‘Listen to that, Tom.’
They stood, languishing in the moment, in absolute silence as they listened to the flute-like melody of the wood thrush. It was as though everything was well in the world, that is until the couple had to say their goodbyes once again and the parting felt harder than ever. Clara asked herself how on earth you could miss someone before even leaving them.
Tom was already asking himself the same thing.
‘How can something feel so good between two people?’ said Tom as he intertwined his fingers in between Clara’s. He wished he could bottle up this feeling and that the date would last forever. Now he had to go back to his lonely home when all he wanted was to feel Clara’s soft hands in his.
‘I don’t know, Tom. I guess it feels right somehow between us.’
‘It really does. I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives. Strange, isn’t it?’
‘Not really. When two people are good together, I guess that’s what happens.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘I know I am,’ said Clara who smiled at him teasingly. ‘So, what adventure shall we plan next? Where do you fancy?’
‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Ashmolean Museum. What do you reckon?’
‘You know, it’s years since I’ve been there. I think it must’ve been a school trip with Eleanora the last time I went. Go on then, that’ll be fun. I can revert to my childhood.’
Now she thought of it, spending time with Tom made her feel younger than ever. She was practically a teenager skipping around the place. Well, if it wasn’t for the knee that played up from time to time. It was all the kneeling down she had done over her lifetime that had done it.
‘Wonderful. Until next time then,ma chérie.’
‘Ooh, you speak French too. I like it. You really are an enigma.’
‘Not really. I just loved that song “Je t’aime”. That’s where I picked up most of my French.’
Clara laughed. ‘You know you could have fibbed there and I’d be none the wiser. My French is non-existent. That’s what I love about you. You’re so honest.’
Tom smiled, but if Clara had looked closely, she would have noticed that his eyes betrayed that smile. He averted his gaze and quickly said his goodbyes. After all, he knew only too well that honest would be the last word his family would use to describe him... and he agreed.
ChapterTen
Tom had enjoyed his day with Clara and wanted to dwell on the memory for a little longer. However, as much as he thought about the nice walk they had enjoyed and her glorious company, the beer garden had been his worst nightmare. How it frustrated him that no matter what he did there were always reminders of his past. He thought there might be no hope for him when even talk of a holiday created mayhem in his mind. Clara might have been chatting about her pilgrimage, and although he was interested in experiencing this himself, it still made Tom shudder as he thought of the last holiday he had been on.
Although he could only recollect parts of that family break to Crete all those years ago, he remembered how he enjoyed it mostly for the fact that he could use the excuse of relaxation for his abundance of daytime drinking. After all, lazy days in the sun with a cocktail in hand was what all holidaymakers did. As for cracking open an ice-cold local beer under the sun, he figured that was the reason people went on holiday. An annual break meant you could drink from breakfast until bedtime and put it down to treating yourself after working hard in your tedious accounting office all year. Even in an airport it was acceptable to drink at 5a.m. It was practically encouraged and, quite frankly, absolute bliss.
However, what felt enjoyable for Tom wasn’t joyful at all for Diana and certainly not their son, Josh. He was 15 when they had travelled to Crete and Tom remembered how Josh was so excited to take out a quad bike with his dad. As Tom thought about that trip on his walk home from his date, he shuddered as he remembered Josh’s face and the sheer disappointment as his dad turned up too drunk from the nearby beach bar to walk, let alone drive anything. Momentarily, Tom closed his eyes. Would he be able to escape the memory if his eyes were closed? He felt so worthless when he thought back. How could he have done such a thing?
He told himself it was too late for regrets. But he suddenly felt like the world was crashing in on him. Everywhere he looked there were reminders and, not only that, but temptation too.
When Tom walked past a group of office workers who were getting merry outside a bar, it was as if they were goading him – they may as well have shouted, “Look at what you’re missing out on”! He took note of the exaggerated laughs, the loud conversation and the friendships that were being formed over alcohol. It was like a glue that bonded them. Oh, how he missed that feeling. As he watched a guy in overly tight grey suit trousers and a white shirt pick up his pint glass and put his lips to it, Tom had to turn his head. His mouth had begun to salivate as he recalled the feeling of when the first trickle of liquid used to flow down his oesophagus. Then there would be the warmth that spread over his body as it started to work its magic. But then came his favourite part. After a few more drinks fears and anxiety faded; it was when he felt invincible and as though nothing mattered in the world.
That was what he used to look forward to all day and when all his inner torment about doing a job he didn’t enjoy so that he could pay the bills, left him alone. The problem was that it only lasted so long. He would quickly move on from this stage and start to stagger, slur, and sometimes could even get annoyed, despite being calm and collected when sober. He never remembered shouting at a neighbour about his loud music, but everyone in the vicinity did. He wished that everyone else had the same drunken amnesia that he had. That was the worst moment. That’s when the desperation erupted along with the realisation of what he had done. Then he would encounter the feeling of sickness, not only physically but also mentally. The only thing to do was to repeat the cycle and so by mid-morning it would start over again.
It would begin with the contentment, the euphoria and the invincibility, until Diana had suffered enough and left Tom for the man she had been secretly having an affair with. He didn’t blame her, but it was the catalyst that threw him deeper into addiction. There had been no point getting up in the morning when even his family had abandoned him. That’s when something heinous happened. Something so terrible that what little relationship remained with Josh was fractured for good.
Tom had sat alone on his sofa for days, crying, telling himself he needed help until finally, he googled Alcoholics Anonymous, where he met his wonderful mentor, Pat O’Sullivan.
Going to AA was a lifeline as he admitted things to sympathetic strangers that he wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. Nobody was more empathetic than Pat, who Tom hit it off with from the start.
Addiction and a love of rock bands bonded them, and Pat was the only person who seemed to understand how Tom was feeling. Pat had met many guys like Tom over the years. He was an experienced sponsor at AA who had struggled with alcoholism himself since he was 16. What started out as a few drinks after work at a Youth Training Scheme in a building society during the late Eighties eventually spiralled to him losing his family when he chose alcohol over them, which was a similarity many of the members shared, including Tom. Like any addiction, Pat knew how quickly booze could take over and understood exactly how his newer members would be feeling. Admitting you had a problem was the hardest step and he was pleased Tom had recognised this and hoped he had kicked the habit for good. Although unbeknownst to Tom, he sensed that the way he couldn’t forgive himself for what happened with Josh, and feeling unworthy of moving on could ultimately be his downfall. Still, he gave him all the encouragement he could and promised him that he would beat this, which Tom had for the past two years.
Pat was concerned for Tom’s future though. Sometimes he had tried to talk about what he envisioned his future to be like.
‘I don’t know. Getting through one day is enough. I can’t imagine any future,’ Tom would tell him.
