Me And You

What would you do if you thought you were going crazy, if things happened that shouldn’t happen, couldn’t possibly happen? If there was no practical reason other than grief to explain the unexplainable. Could absolute sadness make you mad? I don’t have a vivid imagination. I have a very sensible disposition. I know that things don’t happen without logical justification. So, why have I dragged myself to the top of a hill on a freezing cold day to sit on an old bench? 

Maybe I am mad. Since when have I thought twice about dreams, never mind act upon them? I shuffle my back against the wooden bench and close my eyes. Last night’s dream rolled across my eyelids, as clear as watching a DVD, except there was no pressing the pause button to make a cup of coffee or to answer the phone. 

I saw everything again. All the pictures that I had dreamt all night were now playing on fast-forward in my mind. Everything that was too painful to think of normally stabbed through every nerve and cell of my body. I didn’t want to see him and yet this was the only way I could. My head began to ache and I knew I was crying but if I opened my eyes he would be gone, and the emptiness would again be a raw wound. Was this the bench we were sitting on in my dream? Instinctively I splayed my fingers across the gnarled wood. I couldn’t open my eyes, even though my tears were unstoppable now. I felt the dampness stick onto my fingers and I stretched out my arm to curl my right hand around the end of one of the planks. 

My heart was thundering as I waited impatiently for the next clip. Here was the part that hurt the most, the vision that broke into everything that was essentially me. Splinters of wood pierced my skin as I gripped the bench; I welcomed the pain, glad of feeling something real. My breathing relaxed as I watched James sit down beside me on the bench. Even though I was dreaming I was still curious to know why this bench and I croaked a tearful “Why here?” 

The wind punched its way around me, howling its dirge of discontent. I let myself lean into its energy, wanting it to take me with it as it dashed away to other places. I watched as James stretched his long legs out in front of him, snaking one of his hands in his pockets and the other around my shoulder. This was a wonderful pain; I would not open my eyes and chase him away. 

Something began to distract me, and I unclenched my hand from the seat and wriggled my fingers. I could hear James telling me to wear gloves and I had to giggle despite my crying, I licked my lips as my tears found another direction to slide. Ten years of James holding my hand in his meant that I’d never had any need of gloves. My free hand was always stuck in my coat pocket. 

I lifted my head slightly as I switched back to my dream, but something was wrong and the picture was no longer sharp and clear. There was just me sitting on the bench, where had James gone? My crying eyes blinked frantically behind closed lids and I lifted my shoulders to sit up straight and then fell back again. “Don’t go James,” I shouted, to no-one but the seagulls. They mocked me with their screeching squeals. 

I felt the first few drops of rain on my forehead and I shook my head. I would open my eyes in a minute I thought, knowing I would see nothing more. 

“Come on; let’s go before the rain really starts.” 

My eyes opened and I turned my face to the side, horrified that someone’s voice could sound exactly like James, embarrassed that a stranger should see me in such a state. I must look like a mad woman. No one would venture out on a day like today, never mind sit on a bench, at the top of a hill, crying and talking to herself. 

“Okay,” James said with a giggle in his voice, “have it your own way, but don’t expect coffee and sympathy when you start with the flu,” he laughed properly then, a lovely deep laugh that no-one who heard it could resist smiling at. I was no exception. I knew my mouth was open and I was staring. And I knew I wasn’t scared. 

“You’ll drown if you don’t close your mouth.” Rain dropped off the edges of his hair into his eyes. He blinked them away. His eyes were shining, the way they used to when he laughed. 

“Hey, I’m not going to sit here and watch you drown,” he moved gently forward until I felt his lips on mine. Never had his kiss lasted so long and yet finished so soon. 

“James,” I had lost the need to breathe and I heard my voice as a whisper. I was scared only that this moment of madness would blow away in the wind and rain. I wouldn’t say anything else. My mind had not given me any hint of a logical explanation, nor did I want any. 

“So, are we going then?” James stood up and held out his hand. 

I automatically reached out and felt his strength radiate through my hand, warming my whole body. I managed to nod my head without taking my eyes off him. I concentrated on memorising every second of … whatever this was, and I blanked the thought away. I would not waste time wondering. 

I stepped away from the bench, and stood hip to hip with James. A question was screaming inside my head, fighting against my will to not ask anything. I wanted to know why I had come to this bench, why he had come here, but I couldn’t trust myself to ask that question. 

His hand entwined with mine, as it always used to and again I felt the warmth snuggle around my fingers, I wriggled them against his. It felt as comforting as a hot chocolate on a snowy day. 

We walked at the same pace, even though his legs were twice the length of mine; I glanced down, checking out the worn muddy foot-path. Our steps could have been a mirror image, except that mine were the only trainer marks imprinted in the slush. I questioned nothing. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about the bench, Allie? Come on, I’m disappointed. It’s not like you to be so quiet.” He suddenly stopped walking. “Maybe it’s not you, maybe it’s someone who looks like my Alison, and maybe 

I’ll have to kiss you again to make sure.” He turned to me and pulled me as close as my padded anorak would allow. I couldn’t bear it. Too much pain in a simple pleasure. I pulled my hand out of his and placed a finger on his lips. I murmured softly. 

“Why here?” It seemed I had only just thought it as he spoke. 

“I know you Alison Riley and you’re wallowing in the past. All the holidays in your Dad’s derelict caravan and wet week-ends away at the Lake District.” 

He smiled as I laughed, sharing the memories. “But they’re making you sad, Allie. No-one ever sits here, but if you come here, then so will I.” 

I cuddled into the front of his jacket, my tears soaking into his old football scarf. 

“You need a place that’s for now. A place that has no happy memories to make you sad. Our place.” He looked back the few yards to the bench and I followed his gaze. I saw something glinting in a renegade beam of sun, which had broken away through the greying clouds. I was drawn to it, even if it meant letting go of his hand. I sat down again on the damp bench, amazed that I hadn’t seen the plaque before. My voice was strong as I read it out aloud. “For Allie, A place for us, from today to eternity. 14th February 2009.” I paused, as I realised the date. 

“But that’s today.” I stood up and turned to James. “James?” 

There was no one there. Everything was the same as it was before. I started to walk, matching my steps still imprinted in the grass. I didn’t know what I was expecting but I looked anyway. Was I crazy enough to think that he could organise a firework display or a rainbow to appear in the sky? No, just crazy enough to accept the impossible. For no reason, I smiled as I plodded through the rain-soaked grass and stuck my hands in my pocket. My fingers on my right hand tingled with the warmth that his hand had left. 

I would be back here again, very soon.

- THE END -