Sapphire-Blue in The Land of Numb

It was unconditional love, but in an instant it transformed.

Stella was frozen.

They stood just a few steps from her, dishevelled but no longer entwined. Indeed, the auburn-haired woman took a step sideways from him to disconnect more. The air around them shimmered with guilt, while the space around Stella was cold and solid and kept her standing. That, and the rigid layers of tuille petticoat and white silk skirt that surrounded her like a vast, upended ice cream cone.

She thought of ice cream then. It morphed into a vision of the wedding cake that was waiting at the reception hall, somewhere amongst the bridal party table at one end, and the five round tables that were each surrounded by eight chairs. Everything was white; the cake, the chairs and tablecloths; the plates and sugared almonds.

A pure white symphony that was now composed of lies.

They both nervously cleared their throats, which brought Stella’s attention back into the little room tucked behind the church. It was bare inside, except for a dark mahogany table and matching chairs sitting on a tired Persian rug. An almost life-sized crucifix clung to the raw stone wall to the right of the perpetrators. Jesus gazed serenely down at them from his plight.

“Stella,” the woman began.

“Don’t!”

“I was just wishing him the best,” she explained.

“Best? Best what? Best tongue down his throat?”

The woman cast her eyes to the rug. Stella watched this from the hard wall that was building itself around her heart again.

Stella turned to him.

“Sweetheart, I—”

“Don’t you dare!”

Her heart-wall grew stronger as she noticed his chin wet with saliva that wasn’t his. His blue eyes were still beautiful, but beauty didn’t live in the place Stella was retreating to. It was dark there, but not as dark as that place where monsters teemed. That place filled with creeping; with late nights and my special little girl.

And on those nights Daddy visited her room, he said she would get ice cream for being good. As soon as she promised to keep their secret, every time, she would go away to sit with her unicorn in the sunshine that had no warmth, and eat toffee apples that had no taste. In her dark place of no feelings, somehow she felt protected. As she grew up she found more places to hide. They were The Three Lands: Wine, Drugs, and Promiscuity. While she blindly travelled from one to the other, and often she visited all three at the same time, somehow she stumbled onto someone who gave her far more than a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a few hours in her bed. Someone who wasn’t one of the monsters. Someone who kept her safe from them.

Andrew with the sapphire-blue eyes.

As time removed itself from that church’s antechamber, Stella’s mind searched itself for clues. Andrew never met Daddy, who died messily at the end of the sawn-off shotgun fired point-blank at his own face. Her mother welcomed Andrew into their tatters, and they had become a family of three again. There were wonderful spring picnics on the lawn by Lake Leschenaultia. They watched Andrew play cricket in summer, lazing in the shade of gum trees while the crickets whirred. They shared happy winter dinners around the pine dining table, while the open fire crackled on logs. Above it, the mantelpiece held photos of her and her mother, and slowly Andrew’s face appeared between them in new frames. Stella’s favourite was a selfie at the beach; she in front holding the phone, her face a mask of concentration as she tried to frame them, and the other two exchanging a toothy laugh behind her.

That was the best day of her life. That night he had taken Stella to a fancy restaurant on the river to celebrate their first anniversary. They enjoyed a magnificent meal, coupled with the finest of imported sparkling waters. When her profiterole stack was placed on the table before her, she was enthralled by the pâtissier‘s artistry. The three dainty pastries were held together in a column with ice cream, and there was a glittering garnish on top.

“Oh my god!” shrieked Stella, cupping her hands over her nose and mouth. Andrew plucked the ring from the tip of the ensemble and got down on one knee. In front of delighted patrons and staff, he asked the only woman he would ever love to share the rest of her life with him.

Of course she said yes. There was no-one else for her. Andrew had brought her back to life. 

The first thing Stella did was phone her mother, who was beside herself at the news. When the call ended, she went and poured herself a big glass of Shiraz out of the bottle she kept hidden in her wardrobe. At last. At last Stella had a chance at a happy life with a good man who loved her. There had been many times she despaired her broken daughter could not heal. And then, just like that, God sent Andrew to glue her back together.

Praise.

The next twelve months were a flurry of planning. Mother and daughter were hands-on the whole way through, and Andrew helped whenever they let him. Stella’s two best friends, Mandy and Maude, were bridesmaids; Mandy with the blonde mane and Maude with the auburn. The bridesmaids’ dresses were designed in fabric that matched their hair, which they were going to have styled glamourously up for the ceremony. Everything had been planned to the last detail. Stella was only going to have one wedding in her life and it had to be perfect.

The couple agreed to get married in her mother’s local church. Her faith had helped her through all the pain her husband unleashed on the world, from leaving their bed to watch porn, to an affair with one of his students, to his final gory crescendo. Almost everything he did hurt those close to him, and all the time he believed he was the victim. Even when her six-year-old daughter finally shared their secret with her, confirming what almost every particle of her already knew but was unable to confront.

He told the mother, “That’s a lie! She must have seen something on TV. It’s not my fault she dreams up this bullshit!”

She told the father, “Just shut up,” as she phoned the police.

When she opened the door to let them in, they all heard the gun.

She tried her best from then on to atone, but nothing made Stella smile again until Andrew appeared. Handsome, thoughtful and patient, he truly was the blue-eyed angel from God.

He gave Stella a future when she couldn’t see past the night. He led her out of The Land of Numb and showed her how to be brave enough to feel, and the one thing she felt above all else was her devotion to this man. Everything she went through, the deception, grief and resurrection, all of it had led them to this day. The celebration of their love in marriage.

And here they were.

Stella noticed Andrew’s eyes brimming with tears that dripped onto his perfect black suit and sapphire-blue tie. She looked at the woman’s auburn hair held tightly in an updo. The woman saw that Stella was present again, took a step forward and held her arms towards her.

“Stella, I’m so sorry! Please...”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Your wedding starts in 20 minutes!”

“There is no wedding,” Stella replied, shaking her head as it filled with things she thought she had left behind. “I am. Not. Marrying. Him.”

Andrew looked distraught. She might have felt his remorse and his shame. She might have felt his love. She might even have felt pity, but there was nothing.

As if in a dream, she heard herself say, “You’ll never see me again.”

“Sweet Jesus!” exclaimed the woman. “Don’t do this! I love you!”

“Oh, stop pretending you care for me. You don’t.”

“Of course I do!”

“You’re horrible.”

“Please don’t be judging me, Stella!”

“I’m not, Mum,” she said simply as she raised her arm and pointed at the crucifix. “He is.”

Without another word, and without so much as a glance in Andrew’s direction, Stella turned to the door that led outside, opened it, and stepped into the quiet little cemetery. She discarded her bouquet of white roses by a gravestone that marked where Marigold Erin Shaw was Sleeping Peacefully. Like a ghost, she glided silently into the thick shelter of tall trees, and towards whatever lay beyond.

Andrew snapped out of his coma, bolted out the door and gave chase. He had to at least try. With every step he berated himself, while he tried not to think of how much more rubble he had added to the pile.

As he disappeared behind tree trunks, the mother sank into one of the mahogany chairs and began to sob. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that would reassure her it was going to be alright. Jesus’s gentle eyes, still gazing from above, caught hers.

They stared at each other.

“You know,” he said, “I was crucified for less.”