The Letter

Ted got home from work feeling tired.  As the door opened, he saw the envelope with the hospital’s name on it.  His mouth went dry.  He picked the letter up and went into the kitchen, leaving the rest of the junk mail on the floor.

 

He sat on a chair at the kitchen table and opened the letter with trembling hands.  He gasped involuntarily at the news the letter contained.  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes – his usual habit when he had had a shock.  He looked at the contents and then threw the packet from him, whilst desperately feeling that he really needed the nicotine hit.  They’d have to go…and quickly.  What impact would it have if was not able to stop smoking?

 

He re-read the letter – part of him hoping he’d read it incorrectly.  No – the words were still the same.  His head started to spin as the implications of the words really started to bite home.  He felt sick to his stomach.

 

He’d have to change his whole lifestyle.  No more booze or takeaway meals.  Months of medical interventions.  Changes to his body that he didn’t want.  How many of his ‘friends’ would stick by him?  Would people point at him in the street and call him a freak due to the physical changes his body would display?  And what about the pain? He’d never really thought about that. He put his head in his hands and almost cried.  Why him?  What had possessed him to do what he had done?  Then, the sensible side of him took him by the shoulders and shook him.

 

“What’s done is done,” his sensible side said to him.  “You just have to square your shoulders and get on with it.”

 

Ted knew his sensible side was right.  But it still didn’t take the sense of panic and fear away from him completely.  All he knew was that what was left of his life would change forever.  And that scared him so much.

 

He decided to take his mind off things by making a meal.  He usually had sausage and chips on Tuesdays.  Thinking as healthily as he could, he decided to make an omelette.  Once he had made it, he found that his appetite had deserted him completely.  But, he knew he had to eat, so he forced down a few mouthfuls.  But that was all.

 

He picked up the letter again and re-read it….the news was still the same.

 

Dear Mr Jarvis,

 

We have the results of your tests.   We are pleased to inform you that you are the first man in the world to be pregnant.

 

Congratulations.

Dr M Wilson.

 

 

Ted held his stomach and wondered how much labour would hurt.

 

 

The Anniversary

I’m breathless and I’m only about half-way around the lake.

It’s boggy in places because of all the rain we’ve had recently.  It’s sunny today but there’s a bit of a nip in the air and there’s a bit of a breeze.   It’s creating ruffles on the water of the lake which doesn’t seem to reflect the blue of the sky – it’s steel grey.

I shudder.   I’ve never was confident around water.  The rest of them loved it, couldn’t get enough of it.

 I have to return here every year.  I never want to – deep down – but I know that I’ve got to come back.  It’s the only way I can be near my family again.  I know they’ll come.  They always do.

I’m startled by a small Jack Russell which pulls up short in front of me.  It looks up at me, cocking its head from side to side.

“Hello, boy,” I say bending to scratch behind his ears.

The response is a low growl and the dog backs away.

“Come on Jack,” a voice calls. I see the owner walking away from me so I can only see his back.

The dog gives one more growl and runs back towards his master.

I carry on walking.  I can see ‘our’ seat now in the distance.  I’ll head there and wait for them to arrive.  They’re happier now than they were the first couple of years.   I’m pleased.  I hated seeing them so upset.   I was sad, too, but was always pleased that they had each other.

I stop and listen to the birdsong.   I can make out chaffinches, chiff-chaffs and blue tits.  Of course, they all fall silent when I get anywhere near them.   A wood pigeon breaks cover and I jump as it does so – silently laughing when I realise what has caused me to jump.  I wouldn’t have noticed it, if it hadn’t decided to take off.

I’m at ‘our seat’ now.  I sit waiting.  As always, I feel ambivalent about the lake.  On the one hand, there are so many happy memories of times that we spent here: Jake and Marnie having the freedom to explore and be in the countryside, Mark and me walking hand in hand around the edge of the lake.  Me squealing and clinging on to the side of the boat as Mark and the kids deliberately rocked it to make me squeal.  Even Tilly, our Staffie seemed to grin at me!  Then I remember that it tore my family apart.  It changed everything…forever.

