Reunion

Lazily, Victoria arched her toe in and out of the bath water,
watching it out of the corner of her eye. She stretched her leg to the
point of it aching before allowing it to splash gently back into the
lukewarm water. She half-wondered how it must have felt to have been
stretched, arms and legs pulled in opposite directions, as people had
been tortured long ago. It was a vile but strange punishment.
She rippled the water with her finger. She wouldn't mind sinking into
it- a quick wet death. Only it would probably be slow and terrible. Why
did everything have to be so hard? Sighing, Victoria heaved herself
from the bath and seized her towel. She glanced at the clock; she'd
been there two hours and thirty five minutes.
Fifteen minutes later, Victoria padded into the living room and tugged
the curtains back, revealing a dreary picture: persistent rain and
another day. If she peered down to the street, eight floors below, she
could see tiny figures moving frantically along against the weather.
Their disappearing paths seemed to form intricate patterns, like a
spider's web. They were flies, Victoria reflected, helplessly retained
by the trapping threads of a city.
A sound made her start. Victoria turned to meet two harsh green eyes,
grey fur and a tail waving casually in the air. The cat eyed her
meaningfully before leaping onto the windowsill and rubbing its body
against the glass.
Suddenly the flat was very quiet; Dad wouldn't be home for hours.
Victoria scooped up her make-up which had been lying on a chair and
crossed the room to the mirror. Silently and deftly, she swept the
glistening colour across her face and watched as she was transformed.
She was complete. Only, her completion was pointless: she didn't want
to leave the flat now. Going out made her want to recoil in fear. She
could easily pass the day sobbing relentlessly into her pillow: she
needn't have made the effort of leaving her bed. Victoria lay down on
the couch and tried to ignore the tightening she sensed in her chest.
If she closed her eyes and curled up she could feel it lesson,
slightly.
* * * *

Lucinda Stevenson steered her car onto the road to join the queue of
vehicles crawling towards the city centre. She was late this morning: a
whole hour late. The children had been arguing again; Jacqueline had
lost her tie and eventually found it- being dipped interestedly into
very milky cereal by her one-year-old half brother, Jamie. Jacqueline
had grabbed it and begun to scream angrily at him, while Jamie gazed at
her, troubled, and then started to cry earnestly.
It had been tempting to join him, Lucinda admitted. Sometimes there
was nothing else left to do. Ever since she'd begun this new
job&;#8230; But if she was honest with herself, she knew that the
stress of her new job wasn't the sole reason as to why she felt like
surrendering to the world; throwing up her hands hopelessly. No, it was
more to do with a sense of failure and the fact that she felt that she
should be happier. God, if she wasn't happy now, having turned her own
life- and more importantly everybody else's- upside
down&;#8230;
In on way, she was more settled and happy than she'd ever been now
that she was with Greg: she couldn't have stayed with Mike, with the
constant arguing, the end result of which being that everyone was
unhappy. So why didn't she wake up each morning overjoyed to be alive,
living with Greg, looking after Jacqueline and Jamie and going to the
work she loved? Why, as the days crept by, did she feel increasingly
isolated and evermore certain that this was not the life she desired of
for which she had aimed? Lucinda was in no doubt that she loved her son
Jamie with a determination that sometimes frightened her. Not only was
he her youngest, but his father was the man she adored more than anyone
else in the world. However, what was fearful was the look that her
thirteen-year-old had flashed her this morning during the chaos. It had
been one of resentment and bitterness: this was her life now. It didn't
seem fair- Jacqueline deserved to live in a secure home with her two
natural parents and her sister. Of course, Greg and Jamie loved and
were loved but Lucinda was suddenly struck by the injustice of it
all.
Then there was Victoria. The last year had seen Lucinda and her eldest
daughter become more and more polarised while Lucinda attempted to
fight the unbearable realisation that Victoria was growing up, quickly,
without her. She had always been so strong. Quietly capable. Lucinda
could feel, even see, time slip swiftly by, leaving her behind only to
glimpse Victoria in the distance like a tiny figure in a vast jungle.
Lucinda herself felt powerless against the predators and hence was
forced to leave her daughter alone. She might be able to save her, if
only Victoria wouldn't run rapidly in the opposite direction.
* * * *

Victoria chewed the tasteless food slowly, watching the flickering
screen. Another chat show. Sensing boredom, she switched channels,
keeping the volume turned down. Sometimes, it amused her to see the
soap actors and actresses flit soundlessly, yet over-expressively
across the cardboard set. Not, she discovered, today. The phone began
to ring but Victoria merely sat and listened to its merciless tone.
Lately, she'd found herself wanting to withdraw more and more. It was
easier and safer than being vulnerable to rejection and pain,
Frequently, she was overwhelmed by a sense of inadequacy. The feeling
didn't endure; nothing ever did. She was nothing, simply subject to
wave after wave of emotion. Comforting, she thought.
Victoria remembered visiting the beach as a young child and being
intrigued by the way the waves perpetually hit the sand, never ceasing.
But there was something else&;#8230;Victoria recalled that she had
thought how everyone, foolishly, saw the sea at the beach as calming,
kind. Not her: she saw the dark black expanse further out and glimpsed
the waves crashing against the rocks. Meanwhile, that same water lapped
quietly at the ever-changing sand.
* * * *

Lucinda didn't know what had made her pull out of the gruelling
traffic and turn down a side road, but suddenly she'd felt the need.
She was travelling along past houses with their cramped impersonal
gardens. Reaching the end of the road, she realised where she was. The
grey building stared dully at her, tall and ungainly. Gently, Lucinda
coaxed the car into a marked space and killed the engine. Then she sat,
listening to the silence and wondering, wondering if she was too.
Victoria, aware that her heart was thumping more quickly than usual,
opened the front door slowly. She stood for a moment, allowing her eyes
to adjust to the meagre light. Just as she was remembering why she
didn't like going out, she realised who was standing in front of her.
She tried to speak but her mouth managed only a wordless "Oh" as she
stood, stunned.
* * * *

The sky was still a grey wash of colour as Lucinda stepped outside and
gazed at a world, which suddenly seemed very different. As she started
up her car again she noticed that she was now three hours late for
work. But that didn't matter anymore. It was remarkable, Lucinda
reflected, how a small incident could throw one's life into complete
perspective. To be needed by her daughter who required her now more
than ever- that mattered. Victoria would succeed, Lucinda was sure. She
was merely momentarily hindered. Weren't they all at some point? There
was no doubt that life meant growth-that was the whole purpose- which
in turn meant pain. Tiny raindrops began to tap the windscreen. In a
way they were beautiful: clear and perfect. Waiting at the traffic
lights Lucinda studied the sky, and smiled at her glittering shower of
diamonds.