Life does give second chances

I looked up and there he was – on the other side of the road waiting to cross at the traffic lights. Was it really him? Would I recognize him after all this time? I wanted to get out of the car and run to this person I once loved, and still loved. After all these years the thought that he was here in Australia was hard to believe.

He looked tall and slim, slouching a little – hands in pockets. As he stood leaning against the pole, not moving or looking around, I felt the need to hug him and for him to hold me like he once did. ‘Why would he be here? Was it just someone who resembled the dark haired boy that I thought I would spend the rest of my life with?

Did he ever leave England? I had so many unanswered questions but didn’t know if I would see him again to ask them?

The car behind me was tooting their horn for me to move. The lights had changed but before I could pull over to the side of the road, he had gone. I scanned the street for him, panicking that it would be my last chance to ever see him again. I wanted to turn the car around and look for him. It seemed as if my heart had stopped beating. I couldn’t breathe through the tightness in my chest. ‘Am I having a heart attack right at this very moment?’ I wondered, feeling very scared as the beads of perspiration formed on my brow. The traffic noise was muffled – my ears felt blocked and I was dizzy. Trying to concentrate on where I was driving, and gripping the steering wheel with shaking, wet hands, I told myself to take deep breaths. “In, out, innnn, owwwwt, innnnn,owwwwt” I said aloud. I could see a side street further down the road. I didn’t know what speed I was driving at or why the windscreens wipers were going back and forth on a dry window. I couldn’t make out if it was cars coming in the opposite direction – my mind was fuzzy. They could have been people or even wheelie bins. ‘Do I need an ambulance? I didn’t know what to do. At the First Aid Course they said it was better to call an ambulance and be embarrassed if you didn’t need it, than be dead! Now I was panicking. I pulled off the main road at the first side street and turned off the ignition. Quickly unbuckling my seatbelt I pushed open my car door and awkwardly clambered out into the air. I was cold. I needed to bend over – and I felt sick. I kept saying out loud ‘It can’t be him, it just can’t’. The toast and tea I had eaten half an hour earlier was threatening to come up, it was half way and I was trying my hardest to keep it down.

I felt a hand on my back and a middle aged lady, wearing a blue floral cardigan and matching scarf, asked me if I was ok. “Oh yes” I answered embarrassedly. “I’m ok thank you; it must have been something I ate”. “Come and sit here on this bus stop bench” she kindly uttered, as she steered me to an army green coloured seat. The old metal was freezing and I shivered as I sat. “Now are you sure you’re alright? Can I get you some water, or call someone for you?” “No I’ll be fine. I’m actually on my way to work and it’s not far away. Thank you for your concern”. With that she patted my shoulder and walked away.

I was conscious of my heart beating quickly, and even though the vice like feeling had gone from around my chest I still felt shaky and weak. Suddenly tears welled up in my eyes and fell down my cheeks. ‘Oh don’t cry for goodness sake.’ I admonished myself. ‘It is school photos today’. My mascara wasn’t waterproof and I didn’t want to see anyone with black streaks down my face. I dried my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I thought ‘I can’t afford to be late to work today of all days. I think if some of my students saw me now they would think Miss Wright had a hangover for sure’. To teenagers, if you’re pale, shaking, and perspiring, then it’s more than likely you have a hangover! I couldn’t remember if I thought like that at their age, it seemed like such a long time ago.

I had composed myself enough to drive to school and park my car. The ‘Deputy Principal’ sign had so much graffiti on it that it was impossible to tell what it actually said, but my car could have driven here by itself after eight years.

I tried to sneak through the main door and into my office without being seen but hadn’t counted on Irene being here early. “Hi Jo” came her jaunty greeting. “Good morning Irene. Ready for your photo shoot?” I tried to laugh and appear relaxed as I was speaking, but if anyone could see through me it was Irene. She seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing when someone was feeling down, anxious or just miserable. If you were having a bad day there would be a small bunch of flowers on your desk the following morning or a cake to cheer you up. “What’s wrong? Thankfully before I could answer her question she continued, “You look like you need a strong coffee. Now sit yourself down in your oversized and fancy DP chair and I’ll get you one”. With those instructions she bustled off to the staffroom to make it. She sometimes irritated me with her childish fussing even though she always meant well, but today I was grateful for it.

