Epilogue
Peter
Late September
The sunshine on my face felt far too hot. Like the rays were burning through my fragile skin despite the layers of sun factor I’d smothered it with getting ready to go out for my run.
My daily run. I ran every day now, feeling it helped me clear my head and gave me that morning peace I still craved.
To be alone with my thoughts and just…exist. We were…
good. Everything was good. I was back to work and had just signed up to speak at the British Dentistry Convention next month.
They were advertising me as a special guest speaker, like it would be an epic performance of me droning on about the future of recyclable disposable braces.
What was I thinking? But I had been invited to speak…
so to speak, and speak I would. What was I like?
I had to smile at myself, again agreeing to things that would no doubt land me in a situation out of my control.
Strangely…I liked the idea. I couldn’t explain it, this new part of me I was still discovering.
Talking was good. Talking about myself? I spluttered with held-back laughter. Me?
I didn’t know why I hesitated this morning, why I was standing in the doorway looking out into the road and why something was holding me back.
I supposed I had been thinking of it, lately. How perhaps it was time. How the fact that I still hadn’t done it was actually something that was detrimental to us all. Every single one of us who had known her. Touched her. And we still hadn’t let her go.
“Do you think…” I spoke into the room, turning back and looking at her. The box. The green now a paler shade than it had originally been. Dust gathering on the top. “I know this isn’t what you wanted,” I admitted, perhaps for the first time ever. “And maybe I was wrong not to let go.”
You did what you had to do, she said back in my head. Perhaps it was really her. Or maybe just my mind still playing tricks on me. And then there was a gust of wind, just a soft flow against the back of my neck. Like a caress from her fingertips.
Perhaps I was losing my mind. Or maybe I wasn’t, as I lifted her down from her resting place. Blew the dust off the top of the box and let my finger trace the lid.
I shouldn’t do this on my own. I should have asked the boys. Talked to Mrs Patel next door. Let her say her goodbyes. This was unplanned and rash. Not rational. Definitely not me. But then maybe?
She had been mine. Finally all mine. Mine to keep forever, and perhaps I was just prolonging the inevitable for everyone, standing here contemplating doing this.
It’s okay, she whispered in my head. Let me fly. Because things will be fine without me. They already are.
I should have put her back and just gone for my run, but it didn’t feel right.
So I gently cradled her in my arms and walked out the door.
Steady strides up the road. I took her past the old primary school, where we’d dropped the boys off every day.
The little café on the corner. The community theatre we’d supported throughout the years.
I took her past the playground and the little pond.
Up the hill and through the clearing to the left.
To where there still was a bench that was now covered in graffiti.
We can see the whole city from here, she said, sitting there right next to me.
She wore the skirt, the long blue one she loved to wear around the house.
Her blouse buttoned low as she fanned herself in the heat.
It’s one of those second summers. She laughed, letting her feet pedal slowly in the air.
London is so sticky and hot. Not like the seaside. We loved it there too.
“We did,” I said gently. “But this is home. The whole world at our feet.”
It still is.
“I know.”
I wasn’t sure why I was saying the words out loud, since she was in my head anyway. But it felt right. Her hair was blowing gently in the wind. I could even smell her. The faint scent of her face cream. That expensive shampoo.
You’ve done well.
“I tried.”
No, darling, you have. You finally broke free and went with what you were really feeling. That’s huge for you, a big step forward. Everything you’ve done; it’s all had a purpose, and now you’ve finally moved on. You and the kids. I couldn’t be prouder of you, and our boys.
I nodded. Because that was all I could do.
“Georgie…he’s very smart,” I said quietly. “Very good for our Ed. And Cal… He needs to let loose. Not worry so much about everything. He’ll get there. I’ll keep my eye on him.”
Cal will be fine, sweetheart. He has your genes. It just takes him a little longer to find his bravery. Just like it does for you.
I could hear her voice. See her talking, sat there looking right at me. This wasn’t real. Because I could feel the weight of her in my arms. But still?
“I’m still not brave,” I admitted. My hands were shaking, holding on to that box. Because once I did this? There would never be any going back. This was final. And I still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.
I’m sorry, she said. And my body did a little jerk.
I’m sorry for not always listening when you needed me to.
