Turbulence by Annette Herfkens

Author:Annette Herfkens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regan Arts.

ONLY A SEED

It is Christmastime again. A year has passed since the crash. Jaime knows I have no idea what to do with myself. I do not want to be anywhere. For thirteen years, I spent every Christmas vacation with Pasje in whatever place we happened to be. Last year I was in a hospital bed at my parents’ house, and the night passed in a blur. So it really feels like this is the first time without Pasje. Jaime understands. “Come with me and the boys to Aruba,” he offers. I accept. The Caribbean climate, looking after his boys, and the fact that they all are Jewish makes it easier to keep my emotions in check: I can pretend it isn’t Christmas at all.

After Christmas I go on to Curaçao by myself. I stay with a school friend who has lost her first husband, our childhood friend. It is good to be with someone who has gone through the same experience. Then a friendly ING banker invites me to a New Year’s Eve party at his house. He was Pasje’s boss in Amsterdam. We all used to go out together in those days. Now he is managing ING Curaçao. I know the party is going to be difficult, that the whole atmosphere is going to take me right back to the past. But I feel I shouldn’t avoid the confrontation. Face reality. So I force myself to go. It turns out to be an informal get-together with many of my ex-colleagues.

When the clock is about to strike twelve, the pain hits me. So hard that my stomach contracts. I feel like I am drowning, like a giant wave is sweeping me off my feet and I am choking. Drowning in pain and choking on fear. Pain for Pasje, fear for all the Christmas holidays and New Year’s Eves to come. That throbbing pain, the feeling of amputation I have been living with, is taking me over completely. With such a sharp edge, it is as if Pasje is dying in front of me again, here and now. I go outside into the garden and sit down on the edge of the pool. I put my feet in the water to cool down the painful scars. The scars on my feet and the scars on my heart. I start sobbing.

“If you have loved once, you’ll love again,” I hear. It is a pleasant voice, with a German accent. My host’s elderly mother sits down next to me. I look up. Her eyes are full of compassion. She knows. She has been there; I can see it. I put my head on her shoulder and cry.

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