Sunday, 7 October 2012

In a Corner Suite



I apologise for the long gap since my last post. My mother is seriously ill in hospital right now - due for an upgraded vehicle. Her 80 something year old physical form is disintegrating around her- but she is a battler.

The positive news is that the community of extended family which surrounds her have set aside their individual concerns to support and honour her spirit. Healing is happening all around- especially when we remember not to take ourselves too seriously. We smile at the synchronicities: Room #7 in Ward 77, a corner suite with a regal view, and the wonderful nurse named Gloria. The All has all in hand.





Drawing from life Chapter 6

On Friday evening one of Max Bruch’s Violin Concertos was on the stereo. It was a CD Rhona had brought to Bill’s place with her. He confessed he rather liked it, even though it wasn’t the sort of thing he chose to listen to himself. He had ordered Chinese and while they waited for it to arrive he sat in the lounge sketching her curled lazily at one end of his sofa. Over dinner they planned how they would spend their first weekend together.
Rhona gave him a set of antique chisels. Later he spent some time showing her a few of his better pieces of carving. He had never really done cosy before and was surprised at how much he liked it. He told her he wanted to get her a key cut so she could come and go from his place whenever she liked.

The next morning Rhona woke to the sound of the phone ringing. She heard Bill answer it in the kitchen. When he finished his conversation she got up and went out to him on dancing feet. He was bent over the kitchen table, standing with his palms flat on its surface and his head dropped down. His hair had fallen forward to hide his profile. She laid her left hand on his right shoulder, peering around to see his expression, saying “Bill?”
He pulled his head up with effort and turned, slowly enveloping her in his arms.
“What is it?” Her voice was hushed in response to his distress. He pulled her in closer and pivoted her around to face outwards from him, holding her tightly.
 “Nothing”. He lifted his head and crossed his arms over her body, pressing her spine to his chest. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She stood silent, waiting. Finally he said “I have been fired- restructured- ten years ...  longest I’ve ever stayed in one place.” Rhona remained quiet as he turned her around to face him. He sat wearily in a dining chair, pulling her doll-like on to his lap.
“I have to go up there this morning,” he sniffed in a disapproving way. “Harsh though eh? Letting me go on Friday night- without a word- then calling this morning- 8am on a Saturday morning- on my own time. Can you believe it?”
She sat listening, a finger moving gently across the back of his hand, hearing the unsaid words with the spoken ones. He looked at her now but with shuttered eyes. “This will be in the papers next week. You of all people know how they work.”
Rhona followed her own breath in and out in absolute silence. She could hear him in the background now. He was saying it would be better all round if she just left and let him get on with the PR for a few weeks. Maybe they could see each other at some venue or other- to catch up.
On second thoughts, Bill was saying, it would be best for him to go away for a while. Have a complete break. He was starting to sound as if he was losing control. Rhona stood up slowly and he bounded to his feet. The chair was knocked over backwards in his sudden release of energy. Still she didn’t speak. Now Bill was saying how the show was over now and she would have to find some other lucky fellow to assuage her boredom. There was more, but she had stopped listening by then.
“Bill.” She managed a low pitch to her voice and a calm tone. He ignored her. He had begun ranting that it was useless for her to want to discuss it. There was nothing to discuss. She heard a sing-song, rehearsed quality to his speech. It really wouldn’t work long term, he was saying.
“Bill.” She spoke firmly, expecting a response this time. It set him off again.
“What is wrong with you woman?” He was yelling, demanding a fight. “Look, I’ve explained. Finito.”
Rhona calmly returned to the bedroom to dress. When she returned, her shoes squeaking on the wooden floor, Bill was still at the table. He sat with his head down on his folded arms, with his face in to the table top. He didn’t look up. She let herself out on to the street, pulling the door behind her with a soft click of the deadlock. It was a beautiful clear morning. She crossed over to the petrol station and hailed the taxi that was just pulling away from the forecourt. There was no need to look back.

The severance meeting at the Museum was over in no time. Bill had expected some debriefing procedure but there was none. It took more time for him to clear his personal stuff out of the office. He flinched at the thought of someone else going through his desk when he saw the business paperwork had already been removed. He was not left alone in the room at any time.
He drove Phil’s van back, just under an hour later, and stacked his removal boxes on the kitchen table.  There was ten years of work reduced to a few cartons and a severance cheque smaller than he had expected. Philip had said the van wasn’t needed until after midday but Bill decided to return it promptly, before opening time. Later there would be too many people about. He would be seen and have to explain.

Naturally Philip wanted to know what was going on when the van came back so soon.
Distracted, Bill ran his hand over his hair and explained he had been given the push. Philip asked carefully “Cost cutting?”
Bill shrugged and stuffed his fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Only partly. Art curating is out Phil. Event management is in. It’s not my thing anyway – multi media. It’s probably just as well.”
Philip nodded. “Any plans?”
Bill blew out his cheeks. “I don’t know yet. Go bush for a while. Have a holiday maybe.”
He could see Philip approved, but when he asked if Rhona knew about it Bill became impatient. His jaw flexed before he told him it had nothing to do with her. Philip only raised his eyebrows.
Bill turned to go. “I’ll be in touch when I know what I’m doing. Oh, if I go away can I redirect my mail here for a while?”
Philip had wandered to the street door with him as they spoke. He stood on the footpath, leaning against the door frame. “You know it’s no problem. Just don’t ask me to pay all your bills.” Bill made an effort to smile at that. “I’d better push off.”

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