Reunion By Christine Ashby
The giant butterflies in my stomach are doing aerobatics. My palms are sweaty. This is worse than going to the dentist. It shouldn’t be like this. It’s her day but I never imagined it this way.
‘It’ll be OK’ my sister squeezes my hand. She’s smiling but with her mouth, not her eyes. She’s anxious too.
‘When was the last...?’
’19 years ago, I think,’ I answer uncertainly. I ought to know but it’s a blur. I shouldn’t be thinking about the past today of all days. It feels like tempting fate. Today must be perfect. She deserves that. But I guess that’s why I’m feeling so stressed. She wanted a fairy tale and that included him.
‘It’s just for six months. The money’s great. We need the money. I need to work’, he’d said with passion. ‘I can’t get work here but there’s lots back home.’ In Australia, he meant. He was right. He was like a fish out of water here and he was gasping for Australian air. What could I say? Your baby daughter needs you, I need you? Walking on egg-shells is hard work and I was exhausted.
‘Just six months?’
He nodded and smiled, not admitting he’d already agreed an extension if things worked out. He was so excited in those last few days. The baby still cried but her daddy was no longer miserable.
She and I got through that winter on hope. The crying stopped, hers and mine. We slept and she grew as I learned to cope alone. I’ve been doing that ever since. Someone else took my place in his heart. Why was I surprised?
‘He’s here!’ my sister, aunt-of-the-bride, hisses. ‘Hasn’t aged well. Too much sun. Face like an old boot!’
I hold back a laugh, afraid I might become hysterical. For the hundredth time today I curse the darned internet. The other side of the world used to be a mystery but now it’s just a few clicks away and she had found him quite easily.
‘He’s changed, ma! He wants to make it up to me. He’s sending a ticket to visit.’ Her face had been pure joy while my heart felt close to breaking. Would I lose her too?
She returned brown and happy, over-flowing with stories about him, his life and his other family. Her other family. ‘But I missed you,’ she’d said. ‘It’s great down there but it’s not home, is it!’ I hugged her until she squealed for mercy.
And now he’s here too and anger and hurt has burned deep inside me. I won’t spoil her special day. I’ve promised I’ll be grown up - no sarcasm, no criticism, just smiles.
‘Doesn’t she look beautiful!’ someone says. I take a deep breath and turn. My heart skips a beat. They look so alike. How did I miss that? She’s radiant and he’s beaming with fatherly pride.
This is a fairy tale wedding after all.
Copyright Christine Ashby 2012
‘It’ll be OK’ my sister squeezes my hand. She’s smiling but with her mouth, not her eyes. She’s anxious too.
‘When was the last...?’
’19 years ago, I think,’ I answer uncertainly. I ought to know but it’s a blur. I shouldn’t be thinking about the past today of all days. It feels like tempting fate. Today must be perfect. She deserves that. But I guess that’s why I’m feeling so stressed. She wanted a fairy tale and that included him.
‘It’s just for six months. The money’s great. We need the money. I need to work’, he’d said with passion. ‘I can’t get work here but there’s lots back home.’ In Australia, he meant. He was right. He was like a fish out of water here and he was gasping for Australian air. What could I say? Your baby daughter needs you, I need you? Walking on egg-shells is hard work and I was exhausted.
‘Just six months?’
He nodded and smiled, not admitting he’d already agreed an extension if things worked out. He was so excited in those last few days. The baby still cried but her daddy was no longer miserable.
She and I got through that winter on hope. The crying stopped, hers and mine. We slept and she grew as I learned to cope alone. I’ve been doing that ever since. Someone else took my place in his heart. Why was I surprised?
‘He’s here!’ my sister, aunt-of-the-bride, hisses. ‘Hasn’t aged well. Too much sun. Face like an old boot!’
I hold back a laugh, afraid I might become hysterical. For the hundredth time today I curse the darned internet. The other side of the world used to be a mystery but now it’s just a few clicks away and she had found him quite easily.
‘He’s changed, ma! He wants to make it up to me. He’s sending a ticket to visit.’ Her face had been pure joy while my heart felt close to breaking. Would I lose her too?
She returned brown and happy, over-flowing with stories about him, his life and his other family. Her other family. ‘But I missed you,’ she’d said. ‘It’s great down there but it’s not home, is it!’ I hugged her until she squealed for mercy.
And now he’s here too and anger and hurt has burned deep inside me. I won’t spoil her special day. I’ve promised I’ll be grown up - no sarcasm, no criticism, just smiles.
‘Doesn’t she look beautiful!’ someone says. I take a deep breath and turn. My heart skips a beat. They look so alike. How did I miss that? She’s radiant and he’s beaming with fatherly pride.
This is a fairy tale wedding after all.
Copyright Christine Ashby 2012