‘I’m not telling her’ I thought to myself. ‘I’m just keep it to myself until I know if it was him or not.’

My lack of concentration was very evident in the way I was sifting through reports and papers on my desk. I would pick them up, open them, shuffle a few papers and put them back down again. All I could think about was Peter and what could have been. It seemed like a lifetime ago and in some ways it was. I felt like I had nothing really to show for those lost years in-between youth and being forty something. Oh I had done alright as far as my career but that was about it.

I gazed out of the large window at the trees and wandered back in time. We had met the first week of me starting High School and loved each other ever since. I was there in the woods – our commitment to each other given on the pine needled ground. A grey and chilly day but for young lovers the weather counted for nothing. It could have been snowing and we wouldn’t have cared. I remember the tartan rug Jack had spread out for us for lie on. He had tried to fold it up really small so that he could carry it hidden away inside his jacket. It was a very worn and thin picnic blanket but I doubt if we felt the rocky ground or anything else underneath it. We felt nothing but the love and happiness we were both experiencing. We had told different stories to our parents about where we were going. Only we knew. As we lay together completely oblivious to anything other than our sworn love and promises that we would spend the rest of our days together, I knew that, even at 18 this boy would carry my love in his heart always and his in mine.

A sharp knock on my door brought me back to the present “Miss Wright, Mr Paine told me to come and get you for the photos” a freckled faced boy said to me as he peered around the door. “Oh yes, thank you Jack. I’m just coming”. I quickly checked my face and hair in the mirror hanging on the inside of the cupboard and decided that this was the best the photographer would get today. I wasn’t really in the mood.

“Stop running in the corridor” I yelled at two senior boys, surprised at the tone and loudness of my voice. “Sorry Miss” they replied in unison. I thought I heard “miserable old cow” as they walked quickly away.

Trying to get all the staff in the annual photo, all looking straight ahead, ladies sitting in the front row, with knees bent, legs to the side and hands in laps, and men standing behind with their arms at the back of them and feet together was easier said than done.

By the time we had all said ‘wheeze’, (which by the way is the strangest thing I have heard yet… what’s wrong with ‘cheese’?) I was just about to tell the photographer where he could put his camera equipment, when he cheerily told us, “That’s just lovely. Well done to all of you on this chilly morning”. It sounded as if we all deserved a sticker for being so good!

I couldn’t wait for the day to be over. I just needed to get into my car and do what was probably a very ridiculous and time wasting thing to do, drive around town looking for Peter. I didn’t even know if it was him or not but I didn’t know what else to do.

The last time I saw Peter was when I was eighteen. He was coming over to my house and we were going to the movies. From the moment he stepped through the front door I could tell there was something not quite right with him. His eyes had a way of showing all of his emotions – the dark brown glistening eyes would be a little duller as if some of the life had been drawn out of them. He would squint too as if thinking about something, forming a furrow in-between his eyebrows at the top of his nose. And he was quieter. I had seen the same sign of uneasiness when he told me that his Mum and Dad had split up and that his Dad had already gone the night before while they were both sleeping. He and his Mum and brother had woken one morning to find a note from him saying he couldn’t be bothered with the responsibility of family and children any more. He had already signed over the house to Peter’s Mum and they never heard from him again.

Three months after Peter’s Dad left, my Mum and Dad dropped the bombshell that we were migrating to Australia. Hearing the words that we were packing up and leaving before Christmas was like the end of the world to me. All I could think about was Peter and how I would ever cope without him.

