A Good Day

Many women fear growing older and suffer form depression at midlife. This story honours the life of a woman who was close to me. This was posted to support Mental Health Awareness month.

From inside her car, still so new that she hasn’t yet made her imprint, Willow watches the huge rocks that edge the shores of Peggy’s Cove.  Except for the dry rock closest to land where the angry-looking swells can’t quite reach, the big stones glisten black with wet and foam.  The waves rise high to form huge fists of water that bash against the rock, and grab at whatever dares to stray onto its granite face.  Wiped away clean, as simple as a hand brushing crumbs from a table top.  Without a trace.  Fast.  No drama.

 

            This is the fifth time in the last two weeks that Willow has come here to sit in the parking lot overlooking the small lighthouse that keeps watch over the cove.  But those other times she had lost her courage.  This time feels different.  She squeezes the blue and grey tartan scarf in her lap and raises it to her nose.  She can still smell the scent of Robert’s cologne that lingers in the fibers.  Robert didn’t understand why she had to move clear across Canada for no good reason.  But Willow had come to an end, and she was restless.  She wanted a fresh start, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt pulled to Nova Scotia.

 

            Willow runs her palm in a circle over the steering wheel.  Robert had said it was a good buy; that it was a safe and reliable vehicle that would last for years, but she didn’t really care.  She closes her eyes and two tears form at the corners.  She remembers the pain in his voice when she told Robert not to come back to Nova Scotia.  Willow shakes her head then inhales sharply.  She opens her green eyes wide to dab a finger at each corner.  She checks her face in the rear view mirror, tries to smooth away the fine, spider, lines that circle her eyes.  At fifty three, she is still very attractive, but she knows that her modeling career has come to an end. 

 

            She hears the ring of her cell phone and reaches into her leather purse on the passenger seat.  She sees her sister’s number on the call display, but doesn’t answer.  She can’t talk to Jenn anymore.  Her mind is made up.  She presses a button on the side to silence the phone.  She checks her wallet to make sure she has I.D.  Her driver’s license still shows her old Vancouver address.  She runs her thumb over the picture.  Willow Dewe.  She had never liked Sally, her old name, so she had changed it " but it didn’t change the way she felt.

 

            She is startled by the lonely call of a seagull flying overhead.  She looks out into the bay, at the powerful rush of water that pulls and sprays at the stones.  A shiver runs up her spine and down her arms.  No.  I won’t be afraid this time.  She clenches her jaw and swallows the hard lump in her throat.  Today is the day.  With both hands, she reaches down in front of the passenger seat for Marko.  The cat lies with his head hidden beneath the seat, and he meows softly when she touches him.  He’s put on weight since she had first found him a month ago, but he is still skinny; his back ribs still poke out against his sleek, black coat.   He looks at her through slitted eyes when she rubs him under the chin, and she feels a longing for the others.  When all three of her cats - her babies - had died last year, she felt like she had lost her entire family, and she almost didn’t make it through.

           

            Willow places Marko in her lap and he purrs when she nuzzles his head with her face.  Robert had said the cat was crazy.  But Marko never spit and clawed at her like he did with everyone else. 

 

            She is taking Marko with her today.  “Forgive me”, she had said to him, but what choice did she have?  Who else could take him?  She inhales loudly through her nose then stuffs her purse under the driver’s seat.  Marko’s body tenses when she opens the car door.  She quickly gets out and hugs Marko to her chest; her long dark hair sweeps against his fur and covers his eyes.  With one hand she straightens the back of her narrow red skirt.  It is her favourite and she chose it special for today.  She reaches back to shut the car door and the slam startles Marko.  He jerks and tries to jump so she holds him tight to her chest and coos softly into his ear.  She can feel his heart thump furiously, erratically, into her own.  She massages his scalp and rubs between his bony shoulder blades, and he seems to relax, then buries his head in her armpit.

 

            Willow takes a deep breath, clutches Marko a little tighter to her chest and moves forward, toward the bay.  The parking lot is nearly empty.  Most tourists aren’t interested in The Cove on a cold November day.  That’s how she had planned it, though she had expected to feel pulled towards the water, irresistibly like a moth to flame.  But she doesn’t.  She feels nothing from Peggy’s Cove.  No calling, no sense of destiny - no fear, no doubt.  Just a calm.

 

            At the edge of the solid ground encrusted with gravel and small pieces of broken sea shell, Willow stops to look at the trail of flat stones that lead to the water.  She kisses Marko on the back of his neck, his head still planted firmly inside her armpit.  She looks up again to study the stones and plans her route to the one large stone closest to the sea.  To the spot where they will be whisked away.  Just like that.  Quick. Without a trace.

 

            This time Willow feels no fear.  There is no turning back now.  Feeling like an infantry soldier stepping bravely into the middle of a battlefield, she squares her shoulders and steps down onto the first dry rock.   Suddenly Marko pulls his head from the safety of her armpit, sees the nearby water and howls.  A deep feline cry.   Willow’s mouth forms an ‘oh’, but no sound comes out.  She tries to hold Marko against her chest but the cat’s body flails crazily, like a little black Tasmanian devil.  She gasps when a sharp claw tears a red line diagonally across her wrist and Marko breaks free.  She almost slips but catches herself by planting her right foot firmly onto the next rock of her chosen path.  Looking back, over her shoulder, her heart sinks as she watches Marko jump onto the bank and run towards the parking lot.