Beneath the Watchful Ginkgoes

Ginkgo biloba is one of my favourite trees. They are ancient, beautiful, widely used in medicine and a rare delight in England - but it was Jackie.Hikaru who pointed out the most poignant thing about them - they are 被爆樹木 (Hibakujumoku - "A-bomb trees" or "survivor trees"). I didn't know that before writing this, but it's strange how often coincidences like this arise in life.

As always - thank you to the lovely Jackie.Hikaru for being such a good sport; if you haven't read her writing... well, you really are missing out.

I

"So I got a promotion today. Not much of one, and more responsibility, but it's a bit more money, and that helps. They want me to manage people. Can you imagine that? Me, having to manage a team of others? Hah. I know, right. They don't know what they're in for. It's going to be chaos."

I smiled and listened to the rustling of the leaves around me.

"I know. I know I can do it. After all, how hard can it be? Gantt charts, status reports, weekly check ins... I've got all that. It's easy. I'll manage. Besides... the people I'll be managing are... gentle. They look out for me. They always have. So... it will be easy. And anyway, it's either me or Danny Myers. Yeah. I know, right? So it's not like they have much of a choice if they don't want to be micromanaged!"

I laughed brightly.

"So... yeah. Anyway. That's my news. I know you probably don't have much to tell me, but that's okay. Here. I've brought you some fresh flowers. I'll put the old ones on the verge back by the gate so they'll get mulched and go back into it all again."

I took a breath, sighed it out, stared up at the faint wispy clouds high above us.

"So yeah. That's all I have, Lizzy. I can't believe it's been nearly two years now. Oh. Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to cry. I know you hate that. Stupid. I thought I'd have run out of tears for you by now. Anyway. Oh God... um... yeah, so I'm okay. I'll see you next week, alright? Same time, if that works for you? Ha ha, not like it won't, not like you're going anywhere, are you? You're far too goody-two-shoes for that."

I kissed my fingers and touched them to her name.

"I miss you," I breathed, biting back the sob. "I love you. I will always love you. See you real soon, sweetie."

I turned away from the place they'd buried my dreams, and slowly made my way back to the path.

Behind me, the yellowing leaves of her two silent Ginkgo guardians stirred in the breeze; my fiancée's grave lay dark and solemn in the deep, dappled shade beneath them.

II

Her stone glittered in the dew; the faint silver specks within the granite lending a strange infinity to the surface, almost as if there were droplets within the droplets within the droplets descending down into a vast sunless sea...

Snowfall in the outer shadows, souls drifting down to the final shore...

I blinked.

"Stop doing that," I scolded her. "I don't have time for that part of me any more, you know that. There's too much shit going on for me to... to do that any more. Stop pushing. I stopped writing when you died. I'm not going to start again, and that's final."

I'd brought primroses and foxgloves and little bluebells this time, bound in their place with stalks of grass and some of the cuttings from her favourite willow tree down near the weir. I cleared the old, faded and wilted roses and lily-of-the-valley from the little steel holder that her da had pushed into the soil for me on that day, on that day...

My hands shook; I hunched forward as the black wave of grief reared up...

"Stop," I whispered. "No. Stop. Stop. Please."

The wind answered me; my eyes stung and I dragged the rough sleeve of her awful, garish magenta jumper over them.

I focussed on just breathing until I could speak again.

"So... your Da sends his love. He'll be around tomorrow, he says. He's fine," I added, once I could. "I still go visit him every couple of days, you know. Your room is still the same; he won't change it. Yeah, I know, he's stubborn. But can you blame him? You were all he had. I'm... I'm not a replacement for you, Lizzy, I never was. Oh, of course, I know he loves me, and I love him fit to burst... but you were the reason for that, sweetheart. We still cry every so often over a glass of wine. Well... more than every so often, I guess. He... he..."

I took a breath, held it until my ribs hurt.

"He told me that I need to let go of you. That I need to move on. That he was too old to but there was no reason for such a... a precious creature, is what he called me, the cheek... anyway... yeah. So your dad reckons I should try dating again. Hah. It's not going to happen. Nobody will ever replace you. I will never love anybody as much as I love you. There's no room in me for anyone else. And I know that sounds ridiculous, and you don't have to scowl at me like that over it. It's just the way it is. Like you being here and me not being down there beside you. So. Um... so yeah. Not much else to tell you today, Lizzy. It's been quiet. Mark and Louisa send their love; they moved to the States, did I tell you? I can never remember what I've told you; you should tell me if I've told you these things before..."

