Necessary Changes

Sara closed the door to her balcony. She had been thinking about the details of her life while she sipped on her second coffee of the day. It was only 10 a.m., yet she had already been up for four hours. She sat on her balcony, overlooking the neighbourhood. The houses were all designed by the same builder, with the only difference being the colour of each of the garages. Surprisingly, Sara yawned as she looked at her empty coffee cup. Caffeine, it seemed, was not her ally today.

She took her cup inside, washed the breakfast dishes, and, since she was in a cleaning mood, decided it was a great idea to vacuum the carpets in all the bedrooms. Her house had three bedrooms, and once upon a time – five years ago, to be precise – she lived in this house with her (ex) husband and six-year-old daughter. She had named her Jennifer, and when she was born, a love so strong filled her heart that Sara still smiled at the memory. She had four perfect years with Jennifer, along with eight perfect years with her ex-husband Michael. Life was everything she had ever imagined until it wasn’t. Jennifer was not developing like other children her age. She crawled up until she was two and a half, and when she began to speak, her pronunciation of early sounds was slurred. When they found the tumour, there wasn’t anything that could be done. Whenever her mind wandered back to thoughts about Jennifer she did not want to recall, Sara stopped what she was doing and went for a walk. She left the vacuum cleaner on the floor, put on her runners and left the house.

The sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. Walking cleared her mind, as though her feet hitting the footpath cleared the kaleidoscope of negative memories from her brain. She took a different route each day, but today she decided to return to the park, which was two streets away. There was an elm tree she had fallen in love with, and she desperately wanted to sit under its shade and feel its tranquillity. Anticipating the feeling, she walked slightly faster until she could see the tree in the distance. Its branches stretched out in all directions, its leaves making the tree look full and frumpy.

The park was busy with young families playing on the equipment. Sara would sit beneath the tree and watch the young mothers and fathers with children. She’d close her eyes and imagine playing with Jennifer on the swings or chasing her round the see-saw. Suddenly, a basketball rolled besides her as though it had appeared out of nowhere. She looked up and saw a young girl running towards her, pointing at the basketball. She smiled before saying, ‘Sorry, my dad threw it really high.’

Sara smiled back, giving the girl’s father – who was watching from a distance – a friendly nod while handing the ball back to the girl. The basketball found its way back to Sara a few more times, each time the girl’s father moved closer to the tree. After the third time of the ball wandering over towards her, Sara said hello to the girl’s father. He looked younger than she thought, and she found him attractive with his hooded eyes and stubble around his jawline.

           ‘I have to apologise but she loves to shoot hoops before we go to school.’

           ‘Exercise is great for the mind.’

They both exchanged smiles before he left with his daughter. Sara watched them as they got into their car and drove away.

When she returned home, her mind was not only clear but calm. She put the vacuum cleaner away and finished tidying her bedroom before heading into her study to begin her work for the day. She preferred working from home, as did most of the people from the office post the pandemic. She was a data analyst for a bank, and whilst she enjoyed numbers and looking at graphs and trends, after Jennifer’s death, her job allowed her to forget she had buried her child – even though it was only sporadically. In those moments throughout the day when she needed to be one hundred per cent certain clients weren’t going to lose millions of dollars or transactions performed by the bank and customers were efficient, her mind seemed to forget the colour of the casket or the flowers at Jennifer’s grave.

By the time the sun set, she had already eaten dinner and sat on the couch, ready to binge the latest reality TV show that was airing. But before she could get comfortable, her phone buzzed. It was Michael. She didn’t want to answer, but during their divorce, they had promised each other to always support one another.

'Michael,' she said.

'Sara. It’s been a while.’

           ‘Nice of you to call.’

'I thought I’d call to let you know Rose and I are getting married,’ he paused. ‘In late December.’

Sara sat up. 'I'm happy for you.’ She lied.

           ‘I wanted to tell you before you found out from everyone else.’

Sara smiled half-heartedly. He was referring to his family and their mutual friends.

           ‘Ok, great, look I’m getting another call, Mike; we’ll chat soon.’ She hung up the phone and sat with the second lie she told for the night. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mood to watch television.

The next afternoon, she walked back to the park, and this time, she strolled around the track, taking in the fresh air. She wanted to release the stale smell of the office and breathe in the earthy smell of the grass and woodsy scent of the trees and bushes. She wanted to be happy for Michael, yet another part of her felt the dagger of jealousy slice through her body. How was he able to fall in love again? How was he able to be happy again? And then she heard her voice of reason: it’s been five years. The world continued to go around, yet she’d been stuck, unable to find any purpose for life after Jennifer. Sara could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, so she picked up the pace until she reached a park bench so she could rest. She sank into the wooden bench, unclenched her jaw and let her shoulders fall. Soon enough though, the park was becoming busy with school kids and toddlers with their parents.

