caused me in making those baseless accusations or not, and I could only put it down to the medications the doctors had her on.

She was certainly not her usual self.

Something that did come out of it, not that she had intended it, or that I had consciously thought about it until now, was what would have happened to Margaret if she had not recovered.

I’d noticed that there was no next of kin on her paperwork, which meant that she might have died and just been cremated or just would have disappeared.

No one deserved that fate.

It was only a fleeting thought because the moment the hospital staff had completed their work, the administrator arrived and wanted to know what I was going to do.  Whilst sympathetic to my loss, they still had a hospital to run and a bed to free up for the next patient.

That meant for the next few days I was tied up with arranging funerals and organising the three children who had been on a rotating cycle of being with her at the hospital, and then altogether at the funeral, a feat only manageable at Christmas.

They stayed just long enough to see if there was anything to inherit and when they realised it was all passed to me, asked me if I would be OK, each said they were willing to stay if I needed them but were on the next plane out when I said I didn’t.

Perhaps I would see them again at Christmas.

I know the day after the last child left, I was sitting alone in the dining room with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper wondering what I was going to do without her.

Someone had suggested I should pack up all her things and donate them to a charity.  The girls had taken what they thought she would want them to have, and suggested I hire someone to do it.  They couldn’t; the memory of her passing was too raw.  It was for me too, but then I had a whole house filled with reminders and memories.

That’s when I had to get out of there, if only for a few days, and it was where, as if driven by an unseen force, I ended up back at the hospital, and after an hour of wanting to but not wanting to I found myself knocking on Margaret’s door.

I didn’t know if she was well enough or had even recovered enough to have visitors.

She turned her head, saw me, and smiled.  “James, come in.  What a pleasant surprise.  Oh, and I’m sorry for your loss.  I was devastated when I heard that Janine had passed.  How are you?”

It was probably more than she should be saying.  She looked tired if not very sad.

“I don’t know how to feel or what I should do.  I couldn’t stay at home, and I know it sounds stupid, I didn’t have anywhere else to go?”

“That’s not stupid at all.  You’ve just suffered a terrible loss, and it can be very disorientating.  Come and sit.”

I went over to collect the chair and sat where she could see me without having to move too much.

“You don’t have to say anything.  Perhaps you simply take the time to reflect on what you had and what you still have.  That will never go away, not as long as she remains in your heart.”

Had I expected those words?  No.  Perhaps coming from someone else, they may have sounded hollow, but I got the impression she meant every word.  Perhaps having suffered a hugely calamitous point in her own life, she had gained an insight into how precious life was, and it was not meant to be frittered away or ended until it was the time.  She certainly sounded different to the last time we met.

“I was told that I woke up the exact moment Janine died.  I doubt there was a significance that it was just a coincidence.  I certainly never expected to come back, and no, what I did was not because of something I did or said.”

Those were the words that Janine had used, almost to the letter.  it had crossed my mind, but what I had said, someone needed to, and if it could not come from what was once a friend, then she was beyond help.  “Janine seemed to think that I was responsible.”

“Is that why you’re here?”  she asked when I didn’t say anything. There was no reproach in her tone, just curiosity.

“Not really.  I thought I would come and see how you were.  Perhaps it was the notion that I could lose two people I cared about was worrying me.  You know me well enough to know that I speak my mind when I’m with friends, and I always wanted to believe you were one.  I was hurt when you chose William, but it was not unexpected.  You were raised with certain expectations, and I could never fulfil those, for your parents, or you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.  I know what I did, and I’m not proud of it, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about you.  But I can’t blame my parents and their expectations, just my stupidity in not realising that I should have chosen love.  Because of that, I have the rest of my life to pay penance.  I do hope, though, despite everything, that we might still be friends.  God knows I don’t deserve it, but I promise I will never hurt you again.”

That thought, a leopard never changed its spots came into my mind, but then, most leopards don’t go through near-death experiences.  I shook my head, though I couldn’t say why.  “This is too soon,” I said.  “I feel sad, and I feel angry, and I feel cheated.  It’s not your fault.” I stood.  “Perhaps another time.”

