Reflections and Reconnections

Adam and Julia, a married couple in their early thirties with a sombre air about them, sat on a bench beneath the sprawling branches of a eucalyptus tree on a balmy Perth summer night. Their mood seemed to fuse into their sparsely populated surroundings as they looked out on the river with glassy eyes. They occasionally made observations, without much enthusiasm, but always politely agreeing. The last remark had come from Julia, on how the light cast down from the lampposts on the opposite path looked like tentacles searching the depths of the dark, inky waters.

Over time, Julia’s head slid from Adam’s shoulder to his chest. She eventually found herself becoming drawn to and fixated on the beating of his heart. A momentary comfort made her forget herself and smile. The memory of another heartbeat soon filled her thoughts though and overwhelmed her with melancholy. With a shiver, a gasp of air, and a rapid blinking of the eyes, Julia sat up sharply, as though she had just dragged herself from the depths of the river.

‘What is it?’ Adam asked, reassuringly taking one of Julia’s lightly shaking hands in his own.

‘Nothing,’ she answered, too consumed by a thought to attempt to articulate it. ‘I’m OK,’ she added unconvincingly.

Adam understood now wasn’t the time to press for an answer. As the pair sat in silence, he gently stroked the top of his wife’s back.

Before long, the alternating lights on the stadium across the river, that cast a sizeable reflection on the water, turned turquoise.

‘That kind of looks like a lagoon, doesn’t it?’ Adam reacted in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘It does a bit,’ Julia answered in the same manner, though any images she could invoke of a lagoon had perfectly still waters, which the river currently didn’t.

They fell silent again, both stroking one another’s hands as they watched the small waves herded by a night breeze toward the not-too-distant bridge, which a train, heading into the city, soon passed over. They each picked out a few silhouettes among the rectangular yellow light of the carriages and half-heartedly pondered to themselves what nights were in store for these people.

Once the train had passed, Julia’s chest heaved, and she let out a slow, audible breath. The sound of water lapping against a nearby pile of rocks and the light wind rustling leaves were then the only sounds for a while.

When Julia noticed a pelican swoop down from the railing on the underpass of the bridge, she watched it then smoothly glide just above the water. She felt a kind of irritation, like something with its form had no business moving so gracefully. She wondered if it would stop and pierce the river with its monstrous beak, scooping up a fish along with masses of water. If it did, she was grateful the night would blur the bulging of the bird’s pouch as it tilted back its head and filtered out the water. She’d always found it an unpleasant sight.

Julia’s preoccupation with the bird eventually drew Adam’s focus.

The pelican stayed out of the water. When it made it to the other side of the river, it flapped itself up to perch on a lamppost.

‘Did I tell you one flew right over me the other day?’ Adam asked.

‘I can’t remember,’ Julia answered. ‘I had one do it to me once,’ she soon went on. ‘I was just jogging and minding my own business. Gave me such a fright. I remember thinking that those huge wings, when they beat over the top of you, sound a bit like the flying dinosaurs in movies.’

‘It did sound like that,’ Adam replied, recalling the noise of the bird passing over him. ‘They really are strange looking things. Even stranger up on a lamppost,’ he finished.

‘It doesn’t matter how many times I see it, it never stops looking weird,’ Julia answered. They both tried thinking of more to say but found nothing. They watched a family of ducks bob about the water by some reeds.

The quiet was eventually interrupted by the sound of electric scooters whizzing behind them, accompanied by the shouting of one rider to the other speeding ahead. Adam turned to look. Julia, unnerved by the shouting, kept her eyes on the river. ‘See how the reflection of the moon lies on the water,’ she asked once the noise had disappeared into the distance. Adam felt Julia’s grip tighten and her fingernails dig into his palm. He also felt a hesitance in her before she continued, ‘It always looks like an ultrasound to me,’ with a definitive effort to get the words out clearly.

‘I think I see it, too,’ Adam answered, bringing his free hand to rest gently on their already joined hands.

Julia heaved a big sigh, then rested her head back on Adam’s shoulder. ‘This wind is picking up a bit. Might get too cold soon. I’m quite tired. Is it OK to head back already?’ she then asked.

‘I am starting to feel the cold,’ Adam answered with an exaggerated shiver. He slowly rose from the bench, then helped Julia up.

They started their short walk home, occasionally pointing out trivialities and agreeing with each other on whatever was said about them.

When they reached a corner with a small hill to climb, they saw two lads on their way down, all full of bounce and enthusiasm, on their way from one pub to another. Julia leaned into Adam, who put his arm around her. The lads noticed the move, as well as the obvious sorrow that weighed on the couple. Their revelrous energy gave way to the solemnity. They slowed their walk and quietened their talk. As they came close to passing they each smiled sympathetically at Julia - who smiled back and dipped her eyes - before nodding to Adam, who returned their nod with gratitude.

