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My heart
I walk into the restaurant and look for my friend. I spot him by the bar, talking to a tall curvy lady that I take to be his new girlfriend. I can’t see Lucy with them and presume that her rehearsal must have over run; she is playing Eliza Doolittle in The National Scottish Theatre production of Pygmalion. I walk over to the bar, between the tables, dodging the waiter that is coming towards me.
“Hey! Long time no see.” I interrupt their conversation, as I am within hailing distance.
“Billy,” Dom cries my name, enveloping me in a hug. “How are you?”
“I’m great” I answer smiling.
“This is Amanda.” He introduces the young woman standing next to him, she has long light brown hair, which is pinned back with a clip, and is wearing fitted jeans and a green halter neck top, which brings out the colour of her eyes.
“Amanda this is my good friend Billy Boyd.” I smile at the young girl, taking her hand and pressing a light kiss on her knuckles.
“Nice to meet you, at last. Dom has been raving so much about you.” I tell her. She gives Dom a look and I smile, it feels good to be teasing Dom again.
At that moment a waiter appears and asks, “Are you ready to be seated?”
Dom answers yes, informing the man that we are waiting for one more. The waiter nods politely, and leads us to a table at the back of the restaurant. I order a beer and sit down opposite Dom and Amanda.
“Where’s Lucy?” Dom asks.
“She had a rehearsal for her new play. I guess it just run a bit late.” I shrug, and Dom takes the hint and moves on to a different topic of conversation.
Time passes and we chatted about this and that and everything. I find myself liking Dom’s new girlfriend, she is a truly amazing lass. The waiter came for the third time and my apprehension grows, there are only so many times you can say that a rehearsal ran late with any conviction.
I excuse myself from the table and go outside, and turn on my mobile phone. I check to see if there are any messages before calling Lucy’s mobile. I press the phone to my ear, biting my lip nervously. The line goes to recorded message.
“Sorry. The number you are calling is unavailable please try again later.” The cold clinical voice of woman repeats over again. I hang up the phone. What can that mean?
I push my worries aside; it must mean she has no signal. I reassure myself, but I still have lingering doubts as I rejoin Dom and Amanda, at the table.
“Any luck?” Dom asks.
I shake my head, wondering where she could be. My thoughts drift from the conversation as I remember how we had first met on the set of ‘The Odd Couple’. How we had bonded over a scene where she had to get her boobs out. I smile at the memories.
“Billy?” Dom calls. I jump out of day dream and start listening to him properly.
“Do you think Lucy will mind if we eat. I’m starving.” I shake my head, in answer.
The waiter comes over and we order our food. I keep looking at the entrance, willing her to come through the doors. Our food comes and I find myself ignoring the pasta I had ordered. I am not hungry anymore. Just worried about Lucy, she has never been this late before.
Dom and Amanda finish their meals. I excuse myself, and say goodbye. I head out of the restaurant, and to my car, getting in, I drive to our house hoping that Lucy has gone home. My sense of foreboding grows as I pull up to our house, and search for her car.
I enter the house. All is silent. “Lucy?” I break it. “Lucy?” I wait. There’s no answer, just silence, cold and pressing down on me. Where is my wife? I wonder as I try to call her mobile again. I listen to the same message, and yell in frustration. Then it hits me to try our home answer machine. I run down the hall to plastic box and see that there are no new messages. I take a deep and calming breath. It just over run, she forgot and went to the pub and has no signal, I say again and again in a chant that I just wish to be true, knowing that Lucy doesn’t forget things like meals.
I move around the house. Trying to keep my mind off Lucy, watching T.V, reading, even going on the internet, but nothing holds my interest. Time creeps by, and my imagination supplies horrific images of what could have happened to her. I decide to go to the theatre and see if she’s there. I am in the hall grabbing my car keys when I hear a car crunch on the gravel outside. I run to the door. It has to be Lucy. I open the door smiling
“Lucy?” My happiness and relief plummet into a sea of dark despair when I see a police car.
Two police offices get out of the car, one a woman the other a man, they take of their hats and then walk over to where I’m standing on the door way.
