Denial (45 page)
Wide-eyed, Amy stared at Sandra, unable to reconcile the woman she was describing as her friend.
Sandra smiled and shrugged. “I was twenty-three and had just finished my nurse training when we married. You’re optimistic at that age,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Your identity is still being defined. But by thirty,” she frowned, “I felt as if I’d lived a lifetime.”
Amy looked at Sandra, sympathy filling her eyes.
“That’s why I travel, Amy. After I lost Mia,” she said, “it helps me reconnect with what’s important. My gran always wanted to travel. She worked hard all her life. Like all women did at that time. But she talked of traveling.” Sandra’s eyes darkened. “If her life hadn’t been so dictated by the times, she would have visited every place on the map.” She smiled weakly. “But, in her time, it was unheard of. Then, a working-class girl couldn’t contemplate more than a trip to the local beach.” She shook her head. “Gran brought up six kids. Worked hard all her life, and in the end I thought she died with nothing to show for it.”
Amy touched Sandra’s arm and squeezed it.
Sandra shook her head. “Worked with nothing to show for it, what an idiot I was then.” She half smiled. “It wasn’t until I lost Mia and was sitting in a big, empty, old house, alone, that I saw what my life truly was. I was pretending.” She rubbed her forehead. “I thought I had the perfect life. Lived in the right area, had the right friends, went on the right holidays. Even when my gran died, I didn’t see it.” She shook her head. “Only after Mia, did I realize that it was me who had nothing to show.” She looked at Amy. “He owned everything, even me.”
Sandra moved to the kitchen sink.
“Gran used to tell me that life was messy, and that I wasn’t to fall into the trap of trying to build a perfect world around me. But I ignored her,” she said, washing her cup. “I can hear her words now, telling me to find perspective, get out there, find life. That the whole point of living is not to box yourself in with things that don’t matter or try to make too much sense of it. Just live it.” She shook her head. “God, I miss her.”
Sandra looked at Amy. “The reason I’m telling you this is that my gran didn’t have choices, Amy.” Her eyes widened. “We’re lucky. We live in a time where our lives aren’t dictated too much. We don’t have to stay on the road with no interruptions, no deviations, no loose ends. We have the freedom to do things that we want to, change direction; live our lives as we choose.” She frowned. “Do you understand?”
Amy nodded. “It’s one revelation after another tonight.”
“I know. But you get the gist?” she replied. “You have the choice.”
“I get it,” Amy said, biting her bottom lip.
Sandra dried her cup. “Getting out of my everyday life helps me get a better perspective because sometimes, after a shift, I’m so tired that I fall asleep the moment I sit down. And it’s not unusual for me to wake up and still have my coat on.” She looked at Amy. “It’s an empty existence.” She put her cup away. “I don’t want that to be what my life’s about, and I don’t want that to be your life either.”
Amy could sense the air changing. She folded her arms protectively.
Sandra breathed in deeply. “I’m thirty-eight years old, and since my marriage, I’ve never met someone that I want to be with more than casually.” She smiled. “In fact, that applies to my ex as well.” She frowned. “I’ve never found someone I care enough about to want to know what they think of my opinions, my ideas, the way I look, my friends. I’ve never found someone who can get to the heart of me,” she looked at Amy, “that consumes me, makes me unable to function properly without them.”
Amy shivered. She could feel it coming. She could feel the shift, the cracks starting to appear around her.
Sandra watched Amy. She waited for a moment.
Amy could almost hear the question.
Sandra asked quietly, tenderly, “What does it feel like, Amy?”
Not wanting her world to shatter, Amy looked at Sandra. “Don’t,” she replied, her face paling.
“What does it feel like, Amy, to be madly, crazily in love?” Sandra asked. Face filled with compassion, she approached.
“I don’t know,” Amy whispered.
“Yes, you do,” Sandra replied. “You’re crazy about Celeste.” She gently touched Amy’s arms and whispered, “It’s something that you’ll have to come to terms with, because, the truth is, you will never outrun it.”
Amy breathed in deeply.
“Tell me,” Sandra said gently. “Tell me, Amy. I’m here for you.” She looked at her. “Tell me what it feels like.”
Amy bit her bottom lip. “I know you think this will help if I talk about it. But, I can’t go there, Sandra.”
“You can’t outrun it, Amy.”
Amy looked at her friend for a long time then replied, “Watch me.”
†
Amy woke up. Surprised she looked around. She couldn’t believe it. She was back on the beach. Right where she was before.
“Maggie?” Amy said feeling dazed.
Maggie replied anxiously, “Amy, listen to me, there’s very little time. She needs you.”
Confused, Amy frowned. She looked at her cousin.
Maggie’s fingers dug into her arms. She spoke slowly and deliberately. “It’s real, Amy. Believe me, it’s very real.” Maggie put pressure on Amy’s arm and turned her around. She pointed toward the sand dunes.
