Shorter of breath and one day closer to
Writing and Improvised dance for the 8th Annual "River of Mnemosyne" Challenge.
It snowed twenty centimetres overnight, and Alex was ecstatic. In fact, didn’t realize just how long I’d been away from home until he’d commented on the snow.
“Yeah,” I nodded, hands in pockets and chin tucked in under my scarf, “we have had a little bit of snow the past couple of days.”
“You’re joking!” he exclaimed. Alex was short – a real hobbit – and I’m sure the long black trenchcoat he was wearing wouldn’t have reached ankle length on a regular-sized human. “There’s bloody heaps of it!”
Though around 30 years my senior, Alex and I got along very well. He and his wife had been there through some pretty dark times. When my long-term partner wanted to leave me in the midst of my deep depression, Alex and Courtney were there with soup, chocolate biscuits and juice. Courtney would sit with me on the dance studio floor when I was too tired to do any more.
“Do you need a psychologist?” she asked, “Because you can just talk to me.” I appreciated the sentiment.
When I first got ready to leave the country, they both cried. When I returned and eventually got ready to leave the country for good, they drove 5 hours to play music for me, and then we cried some more.
I think it was about 6 months later, when I’d finally emerged from a depression, anxiety and grief induced haze of memory loss and reduced comprehension, that it hit me how important this couple was in my life. They truly loved me, in the sense of the verb, and I was absolutely inspired by their love for each other, 20-odd years on from when they got together.
In fact, I’d Skyped Courtney with Alex just the night before. Tears pricked her eyes as soon as I appeared on screen and told her I missed her. That night, as we arrived home in the snow, Alex was sad that she wasn’t able to talk to him that evening. Bless.
I’d made the decision to interrogate either Alex or Courtney on their love some time ago. I just hadn’t got around to it yet.
Alex and a few of my close friends were admiring our newly built snow bar (exactly what it sounds like; a bar made of snow, with four different beers and an ice wine on offer, I’ll have you know) on the deck when I finally asked him.
“Alex,” I started, leaning my elbow on the icy counter top as I took another swig of my Rousse. “I want to ask you something personal, I hope you don’t mind – do you think you and Courtney are so happy together because you never had children?”
Alex answered a lot quicker than I expected. His mouth twisted slightly into a little grimace, and his head tilted briefly the way my mother’s had in the kitchen that Summer's morning back home.
“You know, sometimes, I think I missed out on something,” he started, setting his beer down. My two friends shifted their feet uncomfortably in the snow. But I was about radical honesty, and Alex was someone I felt close enough to be radically honest with in my search for the meaning of love.
“Courtney? Yes, she’s definitely happier. So I guess, that means we’re both happier. But when I was travelling with my mate last week, and I had this little 3 year old boy saying, ‘Dad, I want to sleep in Alex’s bed,’ then…” he frowned again and bobbed his head a little, “Then I really had this thought of, ‘Wow, I’ve missed out on something here, haven’t I?”
We talked a little more before Slice of Heaven came on the stereo and we all burst into song and worked on sharpening the snow bar’s edges.
----
“Will you be warm enough?” I asked Alex as I brought him a glass of water. He wasn’t used to partying with adults 30 years his junior, and it was clear he was a little inebriated. Nothing bad, it was just a little hard to convince him that yes, all the “young people” wanted to go to sleep now. I’d managed to sway him by letting him play my guitar on the couch, “but only if you play quietly.”
“Laurelle,” he said, grabbing my hand gently as I turned to head to my room.
“Yes, Alex?”
“I’ve never told anyone this,” he started, and for a moment I felt afraid. I don’t know how I could have ever felt the need to feel afraid of Alex – someone who’d protected me and been there for me in times of challenge, even despair. But something about drunk males scared me now and then.
“Okay,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the couch.
“You know how you asked me if I’m happier because Courtney and I never had children?”
I nodded, and he continued.
“Well, Courtney always knew she never wanted them, and so when she told me, I didn’t protest, because, I’d already had them.”
My mouth opened slightly, and perhaps my head even tilted the same way Alex’s had earlier. He swallowed and kept talking.
“When I was only 20, I had a baby girl. She only survived 4 days.”
There was a pang somewhere in my chest. In my selfish quest to understand the human condition and the state of love, had I asked a question that stirred up hurt in one of the people I’d never want to hurt at all?
“So, I didn’t feel the need to do it again. I’ve never told Courtney, and I don’t think I ever will, because… why would I?”
I nodded slowly, letting this sink in. This fact that Alex was telling me something that the woman he had loved for 20 or 30 odd years had never heard.
“And I think – sometimes I think that’s why I’m so close to you. Because you’re about how old my little girl would be. And I mean, sometimes I wonder what might have happened if she had survived, if I had stayed in this relationship... But I don't really believe in this 'not meant to be' mumbo jumbo... And it's not that it wasn't meant to be, it just wasn't, you know? It just didn't happen. But you know, I’m kind of lucky. I look at other people with children, you know, children that play up, that turn out wrong, and I think, ‘Well, that never happened with her.’ She was gone so soon, that all I got was the perfect bits. She was perfect.”
Improvisation - "A Little Death is Good for the Soul" from Siobhan Camille on Vimeo.