“Mr. Boyd?” the man asks. I jerk my head in acknowledgement. “Can we come in?” I nod and open the door wider, leading them to the lounge. Why are there policemen in my house? I wonder as I watch them sit down.
“Can I get you tea, coffee?” I ask nervously.
“No thank you.” The lady answers. “We are here about your wife.” She states. My fears grow. I look into the calm and passive face it betrays nothing of the reason for her visit. Just let me know what’s happened to my wife! I cry out inside. On the outside I’m calm and composed, as I sit in silence dread filling me.
“It is our belief she was in a car accident, this afternoon.” The man says, and I feel like I’ve caught a blow in the chest, I can’t draw in breath. Is Lucy okay, please God let her be okay! “Unfortunately she didn’t make it.” The man continues cold and clinical. I sit there and it’s as if I have been deflated. It’s incomprehensible to me that she is dead. That I’ll never see her smile again.
“No, she is not dead.” I say aloud, stubbornly I don’t want to believe that it’s true, it can’t be true! I was going to have my kids with her. We are going to start a family we have talked about it. She was the one I was going to grow old with, she can not be dead.
“Mr. Boyd, I’m afraid, she is. We need you to identify the body.” The woman says, interrupting my thoughts. “Will you come? Do you want to ring anyone?” She asks, and I shake my head.
“I’ll come.” I say, “It won’t be her.” I state walking into the hall and getting my jacket. I pick up my keys and follow them outside, and into the police car.
The journey is over in a wink, and soon we are pulling up in front of the morgue. I get out the car, and follow the policeman up the stairs. It won’t be her, I reassure myself, she’s stuck in rehearsal.
We are guided by a little man with grey hair, down corridors, the room gets colder and I pull my jacket tighter around me. The man stops, and pulls out a key to a room and leads me to the side where there are multiple draws. It hits me then that I’ve never seen a dead body before.
My nerves mount as he unlocks the draw, and pull out the table, a cloth covers the body, which he slowly lowers. I look down at the face I immediately recognise. My resolve breaks and my eyes fill with tears, which blur my vision of my once beautiful wife, who’s smile would light up a room, her brown eyes that were always full of mischief are cold and staring, her once pink face, that now holds tinges of grey. There is a cut along her face and her nose is broken, but there is no mistaking her.
I feel my energy being sapped from me, as I looked at her, laying there. I try to control my raging emotions of anger, disbelief and absolute loss, but to no avail, the tears keep flowing.
“Mr. Boyd,” the little man says in a reedy voice. “Is this your wife?” I am unable to speak, but manage to nod my head. The man bows his head before making to pull the cloth above her head again. I find my voice, which is broken and strained as I cry out. “Can I have sometime alone with her?” The man nods and lowers the cloth again, before joining the two policemen walking out of the room.
I walk over and take her hand into mine seeing her engagement and wedding rings and remembering when I put them there. I sob as my grief over takes me. I can’t believe that it’s the end.
Suddenly I’m aware that the hand I’m holding is bathed in golden light, making it look almost alive again. The coldness of the room disappears. I look up squinting in the bright light. Through a shimmer of tears, I see a figure, an apparition of a girl in white on the other side of the table. I try to focus on her, but it is impossible, it’s like seeing her through a misty window, the features are indistinct, but I feel sure that it is Lucy, watching over me.
“Lucy?” I whisper. The figure smiles, as tears run down her face. “Lucy don’t leave me.” I choke out collapsing onto the hard stone floor. “Please.” I beg.
“I’ll never leave you Billy.” The words appear in my head and I know the ghost-like figure in front of me is saying them. “I love you.” I hear the words as if they are whispered. The light fades and I’m left alone on the cold hard floor.
“Mr. Boyd, are you alright?” The lady policeman asks. Unable to say anything, I let myself be led away by the lady as the small grey haired man puts the cloth over Lucy’s head.
As I walk back through the corridors, my thoughts dwell on the meeting. “I’ll never leave you.” But she had, she was gone. I’ll never hear her voice again, never share intimate moments with her, never share jokes and laughter. As tears flow like rivers down my face, it hits me that she will live on, in my heart.
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