Amy was surprised to see Celeste and the children walking toward the dunes. They were quickly gaining distance. She squinted her eyes; Celeste seemed to be fading in and out.
Maggie whispered into her ear, “You have to go to her.”
Confused, Amy turned her head to look at Maggie, but Maggie shoved her.
Amy fell to her knees.
“Sorry,” Maggie said, helping Amy up. “Too much oomph.”
Maggie brushed Amy down then shoved her, gently this time. “Trust me, Amy.” She looked past her and said with some urgency before pushing her again. “Trust your instinct.”
“What’s wrong?”
Maggie pushed Amy forward.
“Maggie, tell me.”
“Go.”
Amy looked up toward Celeste and concern rushed through her. She ran hesitantly forward, but kept glancing over her shoulder to Maggie.
Maggie waved her arms, frantic for her to hurry.
Amy started to jog, and although her cousin was soon a distance away, her voice rang out clearly, “Hurry.”
A wave of panic washed over Amy and not looking back, she broke into a full run and tried to catch up with Celeste and the children. She shouted for them to wait, but they were speeding up. As they sped up, she slowed down. With alarm, Amy realized that with each step she was sinking into the sand, deeper and deeper, and no matter how hard she shouted neither Celeste nor the children turned around. She tried to move faster, but her legs felt like leaden weights. With horror, she looked down and realized she was stuck and sinking fast.
†
Amy woke up. Blind panic shot through her. She bolted out of the bed and ran through her entire apartment. Throwing on every light, she searched. Eventually, she stopped and yelled in bewilderment, “What am I doing? There’s nobody here.”
Standing alone in her living room, Amy tried to catch her breath. Her knees buckling, she dropped to the floor. Leaning forward on all fours, she tried to calm herself, but couldn’t. Instinctively, she got to her feet and reached for the phone. She called Celeste.
“Allo.”
Surprised, Amy said, “Camille?
Camille, it’s Amy.”
“Oh, Amy!”
“Camille, where is Celeste?” Amy asked urgently.
Camille sobbed. “Amy, there has been a terrible accident.”
In the final hour of her flight, in the cramped, confined toilet, Amy wiped her mouth. She had just thrown up. After the call with Camille, to her relief, Alex called within minutes to say he had booked her the first available flight out.
Amy rinsed her mouth then wiped it. She leaned her head heavily against the mirror, and thought about the accident that Celeste was involved in while out swimming. The dream from earlier burned in her mind. It wasn’t a dream, she finally reconciled as she lifted her head from the mirror. Somehow, it had been Maggie telling her to get to Celeste.
Amy pushed away the niggling of her internal voice, telling her she might be too late. She closed her eyes and all she could see was the image of Celeste fading in and out. Unable to hold her fear in any longer, she whispered, “Please don’t let it mean goodbye. If it really was you, Maggie, then I’m begging you, don’t let me be too late.”
Tears flowed freely. Wiping them away, Amy thought how ironic life would be if Celeste were taken from her now. She thought about the what-ifs and wondered if she would have married Josh if Celeste had stayed. For the first time Amy faced the truth. She closed her eyes, accepting that she wouldn’t have married him. If Celeste had stayed, she would have been unable to ignore the truth that she was deeply in love with her. She looked at her reflection and finally accepted that she would never outrun her love for Celeste.
Pressing her head to the mirror, Amy released a deep sob. The thought of losing Celeste unbearable she gulped in some air. She lifted her head when the door rattled. It was the air steward asking her to take a seat. The plane was due to land.
†
Spotting Colin just as he noticed her, Amy hurried toward him. He looked drawn. She stopped in front of him. “How is she?”
Colin hugged her. “She’s still in surgery.”
Amy sank into him, relieved that he was here and that Celeste was still fighting.
Colin hugged her tight. “I’m so glad you’re here, Amy. So glad you’re here.”
“Hurry, Colin,” Amy whispered. “I need to be with her.”
They made their way to his car.
Onboard the plane Amy had been allowed to make a few in-flight calls, but now Colin was giving her more details of Celeste’s injuries. “Ultimately, she’s seriously battered, with several broken bones,” he said, getting into the car.
Feeling increasingly uneasy, Amy bit her bottom lip pensively. “But they’ve been operating for hours?”
Colin glanced at Amy. “She’s back in surgery,” he said quietly. “There’s internal bleeding.”
Amy’s head sank into the headrest. She knew how serious it was to stop internal bleeding. She uttered, her voice croaking, “What happened exactly?”
“I don’t know much more than what I’ve already told you.”
Amy looked at Colin. “Tell me everything again.”
Colin sighed and nodded. “From what I understand, Celeste went out for a swim when she was hit.” He smacked the steering wheel. “Those fucking Jet Skis!” he roared. “They are the curse of the coastline. You can’t move without those fucking, noisy pollutants being forced down your throat. The number of people hit this year alone, is a record high.”
