(Continued from last issue)

David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.

DAVID

I knew my father had passed away the minute I was awoken by my phone ringing at five in the morning on a Thursday.

When I saw that it was my mother calling, that conviction was only strengthened, and sitting up, I took a deep breath to brace myself for what I knew she was about to tell me.

“He’s gone, David! Your father has gone!” her voice came across the line in a low, mournful cry.

“It’s okay, Mummy, it’s okay; I’m coming,” I tried to soothe her.

“No! It’s not okay! He’s gone! I begged him to stay, but he left me; he’s left me, David!” she wailed.

I had always viewed my mother as a strong woman; the perfect poster woman for the saying ‘behind every strong man is a strong woman’, but that Thursday morning, as she told me that my father was gone, she sounded like a broken child.

“I’m coming,” I repeated, but I didn’t think she heard me as she continued to weep and wail, lost in a world of her own pain, and I after a few seconds, I hung up; the faster I got off the phone, the faster I could get to her, I told myself.

The phone call had not only woken me up, but Diane as well.

“I’m so sorry, David,” she said quietly, obviously having gathered what had happened from my half of the call.

I did not answer her, as I hurriedly dressed up in the first shirt and trousers I laid my hands on; there was nothing to say at a moment like this, and in any case, I did not believe her.

“Would you like me to come with you?” she offered gently. “No!” I literally snapped; surprised she had even suggested it.

“I don’t have to come in, but I don’t think you should be driving yourself right now,” she explained her offer.

“I’ll be fine,” I answered gruffly, and then picking up my phone and car keys, left the room. As I hurried downstairs and out to the car, the thought that maybe I had been just a bit too curt with Diane crossed my mind, but I was not about to turn around and go back to apologize; I would call her later, I told myself as I got into the car and sped down the driveway like a mad man.

JULIE

I had already started on my usual morning routine, and was in the kitchen cooking as it approached six, when David called. Scared of the ringing waking Junior, I snatched it up almost immediately.

“Hello.” “Dad has died,” he announced simply, his voice low, resigned and defeated.

I could hear his mother crying in the background, her wails and lamentations raised above those of the usual hum of a hospital, voices and hurried footsteps. Shocked, for a second, I did not know what to say, but then, as his words sank in, and his mother’s cries seemed to grow louder, I finally managed to respond.

“I’m sorry, David; I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wiped them away, almost surprised they were there; after all, it was not like I had known David’s father for years.

We had only so recently really started to develop a relationship. And yet maybe, that was the reason for the tears; the fact that we had had such a short time together; my hurt was not so much for what was lost, but rather for what could have been, and how much time we had wasted, that we could now never get back.

“Thank you,” he answered softly, and then taking a deep breath, seemed to mentally turn off his emotional side, and put on his practical one.

“I need to take Mummy home, and then come back and handle things here at the hospital, and then get started on all the arrangements. We’ll pass by to pick you up; so, you can stay home with Mum, while I return to the hospital,” he said, his voice now firm and businesslike.

Because he had gone into his ‘practical’ mode, I forced myself into mine too; I had tried to be whatever he needed me to be throughout his father’s illness and admission, and was determined to continue to do so now, when he probably needed me even more.

“No problem; how long before you get here?” “We’re about to leave; so, about twenty minutes, thirty max.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready,” I promised, with a confidence I did not feel. “Thanks,” he answered, and hung up, just as I heard Junior wake up in the bedroom. I was about to go and tend to him, when I was stopped by the whiff of something burning, and turning round, I saw that the stew I had been cooking when David called, had turned into a burnt mess.

Groaning, I turned off the gas, and hurried to Junior; how was I ever going to be ready in twenty minutes?

DIANE

I called my parents to notify them of David’s father’s death a little after nine that morning. They were not early risers, and I saw no reason to disturb them before then, though my mother emphatically disagreed, when she heard that I had found out hours ago.

“How could you have waited so long to tell us! What must his mother be thinking of us now; all this time and we have not even reached out to her! What a shame!” she exclaimed in horror.

“Oh, come on, Mum, it’s not like you are best friends or anything like that,” I answered wryly.

Considering that my parents really only ever saw my in-laws at the occasional family event, maybe twice a year at most, I definitely thought she was overreacting.

“You’re right, we’re not ‘friends’, we’re ‘family’, and family don’t take hours to reach out to you when you lose your husband! By the way, what happened to him? I hadn’t even asked.”

“Cancer; he had been admitted for a while now.”

“Goodness, Diane! Are you saying he’s been in hospital, and you never even told us he was admitted?”

“There was no reason to; she didn’t want me there; so I didn’t think she would want you there either,” I answered off-handedly.

“You’re my daughter, but I swear, Diane, sometimes I can’t believe the things you do! I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” she lamented like this was the world’s largest faux pas, and it was a good thing we were on phone; so, she could not see me roll my eyes.

Shaking off this world disaster, she went on: “Anyway, what’s done is done; let me just prepare with your father, and come as soon as possible; are you still at the hospital, or at the house?”

“I’m at my house, I don’t know about David and his mother.”

“Diane!” she gasped, and then as if unable to speak anymore, she hung up on me.

I was not surprised by her reaction; if anything, I understood it. Social etiquette, impressions and the acceptable norm, were all important in our echelon of society, and yet it would have been nice for her to just this once, put me before that.

margaretwamanga@yahoo.com