Authors: Linda Schmalz
She gave in to her tears.
“No tears, Julia. Let’s not be sad for the remainder of our time together.”
Julia forced a smile. “But you’re the actor here, not me. I can’t fake happiness when I see you like this.” She wiped her tears, but found it impossible to stop them.
“Tell me what your life will be like when I’m gone, Julia. I need to focus on something other than this pain. I want to know that everything will be all right with you.”
Julia sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. I’ve spent a lifetime hoping to be with you, somehow. Without hurting anyone else. I knew that was impossible, but still, I hoped.”
“We’ll be together. Just not here.”
Julia cried harder. “I have this hole in my heart that only you fill, Sam. How will it ever heal without you?”
“You have a wonderful family to take care of. The show must go on, Julia.”
She shook her head. “The show, as you say, always goes on for me. I’ve been afraid to ever stop pretending that what I have is enough and makes me happy. I’m afraid that if I stop moving for one moment, all the heartache will rush in, and I’ll breakdown. My show goes on, and I silently suffer through it.”
Sam nodded, but then winced and turned his head away. After a moment he turned back. “And I’ve discovered a new sort of suffering.” He rested another moment. “Perhaps we should say goodbye, for today.”
“No.”
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, love. I’m not going anywhere just yet. And no matter, our love is frozen in time. It’s out there. It won’t go away because I do. I’ll pass, and one day in the far future, so will you, but I think our love will remain somehow.” He seemed to drift away in thought.
Julia stroked his cheek until his eyes met hers again. “Sam, what do you mean?”
“I remember Westminster. The way we felt that summer and in the Abbey.” He turned as if talking to the window. “So many lost lives and love buried there. Kings, queens, poets, lovers. We felt that love there. Love doesn’t die. I think it remains for someone else to catch.” Sam’s voice faded in and out as his morphine took hold. But Julia understood the sentiment he tried to convey through his haze. She remembered their time at Westminster as well. It was there she first realized Sam might love her.
He spoke as if far away. “I have been loved by you.”
“And I, you.” Julia knew she should leave and let him rest, but she found it impossible to turn away. She stood for long minutes simply watching him. After a while she kissed him softly on the lips.
She found Sarah in the hallway. The nurse carried a cut-glass vase containing the flowers Julia brought.
“He’s sleeping.” Julia said.
Sarah smiled gently. “Okay, thank you.” She placed a comforting hand on Julia’s arm. “I’ll call you if there’s any change.”
Julia nodded. Words failed her, but Sarah understood.
Sam died the following Tuesday morning. A while before, the phone rang at Julia’s house. Sarah informed her that Sam’s time drew near.
John was already on his way to work, Tommy still asleep and Elizabeth busy in the kitchen packing her lunch. Numbed by the news, Julia automatically dressed and somehow phoned her neighbor who said she’d come over and make sure Tommy got on the bus.
Julia arrived at Willowbrook by seven forty-five. She rushed to Sam’s side. His breathing came rapid and deep. At times he appeared to gasp. Julia startled and turned to Sarah.
“He’s not in distress,” Sarah explained, placing a hand on Julia’s arm.
Sam’s eyes remained closed. Classical music played softly from a CD player in the corner.
Sarah pulled up a chair for Julia and guided her into it. “Hold his hand,” she gently suggested.
Julia took his hand. “I’m here, Sam.”
He did not respond.
“Is he in a coma?” Julia whispered, afraid she might wake him, afraid he might never wake.
“No. He drifts in and out of consciousness. He’s not in pain. His breathing changed about five this morning, and we knew we should call.”
“Thank you.” Julia could not remove her eyes from Sam.
Sarah touched her shoulder. “I’ll leave you now for a bit.”
Julia remembered yesterday’s visit. Sam slept through most of it, but at times was awake and lucid. She tried to remember what they talked about, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t think of anything except that he was leaving her and that this cold, snowy morning would be their last. She rested her head against his hand and closed her eyes.
“Julia.” Sam spoke quietly.
Julia lifted her head. He could barely open his eyes and he focused straight ahead.
“I’m here, Sam.”
“We’re in England and it’s summer.”
Julia positioned herself so her head rested next to his on the pillow. “Yes, yes we are.”
“And so young.” She could hardly hear his words as he continued. “And under the very blue sky. We’ll have no rain today.”
She stroked his cheek. Tears filled her eyes. “And there are flowers all around. Do you see them, Sam?”
She looked up at him. His eyes remained half closed but he spoke as if seeing something she couldn’t. “Yes. And the swans.”
The swans.
She remembered them. Two swans floated gracefully across the duck pond while he embraced her during their picnic in St. James park years ago. And he remembered. She smiled through her tears, her throat tight and painful as she spoke. “And it’s very peaceful here. Just you and me… and the swans.”
He didn’t answer. Julia rested her head on Sam’s chest, listening to each breath he took, each one slower than the last.
And then, in one quick and unforgiving moment, his breathing simply ceased.