Colin went off on a rant.
Not listening, the color drained from Amy’s face as she visualized Celeste being hit. Closing her eyes, she willed her to fight.
†
When they arrived at the hospital, Camille was the first to spot Amy. She ran toward her and took her in her arms.
“Amy! My darling. Thank God you are here,” Camille said, hugging her hard.
Sophie and Alex followed. Wrapping their arms around her, they hugged and welcomed her.
Breaking free, Amy asked, “How is she?”
Camille looked at Amy then stroked her face. “We do not know yet,” she replied. “They are still operating.” She smiled weakly. “But we know that she is fighting.” Camille whispered, “And now you are here, she will fight even harder.”
Amy smiled reassuringly and whispered, “I hope so, Camille. I hope so.”
Hugging Camille, Amy made eye contact with Josh. He was standing with a small, dark-haired, very attractive woman. After a few moments, Amy moved away from Camille and approached him. During her last visit she had intended to see him, but her confrontation with Alex and Celeste meant that it didn’t happen.
“Hello, Josh.”
Josh eyed her cautiously. “Hello, Amy,” he said, putting his arm around the woman next to him.
“Hi Amy, I’m Denise.” The brunette smiled nervously as she held her hand out.
Amy looked at it. She took the hand then pulled a surprised Denise into her for a hug. “Hello, Denise,” she replied. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
Amy heard a din behind her. She broke the embrace and turned to see her mother, followed by Bruce and Fraser carrying trays. Daniel, Naomi, and Amy’s sisters were with Kate because there was no stopping her mother. She was determined to be here. Amy watched Irene commandeer the distribution of the coffee and sandwiches. She couldn’t help a brief smile. Some things, she realized, just never changed. She turned to look at Josh and Denise and excusing herself, joined her mother.
†
Amy looked at her watch for the umpteenth time. She had been here just over twenty minutes already, but it felt like an eternity.
Josh approached her. He cleared his throat and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. She took it and they stood for a while in awkward silence. Amy knew it was difficult for Josh. She had left him with so many questions. After the accident, she had completely shut down on him, on life.
They spoke at the same time.
Amy smiled. “Please,” she said, “what were you going to say?”
Josh cleared his throat again. “Mom told me you were coming,” he said, creasing lines with his thumbnail in the cup he held. “She told me that you have been in contact with Celeste for quite a while. That you’d even come home.” He looked at her intently. “Words seem inadequate right now, Amy, to describe how you showing up like this makes me feel.”
Amy nodded. “I know.”
“You know I kept in contact with Irene?”
Amy nodded.
“She let me know that you were okay. But, I…” Josh trailed off. Sounding deeply wounded and with more than a note of disbelief, he finished, “I can’t believe that you’ve never contacted me.” He shook his head. “Did you care at all, Amy?”
How could she explain? Amy looked at Josh, although he was trying to hide it, she could see anger in the way his face was set. He looked so different. She realized that the fun-loving, jovial man she married was gone.
Waiting for an answer, Josh stared at her.
Amy knew that forming words to explain how he felt, right now was too painful. She also knew he wanted to tell her that he was devastated when she ran out on him. That he was enraged that she could disregard him. Amy watched him struggle and knew that now she was here, and intending to stay, she would see that anger soon. She watched him litter his cup with lines.
“Yes, I cared.”
Sounding confused, Josh asked, “Why are you here?” He frowned and shook his head. “Why?”
Why am I here for Celeste, and not you
? Amy sighed inwardly. This was too difficult. They needed to seriously talk but here wasn’t the right time for either of them.
Amy looked at him. “Josh, for now,” she said, “would you accept that I’m sorry? I’m so sorry for running off the way I did. And for not being strong enough to be honest with you about what was happening to me.”
Not honest enough to tell you about Celeste.
Amy looked at Josh.
He’s moved on. He’s with someone else. He has two kids and, however hard it’s been, he’s gotten on with his life. He hasn’t curled up and shut life out
. She realized then that she was exactly like her father. She had done the same as he did when her mother left; locked the world outside and kept grief and resentment on the boil.
Since working in a children’s ward, Amy had been part of the process of helping parents come to terms with and cope with the adversities their child faced. The strength and resolve that many parents showed, and the will to fight regardless of the hardship and sometimes loss, was truly amazing. Amy needed to find that resolve. It was time she shouldered some of the responsibility. It was time for closure.
For the first time in years, Amy felt the guilt lift a little. She looked over Josh’s shoulder and straightened when she saw the physician approach them. Her heart began to pound.
He addressed them all. “The next forty-eight hours are critical.” He held up his hand when Fraser moved forward. “And I can’t give you any guarantees, other than to say we are quietly optimistic.”
Sophie came to Amy and put her arm around her.
Josh frowned deeply.
Something told Amy that Sophie knew. She looked at the smaller woman for a long moment then hugged her tightly, drawing strength from her.