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He Barely Spoke
http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=5478
Author:  Maybe [ 28 Dec 2008, 21:33 ]
Post subject:  He Barely Spoke
I discovered these boards very recently, and am all the more a Chalet School fan for doing so! Having pored over the fiction archives, I felt inspired to write a little something of my own. I hope I am in the right house, please inform me if I am not! So this is called 'He Barely Spoke'

He barely spoke.

Outside seemed impenetrable; great panes of glass, glazed with condensation, blurred his view of the tangled garden. The walls seemed thicker. Sound was stifled, his head hung heavy with what could have been. He could hear the dull murmur of children in outer rooms, hear the quiet tones of his wife seeping through the stone to him, and yet he couldn’t feel it. His lungs felt clogged.

He thought of the hospital walls, into which so much pain and sadness had been etched. He thought of the figures lying prone, lifeless, on white starched sheets with their white starched faces, so much so that he barely saw the chubby legs of his children, come to greet him and to love him unconditionally. He thought of his wife’s slightly swollen stomach - the only reminder, sometimes, that life went on. That to counter every body in the hospital, somewhere else there was a woman tenderly nursing a bump on her stomach, eyes soft and heart full of possibility.

That night, held down under heavy sheets, he felt his heartbeat finally slowing as he pressed his hand against that precious curve, curving his palm around it with a surge of happiness. He almost smiled as he felt his wife’s lips pressed to his own, knowing it was only a matter of time before the confession of a new child would slide through them.

“Jack?” he heard. “Are you still awake?” He squeezed his eyes shut. There were times when his heart became so confused, torn between the beauty of life and the horror of it, that he couldn’t find words that had any currency.

“Jack,” was sighed again across his forehead, breath cursing his skin like a silent blessing. His name as a statement, not a question, was somehow reassuring. “I’m pregnant.” Thoughts flashed once more to the bodies in the hospital and to babies in cradles. He opened his eyes wide.

“I know.” Joey sighed, wrapped her arms around him once more, knowing it was only at times like these, in bed and vulnerable, that Jack would ever let his guard slip. She ran a finger across his wrist before letting her other hand come to rest in the small of his back, smiling as he relaxed into her grip. “He died today.”

“Morris?”

“Mmm,” he cast his eyes down to her nose, her mouth, anywhere but her eyes, hating his own confusion.

“Wasn’t unexpected,” she murmured, and he nodded, choked for a second, letting the tears he’d been holding in all day slide down his cheeks and into the soft cotton of her night dress. “Oh God, Jack, Jack my love,” she sighed. “How you bottle things up like this is beyond me.” He felt the cool back of her hand press against his eyelids, and sighed softly, letting the last of the pressure in his chest find its way out.

“I think – it’s easy to forget that-“

“To forget that?”

“People are dying every day there! And yet, yet… I don’t – we don’t become – desensitised – you know? It’s just-“ he yawned suddenly, exhaustion after emotional release taking over. “It’s hard.” He yawned again, and Joey smiled at him, eyes soft.

“I love you Jack Maynard,” she said solemnly. “I think you are probably both the strongest and bravest person I know, and – and – I know that however hard you find things… you, you cope. You always cope. But for now,” and she raised her hand to his face, running a finger lightly over each of his eyebrows, feeling every little hair. His eyes drooped shut beneath her touch. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I-“ he mumbled, already half-asleep. “I love you.” Joey ran her hands through his hair, loving him all the more for having the courage to admit his own weaknesses.

She lay awake a while longer, watching her husband sleep peacefully on, gathering strength for the next day, and eventually fell asleep at his side.

When she woke in the morning, she found him gone, but with a handwritten note hastily scrawled and left on the dresser.

‘Jo,

We're going for a walk later to discuss our new child. I apologise for being such a closed book lately, I can only imagine your frustration! For now, have a great day, and I will speak to you later.

All my love,

Jack’

Down at the San., Jack’s mind was full of his wife and his family to the extent that although he saw the grief, like he did every other day, he didn’t feel it.

He barely spoke.
Author:  leahbelle [ 28 Dec 2008, 21:49 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was very poignant. Thank you, Maybe.
Author:  MaryR [ 28 Dec 2008, 21:59 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was beautiful, Maybe - and so beautifully and sensitively written.

Thank you.
Author:  Lesley [ 28 Dec 2008, 22:02 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was lovely - thank you.
Author:  PaulineS [ 28 Dec 2008, 22:22 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was a moving account of the pressure Jack must have been under so often, but was rarely spoken of.

A lovely first post, congratulations and welcome.
Author:  Alison H [ 29 Dec 2008, 00:52 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
Welcome to the CBB, Maybe, and thank you for a very moving drabble.
Author:  Elder in Ontario [ 29 Dec 2008, 05:14 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was a very moving reflection on how hard it must have been for Jack - and indeed for many other doctors - to keep a balance between their home life and the suffering they saw every day in the hospital. Thanks, Maybe.
Author:  Fiona Mc [ 31 Dec 2008, 14:58 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was lovely and so accurate
Author:  Vick [ 04 Jan 2009, 00:24 ]
Post subject:  Re: He Barely Spoke
That was lovely :cry:

Thanks Maybe
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