I kneel by her side and place a hand on her back. She trembles. I remember the time she trembled on our wedding day and it sends a shard of ice into my heart.
‘Debs, please… don’t do this.’
She’s completely lost to me. I wonder: Does she even know I’m here?
I try to rub her back, calm her. She still trembles and then she turns over and curls up like a small child. She looks so helpless, so frail. I feel every shiver that passes through her.
‘Please, don’t do this to yourself, Debs.’ I stroke her head. Her hair is shiny and smooth. It seems unreal to me, like the whole world has become now.
She shakes some more, cries hysterically. Her face becomes a mass of red, her cheeks look fit to explode. I try to stop her convulsing but I can’t.
I know no one can.
I do all I can do. I lie down beside her on the floor and hold her. Just hold her. I hold her tight. As she cries and cries into my chest she repeats the same word over and over again: ‘Why?’
I know there is no answer.
‘Why?’
I wish I knew.
‘Why?’
Yes, God… why?
Chapter 42
I put on my long coat. Crombie, navy blue. Was a remnant from my work days. Cost me a few sheets. I checked myself in the mirror. I’d removed the bandage, gelled my hair flat over my butterfly stitches. Had that gaunt definition going on with my face, bit of breakage in the nose adding some edge. Where I was headed, I’d need as much as I could muster.
‘Rutger Hauer, eat your heart out,’ I said.
The Hitcher didn’t get a look in.
Debs had agreed to meet me. I was taking Usual for support. ‘Wanna go for a walk, boy?’
Barks. Loud, one after the other.
I leaned over, could feel my ribs pinch. Must be bruising up nicely now, I thought. ‘Well, boy, let’s hope this goes better than the last time.’
Usual nuzzled his chops against my leg. His tail wagged, like he was ready to go. I took the hint.
He sat.
‘Okay, let’s nash.’
As I watched him spring up for the door, I wondered what he had been through. I felt a part of me grow closer to this wee dog every day; we were life’s losers together.
We bused it to the South Side.
Set off down through the Meadows. Let Usual take a run over the grass. He seemed to have a route all mapped out for us. He checked on a few trees, sprinkled them, kicked out his back legs.
We left the park, snaked through the streets with Usual tugging on the lead.
A bloke in half-jog for the bus hollered, ‘He’s a lively one.’
I nodded. ‘You bet.’
We were hitting Papa John’s Pizza when I felt my pulse quicken. I’d know that walk anywhere. Wasn’t exactly an Impulse ad moment, but in the ballpark. Then the image shattered as Debs spotted me too. We were both early.
‘It’s yourself,’ she said.
‘Hello, Debs.’
She lowered her head to the street. ‘What’s that?’
I leaned, patted Usual. ‘Eh, my new best friend.’
Debs ventured a giggle. ‘Come to that, has it?’
I was grateful for the in. ‘Could say so.’
She laughed as Usual raised a paw. Hey, it was a start.
Awkward silence.
Forced herself: ‘Look, Gus… I don’t want to-’
‘Debs, whatever you think I’m going to say, I’m not. All I wanted to talk about was how you were coping, and to say… sorry.’
She looked back to the dog, played with the buckle on her shoulder bag. A big retro number, said ‘Gola’ on the side in black and red letters.
‘Jeez, they’re back.’
‘What?’
‘Those bags, Gola… Remember when we used to do the squash club thing?’
She tapped the bag. ‘God, Gus, stop. That was for ever ago.’
She seemed so young to me. Debs hadn’t aged a single day since I’d met her. All that exfoliating and hydrating working wonders. She had miracle skin. I wanted to touch her face, just to know it still felt the way I remembered, but more, just to have the connection.
‘Will we grab a coffee?’ I asked.
She stared up the street, searched for the Peckham’s with the chairs outside, said, ‘Yeah, c’mon.’
We moved off towards the caf. Usual followed.
They had lightweight chrome chairs on the pavement. It was sunny now, but the last downpour still sat on top of them.
‘They’re soaked, Gus.’
I put a newspaper down for her. ‘There — sorted.’
Was an age before the waitress appeared, hurriedly grabbed our orders. Debs took a pair of sunglasses out of her bag. Big jobs, thick legs. I knew they were the latest thing, not because I followed fashion, but because when you’re so far removed from it — in the realms of anti-fashion — you can’t miss it.
‘You look like Jackie O.’
‘That supposed to be a compliment?’
‘One of the world’s great beauties…’ I felt a beam rise on my cheeks. Christ, Gus, when did you get to be so nervous around her? This is Debs, I told myself. Remember, your childhood sweetheart. Former wife. Love of your life.
‘I’ll take it as such, then,’ she said.
I waited for the return fire. Normally, in this situation, she’d say I looked like shit. Not from nastiness — from concern. A rod to poke me with; I was used to people trying to motivate me to do things in myriad ways. None worked.
She pointed to my head. ‘Been in the wars?’
‘Just a scratch.’
Silence. Heads turned away.
The coffees came.
Debs smiled. Sipped, said, ‘Mmmh… it’s good.’
I looked at the bill, wanted to say, Bloody should be at that price, let it slide. Went for, ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about… you know.’
The sun vanished. Debs lowered her cup. She raised her glasses, sat them on her head. Her hair trapped underneath gave her a sleek look.
‘You can use the word, Gus.’
I didn’t want to.
‘I… I don’t know why, just the time of year, I guess.’
‘She would have been eighteen this year.’
