Journey (The Shortest Distance Between Two Points)

Journey (The Shortest Distance Between Two Points)

I looked up into the night sky and wondered if he could see the same
stars. Not now, of course. It was 10 o'clock at night, which made it 4
o'clock in the afternoon in New York. No stars in the sky yet. No full
moon like the one I was looking at right now. I studied the bright and
almost perfectly round disk in the sky and wondered if in a few hours
time, he would be able to see the same.

His ship was due to arrive in New York tonight. He had been gone for
almost five months - India, South Africa, South America - New York was
about the closest he had been for a long time. I checked my watch for
the umpteenth time. Of course one could never be exactly sure when his
ship would arrive. I made sure I was never too far from the telephone,
I was petrified I might miss his call.

It was another three hours before the telephone eventually rang. I had
fallen asleep with my head on the desk next to the phone, and when it
rang I jumped and knocked it to the floor. With shaking hands I picked
it up.

"Hello?" I breathed, terrified that we had been disconnected. For one
long second I heard nothing. Then he was there. "Hello, darling," he
said. The line was bad, but he sounded close, so close. My voice failed
and I had to violently clear my throat before I could speak. Trouble
was, after all this time of waiting, all this time being apart, I
didn't have the faintest idea what to say to him.

"How are you?" I managed eventually. There was another slight delay
before I heard his voice again. "I'm good," he said. "How are you?"
"Fine, just fine," I said. A million things had happened since we last
spoke, and I could not remember a single one. "I just got your
letters," he said. "I haven't had a chance to read them yet."

"I got yours, too," I said. "I read every one at least a hundred
times." He laughed. "I will read yours at least a hundred times
tonight," he said. "I can't wait to open them."

There was an awkward silence again. Time was ticking away and I was
aware of the cost of a telephone call from New York. It was 1957, money
was tight, not just for me but for him as well. I was frantically
trying to think of something to say.

Your brother took me out to dinner last week, he felt sorry for me
being all on my own on my birthday, so he and Julie picked me up and
took me to that little restaurant round the corner. I had lamb with
potatoes and vegetables, it was delicious.

"Are you still there?" he asked. "I'm here," I said. "Good," he said,
and quieter, "I love you." "I love you too," I said. The line was bad
and there was a lot of crackling, but I had heard him anyway. I knew
why he was nearly whispering. There was most likely a queue of other
crew members waiting to use the telephone. Why did the shipping line
not have more telephones for their crew to use at a big port like New
York? And more importantly, why could I not think of anything to
say?

My parents and my sister came to visit me yesterday. They brought some
cake and some coffee, and of course my mother had to comment on the
fact that I did not have enough money to treat them. My sister promised
me a new table cloth as a late birthday present, which is really nice
of her, and useful, my old table cloth is falling apart.

"We had a near miss the other day," he said. "Something wrong with the
engine - I'll write you all about it." "Heavens," I said, "are you all
right? Is it fixed now?" He laughed. "Yes, it is all fixed again," he
said. "Hey, I took a photograph of the Statue of Liberty as we came in
tonight. Looked absolutely stunning, I hope it comes out well."

"So do I," I said.

Some new neighbors move in the apartment opposite. A couple our age,
only been married a year or so, just like us. I think you will like
them, they are very friendly. She is expecting a baby in March. I envy
her, you will never know how much. He is an artist, he has a job in
advertising, but goodness, can he draw beautiful pictures! They gave me
one for my birthday last week. I hung it up over the couch in the
sitting room, hope you don't mind.

"Listen, darling, I will have to go, there's a long queue of guys all
wanting to phone their wives," he said. "Don't go!" I said. It was
almost a cry. "I'll be home in a couple of months," he said. "I miss
you so much," I said. "I miss you too," he whispered. "Gotta go. I love
you." "I love you too," I said. Suddenly I had so much to say, so many
important things that really could not wait until he got home.

"I will send you a telegram to let you know when I will get to the
next port," he said. "Bye darling. Bye." "Bye. I love you," I said. I
wasn't sure if he had heard me. Slowly I replaced the receiver.

I miss you so much, it physically hurts. I miss knowing that you are
there when I wake up. My life is empty without you and I am so lonely.
I look at your photograph and sometimes I cannot remember what your
voice sounds like, and it makes me so sad. I know we need the money and
I've been saving every little bit of it, but sometimes, you know,
sometimes I really don't care. Sometimes I just want you, why do you
want to go to university anyway, who needs a prestigious job with a
good salary when I just want to be with you. Two months is such a long
time, I don't know if I can bear it, and what happens after that, will
you be gone again for what seems like an eternity? I want a husband and
a family, but all I get is letters and money orders and the occasional
telephone call. Life is short, darling, so short, and we seem to be
wasting a large part of it not being together. Please come home to me.
Come home soon.

I cried myself to sleep that night, not for the first time and not for
the last.

He came home two months later and stayed forever.