Turn Around

‘Turn around.’ There was a pleading note to the whispered words.
He flinched continuing to watch the grimy rivulets of rain slither down the window, his warm breath misting the glass.
‘You promised you’d never leave me Sharon.’ His voice was leaden.
‘Turn around.’
He tracked another raindrop down the glass; his eyes holding onto it like a drowning man holding on to a life preserver.
There was an exasperated sigh. ‘You knew it would come to this.’ The words were spoken in her soft, Irish lilt.
‘You promised,’ he repeated stubbornly.
The mantle clock’s persistent tick filled the space while distantly the discordant ululation of an ambulance rose and fell.
‘We both made a lot of silly promises back then.’ Her voice was a siren song pulling at his heart.
He almost turned but resisted the call; blinking back the welling tears. He knew the price he would pay if he gave in.
‘Men don’t cry!’ His father’s harsh words echoed from the vaults of dark memory.
‘You don’t need me Robert, you’re stronger than you realise.’
‘You’re wrong!’ His voice broke.
‘What do you want Robert, guilt?’ There was an unmistakable note of sadness.
‘Yes,’ He spat immediately through clenched teeth then bowed his head against the cold glass. ‘No.’ The whispered word misted the pane again.
He closed his eyes, picturing her again as she had been the first time he’d met her; in her light summer dress and floppy straw hat sitting serenely under an oak on Hampstead Heath reading Nietzsche. He remembered her smile when, heart in mouth, he’d asked her to have a drink with him and the warm feeling when she closed the book, stood and said 'ok' as if she’d been waiting for him all along.
Her perfume filled his nostrils, pulling him gently back to the present as he felt the light brush of her breath on his neck.
‘Turn around.’
He almost did; even started too. Somehow he managed to stop himself in time; knowing what he would see. But if he continued to refuse; to deny; she would have to stay those few, precious seconds longer.
‘Is this the way it’s going to be?’
He could hear the disappointment in her voice; another knife point driven into his heart. ‘It isn’t what I want.’
‘This isn’t about what you want anymore Robert. It’s the way it has to be.’
He shook his head; trying to drive the truth of her words away.
‘It can’t be the way it was. We can never go back to that. You have to let go.’ She continued her gentle pressure.
‘No! Never.’ He groaned desperately. ‘Just because it was easy for you.’ He let the words die regretting the few that had already tumbled from his lips.
‘You believe that?’ There was surprise and pain woven through her words.
He didn’t answer; afraid that the seed of bitterness germinating within would take hold once more. He felt her move close; close enough that he need only turn to take her in his arms and exorcise the events of the last seventeen months.
‘I’m sorry that you feel that way,’ she said in a sorrowful whisper. ‘I promise I never just gave up on us.’
‘I know.’ The sob burst from his lips.
He felt a gentlest touch on his shoulder and wanted so much to turn and look into those sparkling green eyes, to touch her pale freckled cheeks.
‘I can’t stop loving you.’ His voice was strained to breaking point.
He heard her soft, soulful sigh.
‘Tell me you don’t love me anymore; say the words. Make it easier for me,’ he pleaded.
‘You’ll never hear me say that.’ There was a hint of the old Sharon in those words.
He laughed; a hollow sound that died quickly.
The silence seemed to expand and fill the room once more; only the rain spattering against the glass and the ever-present tic of the clock held it at bay.
‘There is a way we can be together…’
‘No!’ Her interruption was razor keen.
‘I’d do it. Do it in an instant if it meant…’
‘No! It’s the one thing I would never forgive of you.’
Tears welled once more this time besting his flagging will to roll down his cheeks. ‘I don’t know what to do anymore.’
‘Turn around.’
He turned then; his chin resting heavily on his chest, his eyes squeezed tight: a last act of defiance.
Gentle fingers brushed his cheeks; gossamer light. He felt her lips, full and warm, press lightly against his forehead.
‘I love you Robert Ludlow and I always will.’
Her touch was gone and with it the sense of her closeness. He heard the door across the room open.
‘Robert?’
He took a deep breath and lifted his head. Katie, his older sister, stood just inside the door with a look of helpless sympathy and clearly uncomfortable.
Hesitantly she moved further into the room; scanning the dim interior.
‘I thought I heard you talking to someone.’
On the mantle, the clock mournfully sounded its Westminster chime.
He saw his own pain mirrored in Katie’s eyes.
‘It’s time,’ she said softly. Then in her usual, motherly way pulled a crumpled hankie from a concealed pocket and wiped away his tears. ‘Are you ready?’
Not trusting himself to speak; he nodded.
She hooked his arm in her own and they started back toward the door but after a few steps she stopped, glancing at the door and around the room again.
‘Can I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone before.’ She didn’t wait for an answer but continued on. ‘You don’t remember mum; you were only three when she died but I thought my world had come to an end—’ She must have felt him tense as he prepared to stall the inevitable platitude because the flow of words quickened. ‘—I talked to her. Every night she would come and sit on the bottom of my bed like she did when she was alive.’
He stared at her but she wouldn’t meet his eye.
‘She would ask me about my day, about you and dad. And I would tell her.’
His arm slipped free of hers and he took a step away from her. ‘You. You’re telling me that you imagined mum coming back to you?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t really matter; she was there when I needed her.’
He took her by her arms; ‘Did you imagine it?’ he demanded urgently.
She disengaged herself from his grip and sat on the back of an overstuffed leather sofa. ‘I think mum loved us. I think that if there was a way for her to come back, even for a short time, she would.’
He continued his intense stare. ‘Do you still see her?’ The question was a hesitant one.
‘No—’
His face twisted in disappointment.
‘—but I feel her sometimes.’
He looked at the floor his heart hammering.
He swallowed, ‘And Dad, what about Dad?’
‘I don’t know. But he did say something to me once, not long after she died. He said “The people we love never truly leave us.” And he said it with a smile. Does that help?’
He didn’t answer his mind and heart still racing.
She stood up from the sofa and hooked his arm once more. ‘Let’s go.’ She led him toward the door.
Just before he left the room he stopped, turning back to the dim interior.
‘Next time I will turn around.’ He promised the empty room with a hesitant smile.