Watch Over You Read online

  He hadn’t really seen Tara since the funeral. Not like this – up close and personal. On that day, he had stayed at the back and just watched. She hadn’t known he was there. Just like now. He could see her through the window. She stood outside and cast her face up to the rain. He strode across the coffee shop. It was empty now. Her absence made it dark. He walked right up to the glass in a trance with only her in his sights. Nothing else existed. He reached his hand up and touched it; almost as if it was water and he could reach through it and turn her around. She didn’t turn, though. She didn’t look back. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her hair, put her head down and then walked away. He let her. He was a coward.

  Chapter Two

  The coffee shop was busy but quiet. Almost all of the seats were taken. People chatted and laughed with each other, sharing coffees and muffins, teas and croissants. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee flowed out as Tara opened the door and stepped inside. She held her breath in anticipation as she glanced around the seats and tables for him, but he was not there. Devan - she didn’t know why he stuck in her mind the way he did. What was it about him that drew her to him? He was just some poor homeless guy who she didn’t even know.

  He invaded her every thought, though. He was like a song stuck in her head. Everything she did, he was in the back of her mind. She tried many times to just read or paint, but each time, she found her mind wandering. What was he doing? Was he cold? Was he hungry? Some days she could hardly eat for the guilt that twisted in her gut. How could she sit to eat in the warmth while he was probably starving?

  She headed to the counter and, as always, browsed the board of specials. She didn’t know why she did that either. She never got anything different. She thought sometimes that she might. Many of them sounded delicious and inviting, but there was a fear inside, and she couldn’t quite break the habit.

  “Can I take your order?” the young girl asked.

  Tara smiled. “Just a latte, please.”

  “Anything to eat?”

  Tara eyed the foods in the chiller that looked so appealing. Shelves of mouth-watering cakes and handmade sandwiches, baskets of fruit and jars of cookies were lined up neatly, aimed to entice. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten properly, but she wasn’t hungry. She shook her head. “No, but…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Can you put the change from this on park?”

  The girl’s smile broadened then. Tara had been coming into this shop for the five weeks since she saw Devan. The girl asked her to wait at the end counter as they’d serve her coffee there, but she knew that. This coffee shop was the same as the one she and Eric would visit. The same layout, the same smells; the only thing different was the address.

  She didn’t take the same seat, though. She wanted one where she could see the door. It was foolish. She knew that. These last few weeks she had spent so many hours just sitting, drinking coffee and trying to read. She was sure the girls behind the counter would begin to feel sorry for her. They probably laughed at ‘that poor woman’ - always on her own, always here for hours, with nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon.

  She saw the odd homeless person come in. She always felt such joy each time they asked if anyone had left anything on park. Her heart swelled with elation to see the way they smiled when the girl said yes. Just sitting there watching, she started to become familiar with their names. Josie was the older lady. She wasn’t homeless as such. She had her own place - if it could be called that. She’d heard her talking to one of the girls a couple of weeks back about it. She had ordered herself a tea and some toast. The girl had told her to sit and she would bring it to her when it was ready. Then, when the girl brought it over, she had sat and chatted for a few minutes. Tara hadn’t been able to contain own smile at the sight.

  Tara realised why Eric got such joy from the things he did. She didn’t know what they were, of course. He didn’t really talk about it, and her own resentment had stopped her from asking. She hated how his job had taken him away. He had thought he had forever, though. It all made her miss him more.

  The door opened and it made Tara glance up from her book. For just a second, her heart leapt and her mind got excited. But then, as always, it wasn’t him and everything fell back down to a level more disappointing than the last. “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself. Her heart hurt from a longing she thought she had numbed. Somehow the emptiness Eric had left felt bigger than it had before, and she all but gasped to try to keep herself steady from it.

  Lifting her book up once more, she tried to read. God knows she had read the same sentence at least ten times already. She fidgeted in her seat and tried to get comfortable. She tried with little success to cease her obsessional staring of the door, but each time a shadow moved across, or someone came near, her mind leapt into action. What if? What if this time it was him?

  She closed her eyes and visualised him coming into the coffee shop. She saw his tatty clothes and blonde hair. What would she even do if he did actually come in? What would she say to him? Hey, I’m stalking you for reasons I don’t know? It was crazy and she knew it.

  The young assistant came over with a pot of coffee in her hand and a tray. “Would you like some more coffee? Another latte perhaps?” she asked Tara.

  Tara thought for a moment, her attention drifting from the girl to the door and then back again. “I should really be getting off now, so much as I’d like to sit here all day, I have a job to get to,” she said, but the words felt like a lie even to her. Her brain yelled at her to say No, I want more coffee. I am staying here. But instead, she just smiled, and the girl sauntered to the table opposite to serve the couple sitting there.

  Tara sighed at herself. She felt her sorrow deep inside, like darkness coming in and forcing itself through the edges of the light she pretended was there. She put her book in her bag, stood and pulled her coat on. She slung the bag over her shoulder. This had to be the last time she came. She couldn’t do this to herself anymore. She hadn’t been to the coffee shop she and Eric would use since she saw Devan. Next week, she vowed to herself.