I stopped.

I knew I was veering far into deranged even by my usually extraordinarily-fucked-up standards.

I took a breath and sighed it out into the breeze, wondering who the faint eddies of my breath would touch next week or next month or next year...

"Sorry," I said. "I'm... getting distracted more, these days. And yes, before you nag me, I'm taking my pills. It's not that. It's... it's like Bilbo said, Lizzy. I feel like butter scraped over too much bread. Things just don't seem to matter as much any more."

I traced the delicate gold-inlaid cursive of her name.

Elizabeth Shannon O'Connor. My Lizzy, my Arwen Undómiel...

She was my mad little impulse kiss at a first year varsity party - a dare from a friend who'd noticed the way that the tall, dark, Celtic goddess was staring at me with such naked longing. Somehow that dare had become a date that had become a relationship that had blossomed into six years of Heaven on Earth...

And ended with an undiagnosed heart defect and no time to say any of the things I'd so desperately needed to say to her.

My dreams now lay forever beneath the emerald-green grass.

"Until the long years of my life are utterly spent," I said, finishing the morbid thought. "I know," I added. "Quoting Tolkien again. I know."

I squatted down and leaned forward to touch my forehead to her headstone.

"I miss you," I whispered. "Every day is harder. Your face is fading. There's no reason to go on. And yet... I do. Because I know you'll never forgive me if I don't at least try. So... I'll try. Just... promise you won't be angry with me if I fail."

I realised that I was crying again; I gasped a breath and fought for control. I hated crying in front of her. It always made her cry as well...

"I'll... see you again, soon. I'm having dinner with Da tomorrow night. I'm sure he'll try again. But I know it's because he loves me almost as much as he loves you. So... I'll be gentle when I tell him to get fucked, okay? Okay. That's it. Gotta get back to work. I miss you more than anything, Elizabeth. See you soon."

I turned, and clenched my teeth together, and stared to take the slow, impossible steps away from her.

It was sunny.

It had no right to be sunny.

Sunlight shouldn't be allowed into a world that didn't have her in it any more.

III

I sniffed, and then sniffed again.

It was my birthday this time, such as it was. The third-hardest day of all. Messages from friends, from her da, from my mum... all so gentle and kind and warm and loving. I was surrounded by people who loved me.

But the person I loved most was silent these days.

I still had her last voicemail on my phone; she'd been too weak to type so her Da had held the handset for her so that she could tell me she loved me one more time before they put her under for the desperate surgery from which she'd never woken.

I sobbed once, then bit down hard on my tongue to choke off any more. Pain helped. Pain focussed me on the present, kept me from going adrift in Time.

Two years older. Two years more broken. Two springs without my bright and shining Evening Star to guide me home...

I walked slowly between the two towering Cedars of Lebanon at the northern arm of the cemetery; the weathered stones beneath my shoes were speckled with leaves and twigs and cones after the prior night's storm.

I rounded a bend in the shadow-dappled walkway and saw a figure ahead of me; another girl, young, tall and thin like Lizzy had been - and dressed all in black apart from a faded grey button-up jumper.

She was holding a little white stuffed bear, stepping mechanically towards me, flanked by the ranks of ever-vigilant shrubs.

Her hollow eyes didn't track me as we closed.

Her cheeks were red and her deep walnut curls were straggling down from the ponytail that had failed her.

She passed me by and stumbled on; I caught her faint, hopeless sobs on the morning's mourning wind. Her scent was the gentlest waft of jasmine; a scent of life and growth that was utterly incongruous here.

She looked impossibly young - far too young to be here alone.

I stopped and turned and watched her, my heart full of sympathy for this fellow pilgrim on the road of bones.

And then a slow crawling horror mounted in me as I realised her only possible destination - the new graves.

I watched her stagger to a halt beside one that was decorated with little balloons and toys and candles - too small to hold an adult, but still just big enough to cradle the awful final footnote of someone's entire world.

I couldn't help myself; I closed the distance between us, hovering back just far enough that I'd not intrude on her...

