Life Shift (10 page)

Her brother seemed untouched by this. He was younger. As long as he wasn’t being nagged about his homework and could go out and play with his friends he was happy. He even seemed fine with only seeing their father twice a week, though perhaps he just hid his real feelings about that. Certainly Christine thought she heard crying from his room on some nights.

But Christine wasn’t coping at all.
 
Her father seemed lonely to her. He was living with his mother in a house that was cold and old fashioned. He didn’t have his home comforts. And he was drinking, drinking far too much.

Sometimes he’d ring after being out all afternoon and would beg to speak to her mother. Her mother would never go to the phone. And so Christine would have to listen to him weep on the phone, part of her wondering what she could say to comfort him, part of her wanting comforting herself at the realisation that she wasn't enough for him, that he couldn’t be happy just speaking to her on the phone.

But he had got his life together eventually. He had met a woman, Lisa, and things seemed to get better for him. But for Christine it was as if something had been lost forever -
 
her parents, her childhood

Christine sat on the sofa remembering these things. She looked at her mother. She was glancing absentmindedly in the direction of the front window, also lost in the past. Suddenly she turned to look at Christine. “You took it hard didn’t you love? I remember that. I don’t think either of us – me or your father – handled it well. Remember, even though we had you and your brother we were younger than you are now. We were just children in our own way.”

“I know,” said Christine. Her mother was right. It couldn’t have been easy. And now both her parents were happy with their new partners. At least she assumed her father was. He had drifted out of her life after marrying Lisa. Too busy on the new life to spend much time on the old. Although he had been there on her wedding day. At least she had that. She took a sip of wine. She couldn’t remember why she’d even asked her mother the question. Why had she started thinking about the divorce? Had Teresa really asked about her grandfather? She couldn’t remember now. She felt uneasy suddenly. There was something she was forgetting. Something important. Maybe Matt would know what it was. She smiled, thinking about their plans for tomorrow evening – date night. They did it once a week, ever since they had Teresa. They had vowed that they would always make time for each other even with a child, that they would never forget how much they loved each other.

“You’re thinking about Matt aren’t you?” said her mother, “I can always tell, you always have that funny little smile on your face. You always did, from the moment you first met him.”

Christine laughed. “I know, it’s ridiculous isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” said her mother, “It’s love.”

“Yes,” said Christine simply, “It really is.”

 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She helped her mother sort out her wardrobe as promised and then stayed for food. Her stepfather Stephen had come in at just gone five, bringing home a takeaway for the three of them. Teresa was with Matt. Her stepfather was going to drop Christine home later. Therefore she and her mother enjoyed polishing off the rest of the wine and another half bottle with their Chinese takeaway.

“How’s work?” asked Stephen.

“Not too bad. The lecturing is fine but the students are a nightmare – one crisis after another.”

“What are you teaching this term?” he asked. He had always been interested in her life in academia.
 

“Introduction to the New Testament. Getting them thinking about the different communities that produced the different gospels. They seem interested in it to be fair.”

“I'll bet,” said Stephen. “It's always fascinated me too. Maybe I can sneak in and listen.”
 

“No need to sneak. You’re welcome any time.”

They carried on chatting for the next hour. Christine felt warm, cosy and relaxed. She loved spending time with them. But finally the clock caught her eye and she realised she needed to be getting home.

“Are you still okay to run me back?” she asked her stepfather.

“Yes of course, no problem,” he said, stretching in his seat and then getting up to get his keys.

“Now don’t be a stranger,” said her mother at the door, giving her a kiss. But when she pulled back she suddenly put her hands on Christine’s elbow. “You feel different,” she said. Christine felt a chill run through her. Her mother’s face seemed to flicker and strain for a second, and Christine felt a sharp pain in her head. Then it passed and her mother looked herself again, although the look she was giving Christine was still a strange one.

“In what way different Mum?” Christine asked.
 

“Oh I don't know. I've probably just had too much wine.”

“Probably,” agreed Christine.

Her mother smiled. “Take care Chris and give little Teresa a kiss from me.”

“Will do Mum,” said Christine, getting in the car.

On the ride home Christine was quiet. She felt tired now and her head was fuggy from the wine.

Stephen dropped her off outside the house and declined her offer of a cup of tea. “No I have to get back to your mother,” he said, “You know she worries when I’m out driving.”

She kissed his cheek, got out of the car and waved him off. Before going into the house she walked around to the garden and stood looking out at the river. She loved it at this time of night. The water was still, the boats empty, and the moon was shining its light across the vast expanse. The river was the reason they had bought the house. They had always wanted to live alongside water, there was something in them both that yearned for it.
 

She felt two arms slide around her waist. She leant back. “I knew I’d find you out here,” he whispered. She turned around and put her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. She had always loved the way he smelled. They stood like that for awhile, just enjoying the feel and warmth of each other's bodies in the moonlight. Then she started to feel chilly.

“How is Teresa?” she asked.

“Fine, in bed. She had Robert over for awhile and they tired themselves out arguing about the Xbox.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said, putting her arm around him as they entered the house.
 

“Do you want a glass of wine?” he said, entering the kitchen as she stood by her computer desk checking emails.
 

“I’d love one,” she said, “Although I did have some over Mum’s.”

“I’ve got a lovely Australian for us to try,” he said, coming in with the bottle and two glasses. “Come on. Leave work for tonight. Come and sit by the fire.”

She kicked off her shoes and joined him on the sofa by the log fire that she loved. The fire was crackling and casting shadows on the wall. She curled up next to him and took the glass of wine he offered. They clinked their glasses as usual and both took a sip. It was delicious. She felt an excited shiver run through her.