  In her mind she said goodbye. Not that she was sure to whom, Devan perhaps, or the girl, or the coffee shop? Distractions from Eric? She felt something deserved a goodbye. Every day was endless without Eric. There were so many things undone So many things they hadn’t had time to do. They’d had forever. It happened to other people, not them. She heard the crash in her mind; that moment when the car had collided with the barrier. She saw herself running back to where Eric lay, unmoving and eerily still. She’d been flung from the car and had somehow survived with only cuts and bruises. Eric had died. Tears pricked behind her eyes and threatened to fall. She made herself walk out.

  Her mind resisted each step, weighted down by invisible mud. But for what? She wasn’t leaving anything behind that was actually hers. She was leaving thoughts; not even real memories, just daydreams and wonderings. She had to leave. For her own sanity or what was left of it at least.

  Outside it was raining. It looked as though it had been raining a while. The street was laden with puddles, and the grey sky with its thick clouds promised more rain and storms in the distance. She stood there for a moment, breathing in lungfuls of chilly air. She was thankful that it wasn’t as cold as it had been recently. People still busied themselves, passing her by, in and out of shops, going about their day and forgetting they were alive.

  She trudged through the rain, each step heavy and leaden, burdened not just by the rain falling from the sky, but also the rain in her life. The storm felt never-ending. Fitting, she supposed, as Eric had been her sunshine. He had left and taken that with him.

  Her life was so insignificant in many ways, Tara thought to herself. What did she have to show? What was she going to do? The answer was nothing. There were no dreams, no goals. They had all ended three years ago.

  She ambled along the street and didn’t care how wet she was getting from the rain. What was the wo
rst that could happen? She’d get sick? That was no big deal. She wasn’t lucky enough to die from it. She had wished so many times that she could just die from the pain in her heart. Sometimes she thought that she might.

  She walked through the main town centre until it came out to the start of houses. There was a stream that ran across, which coincidently divided the city centre and the living areas. This would be her last time in the city. The city was Eric’s place; somewhere his memory would stay. As she left it behind her, she tried to imagine what it was like for him trawling the streets at night, looking for people to help. Had Devan been one of them too? Was that how they knew one another? She wished so much that she could find him to ask. Maybe he could give her a piece of Eric she didn’t know about. Maybe he knew something that could just warm the cold inside. Something that could, even for a second, delude her into feeling he was alive.

  She stood atop the bridge, overlooking the water below. The rain hit the surface and created a blanket of splashes. Discarded crisp packets, pop bottles, and other bits of trash people had thrown in there, bounced around at the edges as the water stirred it all up.

  The wall of the bridge had a decorative design carved into it. It would have been more beautiful if it was by hand, but it was as generic as the next one. Still, Tara lifted herself up by balancing herself on her toes on an edge that protruded out. She gripped the concrete top and leant over.

  “Just jump and it’ll all be over.” She closed her eyes and tried to visualise that. She saw herself climbing up and sitting on the top of the wall. She felt the roughness of it under her hands and imagined sliding herself off. She imagined the cold water seeping into her clothes, filling her mouth and drowning her. Would it hurt? Would she die right away as Eric had? Would they be reunited in death? If that was the case, she wouldn’t care if it hurt or not. If ending her life meant she could be with Eric once again, she would.

  “You want to be careful doing that.” Tara gasped in fright and jumped down, stumbling as she did. Devan was standing behind her, hands thrust into his pockets. He looked the same. Same tatty clothes. Same hat. Same strand of hair that stuck out the side and showed just a hint of the colour.

  He watched her and she stared.

  Chapter Three

  He’d stolen her words away from her. Every thought in her head had crashed full force and she couldn’t think. Her mind was foggy and numb and inside, electricity surged through her body, making her tremble from the force of it.

  “There’s much better views than that one,” he said casually. “Some not as dangerous either. You could have fallen in.”

  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t if others didn’t sneak up on me,” she said, but she kept her voice light, afraid she might chase him away.

  “Maybe people are concerned for the welfare of others and that maybe someone is going to fall and hurl themselves to their death in a pit of icy water and refuse.”

  “I was just looking,” she lied. She probably wouldn’t have jumped. She’d thought about doing something like that so many times already. If she was serious, or brave, she’d have done it by now. She brushed her hands down her jacket to smooth it out. She looked down as she did it to give herself some kind of focus. She couldn’t believe that he was here. She so desperately wanted to look back up, but what if he was a dream and wasn’t there? She made herself, though. Slowly she raised her eyes, taking in his boots with his jeans tucked in still. She raised her sights all the way up to his face and then his eyes. She had waited weeks to see him again, but she had never known why, or even what, she would say to him when she saw him. Hey, do you know my dead husband? seemed lame and weird even to her. “I’ve not seen you at Taylor’s for a few weeks,” she said instead, grasping at anything to say to him and keep him there. The look on his face, though, made her think that maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Maybe it was too close to crazy stalker talk.

