Lit eZine Vol 7 | p-14 | FICTION | A Time to Live

SHORT STORY

A TIME TO LIVE
by Mary Walsh Foley

The loud, persistent echoing ring of the hall phone greeted him as he turned the key in the front door.

“Hello?”

“Thank Goodness at last Denis, I’ve been trying to get through to you all morning. Where on earth have you been? Never mind. You’re there now. I’ll be at the bus station at three this evening. Be sure to be there to collect me and, for goodness’ sake, would you ever buy a mobile phone like everyone else? See you then. Cheerio!”

He watched the people exiting the bus, middle-aged men struggling to keep their balance climbing down the narrow steps, oblivious teenagers with buds in their ears and there she was now, his older sister, Queen Bee as Katie and himself liked to call her.

“Ah Denis, good lad, will you get my case? It’s the navy one with the spotted handkerchief on the handle. God, that was a terrible trip. There was no air and the fella behind me kept talking to himself. Bring back masks on public transport is all I have to say.”

Denis put her suitcase in the boot. Bea asked him to pull the lever under the passenger seat to give her more room. It slid back, and she plopped into it, stretching her swollen legs out in front of her.

“Thank God Covid is over Denis. It’s been so long since I’ve been home. God, I’d murder a cup of tea. Have you something nice to go with it? An apple tart or chocolate digestives?”

“I …I’m not sure.”

“Stop at Hegarty’s and I’ll get some, to be sure.”

Most of the people milling in and out of the local supermarket waved and smiled at him while he waited for her, the car window wound down, his arm resting on it.

“Sorry Denis, I took so long, but I met Mai Murphy and she was filling me in on all the news since my last visit. You never told me that Ray O Neill was diagnosed with Parkinsons?”

Her tone was accusatory. The plastic bag rustled on her lap as she rifled through it to find a bar of Dairy Milk. She offered him two squares, but he shook his head.

Arriving at the cottage, she tutted, “Ah, for God’s sake, Denis, look at the state of the rose bushes. It’s more like a jungle than a lawn. I see those pesky swallows came back to their nest above the yard light. Filthy birds! A good shot of a power hose and you’d be rid of them!”

“Bea, they came back to me again. Imagine, all the way from South Africa, through scorching deserts and rough seas. Besides, it’s against the law to touch their nests.”

He opened the front door and followed her into the narrow hallway. Checking the presses to put away her sweet stash, she shook her head when she saw that the only thing inside them was a white sliced pan and a bottle of brown Chef Sauce. The contents of the fridge were not much better: spreadable butter, a packet of sliced ham and milk. Her heart sank. How could a man live on bread alone? She wondered about what kind of sad existence was it if you couldn’t treat yourself to some nice food.

“Sit down there now Denis and we’ll have a nice cup of tea. I got the last rhubarb tart in the shop. It’ll be lovely with a good dollop of whipped cream.”

Stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into her tea, she sat back and sighed contentedly when she had tasted it.

“God, I’m starving,” she proclaimed through mouthfuls of tart.

Pushing her empty plate away, she leaned forward and addressed her brother.

“Now Denis, have you sorted through Katie’s stuff yet? It’s been two whole years, time to move on. Live in the moment, I say. Yesterday is history and tomorrow is a mystery. Remember the fella who used to say that? He had a programme on the telly? God, what was his name again? I know you know it, a big fella with a mop of black curly hair, reminds me of Des Cahill?”

The sound of muffled crying silenced her chatter. Her brother’s shoulders were heaving, and big silent teardrops streamed down his cheeks. Stretching her hand across the table, she patted his fist that he was clenching and unclenching.

“I miss her so much, Bea. I miss her every hour of every day.”

“Sure I know that, Denis. She had you spoilt. Did everything for you. Did too much for you. But you have to start doing things for yourself now. Eating a proper dinner is the first thing. Look at you, you’re gone away to nothin’. Your clothes are hanging off you. You’re the colour of death. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go to McGuires and get a tonic for you.”

He pulled his fist away and buried his head in his hands.

“A trip to the doctor for a chat will be next on the list. I’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

Scraping back the chair on the floorboards, he made his way down to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“Oh Katie, Katie, why did you leave me? Hadn’t I told you that I was to go before you?”