It snowed twenty centimetres overnight, and Alex was ecstatic. In fact, didn’t realize just how long I’d been away from home until he’d commented on the snow.
“Yeah,” I nodded, hands in pockets and chin tucked in under my scarf, “we have had a little bit of snow the past couple of days.”
“You’re joking!” he exclaimed. Alex was short – a real hobbit – and I’m sure the long black trenchcoat he was wearing wouldn’t have reached ankle length on a regular-sized human. “There’s bloody heaps of it!”
Though around 30 years my senior, Alex and I got along very well. He and his wife had been there through some pretty dark times. When my long-term partner wanted to leave me in the midst of my deep depression, Alex and Courtney were there with soup, chocolate biscuits and juice. Courtney would sit with me on the dance studio floor when I was too tired to do any more.
“Do you need a psychologist?” she asked, “Because you can just talk to me.” I appreciated the sentiment.
When I first got ready to leave the country, they both cried. When I returned and eventually got ready to leave the country for good, they drove 5 hours to play music for me, and then we cried some more.
I think it was about 6 months later, when I’d finally emerged from a depression, anxiety and grief induced haze of memory loss and reduced comprehension, that it hit me how important this couple was in my life. They truly loved me, in the sense of the verb, and I was absolutely inspired by their love for each other, 20-odd years on from when they got together.
In fact, I’d Skyped Courtney with Alex just the night before. Tears pricked her eyes as soon as I appeared on screen and told her I missed her. That night, as we arrived home in the snow, Alex was sad that she wasn’t able to talk to him that evening. Bless.
I’d made the decision to interrogate either Alex or Courtney on their love some time ago. I just hadn’t got around to it yet.
Alex and a few of my close friends were admiring our newly built snow bar (exactly what it sounds like; a bar made of snow, with four different beers and an ice wine on offer, I’ll have you know) on the deck when I finally asked him.
“Alex,” I started, leaning my elbow on the icy counter top as I took another swig of my Rousse. “I want to ask you something personal, I hope you don’t mind – do you think you and Courtney are so happy together because you never had children?”
Alex answered a lot quicker than I expected. His mouth twisted slightly into a little grimace, and his head tilted briefly the way my mother’s had in the kitchen that Summer's morning back home.
“You know, sometimes, I think I missed out on something,” he started, setting his beer down. My two friends shifted their feet uncomfortably in the snow. But I was about radical honesty, and Alex was someone I felt close enough to be radically honest with in my search for the meaning of love.
“Courtney? Yes, she’s definitely happier. So I guess, that means we’re both happier. But when I was travelling with my mate last week, and I had this little 3 year old boy saying, ‘Dad, I want to sleep in Alex’s bed,’ then…” he frowned again and bobbed his head a little, “Then I really had this thought of, ‘Wow, I’ve missed out on something here, haven’t I?”
We talked a little more before Slice of Heaven came on the stereo and we all burst into song and worked on sharpening the snow bar’s edges.
----
“Will you be warm enough?” I asked Alex as I brought him a glass of water. He wasn’t used to partying with adults 30 years his junior, and it was clear he was a little inebriated. Nothing bad, it was just a little hard to convince him that yes, all the “young people” wanted to go to sleep now. I’d managed to sway him by letting him play my guitar on the couch, “but only if you play quietly.”
“Laurelle,” he said, grabbing my hand gently as I turned to head to my room.
“Yes, Alex?”
“I’ve never told anyone this,” he started, and for a moment I felt afraid. I don’t know how I could have ever felt the need to feel afraid of Alex – someone who’d protected me and been there for me in times of challenge, even despair. But something about drunk males scared me now and then.
“Okay,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the couch.
“You know how you asked me if I’m happier because Courtney and I never had children?”
I nodded, and he continued.
“Well, Courtney always knew she never wanted them, and so when she told me, I didn’t protest, because, I’d already had them.”
My mouth opened slightly, and perhaps my head even tilted the same way Alex’s had earlier. He swallowed and kept talking.
“When I was only 20, I had a baby girl. She only survived 4 days.”
There was a pang somewhere in my chest. In my selfish quest to understand the human condition and the state of love, had I asked a question that stirred up hurt in one of the people I’d never want to hurt at all?
“So, I didn’t feel the need to do it again. I’ve never told Courtney, and I don’t think I ever will, because… why would I?”
I nodded slowly, letting this sink in. This fact that Alex was telling me something that the woman he had loved for 20 or 30 odd years had never heard.
“And I think – sometimes I think that’s why I’m so close to you. Because you’re about how old my little girl would be. And I mean, sometimes I wonder what might have happened if she had survived, if I had stayed in this relationship... But I don't really believe in this 'not meant to be' mumbo jumbo... And it's not that it wasn't meant to be, it just wasn't, you know? It just didn't happen. But you know, I’m kind of lucky. I look at other people with children, you know, children that play up, that turn out wrong, and I think, ‘Well, that never happened with her.’ She was gone so soon, that all I got was the perfect bits. She was perfect.”
Comments
In one paragraph, it seems Alex and Courtney are across the world. And then, Alex is with the protagonist, but missed Skyping with Courtney. Why are they traveling together, exactly?
Setup is VERY confusing.
The reveal is nice, but the rest of it just seems a windup for a matter-of-fact payoff. Where's the drama?