Tara looked nervously around the arrivals gate. Whatever was she thinking? This was crazy. She should know better at her age.
That was just it...at her age. When half your life was over. Without finding the one thing you wanted most. When all else had failed it seemed. Sometimes you took chances. Did foolish things. Thins maybe you should not do.
She looked around the terminal at Heathrow. It was Christmas Eve and the place was surprisingly empty. She supposed most people did not put these things off to the last minute. And that was how she felt...like she had put love and happiness off until the last minute of her life. Like maybe it was too late already. Was it, she wondered as she looked around.
She noticed the much younger woman on the other side of the barrier. She was fidgeting nervously, bouncing from foot to foot. When was the last time that she had bounced? She chuckled thinking about body bits that would keep bouncing long after she stopped. Some things were for the young. Maybe love was one of them.
The young girl, was she college age perhaps? She was bouncing faster and faster now, jumping up and down really. Tara's eyes were drawn to the bay of double doors that separated the arriving passengers from those waiting for them. A young man in uniform came through it at that moment. He dropped his bag and actually ran to the girl. He picked her up and twirled her around as he kissed her. Tara looked away...the moment was just too intimate for an audience.
"Goddess bless," she whispered as she turned back to the e-reader that she held in her hand. She stared at the screen without recognizing a single word there. She started back at the top of the page, trying for the umpteenth time to read the book that just yesterday had held her rapt attention. Now it was as dry as frozen cardboard pizza.
"Who are you waiting for, dear?" said the older woman next to her.
She had been sitting there for the past hour at least but this was the first time that Tara had looked at her, really looked at her. She was obviously upper middle class, one of the very traditional British matrons, who always looked as if they smelled something. Tara could picture the bowing as she served tea to the Queen.
But being polite was one British mannerism that she had adopted over her time here...even if it was all a polite show. "A friend," she replied casually.
The woman nodded, "My son. He is flying back from Thailand for the holidays." Tara was surprised to notice the woman dab lightly at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief...a real one with tiny flowers embroidered on the corner. Something about the action spoke to her heart. She had learned to follow it long ago...well, in most things.
"I am sure you are very excited," she replied, giving the woman the opportunity to tell her more or to do as so many others did in this modern world...bury themselves.
"Yes, well, Charles has not been home in five years you know. After the divorce, he and his father fought horribly. His choices..." the woman looked down at the dark grey stone flooring before dabbing her eyes again.
"He's gay, you know. And well, my William just could not understand. I mean how is it that you are married to a woman for twenty years, have two children and then wake up one morning and decide you are homosexual?" The way that she said the word was drawn out, obviously her husband was not the only one with issues with the man's sexuality.
Tara tried to think of something politely British to say but for a hot blooded or was that hot headed American that was not always easy. But she need not have worried. Now that the flood gates were open the woman seemed to rush forward, revealing family secrets that she probably would not to her closest friends. That was one thing about talking to strangers...sometimes it was easier.
That was how all this had started...a stranger thousands of miles away. Someone that Tara could share her frustrations, worries and concerns with. Another American even...a common cultural bond. That was all it had been. So when had that changed?
She did not have the chance to consider that monumental question further though as the flood waters burst from the woman's very red lips.
"But with William dying now. Well, it is time. Time to put these things aside."
Tara very much doubted that it was as simple as all that. A lifetime of pain and hurts were hidden behind the woman's words. It was the mysterious son, Charles, for whom Tara felt the greatest sympathy. Hiding who he was for so long, always trying to live up to these people's impossibly high expectations. Oh why could we not just allow our children to be who they were? To be happy and free? Why could we not allow ourselves to be?
She was not sure how much of the woman's story she had missed while caught up in her own musings. It seemed the woman had gone on from this son to her husband. "You know that is the hardest part of this whole muddle...the cancer you know. Losing William. I know that fifty years may seem a lifetime with the same man. But really it has not been that long. I remember the first time I met him in university. He was so handsome..."
The woman stared off for a long moment in silence. Tara read things into that silence...a lifetime. "Not that it has been all roses, you know. Men will be men, of course. And my William had his dalliances like them all. But he was always such a gentleman about such things."
Tara chalked it up to another of the cultural differences that no matter how long she lived in this foreign land she would ever understand...the casual way they dealt with infidelity. In the end, it had been the death knell of her marriage. She simply could not be as forgiving as this woman.
"I will miss him terribly you know. Even his infernal tinkering in my garden." The woman dabbed her eyes again. "I simply don't know how I shall manage," she whispered.
Tara was uncertain what solace to offer...and that was unusual for her. But she saw clearly for the first time...past the woman's cold words, past her controlled mannerisms, past the cultural divide that Tara had never been able to overcome. And what she saw was shocking...a woman in love after fifty years of marriage. It was her eyes that filled with tears then.
Not for this woman. Because despite it all...she had known a joy that was so much more than Tara ever had. Maybe ever would.
Once more she was humbled by the goddess, that quiet inner voice that had been her guide these past couple of years. Perhaps her whole life. Until him the only true friend she had made in this place in a decade.
Who was she to judge this woman? Yes, she might not be able to understand how someone would allow their child's sexual orientation to come between them. Yes, she would most definitely never, ever understand any woman who could tolerate her husband cheating. She could not even understand how keeping up appearances could be more important than friendships.
But this was a woman. A wife. A mother. Just like her. And she was in pain. Tara reached out and placed her hand on the other woman's. Just felt the warmth of the goddess move through her into the other woman.
And as always, she felt the overwhelming pain of this woman bore course through her. Her head started to pound. The pain was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream. She felt the bile rising in her throat. But still she did not break the contact. She gave of herself, of her gift, of the goddess...without thought of herself. It was what she had chosen to do...it was her life, all she knew. It was the path of an empath. A high priestess of the goddess.
She felt it: the moment that this woman released it all. Accepted the healing. And Tara drew away...as confused and drained as she always was after such a thing. But the genuine smile that shown past the deep red lipstick painted upon the woman's tight, too thin lips was all she needed. She had done it again. Offered what she could to another soul. She sighed and smiled too.
The room was spinning now. The lights that was always too bright, suddenly seemed to burn her eyeballs until tears gathered at the corners. Each footstep upon the cold, hard stone seemed to echo like pounding war drums, making the headache worse and worse with each passing moment. Her skin itched and burned where she had touched this woman. Her perfume overpowered Tara's nose, making her stomach roll and pitch once more. It all combined to leave a dry, foul taste in her mouth. One that she feared she would never get out.
The woman stood up, for a moment she seemed to be bouncing up and down every bit as much as that young student had been. And in that moment, Tara knew that she saw with the goddess's eyes this woman...the hopes and dreams of a lifetime. The might have beens that a lifetime of responsibility and cares had stolen from that young girl that once had been.