For the rest of the short journey home, Adam and Julia were undisturbed.

Back in their apartment building, they entered the foyer and found a couple from the floor below them, waiting for the lift. The man had his toddler daughter held to his chest. She was asleep with her arms wrapped around him and her head nestled peacefully on his shoulder.

The couple greeted Adam and Julia in a way they were careful to make sure didn’t seem patronising. The woman then explained she and her husband had spent an evening at the theatre and had planned to continue on for some drinking and dancing. ‘Little Miss started kicking off at my sister’s, though. So, it was just the theatre for tonight,’ she then said, with a look at her daughter that told the drinking and dancing wasn’t much of an issue to do without.

‘Missed her mum and dad too much. Bless her,’ Julia answered, looking adoringly at the child, whose mother noticed a sense of longing in Julia’s eyes that she knew the cause of and sympathised deeply with.

Adam asked what they had been to see at the theatre, and if it was any good. They told him and both said it wasn’t as good as they were expecting but was decent enough.

As they all headed up in the lift, Julia looked several times out of the corner of her eye at the sleeping child. When the lift reached the floor of the couple, the ding of the elevator momentarily stirred the little girl. She looked over her dad’s shoulder at Julia and recognised the sadness in her eyes. She smiled and raised a tired arm to give a little wave. As Julia waved back, a tear ran from her eye, hovering a moment on her pale cheek like a raindrop hanging on the curve of a petal.

After the lift doors closed, Julia looked up and noticed the security camera. She stared at it with hostility for having intruded on the interaction.

When their apartment door closed behind them, Julia let out a huge sigh of relief at only having to interact with her husband for the remainder of the night. After taking a moment to adjust to what seemed an almost intolerable brightness in the apartment, she looked around the living room and kitchen space. She noticed the disparity in pockets of each area, which were either immaculate, or a bit of a mess. The glean on parts of the laminate floor highlighted the dust on other parts. ‘Think I’ll give the oven and the floors a good clean tomorrow,’ she said impassively.

Adam looked through the open door of their bedroom. ‘I might give it a going over in here,’ he answered in the same manner.

They both then looked at the closed door of the room next to their bedroom, which hadn’t been opened for nearly a week. Neither spoke. They sat down next to one another on the sofa, holding hands and looking at their TV without turning it on.

Eventually, the screeching of a braking train on its way into the nearby station made its way through the balcony screen doors. Julia winced. ‘The council said the tracks would be greased by this week,’ she said in frustration.

‘I think we might have to just get used to it for a while longer,’ Adam answered. ‘How are those wax earplugs working?’ he then asked.

‘They’re really good. Not sure I could cope without them,’ Julia replied. ‘I think I’m about ready for bed, you know,’ she soon added, and rose to go to their ensuite bathroom to freshen her exhausted face.

While Julia was in the bathroom, Adam grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and took a few gulps. The cold drink momentarily sharpened his senses. A shudder then ran through his nervous system. He wiped away a tear, placed a clenched fist on the fridge door, and took a few deep breaths. ‘Save it for when you’re alone,’ he whispered to himself.

‘Are you coming to bed?’ he soon heard Julia softly call from the bedroom. He made his way to her, hugged her, told he loved her and that she was beautiful, then closed the bathroom door behind him while he tidied himself up.

Before heading to bed, Adam checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror to make sure he appeared sufficiently dependable.

Back in the bedroom, he smiled lovingly at his wife as she moulded the wax plugs into her ears. Then he took his own pair from his bedside table, stuffed his ears, and joined her in bed.

No outside noise reached them, but they could hear each other say ‘goodnight’ before embracing. Julia stroked Adam’s chest then nestled her head on his shoulder and sighed with exhaustion. Adam kissed her forehead and held her until she was fully asleep. He then carefully removed his arm from under her, rolled onto his side and, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and a crushing weight descending on his soul, hoped he would get a few hours of decent sleep.

The last train screeched into the station at 2 o’clock. None of them had stirred the couple. Not long before four o’clock though, Adam woke to the feel of Julia’s legs fidgeting. He took his earplugs out, placed them on the nightstand, then rolled over to face his wife and brace himself for what came next.

‘Please……Please don’ take her,’ Julia soon murmured, as her body began to writhe. Her pleas repeated with incremental volume and desperation until her arms grabbed onto Adam and squeezed with all her strength. ‘No!’ she finally shouted, before waking in shock and sobbing uncontrollably in Adam’s arms.

When she was all out of tears and her body had mostly regained control, she unwrapped herself from her husband and sat on the side of the bed. Adam made his way around to sit beside her. Julia grasped at his hand and stood up. ‘I need to look,’ she told him.