           ‘Why do you go to that park if it upsets you?’ Michael had once said. She closed her eyes and shook away the memory. When she opened them, she could see the father and daughter from the previous day walking together towards the basketball ring. The father spotted her and waved. Sara smiled and waved back. When he motioned for her to join them, she was reluctant at first, but images of Michael and Rose getting married consumed her mind. If she never got up off the bench, she’d be stuck in this same cycle. There had to be more to life. She needed to continue to live for Jennifer. There was hope, and if she could find it in herself to be courageous, maybe she’d see losing Jennifer as an uncanny way of finding herself again. She sat and walked over to the basketball court; however, when she got there, she began to panic. This man was married. What was she thinking? Hesitating, she turned to walk away when her feet gave way beneath the tan bark, and before she could compose herself, she stumbled and lost her footing. The embarrassment masked the pain from the fall. She felt a hand on her shoulder, followed by a male voice.

           ‘Look at that crack on the edge of the court; you really went down hard!’

Sara rubbed her knee and looked up, perplexed by the man’s choice of words. ‘Sorry, what?’ She looked up and saw his smirk. After a few seconds, she realised he was making light of the situation.

           ‘I apologise; I was trying to make you laugh.’

Sara chuckled. ‘I think you made your daughter laugh even harder.’ She took his hand as he guided her to her feet.

           ‘You haven’t broken any skin, have you?’

Sara rolled her pants up and checked her knee. It was red but not grazed. Nothing an ice pack wouldn’t help. She brushed her knee and rolled her pants down. ‘Nothing to cry about,’ she chuckled.

           ‘I’m Alex and that young lady over there is Willow.’

‘I’m Sara.’

Sara smiled as Willow shot the basketball through the hoop with ease. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. ‘She can play.’

'It took her a while to fall in love with the game. Now we can’t go a day without playing.’

           ‘It’s great to see you nurturing her love of basketball.’

'I've just enrolled her into a basketball team, and her first game is on the weekend. She wants to practise all the time.’

Sara walked with Alex towards Willow. ‘And here I am interrupting your game,’ she said.

           ‘I used to play myself, so luckily she takes after her father.’

           ‘And how does she take after her mother?’

           ‘I couldn’t tell you.’

There was a brief pause, and Sara looked into Alex’s eyes. She realised what he meant and suddenly could feel her cheeks flushing. She replayed what she had said over in her mind and cringed at the thought of her forwardness. She pretended to hear her phone buzz and used it as an excuse to flee the scene.

When she arrived home, a parcel was waiting by her doorstep. She recognised the writing on the address label. It was Michael’s. Inside, she opened the box and stared at the contents for a few minutes longer than usual. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away using the back of her hand. Her melancholy soon turned into anger as she wiped her nose and composed herself. She reached for her phone, scrolled through her recent call list, and waited for Michael to answer her call.

           ‘I knew you’d call me.’

           ‘Why are you dumping our daughter’s clothes on my doorstep?’

           ‘I’ve been telling you for months that I’m moving, and I need to get rid of stuff.’

Sara closed her eyes and remembered the conversation from August. ‘You never mentioned you wanted to get rid of Jennifer’s clothes.’

'Sara, please. We spoke about this. It’s been five years.’

           ‘You weren’t the one holding her when she took her last breath.’ She held back her tears.

There was a brief pause before Michael spoke. ‘I didn’t want to have to do this over the phone, because I know you’re already upset,’ Michael said, pausing. ‘But Rose is pregnant.’

Sara heard the words echo and when she came to, the first thing she said was, ‘Is that why you’re getting married?’

'No, Sara. I’m marrying her because I love her. And I’ve moved on with my life. You need to as well. Your life can’t be defined by what happened to Jennifer…what happened to us.’