Why was I there?  What on earth had made me think going to see Margaret for any reason was going to assuage the pain I was feeling?  And it was pain, far stronger than I imagined it would be.  An onlooker would say I was a mess, and they would be right.  Janine, if she knew what was happening, would be disappointed.  I knew she would want me to be strong for the children’s sake, and I had been.

But in those hours, days after they had returned home and I was alone, that was when it came home and hit me.  I was alone.  I had no one to talk to, no one to do the things we did together, no one to just be there.  it might be said that I took her for granted, but I think over time, you both do that to a certain degree.  You do stuff, you argue, there a good moments and bad moments, but that was what a relationship was, and you look forward to being together for the rest of your days.

When that is cut short, when one or the other dies, there’s an empty spot that can’t be filled.  And it was the reason why, at that moment in time, I couldn’t function.  It was why, a week later, after several phone calls from my eldest son, David, not being answered, the police came to see if everything was ok, and I was found unconscious on the floor.

I woke up in the hospital, and an odd sensation went through me moments before I opened my eyes, an image of someone waving to me as they disappeared into a bright light.  Had I just experienced my own near-death experience, had I just spent some time in heaven’s waiting room, where Janine had told me in no uncertain terms that I had to pull myself together?

I certainly felt like I used to after she told me off.

“Thank God.”

I turned to see David; concern written all over his face.

“I thought we all thought we’d lost you too.  why didn’t you simply ask one of us to stay with you?”

“You have your own lives to live.”

‘You are a part of those lives, and we want, no, need, you to be in them for as long as possible.  I should have realised.  Mum said you’d be lost without her, but we thought she was joking.  You’ve always been so solid in the face of every catastrophe.”

“Perhaps I’m the one who should be sorry to cause you trouble.”

“You are no trouble.  And I’m here for as long as it takes.”

…

Time heals all wounds.  Well, most of them anyway.

With life again in the house, people coming and going, the sounds of children running around and being nuisances as only children could, a new life was created, a new normal.  Janine was not gone. There were photos of her everywhere, things that were hers everywhere, and it was like she was still there.

A year passed, the anniversary of her death, and the whole that had been created by her departure was not as large as it had been, and the subject of whether or not I would ever find someone else, not to replace Janine, but to be a companion, a friend, someone who might make life a little less lonely was actually discussed at the table.

I thought it was too soon. They thought it was time I considered it.  After all, they knew that their mother would be happy for me if I found someone who could be, as David put it, a special friend.

I was sitting at what might have been called my favourite spot at the Golden Bell Cafe, overlooking the town’s botanical gardens.

It was a time of reflection, the gardens were the place where I’d proposed to Janine, and she had accepted, and it subsequently became a place we made time to be together.

When I’d finished the coffee and cake, I would take a walk there, the excuse being I had to walk off the calories.

It was also an excellent spot to see comings and goings, and being the small town it was, I knew most of those going by.  Usually, it was the same people, but this morning there was a new face.

And to be honest, I knew I was going to see her again, and the thought of it did not upset me.  It might have once, but I was in a better place now than I was.

This was not a coincidental meeting.  I had long suspected David had discovered that Margaret had been an old girlfriend and knowing him he would have checked her out and had thought if I saw someone familiar from the past, it might be beneficial

It had his sticky fingers all over the plot.  David always meant well, especially when trying to help his siblings, sometimes with hilarious results, and they were used to his interceding.

When our eyes met, she smiled.  She, too, had benefited from time passing and had almost become her old self again, at least physically.

When she reached the cafe, she joined me at the table.

“It is nice to see you again, Margaret.”

“And I you, but I have to be honest with you.”

“David came to see you and ask if you’d try and brighten up an old fossil like me?”

“He didn’t call you an old fossil, but I believe he believed he had the best of intentions, but not the history.”

“No.  But he means well.  And if you want me to be honest, I’m glad to see you.  Life is too short for both of us to hold onto the past.  Whatever happened then did for a reason, and probably with the intention that it might be possible to have a second chance later on.  Maybe this is our later on. I know Janine would be upset with me if she knew how sad I’ve been since she passed, and perhaps at some point, she might give me a sign.”

“I don’t deserve a second chance, James.  I should not have done what I did.  I loved you, you know that.”