  “I don’t go in there all the time,” he said. “Those coffees are there for everyone, not just me. It would hardly seem fair of me to go in weekly and take one, only to deprive another.”

  “But you’re entitled to, right? There’s no limit to the amount?”

  He shrugged, lifted one hand up and pulled off his hat and with the other he scratched through his hair. She noticed then that his hand was damaged. It was wrapped in a bandage, but the bandage was dirty and had threads hanging from it. “Stupid accident,” he said to her when he noticed her watching. “No. There’s no limit. I mean, there is kind of… it’s too weird to explain, but it works.”

  “You’ve not had one today? A coffee I mean?”

  “I don’t need one,” he shrugged. From what Tara could tell, he was similar to her in age, maybe a little older, but he was in his thirties at least. He didn’t look like what she expected of a homeless person. Apart from the dirt and the grime, there was no sign that he was one of those ‘sit on the corner and drink’ types. He looked… normal.

  “How about I buy you a coffee?” she blurted out and shocked even herself. She didn’t really want a coffee. She had just had one – she had had many actually - but she sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. “It’s my treat,” she added, afraid he might decline.

  “You could buy someone else a coffee - someone who needs it?”

  “But I want to buy you one,” she found herself saying. She glanced from Devan to the wall and then back again. “Think of it as a thank you for saving my life.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Please. I’ll feel so terrible if you don’t,” she added, fearing he was going to reject her offer again. “Besides,” she indicated to her clothes by pulling at the hem. “We’re both sopping wet. Maybe it’ll be nice to get somewhere warm and maybe dry off a little.”

  His eyes searched her face, but he didn’t speak. She didn’t even feel uncomfortable under his gaze, and she wasn’t one for being stared at. But with him, it was different. With him there, somehow, the entire world ceased to exist. A strange sense of hope filled her heart while at the same time, tiny slivers of trepidation and twinges of guilt stabbed through her. This wasn’t something she could just dismiss, though. She’d been dead inside for what felt like forever. Nothing seemed to raise a tear or a laugh. Nothing seemed to raise joy or wonder. She just was – existing in limbo. Her hopes began to dwindle. She was sure he was going to say no. But then, he smiled. “Sure,” he said, and she couldn’t keep the smile from her own face.

  They walked back to town together, side by side. They didn’t talk although Tara tried. She tried a few times, and he turned his head, waiting. Then she shook her head and dismissed it as nothing. She felt like a giggling school girl with the boy she’d been staring at for the last year finally spending time with her. It was completely stupid and she knew it.

  Tara thought they would go back to Taylor’s, but when they went into the precinct, instead of going right, as she thought he would, he went straight on to the escalator. Tara followed.

  They walked past a calendar stall, which had hundreds of different calendars. Everything from 80’s pop bands to current television programmes, to celebrities and today’s popular boy bands. Tara didn’t recognise any of the current stuff. She didn’t watch television or really keep up with the latest music. Mostly, the television was on at night because she was alone. It felt like having another voice inside the house – something to keep her company, even if it wasn’t real. Next to that, there was a stall for eyebrow threading. It looked painful, Tara thought to herself. One woman leant over her client with string. She slid it back and forth as if she was flossing the woman’s forehead. It was a bizarre sight. None of them paid any attention to her or Devan. They were an unlikely duo too - him in his tatty clothes, and her with her Regatta jacket, slim-fit jeans and dolly shoes. Even though they were the same age, they looked miles apart.

  There was a coffee shop just ahead of them, nestled in a corner. It had outside seating, although it wasn’t really outdoors as the entire thing was in
side the shopping centre. Next to that was a homemade cookie stall, tucked neatly away. She hadn’t had one of those cookies since Eric was alive. He had loved them. She remembered the taste and it made her mouth water now. “Wait,” she said to Devan.

  He stopped and turned. “Changed your mind? It’s okay if…”

  “No,” she said. “Detour. Come with me.” She grabbed his arm without thinking and pulled him along to the stall. Whether it was her who gasped or him, she didn’t know. She glanced down at her hand around his wrist. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to…” The world around them vanished, closing them in a bubble together. She didn’t want to let go. She was holding onto home.

  Reluctantly, she uncurled her fingers and let go of his wrist. He rubbed at it as if it hurt, but it was the expression on his face that unsettled her. She couldn’t quite decipher it, but it made her feel terribly guilty. Disconcerted, she murmured another apology.

  “It’s okay,” he said. He peered down into the glass counter. There were so many different cookies. Tara watched him looking. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to reach out and touch the side of his face and she feared that, at any moment, she would. She balled her hand into a tight fist and shoved it into her pocket. She tried to focus on the cookies. Some had cinnamon. Some had fruit, raspberries or strawberries. Some had jam in the centre of them. “Who puts fruit in cookies?” he asked as he stared.

  She relaxed a little and laughed. “You don’t like fruit in cookies?”

  “No. It’s sacrilege. If you’re going to eat something that’s bad for you, do it properly. Cookies should be chocolate or those little coloured sprinkled things. Where’s the fun in adding fruit and making it healthy?”