Finally

                   FINALLY by INGRID RYLANDER

Finally, this day has come to an end. I do my usual walk with Luke, down Saint Paul's Street, head towards the port and the beach, crossing the main street, which for once I'm able to cross without having to wait, and walk along the gravel path.

Dragging my feet, l let Luke stop and sniff every weed, every little pee-stained stone, enjoying the silence and the chilly air. The slow pace suits me, lately my hip has been playing up. Too many hours stuck in the sofa probably, watching Christmas TV. But what else is there to do? I need to kill time somehow.

The evening feels somewhat desolate. All that Christmas energy has been discharged, and now a strange peace, or relief, is spreading around town. I feel it too. All the excitement that was building up, for days, I don't know why. I knew fine well nothing would come of it. Not even a phone call. Or a card. Nothing. I was hoping, as you do, I always do, I'm stupid like that. So, Gabe thinks I was a rotten Mum... I can't blame him. I probably was. Quite frankly, I can't remember. Too strict, too pushy, he says. Apparently, I got inside his head, suffocating him with my hopes and dreams. Oh well. I did the best I could. The demands, the demands - I'm only human! He's a lawyer now so I must have done something right. If it hadn't been for me, he might be sleeping on the streets for all he knows!

As usual, there's a clinking sound coming from the spars down by the port. It's comforting somehow. It's like a soundtrack. Every time I reach the same bit it plays the same tune. I think Luke likes it too. He waves his tail anyway.

Halfway down the path the big eucalyptus tree appears, stretching its branches high and wide. It blocks the streetlamp, which is too old and dim in the first place, only very little light seeps through the foliage. There's like a flickering when the leaves move in the wind, but generally this part of the path lies in darkness.

Sensing my fingers getting cold, as I stop and jerk Luke's lead, urging him to move on, I hear a voice coming through the darkness.

Merry Christmas Sylvie.

I turn towards the black cave underneath the tree from where the voice seems to be coming. A woman is standing there, holding a Yorkshire Terrier in her arms.

Oh hi, I say, startled. Maribel?

The terrier growls, I pull Luke closer.

Sorry, I didn't see you there.

She takes a couple of small steps towards me, suddenly her face becomes visible.

How are you? She says.

Oh that face. That beautiful face. I know it so well. Well, I used to know a face that resembled this one a lot. Age is such a cruel thing. It twists your mind. I turn away, petting Luke, fiddling with his lead. I can't make myself look at her. The way the hazy light is fluttering through the eucalyptus, her face keeps coming at me in flashes, it's making me uneasy. Not because it makes me think of my own age, I accept my age, or at least I try to, but there's something about her face. It takes me back.

We chit chat. She still has the same twinkle in her eyes, and she still tilts her head as she smiles, the gaze kind of slides past me, like she's blushing. We don't change that much after all, us people, we just think we do.

And how's...Gabe was it? she asks.

Oh Gabe. You know. He's all grown up now, he's a lawyer, got a good job in a big important law firm. Married, 2 little kids, boy and a girl.

That's wonderful Sylvie!

Her eyes are shiny with tears.

You did a good job with him!

Well, yes, I suppose I did. He's got a good life.

I'm so happy for you.

Thanks.

I fiddle with Luke's lead, turn my gaze up to the top of the eucalyptus. A couple of stars are brightening the night sky. Finally, I make myself ask:

And Brody? How's Brody?

Maribel buries her head in the dog's neck, then kisses him on the head, grabbing it with both hands. At that moment, in one of the flashes of light, I see the old lady in her. It's the way she kisses that dog. She seems lonely somehow. Like the dog is the only one she has in this world. I take a step back, looking for the cigarettes in my bag. I didn't want to ask about Brody, but what option did I have? I had to. I was meant to.

I light a cigarette and say:

Do you still do samba?

She laughs and shakes her head. Then she says:

He's a bit better now. He's recovering.

That's good. I'm glad.

It's been 7 years, but you know, after something like that, you're never the same person again. He's kind of... disappeared. I don't think he'll ever be the same.

She kisses the terrier again, puts him down on the ground with a quick smile. He immediately starts barking at Luke. I nod, look into her eyes for a moment. Little Brody. He had his mum's smiley eyes. He was a lovely boy. I remember him so well. He used to sit with his Lego in the living room or run around in a batman outfit whenever I was round. Even when ...I can't bare looking at Maribel while thinking about those times. I mean, to me, in those days, a child running round the house was the same thing as a dog running around the house. I didn't know what a child was. Not really. You're young and think the world around you is like a fair or something.

