The Wave


It was a wave, big enough that I could not hold it in. It washed over me and pulled me under. I thought I was over this, that it wouldn’t be able to get me any more. But here was the wave that was pulling the tears from my eyes and renewing the grief in my heart.

There was no use; the only way to counter it was to sit on the soft grass and make Ben sit obediently beside me. I tried as hard as I could to stop the flow of incessant tears as they streamed down what was bound to be my blotchy face. I don’t know what set it off. Maybe it was the beautiful day that my father would have loved so much, or maybe it was the way that Ben barked at a dog in the distance, making me think of my mother’s puppy love. All I now knew was that I was sitting in the park, under a willow tree, hot tears streaking down my face, no tissue to wipe the snot that had started its descent down my philtrum.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” I quickly glanced up, hoping that whatever remnants of mucus could be discretely discarded without the tall, dark and handsome man now approaching me noticing it. He had a Kleenex packet dangling from his outstretched hand. Thank god, but also, why now?

“Oh, thanks…” I said, grabbing at the white tissue quickly, making sure to wipe my nose with as much grace as I could muster. “I appreciate the help.” But can you please not notice how gross I look right now? I added silently to myself.

“Sorry to be intrusive, and you don’t have to answer, but are you all right?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Normally, I would have asked the gentlemen who gave me the much needed help to kindly move along, there was nothing to see here. But his brown eyes seemed to be ebbing with concern, his face the perfect statue of serenity. And it broke me.

I scrunched my face up, trying to stop the swell of tears, but all I managed to achieve was making myself look even more grotesque. Bonus points.

The tall gentlemen folded his body, kneeling in front of me. “I’m going to guess that you aren’t okay, and that’s okay by the way, I’m not judging. But can I suggest something?” Seeing the brusque nod of my head he continued. “Well, I was thinking that maybe you could come with me somewhere? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m an emotional eater.” I highly doubted that. “There’s an ice cream parlour just around the corner that I would love to treat you to. And they allow dogs,” he added, petting Ben’s head.

All I could manage by way of consent was a thumbs up (I regretted it as soon as I did it) as I rose from my crouch. The only saving grace in the situation was that he seemed to like Ben. He insisted on taking the leash so that I could better compose myself, which suited me fine. My dad would have told me not to because you don’t know who this guy is but my mom would have told me to take a chance. In this case, I liked mom’s thinking better.

We rounded the corner and entered the shop. I ordered the delicious (as well as emotionally potent) chocolate chip cookie dough while he ordered plain old vanilla.

“So, can I ask who you are and why you’re being so nice?” I looked at him tentatively.

“Oh well my name is Andy Matthews and I saw you were upset so I chose to do the right thing.” The smile he gave me seemed to melt my heart and my ice cream. But the name seemed familiar, and it sparked something inside my head.

“Andy Matthews, as in the Andy Matthews that handled Mary and John McDonnel’s insurance policy? As in the Andy Matthews that withheld their money that could have paid for the medical help they needed? Maybe I should introduce myself; Rowan Mcdonnel. Nice to meet you.”

His silence was deafening and that was all the answer I needed.

“I thank you for your kindness, it did seem sincere, but I have only one thing to say to you: I am now alone because my parents are gone, done, beyond this realm. They got into a car accident and because you were incompetent, they are now gone. They are gone.”
The wave seemed to turn into a tsunami as the real impact of what I was saying hit me. It was washing me ashore, in a way that I hoped to be cleansing but only felt like a red-hot face and lung heaving gasps. This is not what I wanted to be doing: blaming someone for my parents passing in the middle of a puddle of my own emotions. They had raised me better – or at least I hope they did. They told me to forgive and move on, to learn and live and love and every other cliché that they could have possibly thought of. And that is exactly what I was going to do.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I choked out.

“No it’s fine. You’re completely right. It was my fault. I saw you in the park and recognised your face so I thought I would make sure you were okay. But I want you to know it is completely my fault. I am so sorry. I should have done everything possible to make sure that your parents were okay. But they tell us that it’s part of the job. And I was hoping to believe them. But I can’t and I won’t believe that. I am so sorry. So incredibly and irreversibly sorry.”
Andy’s defeated eyes and kneaded forehead seemed to portray every feeling he could not say. He had tried his best and no one could blame him for that. And he had to deal with the guilt that seemed to be weighing in his very being, a guilt that could not be forgiven, as there was nobody left to say the words. But all I could do was try.
“You have nothing to feel sorry about.”