“I don’t want to go. Maybe I can stay behind and live here with your mum and brother” I told Peter one night. I couldn’t stop crying. I remember being told as a young girl that Father Christmas didn’t exist, and the Easter Bunny was made up and feeling like the whole world had changed, somehow lost its magic. I had felt so disappointed and cried on and off for days. I had the same feeling now. I pleaded with my parents to cancel going to another country to live. “It’s not that simple” they had tried to explain to me. “It’s taken a long time to plan this and it’s an opportunity of a lifetime. It will be a far better place to live and grow up in”. “I don’t want to go” I wailed. “I don’t want to leave Peter. I love him. I’ll never see him again” I was now sobbing. “Jo love” my dad started off in a quiet tone, “You are only young. If Peter can come to Australia one day, well and good, but in time you will probably meet someone else.” “How can you even say that?” I shouted, “We love each other and I don’t want to go. I’ll stay here and get a job and we’ll get married”. The quiet tone in my

Dad’s voice had disappeared. “You are coming with us young lady. You’re only 18 and you do as I say. Now stop that blubbering and come over and look at these brochures. Look at the colour of the ocean - beautiful, just beautiful”.

Peter and I spent as much time as we could together. The date we were leaving was getting closer and we were both dreading it. Our secret place in the woods was where we vowed to always love each other. We would make our own fairy tale up with the ‘happy ever after ending’ – one day married with children and never to be apart from each other again. We promised to keep in touch no matter what. He gave me his Saint Christopher pendant and I knew I would never part with it.

Irene called out ‘goodbye and have a good weekend’ and thankfully didn’t ask me any questions about how I was feeling. She was probably just as eager to get away from the place as I was.

I didn’t even know where to look for Peter. It really was ‘needle in a haystack’ stuff but I still proceeded to do a few laps around town before heading for home. I felt drained after today and needed to put my feet up, relax and destress in a bath. The first thing I did when I got home was take out my wooden jewellery box and look at the Saint Christopher. It was dark and dull from over twenty years of being hidden away. I had looked at it once before and that was on my twenty first birthday. I was supposed to be enjoying the party my parents had thrown for me but I thought that I should have been celebrating my twenty first with Peter. I decided to clean it up and put it on. I somehow felt like that young girl again as I closed the clasp at the back of my neck.

‘What if it is Peter?’ I dared to think as I touched the pendant. ‘What if I see him again? I don’t know what I would say. Maybe I’ll get straight to the point and ask why he stopped writing after six months and why he just forgot about me completely. Why he broke my heart. Did he ever think of me in all that time? Did he ever marry? Was he in love with someone else? Did he have children? Why is he here? Did he know that I loved him so much I couldn’t love anyone like that ever again? Did he know that I have wasted over twenty years of my life because of him? Did he…. I started to cry, loud heart wrenching gulps. Emotions that I had kept under wraps for all of these years flooded out. In between blowing my nose and wiping my eyes I lay on the floor and sobbed. I felt exhausted and fell asleep, waking up at 2-30 am freezing cold, hungry and looking like something out of a monster movie.

It was three months since I thought I had seen Peter. My life fell back into the ‘work, home, walk, board meetings routine. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The monotony of life never stopped me thinking that I might see Peter again; in fact it was one of the things that kept me going.

It was unexpected and out of the blue when it happened.

On Saturday morning I decided to drive into town to find a birthday present for a friend. I had pressed the button on the alarm in sleep deprived annoyance and dozed off again so it was quite late when I got up. I parked the car and got out. ‘I’ll definitely need a coffee to wake myself up before I tackle the shops’ I thought as I opened the café door. The warm air hit me and was comforting after being outside in the cold. Finding a table near the window so I could have a ‘people watch’ I took off my coat and the waitress came over to take my order. The café was busy. On a Saturday you were lucky to get a seat. ‘Just a flat white and toast please’ I told her. As I turned back to look out of the window I saw him. Without a thought about anything and leaving my phone on the table, I raced outside. He was walking quite quickly and I didn’t know whether to call his name or not – if he didn’t turn around then I would be heartbroken. I had to. ‘Peter, Peter’ I called out. I was still racing to catch up with him, banging into people but not caring. I felt like this was the pivotal point of my life. This was make or break. This would decide if you only got one chance at true love or if life gave out second chances.

It was as if time stood still. I didn’t move as I saw him start to turn around and look for the person who had called his name. I ran up to him and we stood facing each other. No one else mattered. He looked at me with his shining brown eyes and they travelled to the Saint Christopher hanging around my neck. “Jo” he uttered. “Is it really you? I’ve waited for this day since you left to live in Australia.” Tears had welled up in his eyes. Mine were already falling. We held on to each other knowing that this time it was for good.