I turn my head towards the port. A raw mist is coming in from the sea, wrapping my cardy tighter around me I say:

I remember Brody as a boy, he was always so happy.

I know. Poor thing. Bless him. Always left on his own, never a squeak. You remember? I used to leave him with my neighbours to go out?

Yeah, I remember. You were always carrying him up and down the stairs in that building. Well, not always...

She scoffs, folds her arms across her generous upper half.

I was on my own. It was really hard, never thought it would be so hard, you know? Sometimes there was no one, and I had to work and -

Party?

She smiles and looks embarrassed, but I know that she isn't. She was never embarrassed about anything. That's just the way she smiles.

I loved to party, she says. Ha! I still do!

Her lower front teeth are missing, I didn't see that before.

That´s right, I say with a polite smile. You were a real party animal.

I couldn't stop myself. I just had to...have fun, you know. Let off some steam, go crazy. It was wrong, I shouldn't have, but I was young and ...just as well...well, you know.

She shrugs her shoulders.

Yeah, I suppose, I say. It was probably for the best.

Looking at her now, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye, the memory of Maribel and Brody suddenly feel very vivid. Something starts to stir inside me.

I say:

You were so sad. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so sad in my life. When his dad came to get him, remember?

I know.

You cried all summer.

I cried and cried. It was awful.

So, you think that's what, kind of, damaged him?

Probably. He was only 3. He..he needed his mum still. But I couldn't look after him, you know that. I couldn't. His dad was right.

But-

No, Sylvie. He couldn't stay with me. He was better off with his dad, up there, in Finland.

Finland, for Christ's sake. It's the bloody north pole!

Well..

Don't you see? That's why he had a psychosis. You can't just take a little boy away from his mum like that! It broke his soul!

I don't know...I think maybe I broke it.

I stare at her in disbelief.

But you loved him. I saw you together, you were so loving and caring!

Maribel looks at me with her sad eyes for a moment, then takes a step backwards, as if she's heading back up the path.

I bet you must have been a great mum, Sylvie, she says, as matter-of-factly.

Me?

I jump.

I don't know, I mean, I've tried, but-

You never would have done what I did.

I give her a puzzled stare. An image is coming to me, so clear, so real. I'm there, at her flat, above the Pelikan Café. It's late in the afternoon. I've been knocking on the door for a good while, eventually she opens, in her underwear -a tiger striped bra and samba knickers - reluctantly letting me in. I explain she must have my wallet; I can't find it. She doesn't speak, just nods, curls up on the sofa, resting her head on a pile of laundry. A pink sheet is covering the window, there are bottles and empty glasses on the coffee table, overflowing ashtrays, half eaten food of some kind. Brody is sitting on the floor in his pyjamas, silently building something with his Lego. I register his presence, but I don't talk to him. I never do. After having found my wallet in her hand bag, I say:

Where did you go? I was looking for you.

She blinks, as if trying to remember.

Oh. I met someone. We went on somewhere else, then came back here.

I see. Who?

Just some guy with a Mercedes. And his mate.

Right. Ok.

I'm tempted to open a window, the smell of hangover and sex is overpowering in there, but I decide not to. She frightens me a little, the mess, the strange men, the indifference she seems to feel towards it all.

They both wanted me, you know, she says, as she slowly pulls herself upright. I said no at first, but then I felt sorry for the other one, he was just sitting there watching, so...well, what the fuck.

She smiles sweetly, the same way I imagine she must have smiled to those strange men last night. I feel a desperate urge to leave, clutching my wallet against my chest, I ask:

And Brody? Who had Brody?

Brody...no one had Brody. He was here.

He was here?

She laughs.

He was sleeping, silly. Sylvie, always the worrier.

A gust of wind rattles the tree and lights up the path slightly. Maribel is shaking her head at me.

You would never, she says with a sigh.

Maybe not, I suppose it depends on what circumstances you're in, I really couldn't tell you, I-

She gives me a little wave and keeps on walking along the path, up the way, towards the main road. The darkness swallows her almost immediately. I remain under the eucalyptus tree, my heart pounding. I stare down at my hiking boots. Would I? Would I?

Then I give Luke's lead a jerk and walk down to the port, where I turn left and start walking back along the promenade.

I can't help thinking of Gabe. I decide to give him a call when I get home. Don't care what he says. I want to hear his voice.