The last thing I did was lie to her. I said it'd all be okay. And we waited for the ambulance and she looked up at me and her green eyes went grey. She looked at me till there was nothing left of her.”
A single tear ran down his left cheek. A single lonely sniff went with it and I had no idea what to say.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked, and immediately hated myself.
Joe sniffed again.
“A coffee would be nice.”
There was little enthusiasm in his voice
I left the room and was glad not to be looking in Joe's eyes anymore. The shame of my inadequacy followed me into the hallway. There was so much more I could have said. I knew his pain. I felt it. I understood and still did nothing to give him any comfort.
I walked through the doorway into the kitchen and the difference between us became clear to me. I’d had years to prepare for the morning that I found my mother had passed away. Whatever else it might have been, it wasn’t unexpected. The shock of Joe’s loss was a tear in his soul. He could try distancing himself from it by drinking but there was no escape. I didn’t blame him for trying. It wasn’t hard to assume the pain would be worse than any hangover.
I turned the light on in the kitchen without stopping and briefly stepped into the too familiar darkness. With the flick of a switch, the energy saving bulbs spilled light into the room and revealed only functional neatness. There was a hob and cooker in lustreless dark green, pine finished surfaces to the drawers, and cupboards everywhere else. It was all in good enough condition to not need replacing.
The room smelt strongly of cooked onions, which always made me think of afternoons at football matches with my father. So many years had passed since then. They were still some of the happiest times of my life; when I felt close to him in a way that I was never able to again.
When the memories faded, tiredness took their place. Time had passed quickly and I wasn't used to being awake at half past two in the morning. The idea of adding caffeine on to everything else only added to the strangeness. It still seemed like the best option and was definitely preferable to sore eyes, aching shoulders, and nausea somewhere in the depths of my belly.
A spoonful of coffee went into each mug before I remembered what I’d forgotten to ask.
“DO YOU HAVE MILK AND SUGAR?” I shouted to Joe.
“MILK AND TWO SUGARS PLEASE,” he called back.
I put milk and sugar into both mugs as the hardened sound of bubbling grew louder inside the kettle. I added the water and, with a mug in each hand, stepped back onto the soft carpet of the hallway. Less than twelve steps later, I was back in the living room.
Like the hall, the room was relentlessly grey and was made drearier by the lateness of the hour. With some difficulty I switched on the light and noticed that Joe had finally found his way onto the sofa. He took the mug carefully and thanked me, while I went to my father's armchair and sat down, unsure of what to say next.
An absentminded sip of coffee created a strange buzz of nerve endings and some sort of energy. Joe did the same thing and began talking again as if there had never been a pause in conversation:
“I tried giving the locket back to Diane's mum. She wouldn’t take it... She was really nice. She said she was glad to see it was with someone who really loved Diane. That was a bit too much for me and I was too embarrassed to say about the diary... They both said I should stay. I figured they were just being nice... I told them I had to get home and my mum'd be worried. I wasn’t lying but I never went home.”
“What did you do then?”
A smile didn’t quite form on his face.
“I went to the zoo. Because me and Diane talked about going there before... It actually made me feel even worse... So I went to the pub to get drunk, and that didn’t help much either. That's when I knew I was completely done... And I just kinda ended up here.”
I was able to fill in the rest of what happened from the moment the sound of breaking glass had woken me up. In the haze of sleep and darkness I hadn’t recognised the noise and decided I must have dreamt it. Another sound brought me to my senses and I’d groped beside the bed for the light. This time I knew I’d heard thumps and sprinkling glass downstairs. When my fingers eventually found the switch for the bedside lamp, the white light shocked my eyes into closure. As I squinted through the red tiredness, confusion had slowly seeped away to the edges of my brain.
I’d stepped out of bed and tip-toed across the carpet to the door. Gently pulling it open, I went out onto the landing and then downstairs. I'd thought I was being quiet. I was wrong. At the bottom of the stairs, I jumped at the sound of a voice from the living room:
“You can call the police now if you want!”
Despite the pounding of my heart, there had been something in the voice that told me there was no danger. So, I went from the hall to the living room and found Joe, lying on the floor, with tears running down his face, and the heart-shaped locket sitting in his palm.
My mind snapped back from the past and I sipped my coffee and tried to focus on what he was saying then. I should have known already. He really couldn’t stop himself talking about young Miss Green:
“She’d look at me and say ‘Easy, tiger. Calm yourself down,’ and then she’d laugh and I dunno why but I’d laugh too. Maybe I was laughing at how stupid I was. I dunno. That was how she made me feel sometimes and she still made it so I didn't care.”