She reached down towards the fresh turned earth and collapsed to her knees, then slumped forward into a messy, heedless bundle.

The noise she made chilled my blood, and I scurried to her side.

I didn't speak, there was no point, she was in no state to hear anything I said.

So I did what I wished someone could have done for me, and got my arms under her and lifted her out of the debris and detritus and muck and held her against me and let her cry as I stared, blinking, up at the uncaring blue sky above us.

Her child's grave? A sibling's? There were few other possible explanations.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, over and over again. I didn't care if she heard, I didn't care if she believed, I just needed her to know that there was someone there for her.

She uncurled by reluctant degrees. Her wracking, gagging gasps slowly softened. Her helpless rigidity passed; whatever darkness that had seized her released her and went looking for some new victim.

She cried on and on, but it was softer now, hopeless little keening shudders, like a child...

She was still a child. She couldn't be much more than nineteen, or maybe twenty at a touch, even with the premature ageing that grief gifted those of us who remained behind.

To be so young, and to be here, in this place, doing this...

I stroked her hair, stroked her back, gave the gentle liberties of comfort I'd never have dared before I'd buried the better half of me and left sanity behind.

And slowly she stopped crying. She hiccoughed, pulled her legs up against her... and then raised a weary arm to cling to me. Shivers rippled through her; I winced as I clutched her to me; she was skin-and-bones, this girl. Almost certainly starving herself; I'd done the same. It was unintentional; food just lost any importance when your soul was torn in two.

"Hey," I whispered. "It's okay to cry. I'm Becca. It's okay. Shh. I've got you. What's your name?"

"A... strid," she wailed.

"Hi Astrid. Hi, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'm just going to stay here for a bit, okay? I'm just going to hold you like this until you've caught your breath."

She tucked her face in against me. I slowly and gently stroked her hair for her, and stared out at our surroundings through my burning, blurry eyes.

"I'm here to visit someone important to me," I breathed, after she'd calmed a little more. "Her name is Elizabeth. Who are you here to visit, Astrid?"

"My brother," she gasped. "He... he..."

And she wailed and clutched at me.

"Oh honey. Oh God, I'm so sorry."

"Eleven. Eleven," she gagged. "Sweetest. Most gentle..."

"Shh. Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. It's not fair. It's never fair. They get taken and we have to stay. There's no sense to it. It hurts more than anything. I'm so sorry."

I took a breath, sighed it out, took another.

"But... we owe it to them to try. We have to live the lives they should have had. We have to burn a million times brighter than them so that people remember them through us. It's the hardest thing there is to do. But we have to do it, somehow. Where are your parents, Astrid?"

"Home. Too... broken. Only a week. Mummy won't eat. But... but I had to bring his bear to him. They... they buried him without Mister Nosey. How could they? How could they?"

I tightened my grip around her.

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered, the agony in her words echoing deep inside me. "People... grieve in different ways. They need their symbols, something to hold on to. I'm sure he understands."

She was crying again, and it was all I could do to hold my own tears back. So instead I simply held her and rocked her and whispered gentle, comforting nonsense that I forgot as soon as it left my lips.

Exhaustion silenced her at last; I held her for a few moments longer and then stood. I braced my arms under hers and lifted her; she was taller than me, but so thin that she felt like she weighed nothing at all.

"There," I whispered. I sniffed, dried my eyes. "That will do for now. There will be more tears later. There are always more. It's a blessing and a curse, see?"

She stood, watching me mutely, face still wet and raw. Then it was as if a gate dropped down as she went still, cold and implacable as old ice.

I recognised the iron mask of madness. And I knew there was nothing more I could do for her - not here, not now. So I sighed and straightened the disordered collar of her jumper for her.

"Will you be okay getting home?"

"I have to get to work," she said, woodenly.

"Okay, pet. Will you be okay getting to work?"

"Yes."

I nodded, and stepped back.

"Okay," I repeated. "Be safe, Astrid. It doesn't get easier. It just... hurts a little less, with time, sometimes. I wish there was something I could say that would help, but... well, anything else I said would be a lie. Be brave, and take care of yourself, yeah? They check in on us, from time to time - if we're lucky."

I began to turn away; only to squeak in surprise as she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me against her.

Then, as if scalded, she released me, and turned, staggering unsteadily off towards the path that would lead her to the cemetery gates.