The sound of a boat engine draws me back to the present.  I wipe the tears from my eyes.  It’s them.  My smile freezes and my hand flies to my mouth. 

The boat draws near to the edge of the lake.  There’s another woman with them.  Marc jumps out of the boat and helps her on to the shore by taking her hand.  She’s a little younger than me.  I suppose that I knew that he couldn’t be alone for ever.  It’s still a shock.  I feel jealous.  It hurts that I never feel his hand on my shoulder again.  I can’t see him look at me the way that he’s looking at her.  It’s almost as if the hurt that I feel whips the wind up.  The ruffles on the lake turn into mini waves.  I hate it – it’s too much like the day of our accident.  Mark has his arm around her shoulder now and they are walking towards our seat.

I look at Jake and Marnie’s faces.  They seem comfortable with her.  They chat to her as they head towards me.  Again, I can’t quell a pang of jealousy.  They’re my babies (okay so what if  Jake’s nearly twenty and Marnie’s seventeen, that doesn’t come into it).

I look closely at her.  I’m searching for signs of wicked step-mother.  I don’t see any.   What I do see is someone who’s a little taller than me, about the same build and with the same colour hair.  It’s longer than mine – shoulder length, and in a bob style.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, and walks on.  “I’ll see you later.”

They join me on ‘our seat’.

“Hi, Janie,” Mark says, looking straight ahead.  “That’s Karen.  It’s not serious, but we’ve been seeing each other over the last six months.  I hope you don’t mind.”

Of course, he can’t see me.  He can only sense that I’m here.

“Hi, Mum.  As you can see, we’re fine.  We miss you.  Karen’s okay.  Jake’s got a new girlfriend.  I’m still looking for a boyfriend,” Marnie tells me.

“Hi Mum,” Jake mumbles. 

He sits there, looking uncomfortable.  It must be strange talking to someone you can’t see.

The worst bit for me is that I can see them and hear them, but I can’t touch them.  I sit and listen and feel alternatively happy and sad as they fill me in on the last year’s news.

I also observe them very closely.  They all look fine. 

They won’t be here much longer.   They’ll move on soon.  Then, that’ll be it for another year. 

My attention’s drawn away from them by the sound of a scream from the water.   It’s only some teenagers messing about in a couple of rowing boats.  I want to shout out to them, telling them to be careful, but I can’t.  I’m frozen to the spot.  Two of the boys are rocking the boat from side to side and the girl is screaming as the boat looks as though it’s about to be swamped with water.  The boys in the other boat sop rowing and laugh.   Mark, Jake and Marnie are laughing, too.

“Stop it! Stop it!” I shout – half at the teenagers and half at my family. 

The teenagers stop.  Not because of me shouting, but because the girl has started to cry.   The two boys stand up – they’re arguing.  The other boat bumps into theirs.  One of the boys loses his balance, falls into the water and disappears. 

I gasp, remembering the shock of the cold water; fighting for my breath and then the blackness.  The boy comes up and is pulled into the boat.  All the teenagers are laughing and they continue on their way.

“We need to go, now,” Mark says.  “It’s almost time.”

“We’ll be back next year, Mum, ” Marnie says.

“See you,” Jake mumbles.

He’s right.  It’s almost seven years to the day since the accident.  They need to be where they were when our accident happened.

They head out to the edge of the lake back to the boat.  Jake and Marnie jump in and take their seats.  Mark starts the engine, and they head off across the lake.  I watch them go.

As they reach the middle of the lake, a speedboat approaches so quickly there’s no chance to get out of the way.  The bow of the speedboat’s so high out of the water that they can’t be seen. 

“No! No! No!” I shout as the speedboat collides with ours.  There’s a boom and both boats disappear under the water. 

That’s it for another year.  I get up and walk to the edge of the lake.  I throw in the wreath of flowers that I’ve brought with me.   I’ll never know why I survived but they didn’t – they were all such strong swimmers. 

I turn and head back to the hotel.  I’ll leave this evening after booking in for the same overnight stay next year.  The wind’s dropped and the blue sky’s being reflected in the lake now.

 

 

The End