Joe shuffled forward until he was sitting at the front edge of the sofa; the closest he could get to me without standing up and walking over. He chose that moment to say something that nearly broke my heart:
“But what happens if I forget about all that? Or I forget about her… I don’t ever want to, but what if one day I do and I end up living my life like she was never a part of it?”
All I could do was tell him what made sense to me and what was already obvious: He wouldn't forget. Everything she had been would stay with him and, even though his life would go on, he would keep her close enough to keep her memory safe.
After that, there wasn’t much left to say. And that was when the sound of three gentle thuds came from the front door. Joe looked my way with a smile and a shrug.
“It’s about time the police got here I guess,” he said.
He couldn't have been much more wrong. The truth was that not long after I first found him in the living room, I’d gone to the kitchen and made a telephone call. He’d assumed I was calling the police but that didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Seeing young Miss Green's locket in his shaking hand made it clear to me that it would be a better idea to call Miss Lily Green.
She hadn’t actually answered when I called. I spoke to her niece instead and although it was quite late, she’d sounded more or less wide awake. It had still taken her forty five minutes to cross the road and reach my door.
When I heard the knocking, I looked at Joe and told him not to worry. I stood up and left the room. Two further tentative taps suggested that doubts about my call had entered Miss Blake's mind. I went straight to the door and opened it to find Miss Green on my doorstep; her hand poised to knock again.
“Hello,” I said, trying to contain my surprise.
“Hello Colin,” she replied and for a moment I saw her in the way Joe had described. He was right too. In her face you could see a lot of what her daughter would have become if fate had been more kind.
My brain kicked back into gear.
“Please come in,” I said taking a single exaggerated step backwards.
I didn’t see Joe’s reaction when she and her niece walked into the room but I suspect he was relieved. By the time I got into the living room, it was certainly clear that he was pleased that Miss Green was taking control of the situation.
I have to admit that I appreciated a female presence being back in the house, and the fact it came with such kindness was an added bonus. Joe confessed to taking the diary and she reassured him with little more than a shrug of her shoulders
and a few kind words.
She didn’t say a lot else. There was no need. She simply listened and didn’t judge. Her main concern was only to get him home, to his own mother, as quick as possible.
Joe didn’t argue or resist this time. Maybe it was relief, or another vision of Diane, or maybe he could just see that there really wasn’t much point. Whatever it was, he was soon on his feet and ready to leave.
“I am so sorry for all this,” he said to me, “And I'll pay for your window.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. I’m just glad if I helped... You are welcome here any time if you need to talk. Just make sure you use the door next time.”
And then Joe did something that really shocked me. He took hold of me, almost in a bear hug. And suddenly I was the one who felt better, stronger, and grateful.
“Thank you...” I said, extracting myself from the hug and realising too late that I didn’t know his name.
“Joe,” he said, “And thank you...”
“Colin.”
“Thanks Colin.”
He turned away when a final question popped into my head:
“What’s inside the locket?”
“I dunno,” he said, opening his hand to reveal the glistening gold to the light of the room again.
His fingers fumbled over the smoothed surface and sides until they found the clasp that popped the locket open. He looked inside and a smile spread all the way from his mouth to his eyes and back again. I knew what he was looking at.
“It's a photo... Of me."
I smiled back at him and he turned away again; striding strongly out into the night with Miss Blake and Miss Green and the knowledge that a little bit of young Diane was with him too.
The smile on my face didn’t fade as I locked the door. In fact, it even stayed as I turned out all the lights, walked upstairs in time to the ticking of the clock, and found my bed and sleep again.
Learn About The Author
A writer of multiple genres, James Eddy began writing film and television scripts before moving into Short Stories, Novels and Novellas. ‘Hello, Emptiness’ is the eighth part of his short story collection, ‘Diamonds’. For more information, please visit www.jameseddy.co.uk or feel free to contact him via Twitter or Facebook
ABOUT YOUNGBLOOD BOOKS
Founded in 2012, Youngblood Books is owned and operated by James Eddy. We publish a diverse range of genres, including Comedy, Drama, Children's Stories, Romance, Fantasy, Literary Fiction and Comics. Visit us at www.youngbloodbooks.co.uk to keep up to date with all our new releases.
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Revelations
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In Dreams
Diamonds
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