24 - The Ebbing And Flowing Of Life

For the last two weeks, I have found it very difficult to find the words to write to continue with this story - there just seemed to be nothing happening in my brain.

During this time we also found we had to move to new accommodation and to find a new job. Yes, panic does seem to stop the little grey cells from working at optimum level! However, we still have nowhere to live and I have not found a job and time is getting more urgent (and stressful) by the moment. So, logically, the little grey cells should be more tired or blocked than yesterday but they're not.

This morning I woke up full of the words to write and I write them so easily, over fruit and muesli. So something else is at work here. I don't know what it is but I'm thankful that the cells are now firing on all pistons. Yee hah!

So here's the next part of Mary Collins' story, continued from two days ago ...

He never invited her to his folk music escapes and she yearned, patiently, for such an invitation. At times he'd reach out and touch her shoulder, pat her hand and then, as if remembering himself, pull back. She felt (hoped?) he was feeling what she was, which was a great companionship, comfort and caring. She wouldn't admit it to herself that she was falling in love with this chameleon of a man but she dearly, dearly hoped he was falling in love with her.

Though he came and went from the office at irregular times, he did commit, at Mary's insistence, to two regular meetings a week so they could, at least, guarantee a flow of information between them. Monday at 4.00 pm and Friday at 9.00 am were agreed for these hourly meetings. These regular and reliable spots in her frenetic schedule were cherished and looked forward to and the Monday afternoon meeting sometimes evolved into dinner and the Friday morning meeting sometimes evolved into lunch out together. Sometimes Sam might bring her a little gift for something she'd done well - chocolates, a pen, a brooch or something else small enough to conceal in her bag, from the suspicious eyes of her staff. She was hesitant about buying him anything - perhaps it was fear of rejection - but she did, eventually and with great trepidation, buy him whisky liqueur chocolates, a tie pin and cuff links at various times. He was obviously touched by these and, rather than his enthusiastic and ebullient self, he would go quiet and seem to be on the verge of tears before he collected himself together and thanked her profusely for her generosity.

Sam was always in her thoughts and, though nothing happened beyond absent-minded touches and spontaneous hand-holding, she had no thoughts of wanting anyone else in her life. The bigger thing she wanted with him was replaced by work, work and more work.

Friday, 9th March 2012

And so it was that Sam failed to turn up for their regular Friday morning meeting, something he had not missed for two years now. She immediately knew something was wrong and talked to her secretary and to his. Both knew how diligent he was about these meetings at which either of them would take notes for the first, formal part. She sent them off to ask anyone and everyone if they knew where he might be, while she rang some of his colleagues at the head office. No one knew anything there. Some were surprised at his absence and two of them were dismissive of her fears, telling her not to worry. Their reaction caused her to worry more. These two also told her, most strongly, not to contact the police, while Stephen and Ahmed advised her strongly to alert the police.

Knowing the police could be either helpful or obstructive, depending on who was pulling the strings, she faltered indecisively.

In the same way that tragedy survivors take on the blame for the tragedy, rather than accepting that life is out of their control, so Mary took on the blame for Sam's disappearance. Had there been an obvious reason for his going or an indication of where he went, the guilt would have been less. However, like the survivor syndrome scenario, the more out of control things seem, the greater the guilt she chose to carry. With a troubled heart and heavy shoulders she was summoned to the head office and offered Sam's position, in the interim, by the CEO, Terry Jones. She had no idea of the salary Sam had been on but, judging by his lifestyle, she was sure she was offered a whole lot less. Maybe he'd had other sources of income or maybe he was the sort of person who always looked wealthy, despite their real circumstances. Either way she felt insulted by the offer and she also felt a deep disloyalty in stepping into a dead man's shoes, as they say ... the shoes of a man she admired and a man she may have even loved. Aw heck, yes, she did love him. Dammit! Why not grieve honestly.

The first part of her grieving emerged as anger as she stormed from Terry's office, leaving behind two bewildered-looking insurance executives. By the time she had returned to her office, the next day, her anger had subsided just enough to let a peek of logic in. Not trusting her acid tongue on the phone, she crafted a conciliatory email to Terry Jones, saying she was prepared to stay on until they had found a permanent replacement for Sam. This would, she thought, give her enough time to find another position. Last time it had been easy and she imagined the same this time.

There were, of course, that she felt like walking out and trusting the universe would provide her with something but that small, practical girl inside counselled against it, successfully, each time.