‘Are you sure?’ Adam replied compassionately.

Julia nodded silently. They were soon standing at the door to the room next to their bedroom. After a deep breath, Julia opened the door.

On entering the room, she scanned the walls she had painted pink, with clouds and colourful birds in flight here and there, then fixed her eyes on the cot in the corner. Taking slow steps, mirrored by her husband behind her, Julia walked to the cot and ran a hand over the heads of several stuffed toys that occupied it.

She finally stopped to rest her hand on the blue poke bonnet of a Jemima Puddle Duck. It had been her prized possession as a toddler.

She conjured the scene she had entertained so many times before, of a smiling baby girl clutching the duck to herself, before showing it to Julia while attempting quacking noises. Julia would reply with her own quacks, then tell the little girl of some of her many adventures with Jemima when she was younger, until the girl, still with a beaming smile, would interrupt with baby talk, drop the toy, and raise her chubby little arms to be lifted out of the cot.

For some ten seconds or so Julia forgot herself and became lost in the imagined scene. The momentary joy it brought her was equalled by the unbearable pain of reality that replaced it, while she relived the only time that she had actually held the little girl.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, turning a distraught face to Adam.

‘Don’t ever be,’ he answered, putting his arm around her waist and drawing her close.

‘Those tiny legs were kicking about in me just hours before,’ Julia followed, to herself as much as to Adam. ‘Why wouldn’t they move? Why wouldn’t she move? What did I do?’ she then asked with immeasurable anguish.

‘You didn’t do anything,’ Adam answered, using his free hand to stroke Julia’s face.

‘Then what should I have done?’ Julia now asked pleadingly, as though desperate to assign blame to herself from whichever perspective would permit it.

‘There’s nothing you could have done. Not a single part of this is your fault,’ Adam said looking assertively into Julia’s pain-filled eyes.

‘I was wrong. I’m not ready to be in here,’ Julia sobbed, her knees buckling under the weight of her distress.

Adam took her weight on himself. He then helped usher her out to sit her down on the living-room sofa. He took his place beside her, held her softly, and encouraged Julia to pour out her grief-ridden soul. She obliged.

As every part of Julia’s grief leaked from her Adam felt a helplessness grow in himself. The devastation in his wife suddenly put into words tore his heart to bits, and yet, the disassociation he had relied on to manage his own grief, which he felt terrible guilt at having in the face of Julia’s despair, had left him so unprepared with any response. All he could do was to hold her and offer what he told himself were insufficient words of assurance.

When Julia appeared to have unloaded as much as she had the energy for, and had gone a minute without talking, almost in a panic, Adam asked, ‘Do you want me to get a tea on?’ desperately hoping he could salvage some useful words for his wife while he made it.

Julia, who in her distress still knew the cause of her husband’s question, held out both hands, which had a tremble to them. ‘I don’t think me holding a hot cup of tea is a safe idea right now,’ she began sympathetically in answer, then reached up to place a hand on each of her husband’s cheeks. ‘What I want……what I need, is for you to tell me everything on your mind. I know you’re just trying to be strong, but – and I know this might sound crazy -I almost feel like I’m overreacting. I can’t bear it,’ she then told him as softly as she could manage.

As he looked into his wife’s exhausted but compassionate eyes Adam first felt a spasm in his stomach, followed by numerous points of resistance in his tense muscles, as a spirit of some kind rippled through them and entreated him to just let go. One of Julia’s hands slid up his cheek then brushed back his hair as she kissed him softly on the forehead. ‘I love you, and we’re going to get through this together,’ she whispered into his ear, her warm breath combined with the stroke of her soft hand on his cheek creating a physical sensation that made disassociation an impossibility.

When she brought her head back and looked into her husband’s eyes again, Adam gave up all resistance in an instant. Julia pulled his head down onto her shoulder. Adam’s eyes flooded and his body quivered. So perfectly coaxed by his wife, every held in thought found articulation without his understanding how.

Once he’d given a voice to his thoughts, the pair sat silently awhile looking into one another’s eyes. The grief was still prevalent but they each recognised a barrier of some sort having been removed. For a good five minutes neither of them said a word, communicating perfectly instead with gentle caresses and sympathetic smiles.

When they did start to talk again, their conversation began with the exchanging of apologies, and attempts to assign blame to themselves, which would in turn be declared completely unnecessary. Finding so much comfort in the re-establishing of a connection, they talked until sunlight began to creep into the room.

When they stopped to acknowledge the beginning of a new day, Julia looked deep into Adam’s eyes and asked, ‘Do you think it will it ever get easier?’

‘It will. It has to,’ he replied, opening the blinds so they could watch the sunrise throw light over the river.