Page 18 of Save Us
Chapter 7
Xander
Stephen and I arrive back home in the dead of night. The blissful silence is overwhelming after having stayed in New York for the past three days. The city is not the place for me and I’m truly thankful to be raising Rosie in such a beautiful place, even if she is without her mother. Unfortunately, that’s a guilt I will always burden because there is literally nothing that I can do to bring her back for my little girl. She’s gone forever.
Mom’s still up, watching bad TV in the living room, but gets up to kiss me on the cheek before I rush upstairs to go and check in on my girl. I’ve missed her smile, her laughing, her everything, and just want to see her in the flesh before I go to bed. I find her sleeping soundly but with a cute smile on her face, no doubt dreaming about whales or chasing Hattie into the waves. The last thing I want to do is disturb her from her happy place, but I can’t help leaning over to kiss her head, tucking her sheet in tightly around her huddled body as I do so.
I notice another whale picture stuck up on the wall, this time a painting with lots of starfish floating around the space beneath it. There’s also the well-read copy of The Snail and the Whale sitting in pride of place on her bedside table. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve read that thing and could probably read it off by heart. However, it’s a fail-safe way of getting her to go to bed on time so I’m all for it.
I smile to myself as my eyes follow the long line of Rosie’s art gallery around the wall, until, without thinking, I reach the framed photograph in which Beth is staring right back at me. I remember she was giggling because I was secretly tickling her neck with my kisses. It takes all my breath away, and before I know it, I’m sitting on my little girl’s bedroom floor, crying like a baby while my heart breaks painfully inside of my chest.
“Don’t cry!” a voice I haven’t heard in years whispers, causing me to involuntarily jump back against the wall in shock.
“Beth?” I call, now sobbing because I can hear her voice, but can’t actually see her. “Beth, where are you?”
“Daddy? Don’t cry.”
I look around to see Rosie sitting up with bleary eyes and a confused expression on her face. I realize the mistake I’ve just made and almost feel disappointed. However, then she gets down and throws her little arms around my neck, and I hold her back tightly, reveling in her gorgeous scent and the fact that she’s all mine.
“Are you missing Mommy?”
“Just a little bit,” I reply as I put on a soft laugh for her. “Baby, I always miss your mommy…more than words can say. But I have you, my little munchkin, and that makes me the luckiest man in the world.”
“Do you need me to stay with you tonight, Daddy?” she asks, still in a voice that’s not too dissimilar from that of her mother’s. I smile for a moment or two before placing her back inside of her bed.
“I’ll be ok,” I whisper, “see you in the morning, baby. Grandad Mal will be calling, remember?”
She grins from ear to ear, all the while nodding with enthusiasm. I give her one more big smile before bidding her goodnight, only this time, being more careful not to look at that photograph.
Xander, just over 4 years ago
It’s another wet day in England and even though everyone keeps telling me the weather was beautiful last week, I fail to accept it does anything other than rain here. However, today, not even the sun would do anything to make this place look anything less than depressing. The bland brick building with the beige-colored sign outside, welcoming us to ‘Resting Oaks Nursing Home’, tells me that this visit is going to be about as comfortable as a rectal exam.
As soon as I step inside the old folk’s home with my baby girl in my arms, I instantly want to turn around and run back home. This is no place for a child, even if she is only nine months old, and will no doubt forget about it the moment we exit the building. It sure doesn’t mean I’ll forget about it. While venturing further and further inside, I whisper to Rosie to shoot me if I ever have to be put in one of these places. Most of the inhabitants are out of it, their minds no longer in the here and now. It’s as if they’re completely lost to a time which they can’t make sense of anymore. Others try to smile at the small child bouncing up and down in my arms, though most continue to stare at us with vacant expressions.
Mal leads the way up to a small private room on the second floor. The place looks nice enough, not quite like a hotel, but not like a clinical hospital room either. The furniture is minimal with a small bed covered in personal bedding, a specially adapted chair, a regular armchair, a chest of drawers and a tiny coffee table. A short, much older-looking version of Beth sits in the motorized chair wearing a floral gown and some well-worn slippers. She must only be about seventy at the most, making her one of the youngest residents in here, but I guess the fact that her mind is failing means she needs the extra help just to function on a day-to-day basis. Thankfully, today she looks lucid, all smiles and waves for the little girl who is babbling inside of my arms.
“Hey, Mum,” Mal says brightly as he walks up to his mother and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She smiles, patting his hand in acknowledgment, then looks toward us with obvious tears in her eyes. “This is Xander, and this little lady is your great-granddaughter, Rosalie.”
She gasps and points to herself, seemingly shocked that the baby has been named after her. When the idea has sunk in, she brings her hands up to her lips, looking as if she’s in silent prayer. The whole time, her eyes remain fixed on little Rosie. Mal nods and looks a little choked up himself, making it more than obvious that he idolizes this woman.
She eventually moves her eyes to the side to look at me, then crooks her finger in a gesture to come closer. I cautiously walk toward Beth’s grandmother, the woman with whom this all began, and lean down in front of her so she can see her great-granddaughter more clearly. Funnily enough, she doesn’t look at Rosie straight away, instead, she brushes a loose strand of my hair away from my face.
“Hello Tom,” she says in a frail voice, “I knew you’d come back to me; I’ve missed you so much, Tom.” She leans her head against mine and sniffs back with a small sigh. I remain frozen solid, having no idea how to handle this other than to let her rest against me for a while. In fact, it’s not until Rosie gurgles that she lets go of me. “And you’ve brought Beth with you too. See Mal, here’s little Beth!”
“Mum, this is Xander and Rosie, Beth’s little girl,” Mal tries to explain with clear sadness in his voice. Beth’s death is still raw for all of us.
“Is it?” she asks, then looks away, her eyes darting back and forth as if being desperate to try and make sense of what has just been said to her. “Where’s Beth then? Where’s Tom?”
“Tom will be here in a little bit, remember? You saw him yesterday,” he tells her with a smile, and she looks relieved. “You see him every day.”
At that moment, one of the nurses comes in with a tea tray and a plate of Rich Tea biscuits, which she tries to sell as a ‘treat’. I can’t say I’ll ever get used to the cookies over here, though Rosalie instantly perks up as soon as she sees them.
“Oh, yes, that’s right!” She smiles mischievously, then turns to face the nurse. “I love him, Sadie. Mrs Topple knew I loved him, and I do, so much. He told me he loves me too, just last night. We made love for the first time when he came home to me; did we keep you up?”
Mal turns a deep shade of crimson before sitting down in the chair next to her, while Rosie and I choose to perch on the edge of her bed. I begin to take in the personal effects put up around her room and notice a photo board propped against the window, one that is full of all her friends and family. As soon as I see her beautiful granddaughter, it cuts right through my chest, and I have to swallow back the need to cry before all of them. She looks a lot younger, around seven years old, and is sitting next to her grandmother. The both of them look like they are laughing over the fact that some cake mixture is stuck on the end of her nose.
“Where’s Beth?” she asks me of all people. “Where is she, young man?”