Ally was painting a mural on their living room wall, perched atop a ladder, wearing a paint-splattered pair of navy blue overalls. Her long hair was caught up beneath a bright pink bandana, and she brushed wisps of it away from her face as she concentrated, painting one brush stroke at a time, slow and steady. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked, completely oblivious to the fact that he was watching her.
The walls were littered with black and white photographs, mostly ones she took while they had been travelling around the country on his bike. Memories of their life together surrounded them. Then she turned and noticed him standing there and she smiled – the kind of smile that made his knees go weak even now, all these years later. She put the paintbrush down and climbed down the ladder, talking all the while, smiling that smile.
She crossed the floor with a skip and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own arms around him and giggling as he twirled her around, the bandana coming loose and releasing her hair, smelling of paint and vanilla.
He lay her down on the couch, covering her mouth with his and smiling to himself as he felt her body respond. She wriggled beneath him as he lay down on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist and locking behind his back as his lips sought out her neck. Her arms snaked around his ribs as she pulled him closer, leaning into him…
A sharp rap on the window brought the fantasy crashing down. His eyes shot open and the worried face of Father David stared back at him.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure if this was fantasy or reality and he blinked, trying to put things back in their rightful places – fantasy there, reality here.
The priest’s mouth was moving. He stared at him blankly, taking a few moments to realise that he needed to wind down his window to hear him. Feeling oddly detached, he did so.
“Jack? Are you alright?”
Jack automatically nodded, incapable of anything else.
The priest searched the interior of the car, leaning on the sill. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”
He felt drugged, like the emotions were there, but they were so distant now, just beyond his reach. He went from feeling everything just minutes ago, to feeling absolutely nothing.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
The priest looked him over again, obviously not convinced. “What are you doing out here, son?”
“I don’t know.”
“You look like you need some air,” he mumbled, reaching in to squeeze Jack’s shoulder. “Care to take a stroll with me?”
Jack found himself exiting the car on autopilot. He looked around him, dazed, unsure. The priest’s hand on his shoulder again grounded him and he turned towards him.
“Come on,” Father David prodded gently. “Let’s go this way.”
They walked in silence at first, Jack’s head still foggy as they made their way into the small cemetery. He stopped to wait as Father David closed the gate behind them, and they strolled up the centre path together slowly.
“You look like you could use a friendly ear, Jack.”
Jack waded through the words in his head. Father David and he weren’t exactly bosom buddies and it felt weird even being with him now, when he didn’t really consider himself one of his parishioners. And besides that, where should he start when everything was so messed up? He looked around them, at the well-kept gardens and shady trees that overlooked the headstones.
“Maybe I can help?” Father David offered gently.
Jack huffed out a laugh in spite of himself. Embarrassed, he shoved his hands into his pockets and hung his head. “I wish it was that easy.”
The priest didn’t speak for a few moments, and the only sound was of their footsteps up the path. The headstones spread out either side of them like a miniature city, dotted with flowers and greenery.
“I saw what happened at your Dad’s funeral,” Father David said, glancing sideways at him. “I didn’t know your Dad as well as you did, but I think I can safely say I knew him longer,” the priest continued. “We talked about a lot of things in that time, especially over the past couple of years. I think he would’ve been proud of you for coming home. It can’t have been an easy thing to do.”
Jack’s hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. “I’m not so sure about that. I don’t feel like I’ve made any difference at all, coming back here.”
The rhythm of their footsteps lulled him, and he felt rather than saw Father David’s nod of understanding.
“You know, life’s a funny thing. You’re so busy doing things, living it, that oftentimes you don’t really have a chance to step back and see the bigger picture – the effect you’re having on everyone around you.”
Jack’s heart raced as he looked over at him.