For pushing you harder than I should have.
You frustrated me so much when I saw what you needed and yet you pulled back.
You were always so frightened of everything you wanted.
Scared that this would be the time when we finally broke.
I can tell you now, we never would have.
And we never did. We were both strong on our own, but together? We were…sometimes unstoppable.
“And sometimes? We were destructive.”
I could see her, so clearly. Her face so full of that sadness. I wore it as well because I had so many regrets. So many things I shouldn’t have done. Have said. Have wanted.
Neither of us was perfect, my love.
“We were sometimes wrong. Often off track.”
We were. I was sometimes a terrible parent. A lot of the time, I was an awful partner. I wasn’t trustworthy with your feelings. I wasn’t always paying attention. And I know I hurt you. I wish I could take it all back. Take that whole bloody book business back. Make it disappear. But I can’t.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
No, it doesn’t, she agreed. Because we can’t change things after they’re said and done. Not in life and not after.
“I will always…be a little hurt.”
I know you will. And maybe one day you will forgive me.
“Maybe one day you will forgive me too. For holding on too tight. For…”
She shook her head. The wind in both our faces.
You need to let go, she said. Because it’s truly done now.
In the past. Forever just memories. The good ones are brilliant, Peter.
The not-so-good ones? Let me…carry the burdens of those I created.
And the ones on you? Give them to me. Let me guard them for you, and when you do something stupid again? I’ll throw a saucepan at you.
“Oh, Mary.” I grinned. I didn’t know why I wasn’t crying. Why the emotional toll of this stupid imaginary conversation wasn’t throwing me for a loop. Perhaps it was just in my imagination. Or maybe it was terrifyingly, frighteningly real.
It’s time. It really is, my love. Long overdue, actually.
You’re doing fine without me. And you really don’t need this dusty old box around, I promise you that.
The world is still spinning. And maybe I should have let you go, all those years ago.
I should have let you live, and maybe things would have been different.
And don’t, don’t argue with me, because we were just as bad as each other.
I begged you to let me go, and you just held on.
Because you loved me. And I loved you right back.
We were so scared of what our lives would become if we didn’t stay together.
There was so much fear there. So much… But we were happy in the end, remember that.
Those last months? It was just us, and the boys. And those… It was good? Wasn’t it?
“It was just us,” I agreed.
And I loved you. More than you’ll ever know.
And I know you loved me too. All my faults and flaws and silly ideas.
My flouncy escapades and little affairs.
The other people I loved. You still loved me.
It was the one thing I had, that you were always there.
You made me who I was. The good part. That was all you.
The other bits? In the end, they didn’t matter, did they?
Nobody remembers those things that didn’t last. But we did.
You and me. Until the very end. And now, my love, you have that young man of yours, and he’s an absolute delight.
Thank you for letting me meet him. For teaching him to love everything that you are.
“He did that all on his own.” I smiled.
No. He watched you and just copied. He was so broken on the inside, and then you showed him how to heal. You gave him everything he needed. A home, a family, the boys…
“I love him.”
I know you do. And he loves you. And that is why you and I are here.
“It’s hard. Is this right? Is this what I should be doing?”
You always doubt yourself.
I could suddenly feel her hand on mine. A soft grip in the wind. I wasn’t just imagining it, it was…
“I need to let you go. Because if I don’t?”
Then you will never truly live. I had my time. Now it’s your turn. Go out there and live, my love. Let yourself fly. And I will be right here when you need me.
“You need to stop creaking the floorboards.”
I need to have my fun.
“And the pots on the shelf?”
Well, you keep putting them back there!
I had to laugh. Sat there on that bench, the weight of the box even heavier on my lap.
Let me go, she repeated. It’s time.
“I love you,” I said.
I know you do. And I will love you forever. But let me fly so I can let you live.
I’d never looked inside, but when I opened the top? It was just a bag of grey dust meeting the sunlight. It felt surreal, placing the box on the side next to me and carefully ripping a hole in the plastic. Perhaps I should stand up? Throw it into the wind?
Just let me go, she said, It’s okay, it really is.
So I did. And as she flew, I felt it. That exhilarating surge in my chest as the grey met the sky.
I love you, she whispered.
I said it too. One final time.