“Then perhaps we will take it one step at a time.  Today. Coffee, cake, and a walk in the park.”

“One day at a time is fine,” she said, with what looked like teary eyes.

I had no idea what she was expecting, perhaps for me to be my usual bad-tempered self when I saw her, but it didn’t seem right, and enough time had passed before seeing any other women

At my age, it was going to be impossible, which is why Margaret was ideal.  I still had feelings for her, probably always did, and just suppressed them while I was with Janine, but now seeing her across the table, those feelings were being given a workout.

I put my hand on hers, and she looked up.  A tear escaped and ran down her cheek.  “Then you pick what you want us to do tomorrow.  Where are you staying?”

“The guest house.”

“Then tomorrow I’ll come and get you.  I have a big empty house and you can stay with me.  There’s a lovely room with your name on it.  Now that’s settled…”

I think I knew at that moment, when I’d looked into those teary eyes that whatever we had those many years before had not gone away but just lay dormant, waiting for the chance to re-emerge and take both of us by surprise.

Even so, there was a measured reluctance to go that next step, not until I got a sign from Janine that she was happy for me.

And when I got to a point where I thought it would never happen, it did.

We went to the cafe and the usual walk. We talked about the usual things and what we were going to do, but I sensed she was getting frustrated that I was still hesitant.

It had been over a year since Janine had passed, and everyone had thought enough time had passed that I had a perfect opportunity to be happy again.

We got home and she went upstairs to her room.  We were not sharing the room or the bed, not yet, and that might have added to the frustration because there was no reason not to.

I noticed a letter on the sideboard near the front door and picked it up.  It was addressed to me in Janine’s writing.

A letter from the grave.

I held it with a shaking hand.  All I could think of was that it would be advice, or just one last word, her penchant for always having the last word.

I opened the envelope and there were several sheets, handwritten.  It was dated after we had that argument when I dropped on to see Margaret when she was in a coma in the hospital.

It was a rather odd time to write a letter to be delivered a year after her death.

…

Dear James

This might feel a little creepy, and I’m guessing that thought has passed through your mind.

It is not.  It’s an apology because I admonished you for no reason other than my jealousy running wild, but perhaps underlying that, it was my insecurity.

I had in the beginning of our relationship wondered if it was going to last, that the moment Margaret came to her senses and saw what she had lost, she would come back and take you away from me.

It was silly, but I could not believe my fortune when she left.  Of course, you were very sad but I had no doubt that I could make you happy, happier than you would have been with her.

The truth is, we were meant to be together.  All I had to do was put away those fears that I might lose you one day and just get on with it.  I can’t say I’m not glad she didn’t come back.

Then, when she did, those fears rose again.  When you went to see her, I wanted to stop you, but doing so may have had the opposite effect.  I was glad to learn whatever you may have felt for her, that you were not sorry for her or her situation, nor did you want to pick up where you left off.

I guess it was the only part of you I never understood, and I never asked because it might stir up demons that didn’t need to be woken.

I went to see her after you did, and it was spooky to come face to face with your worst fears.  She had hardly aged, whereas the rest of us had been worn out by living a hard life.

Sorry, jealousy again.

I told her about us, the highs the lows, everything she would not have experienced, and as far as I could see, didn’t.  She was not a mother, she was not a housewife, and she didn’t work crazy jobs to bring in enough money to ensure we could give our children the best life they could have.

As you can imagine, she had no answers.

But as I understand it, she now had no life, and the people she thought she could rely on later in life had abandoned her.  Those sorry circumstances led her to where she is now, and for that, I am sorry for her.  No one should ever finish up alone and unloved.

So, having duly thought about it, I can see no reason why you should not consider letting her back into your life.  She could use a friend, and if nothing else, you would be a very good friend.  If it becomes something more, then so be it.  You have a lot of love in that heart of yours, James, and it won’t hurt to share some of it with her.

If I know you as I believe I do, you will have thought about it, and think it is too soon, or that it would sully your memory of me.  It won’t.  You will never forget me.  I know you that well, James.

All you have to do now is make the first move.

Jan

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©  Charles Heath  2024

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