I watched her go, and it was all I could do to keep breathing.

Poor baby, I thought. Poor, broken little bird. Far too young for her to discover how cold and hard this life could be.

Just like I'd been.

I slowly made my way to Elizabeth's side, but for once I had nothing to say to her.

She didn't complain. But then, she seldom did, these days.

IV

"So that's me," I whispered. "It's going okay. My team's stepping up, and I've got good feedback from my seniors on how I'm doing. Which is kind of funny, because I really don't know what I'm doing at all. Um... Louisa's pregnant, I'm not sure if I'd told you that, and Tim and Tony are looking into adoption. What's that? Oh, yeah, they bought a house. Sorry. I thought I'd told you. I'm forgetting things. Stuff's slipping through my fingers. If I didn't have all the photos and your voicemails, why, sometimes I think I'd just float away like dandelion seeds. It would be a nice end, just going slowly off on the wind to who cares where..."

A movement in my peripheral vision; I paused and looked up.

Astrid stood in the shade of one of the birch trees that lined the path; she was staring up the gentle slope at me.

"Are you hinting something at me? That's not fair. If you're bored of me talking to you, you could just say. I'm joking, babe. I know you'd never do that."

I dropped to my haunches and touched my forehead to Lizzy's headstone, then kissed my fingers and touched her name.

"From my heart to yours, forever," I said.

Then I stood, and took a breath for strength before I turned.

Astrid's face was pale and there were black rings under her eyes. She watched me uncertainly as I closed the distance between us.

She made an effort to straighten, and did her best to push her shoulders back.

She was dressed in figure-hugging black; a tight polo-neck jumper and black denim leggings that disappeared into sensible black and pink sneakers.

But her hair was wild and free; she was tall, beautiful as the Morrigan... and utterly, utterly broken.

I sighed.

"Hi there," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly. "I didn't mean to bother you. I just... I saw you, and I... I needed to thank you. For..."

I smiled sadly up at her, and something drove me to reach out and caress her cheek.

"You needed someone," I said. "I'm glad I could be there for you. How are you?"

She flushed, pulled back slightly, and ignored the question.

"Is that... Elizabeth? Back there?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh."

She paused for a moment. Then, "How... how often do you come here?"

"Every couple of days. Otherwise I miss her too much."

"Oh," she repeated.

She clasped her arms more tightly around herself.

"How... how long ago..."

"Over two years now."

"And you come every couple of days? You must have... um... loved her a lot."

"We were... about to get married," I said, somehow. The words sounded unreal, now, like something I'd read in a book.

"Oh my God," she gasped, shocked. "Oh, oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't..."

"We were going to get married," I repeated, softer, gentler. "And... and then she got sick. And... well. Sometimes dreams are just dreams. Sometimes Fate has other plans for us. I've had a lot of time to... realise that. A lot of time."

She stared at me, then swallowed.

"How? How do you go on?" she whispered. "Everyone else just keeps moving; they're sad for a bit, and then it passes. How do I... go on?"

"You take a breath and exhale. And then you do it again, and again. You learn how to let the pain and rage flow around you. You put a foot in front of the other. You put food in your mouth, and you force yourself to chew. That's the first few weeks. Then... then, when you're able to see through the tears and breathe through the agony - then you talk to anyone who will listen," I said. I reached out and took her arm. "Walk with me. You don't have to talk about him to me. But if you want to talk, I'm here. It's... it's what I'm here for, really. Come. Let's... just walk for a bit."

She resisted my pull for a moment, then seemed to crumple in on herself. She took a step, and then another step, and then we were just walking, both staring at our feet, both sort-of-letting the other decide which way we turned at every junction.

She didn't talk at first. It took a good few hundred yards of meandering before she took the slow, shaky breath that I knew meant that she was about to.

"He was a preemie," she whispered. "Eight months. Mum and Dad had been trying for so long. He was so sick, it took forever for him to come home. Oh God, he was so tiny. But then he got better, and got stronger. They'd told Mum and Dad that he would be... developmentally delayed. But he wasn't. His mind wasn't, even if he couldn't move as well as other kids his age. But his mind... he was so smart. He was reading early, and... and he'd draw, and build bridges with his Lego... and he had this smile, this innocent, pure little smile. It was his favourite thing to make little paper flowers for me..."