The New Candidate
Jasmine is usually the first in to the office. She values early mornings; they are a chance to get things done before the world arrives, demanding input into their own pretty problems. But her productivity this morning soon disappears. No sooner has she dropped her phone on her desk and opened the lid of her laptop, than the door opens and Sean walks in.
She freezes. This is the first time she has seen Sean since before his father’s death. The day before Richard’s funeral, he had sent her a text pleading with her not to attend for his mother’s sake. Jasmine had given it a lot of thought, but in the end, she had obliged. In an uncharacteristic attempt at guile, she had taken the precaution of telling the most prolific office gossip the reason she would not be in the church. She phrased it delicately, avoiding repeating Emily’s allegation Jasmine had been complicit, merely suggesting that a grief-stricken Emily thought Jasmine could have prevented Richard’s death and blamed her. Her confidante had tutted at Emily’s absurd notion and dutifully spread the word. Jasmine will need Richard’s allies and friends in the coming weeks and the quickest way to alienate them is to appear as if she is joining the ranks of the politically astute who have been loudly disowning lifelong friendships.
Grief was an emotion Jasmine understood well. Jasmine has no wish to add to the burden of a grieving widow and Emilyisgrieving. The day of the funeral, she had been in Hayburn but she stayed in her little rental until she judged all the mourners had departed. Then she drove to the cemetery and stood on the trampled grass beside the bare earth mound that was Richard’s final resting place. Jasmine was a practical person; she had no belief in a Heaven or a Hell or even the concept of a soul. Death was final and complete in her mind, a total eradication of the person. Yet still she travelled across the town to stand by Richard’s grave to say her final goodbye. She didn’t understand why it seemed fitting, only that it was. When she left, she knew she would never visit again. After all, she had never been back to where Petey’s ashes were interred and she had loved him.
She takes a moment to look at her friend. He is thinner, more subdued, but that is to be expected. His hair is unkempt and he looks more like a Cornish tin miner from the late eighteenth century than the sharp-sheared city boy she is used to. But Sean, standing among the grubby, decades-old desks and tatty chairs, is a truly beautiful sight and her heart lifts in hope.
When her tongue unfreezes, she rushes out the words she has wanted to say for ages. “Honestly, truly, I didn’t know.”
Sean shifts his feet and drops his eyes, but he doesn’t speak.
“Are you okay?” Jasmine asks, concerned his silence comes from distress.
“That’s what I came to askyou,” Sean finally lifts his head. “I’m not angry with you, Jasmine. I’ve just been busy.”
It’s Jasmine’s turn for silence. A small corner of her mind is saying,Too busy to text?
“I’ve hardly even seen Georg and I live with him. Mum’s just been …”
“Distraught? Devastated? Difficult?” Jasmine says. When she puts her mind to it, she can imagine only too well how Emily Exmore is handling things. “I’m not surprised.”
“You weren’t like this,” Sean sighs. “It’s like she’s obsessed. And when you’re an only child, there’s no one else to take a turn, no one else to look after her, even for a moment. It’s unrelenting.”
“Your mum and I are very different,” Jasmine keeps her words low, inviting him to further confidences. “And Petey’s death wasn’t sudden. Your mother was married for decades. She dedicated her life to him and she now has the added anguish of wondering if he ever loved her, whether their whole marriage was a sham.”
“I know all that. Even if I didn’t, she’s been pretty vocal on the subject. And Iampatient with her. Except, sometimes it feels like no one else can feel anything but her.”
Jasmine stands abruptly, her chair rolling backwards. She wants to rush over and put her arms around her friend but doesn’t know if they are yet reconciled. She hesitates, then she skirts the desk and places her hand on his upper arm. Squeezes and holding tight, she sends messages of love and support through her fingertips.
“I would help if I could.”
The first weak smile appears on Sean’s face. “I know. She blames you and she blames Irene. It’s easier than blaminghim.Sometimes, she even imagines you put Irina up to it. She’d go mental if you went anywhere near her.”
“If it helps her deal with everything, I’m happy to be the scapegoat.” Jasmine shrugs.
“But it’s not fair to you!”
“The world isn’t fair. To believe it is, is to believe in fairy tales.”
“What a load of pompous twaddle, Jasmine! I can tell no one has been pulling you up when you start with the overblown rhetoric. I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks and you’re already reverting. By the way, you can let go now. I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers.”
She releases his arm and steps back, relieved to see signs that Sean’s essential lightness of being have survived the trauma of the last few weeks. “Sorry. But it’s so good to see you. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Yeah, well,” Sean sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to cut you out. I just didn’t have anything left inside.”
“How have you been?” Jasmine makes the words as gentle as possible, muting her usual brisk nature.
“Up and down,” Sean looks away for a moment. Then his eyes come back to hers. “I can go for ages thinking I’m coping okay and then something random happens and I’m in tears.”
Jasmine nods. “I call them grief bubbles. Even now I get them, five years on. Though not so often. You’re just bumbling on with life and then a gesture, or a song or a phrase, anything, releases a memory and you realise what you’ve lost all over again.”
“You know,” Sean lifts a hand and scrubs at his nose, “he wasn’t the best of dads, gone most of the week, off hobnobbing with the local bigwigs at the weekends. But like all kids love their dads, I did love him. And I feel robbed I’ll never get to know him properly and maybe appreciate him a bit more without the limitations of seeing him through a child’s eyes.”
All restraint disappears. Jasmine wraps her arms around him and hugs him tight. They stand together for a couple of minutes, Sean pinned and unable to move by her not inconsiderable strength. When she finally releases him, she asks, “Can Georg help?”
“He tries, but the truth is, he’s never lost anyone and he’s a little bemused by it all. And he’s such a guy – stoic, uncomfortable with emotion. He’d be happier helping in practical ways, like giving Mum a lift to the supermarket, but she’s never really taken to him either.” Sean half raises his hands and then drops them again. Jasmine doesn’t need him to explain. Emily accepts Sean’s choice of partner because she doesn’t want to lose her son, but if Sean were to turn around tomorrow and say his homosexuality was all a phase, she would be ecstatic. Even Jasmine would be viewed as an improvement.
