Sara Foster - Come Back to Me

Mark saw Julia stop at the passageway to her courtyard, then watched as she hurried on. She was heading away from her home, and he was drawn to follow, to find out something about her everyday life. He didn’t know whether he would have kept tailing her had she gone grocery shopping, but she didn’t. Instead she headed for the station, and so did Mark.

He began to enjoy this impromptu sleuthing, an activity that was definitely not on his list of priorities for today. He got into the carriage one along from hers, but could still see her through the small window of the train as it rocked its way along in the usual stop-start fashion of the underground.

The first time Julia looked over her shoulder was when they had both just alighted from the train, and Mark swung round and bent down to fiddle with his shoelace, cheeks reddening. When he dared look back she had gone, but he jogged to the exit and could see her walking away up the street. He was pretty sure of where she was going. But still he followed. Knowing the way, he could keep a bit more distance now, but he made sure he was watching from behind a wall as she went up to the door. His face was grim. He could well imagine what he was going to see next.

This time it felt different, because now he was looking for her too, and so she was standing at his door, her feet together, her head down, and her impetuous hand in a world of its own, lifting, lifting, and then knocking.

She waited. Behind her, the last of the autumn leaves on the dead-looking trees held fixed, tense positions, determined not to take their final plunge to earth until it was beyond their control.

As she heard footfalls coming closer, their rapid pace suddenly in time with her heartbeat, there was no space for thought or memory. Her head was filled to the brim with these few stretched seconds. She dared not even breathe. She had longed for this, yet was immeasurably frightened as well. Not of seeing him, as much as of what this confrontation might do to her. It could remould her, but it could just as easily be her final undoing.

The sound reached the door and it opened in front of her.

She raised her head.

He stood in the doorway.

She stared at him for just a moment, before he strode forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She almost collapsed within them, letting him take the sagging weight of her as he buried his head against her neck, her thick wavy hair falling around his face.

He was breathing hard, and crying too. Every now and again a noisy sob or intake of breath shocked her from her own stupor. She had never seen him like this, not even when things had gone so dreadfully wrong for them back then. He whispered ‘Amy, Amy’ as though he were pleading for something.

Eventually, coming to, she realised that they were still by the open front door. There was no one within sight, but she could hear voices, not far away.

At that moment Alex gently pulled her inside and pushed the door closed.

He guided her along a hallway and into a lounge room. The first things she saw were photos of Alex on the shelves, with his arms around his wife. She averted her eyes.

They were silent for what seemed an eternity, not looking at one another. Julia didn’t want to be the one to break it. She felt they were wrapped within a small gift of suspended time within which they had found one another, and once they unwrapped it, everything would move forward again, and she couldn’t be certain they would ever recapture it.

Then Alex began to speak. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said, over and over. Reaching out to stroke her face. Lifting her chin. ‘You look just the same,’ he added, although she could see he was lying, for she still startled herself when she stared into the mirror and a pair of small, dark, deadened eyes peered back. Alex immediately looked down, as though knowing she could read him.

‘So do you,’ she said. And meant it. ‘Apart from the hair, of course.’ His once long surfer’s hair was now cropped short at the back and sides, and showed the first signs of receding. ‘You have a grown-up’s haircut now.’

He smiled. ‘I suppose I do,’ he murmured, running a hand over his head. Then he said, ‘Amy, what’s this “Julia”?’

‘ I am Julia,’ she said harshly. ‘Amy hasn’t been around for a long time.’

They were silent, and in that time it appeared the spell was broken. Awkwardness surged over them like a rushing wave. They had gone from long-lost soul mates to strangers in just a few seconds.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Alex asked with stiff formality.

They exchanged small smiles at this politeness, which released a torrent of questions from Alex. ‘Where have you been? How long have you been in London? I keep thinking I’ve been walking around the streets just missing you or passing you and not even recognising you… It makes me feel terrible…’ He trailed off.

‘I haven’t been here long,’ she assured him. ‘About a month.’

‘How on earth did you get together with Mark?’ She sensed from his tone that he wasn’t Mark’s biggest fan.

‘I went into the solicitors’ office late one evening to ask about getting some documents witnessed… He said he’d sign the papers for free if I went to dinner with him…’

Alex’s lips pursed. ‘That sounds like Mark.’

‘Not your favourite person?’ she asked.

‘Nope.’ His face clouded, then he changed the subject. ‘My god, Amy, where have you been? Does your mother know where you are? Why didn’t you come back for the funeral?’

Their eyes met. She looked away first.

‘I’ve travelled,’ she told him, gaze down. ‘I’ve been getting work here and there. Paying my way. Teaching scuba diving. Doing short articles for magazines. Coming back to England once or twice to sort out visas and other bits and pieces.’ She looked up defiantly, although she knew he would see right through her. ‘I’ve seen so many places, so many wonderful things, like I always wanted to.’

‘It sounds great,’ he said, playing along with her, nodding, smiling.

There was a pause. ‘Look, I’m so…’ Alex began.

‘Don’t,’ she said sharply. ‘Don’t, Al.’

Alex stared at his shoes. ‘I’ll get you that drink,’ he muttered.

A few minutes later he returned with a cup of milky tea. She debated whether to tell him she drank it black nowadays, but decided against it. In the minutes they had been apart they seemed to have become ever more shy around each other, so they sat subduedly and made showy displays of drinking their tea.

‘Anyway,’ Julia said eventually. ‘What about you? So you’re married?’

Alex looked up, pain etched on his face. ‘Yes. I am.’

‘And what’s she like?’ She concentrated on maintaining a forced jollity.

‘Chloe?’ Alex spoke in a rush. ‘She’s…’ His face took on a faraway aspect for a moment and she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. ‘Look, I didn’t, I mean I can’t…’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘Why didn’t you come back?’ he said suddenly, sharply. ‘I know you needed space – but it’s been ten years , Amy… What the hell -’

‘Any children?’ she interrupted relentlessly, looking around as though small people might jump out from behind the stiff leather sofas, even though she knew the answer. A hard edge crept into her voice that she hadn’t meant to plant there.

Alex looked at her. ‘No,’ he said.

‘I see.’

Alex put his mug on the table and looked down between his knees, banging the flat of his hands softly against his forehead. She recognised the frustrated gesture of old and her body moved before her mind could slingshot questions at it. She reached out to pat his knee. ‘I know what the score is, Alex… I just can’t believe you’re really sitting here.’