For awhile they sat in silence, enjoying the wine, watching the dancing flames on the wall. But then he spoke.

“I’ve been feeling a bit weird today,” he said, “I know that sounds odd but I’ve not been feeling right.”

She sat up to look at him. This wasn’t at all like Matt.
 

“Do you feel sick?” she asked him, worried.

“No not sick. It’s not like that. I just feel weird.”

“You’re scaring me Matt,” she said. “You never feel weird.”

“It's just... have you ever been just about to say something, then someone interrupts you and by the time it’s your turn to speak you have forgotten what it was you wanted to say?”

“Yes all the time – you do it to me all the time,” she teased. “You are terrible for interrupting me.”

He smiled at her, pulled her back in his arms and kissed the top of her head.
 
“I just keep feeling I’m forgetting something. It’s really strange. I keep thinking I should be remembering something really important.”

She looked up at him. His face looked worried and concerned. Matt usually never let things get to him. His joys in life were simple - he worked to earn money to look after his family and his family came first. He had always been the same.

She remembered their first meeting. She had been sixteen and had just started a new school. She had dreaded it. She had always been shy and nervous around new people. She appeared reserved and aloof to most. And she was studious. She liked to get high grades. This did not endear her to many. She had transferred to this new school because it was reputed to have the best sixth form in the city. But walking into that class on the first day was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. There were only fourteen students there, nine boys and five girls. They looked up at her as she walked in – curious stares from them all. No one looked friendly. She had grabbed a seat at the front, an empty desk, and looked straight ahead, wondering inside how she was going to do this. Then a figure stopped by the side of her desk, a boy that had come in behind her. He was tall. It was the first thing she noticed. Then she saw his shoulder length hair. And then his pale blue eyes. He looked at her.“Can I sit beside you?” he asked. “Yes of course,” she said. He sat down, smiled, and held out his hand. “My name’s Matt,” he said. “I’m Christine,” she replied, smiling back at him.
 
He held her hand for a second longer than was usual but she found she did not mind. By the time the class was over the two had made arrangements to meet for lunch, and by the time the day was over they had made arrangements to go to the cinema that evening. And from that point on they were inseparable and Christine was telling everyone that transferring to the new sixth form was the best decision she had ever made.

Her mother loved Matt from the very beginning. He was witty and charming and brought her flowers. He also endeared himself to her stepfather by talking about politics, cricket and football and seemingly sharing all her stepfather’s views, even the contradictory ones. But even if they hadn’t loved him Christine wouldn’t have cared. She knew she had found her soulmate. He understood her so easily. And to be known and understood was something she had never experienced before. How could he know her so well, she sometimes wondered? How could he know her better than her mother who had known her from birth? And they shared the same love of films, reading and theological debate. Conversations flowed. She longed to see him when they were apart and when they were together she was beside herself with joy. And he felt the same. She could tell by the way he stared at her, particularly when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was enthralled by her. She knew it. And when eventually things became physical between them it was as if they had been made for each other, that moment of union between them when he became her and she became him, and they were lost in each other. They had loved each other from the first. It had never faded. It had always been true.
 

And he had never scared her like he was scaring her now. She looked at him. “What could you be forgetting?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Remember last week when we were on Pen y Fan?”

She thought for a moment. Last week on Pen y Fan? The memory was vague. Then it came to her. Their anniversary. But why was the memory vague? She remembered them climbing the mountain – an anniversary tradition because that was where he had proposed. But at the top… yes there was almost a mistiness to her memory. She remembered them kissing. But they were always softly sentimental with each other. It was no surprise that they had kissed. But it was as if there was a veil over this memory.

She sat up. She was remembering the doorway with her mother. The way her mother’s face had almost seemed to shimmer and change before her, familiar but different.

And then she thought of the conversation with her mother earlier. Talking about the divorce. Telling her mother that Teresa had asked about Dad. But had Teresa asked about her grandfather? Christine had no memory of that.

She looked at Matt and found that he was staring at her. “You’ve had it too, haven’t you?” he said. She nodded.

He sat back and looked at the fire. Then he put out his arm and she crawled into it. He held her tight. Then he spoke. “It’s probably nothing. I think we’ve both just been working too hard. We probably need some time off work. At least with Christmas coming up we’ll have a break.”

“Yes that’s true,” she agreed. As usual his words comforted her. “Maybe it’s the opposite of déjà vu,” he said after awhile. “A feeling of forgetting as opposed to remembering.”

She laughed. “Trust us two to get the opposite of what everyone else gets.”

“Well we’ve always been united against the world,” he said, leaning down and kissing her slowly on the lips. She felt the usual pull of desire towards him. Without needing to say anything they both got up and went upstairs. And in the hours that followed they forgot about what they couldn’t remember, they put the vague doubts and worries behind them and enjoyed each other again, as they always did when together.

 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

That night though she dreamt of another man, a man with thick black hair and warm brown eyes. A man who was looking at her with love and devotion. She knew his name, it was on her lips, but she couldn’t say it. She reached out to him and he reached out to her but just as their fingertips almost touched she felt a hand shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes. Teresa stood next to her. Sleepy, tousle-haired, grouchy. “I want my breakfast,” she grumbled.

“Morning Teri,” said Christine, still drowsy and still finding it hard to shake away the image of the dark-haired man. Who was he? Why was he so familiar?

She turned her head to look at Matt. He was still sleeping. He looked more peaceful in sleep than he had looked last night.

Teresa was already bored. She ran out of the bedroom and Christine heard her thump down the stairs. She stretched and got out of bed. Suddenly Matt grabbed her arm. “Where you going?” he mumbled. “I have to get Teresa her breakfast,” said Christine, “She’s already downstairs doing god knows what.”