Page 21 of The Shape of Your Heart
But no sooner has the thought formed in my mind than all the familiar emotions slam into me. The grief overwhelms me, along with guilt, that for one whole morning, I’ve dared not to think about losing Liam.
On cue, my mobile buzzes and Sasha’s face appears on the screen.
‘How’s it going? I just wondered if you’d made your mind up.’
‘I went,’ I sob pitifully. ‘And honestly, now I feel terrible.’
‘Oh, Cal… I thought you might.’ Her voice is sympathetic. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. It was always going to be a big step… There was bound to be an emotional backlash. Just take it easy for the rest of today, and see what tomorrow brings.’
‘When does this stop, Sasha?’ I say tearfully. ‘When do I stop feeling guilty about even breathing?’
‘Now, listen to me,’ she says gently. ‘Liam dying was never your fault. It was an accident of the worst kind, and you know he wouldn’t want you to feel like this.’
‘I feel like I’m betraying him…’ I sob even louder. ‘Doing this garden…’
Sasha’s silent for a moment. ‘So that’s what this is about.’ She pauses again. ‘This guy… You like him, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I cry. ‘OK. So I do. But you know what? Even if he liked me back, it can’t ever be more than that.I can’t lose anyone again. It hurts too much.’
‘I know you’re going through a lot of pain… And I know all you want to do is run away from it.’ Her voice is filled with kindness. ‘It’s what we do as humans – when the going gets tough, our instinct is to run. And for as long as we do, the pain is still there – just buried inside us. It isn’t easy, but if you can just stop fighting it and let yourself feel it, it will pass, Cal. I promise you.’
If only it were that simple. If only grief were a straight line instead of a zigzag.
‘You are doing so frigging well,’ she says soothingly. ‘Pour yourself a humungous gin and tonic, cry your heart out and ride this bloody storm. You’re going to come out the other side – you do know that, don’t you?’
‘I hate frigging storms,’ I sob.
‘No one likes them. But they’re part of processing what’s happened – and when you’ve done that, there’ll be nothing in your way to stop you flying.’
* * *
Flying terrifies the hell out of me, but I know what she’s saying. After the call ends, I pour myself a small gin and tonic. Adding some ice and a chunk of lemon, I take it outside.
The light is changing, the sun sinking lower, the sky changing hue. Sitting on the grass, I watch a succession of tiny ants navigate around my feet before I look up at the wisps of cloud floating across the sky, thinking of what Sasha said. After stumbling through the motions this last year, for the first time since Liam died, I’ve started something new. Maybe the backlash isn’t surprising. As for pain, I’ve lived with it for over a year, holding it close, suffering it gladly almost, knowing it’s the flipside of my love for Liam.
10
NATHAN
After Callie leaves, work takes up the rest of my afternoon, and it isn’t until evening falls that I go back outside. It’s blissfully peaceful, the air alive with the sound of bees humming, as Callie’s words come back to me.
Gardens are the perfect place to just sit. And be.
I breathe in a lungful of cool air, standing there for a moment. The flower bed she was working on has been transformed. Taking a closer look, I notice the sprawling plants she identified as herbs have been neatly trimmed, a couple of shrubs lightly cut back.
Seeing the stones spelling out my name, I can’t help smiling. Taking out my phone, I photograph them. Then getting the wheelbarrow, I carry on where she left off, digging out tangled buttercup runners and nettle roots until the soil is clean and loose.
This gardening lark is definitely addictive – but it’s killing my back, too. Even so, it’s the most satisfying thing I’ve done in a long time. Taking another photo of the patch I’ve dug, on impulse I send it to Callie. Then collecting more of the stones from the pile of gravel, I settle down and started arranging them into the shape of a flower, as the germ of an idea comes to mind.
* * *
The next morning, I’m awake early and already making coffee when Callie turns up. Coming up to the house, she knocks on the back door.
‘Hi. I saw you were up…’ She hesitates. ‘Do you have a moment?’
‘Sure. Come in. Would you like coffee?’
‘Could I have tea?’ Getting a rolled-up piece of paper out of her basket, she spreads it across the kitchen table.