Sara couldn’t talk anymore. She mumbled something and hung up. She took the clothes from the box and lay them neatly on the floor of the lounge. The yellow sundress. The purple jumpsuit. The white singlet with the words ‘cutie pie’ stitched across the front. She held the material against her neck and face, hoping they still had Jennifer’s scent. A part of her mind knew she needed to put the clothes away and close this chapter of her life, yet the other side told her the day Jennifer died, which was the day she died too. Sara sat on the floor, cross-legged, and let the tears roll down her cheeks as though she were releasing the part of her that still clung to Jennifer. The tears became sobs and soon turned into wails. Eventually, she sat up, folded the clothes and placed them neatly back into the box. On her way to the kitchen, she passed the front door, which had been left ajar with the keys still in the keyhole. As she removed her keys from the door, a cat sitting on the doorstep startled her. It was not frightened by Sara’s presence; instead, it stretched out its paws, meowed and rubbed itself against her legs. In that moment, Sara began to smile. Jennifer loved cats. She bent down and rubbed her hands against its grey fur, which it seemed to enjoy as the purring became louder. She tried to cajole the cat to come inside, but it retreated and ran back down the street. I’m trying to let you go, Jenny. Mummy’s trying…

After she went back inside, she had a steaming hot shower, took half a sleeping pill and went to bed. She would save sleeping pills for the nights she wanted to stay in her dreams, for it was in her dreams that she could hug Jennifer and hear her laughter.

Instead of her usual morning coffee on the outdoor patio, Sara decided to walk to the café down the road. A corner store, it was always beaming with people waiting in line to order coffees, cakes and on-the-go breakfast bars. She waited behind a few people – the usual office type. The café was cosy with a few stools along the window overlooking the street and lots of coffee paraphernalia. The gurgling sound of the coffee machine was loud yet soothing, and by the time it was her turn to order, she could almost taste the coffee in her mouth. When she reached the front of the line, she paused and stared at the barista. The woman behind the counter smirked, and Sara shook her head.

'A flat white. 'No sugar,’ she said, moving aside. She waited while her coffee was being made.

           ‘Sara?’

Sara looked up. He had recognised her. ‘Alex, what a small world.’

'A flat white made by yours truly,’ he said, passing the takeaway cup to Sara.

She smiled and took a sip. ‘You make great coffee.’

'It's the beans we use and this gem of a machine,’ he said, tapping the top of the apparatus.

           ‘Being a barista is a skill; not everybody can do it.’

Alex chuckled. ‘It’s nice to know you live locally,’ he added.

           ‘And to think this is the first time I’ve ever been here, too.’

The line of coffee drinkers was dying off, but when Sara saw the dockets piling up across Alex’s workspace, she knew it was time for her to leave. She waved to him and walked out, smiling on her way home.

She visited Alex three more times throughout the week, and on the fourth visit, he offered to take her out for breakfast where they could sit and chat for more than two minutes and without the eavesdropping ears of the other customers.

He sat opposite her, wearing his oversized hoodie, and sipped on his coffee. The conversation flowed through eggs on toast, roasted granola and fruit, a smoothie and more toast. Soon, they realised they had been sitting in the café for four hours. Sara smiled at Alex – it had been so long since she smiled in this way. It was the kind of smile that lived in the moment. It was happiness, and in those split seconds of happiness, Jennifer crossed her mind. Her gaze shifted away from Alex and towards the window. Outside the café was a tram stop with passengers embarking and disembarking.  

'We should go there sometime,’ he said. Sara returned her focus to Alex.

'Sure,' she said.

'Are you ok? I don’t think you heard what I said.’

Sara took a sip of water. As she saw it, she had two options. She could succumb to the melancholy, thank Alex for breakfast and return to her life of the mundane, where she’d wallow in guilt. Or she could accept what happened to Jennifer was precisely what was meant to happen – and her death was the chance for Sara to be reborn. ‘Alex, I have to…’ she paused. They hadn’t yet spoken about their intimate lives. ‘There is something you should know.’ She took a deep breath, momentarily opened and closed her eyes before exhaling. ‘I lost my daughter five years ago. November 13th, 2019. She had a rare brain tumour – the specialists called it a neuroblastoma. It took about a year for her to succumb to it – ‘Sara paused and took another sip. She made eye contact with Alex, who was listening attentively as though he were hanging onto every word she said. ‘It ended my marriage and ripped me apart. I’m learning to find the goodness in each day, and I often think, can I ever? I remember listening to a podcast, and the woman talking said, 'Life is a river – the current continues to move regardless of what happens, and I’m trying to live by that.’ Sara paused. There was a silence between her and Alex, which she was hoping he’d break. She felt the warmth of his hand as it held onto hers. His eyes became glassy, as if he too could feel the pain behind her words.

'It's funny how people come into your life and express exactly how you feel,’ Alex said.

  ‘It’s been a while since I’ve opened up to someone.’

It happened so fast once they’d finished talking. She found herself in Alex’s house, sitting on his bed. When his lips touched hers, a tranquillity engulfed her body. To feel someone hold her tightly and stroke her bare skin – something her body and mind craved – was like having the pain she was holding onto disappear. They held each other once it was over, as no words were necessary. A new door was about to open.