He whispered into her pillow. Her scent had long disappeared from it, but the memory of her head resting on it was enough to sustain him. Bea knocked gently on his door and entered when she didn’t get a response. Sitting at the edge of the bed, the mattress strained under her. Her voice was softer now.

“Look Denis, you know I only want what’s best for you, always have. When Katie married you, my job was done. But now that I’m here, you might as well let me sort out a few things for you.”

She took his silence to be a positive response and so she stood up and declared, “Right, tomorrow we begin. Now it’s time for another drop of tea.”

Over the following days she cajoled him into helping her clean the outside of the house, cutting back the roses and washing away the swallows’ poo.

“Thank God they are gone for another year. Good riddance!” she muttered.

“Bea, Katie loved when they arrived every April. She loved to listen out for the first cuckoo, too, turning her head so that she heard him with her right ear for good luck for the year. She always recited the poem she learned at school as a child.”

The cuckoo comes in April,
she sings her song in May,
She whistles her tune in June
And in July she flies away.

Bea did an internal eye roll but smiled thinly at her brother. The Doctor had told her to encourage her brother to talk about his memories. He did not get a chance during lockdown to grieve properly. The following Wednesday, the annual graveyard mass took place. Bea took the opportunity to meet up with neighbours and people she had gone to school with, moving from grave to grave, chatting and smiling. When the mass started, she stood beside her brother at their parents’ grave, where Katie had also been laid to rest. Denis wept openly through the ceremony, as if it was the day of her funeral. Bea was surprised when he agreed to go to the parish hall afterwards. He joined a group of men while she mingled, a social butterfly, bringing warmth and mirth.

The following morning, she told him she would be leaving on Sunday.

“Have you to go back to work already?” he pleaded.

“Well Denis, I handed in my notice before I came down.”

“That’s wonderful Bea. Can’t you move back here so?”

“No Denis. It’s not wonderful. I gave 35 years of my life to that company and I was treated the same as the young ones who were there for a wet week. When I handed my resignation letter to the boss, he read it under his breath as if he was reading his wife’s shopping list. When I got up to leave, he never said that I would be missed. He never thanked me for the service I gave to the company. His parting words were to close the door behind me. Can you imagine how I felt, Denis? That he would treat me that way? 35 thankless years.”

Her face was flushed. Sitting back in the creaking kitchen chair, she continued.

“My dear Denis, we are all fighting our own battles, some big, some little. You and Katie led a charmed life. How lucky you both were. Ye were happy in each other’s company from day one.”

Of course it’s devastating for you that she’s gone, but you, you are still alive. Live your precious life, don’t just go around existing and wishing your Katie was still alive or worse still, that you’d rather be where she is. She would want you to be happy, Denis, to live your life while you still have it.”

“I am going to do something for myself, Denis, that I haven’t done in quite a while. I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to do things that I never had time to do when I was tied to work, when I was all but a slave to work. But before I go back, do me a favour, stop living in a house that has become a shrine to Katie.”

Denis nodded solemnly, his eyes downcast.

Bea helped him to pack Katie’s things into bags and the ladies in the charity shop in the next town promised that they would find a good home for them. She rang a local painter, and she got him to paint all the rooms in calming soft hues. Blinds were installed instead of the net curtains. She bought him a mobile phone, and she spent several evenings teaching him how to make calls and to send texts. He marvelled at Google and watched videos on swallows and cuckoos.

The day he dropped her to the bus station, she was anxious. But she reasoned with herself that he had reached rock bottom and the only way was up. She told herself that she had pointed him in the right direction and now it was up to him to continue the journey. As she boarded the bus, he handed her a blue envelope. Inside, she found a page from a Basildon bond writing pad with the pieces of glue still attached to the top.

Bea, 
Wishing you many happy years of retirement. Thanks for everything. I will never forget what you did for me. Looking forward to seeing you again. 
All the best, 
D

The butterflies in her stomach quietened. Turning to the window, she saw he was still standing there and tears welled in her eyes at the sight of her younger brother alone on the pavement, waving and smiling wistfully.