Julia remained with her head on Sam’s chest, tears streaming, as she willed his chest to rise and fall again, yet knowing he was gone.
She remained with him, unmoving, watching the snow fall outside his window. The music ended at some point, but Julia barely noticed. She looked up at the gray sky, watching the little white flakes emerge from nowhere, fall to the ground and blend into the beauty of the white-covered land. She traced one solitary snowflake as it spiraled down, disappeared into the whiteness, and became part of something greater than it ever intended.
Time held no importance to Julia, but at some point she felt the presence of another being in the room and Sarah’s gentle hands stroking her hair. “Julia?”
Julia looked at her beloved Sam and tears fell anew. “This is so hard. How do I just walk away?”
Sarah smiled, and helped Julia to her feet. “We’ll do it together.” She put an arm around her waist. “He’s not here anymore, hon.” Sarah’s voice soothed her and Julia allowed her to guide her towards the door. “I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
“I know you will, Sarah. You’ve been a dear to him.” Julia hugged the nurse and held her a bit. “Thank you.”
Sarah patted her back. “Now go to your family. You need them.”
Julia didn’t go home. No one could help her there. She didn’t need them, certainly not John who couldn’t share in this intense sadness, nor comfort her in her grief. She felt angry with him for that, wondering if he’d be relieved Sam died, imagining him to be, and hating him for it. She needed to be angry with someone, needed to blame someone, needed to fall into someone’s arms that loved Sam as much as she did. But no one here could understand her loss. No one really knew Sam like she did. Kim might be able to provide some comfort, but with six children under foot, and two with chicken pox, Julia couldn’t burden her.
She drove out to the western suburbs, grateful the snow kept traffic slow, for she needed time to think. Once Sam’s body returned to England, his death would become public. Then the media frenzy would begin. Stories about Sam, his career, his film and his life would barrage television and magazines. Deirdre would stand center stage as the grieving wife and Julia would grieve alone.
She furiously wiped at tears that would not quit. She knew she shouldn’t be driving half-blinded by the weather conditions and tears. But luckily the exit she sought came into view. She pulled off the highway and headed towards a modest suburb. A few more left turns brought her to a paved driveway and a familiar, two-story house. Drying her eyes, she walked to the door and rang the bell.
Bert Steele opened the door, took one look at his daughter and pulled her to him in a loving embrace. Locked in her father’s warm hug, Julia felt safe.
“Julia, my God. What the hell happened?”
Julia sobbed against her father’s chest for several minutes. Bert finally took her by the elbow and guided her into the house. “Honey, your tears are gonna freeze on your face if we don’t get you out of this weather.”
“Who is it, honey?” A sweet natured voice called from the kitchen and, through tear-soaked eyes, Julia saw her stepmother, Bonnie, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Oh dear, Bert. What happened?”
“I don’t know.” He sat Julia down on an overstuffed couch. “Honey, tell us. Is it one of the kids? John?”
Julia shook her head and tried to compose herself. Bonnie joined them, bringing along a cup of tea and some tissues.
Julia didn’t know how to explain. Her father never knew about Sam; she had kept her secret well.
“A close friend of mine passed away today,” she managed. “I was with him at the time. I just can’t go home right now.”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, dear.” Bonnie offered her the tea, but Julia shook her head.
“I can’t have the kids see me like this, you know?” She looked back and forth between her father and stepmother, a widower and widow, wondering if this unforgiving grief ever eased for them.
“Who’s with the kids, Julia?” Bonnie asked.
“John. I found out earlier today Sam was...this would be his last day. I called John at work and he took off early for when the kids get home. Elizabeth is old enough to watch Tom, but she has after school activities.”
“Is Sam a friend of John’s as well?” Bonnie said.
Julia shook her head. “No. John doesn’t really know him.”
Silence filled the room and Julia looked up from her tissue. Bert and Bonnie cast curious glances between them and Julia realized how odd her story about this “Sam” must sound.
“Sam is an old friend.” Julia explained.
“From high school?” Bert furrowed a brow. “My, that was a while back.”
“You don’t know him, Dad.” Julia said, trying her best not to lie. “I met him when I was…” She hesitated. “Back when I-”
“Well, doesn’t matter how she knows her friend, Bert.” Bonnie interrupted with an understanding nod Julia’s direction. “What’s important is that Julia needs some time to herself and she came to us for help.”
“You’re right, as always.” Bert smiled at both women. “Julia, you want me to call John and let him know you’re here?”
“No, that’s okay. He’ll just want to come here. I’ll go home after I compose myself, but I really need time alone and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You came to the right place, honey,” Bonnie patted her hand. “Would you like to lie down in the guest room?”
Julia nodded.
Bonnie linked Julia’s arm in her own plump one and guided her down the hall to a cozy room on the end. “We’ll just leave you to yourself in here, but if there’s anything you need-”
“-anything at all,” her father added, following close behind.
“-you just holler.” Bonnie opened the bedroom door and turned on the light. “Oh, I should have dusted.”
“Bonnie, you didn’t know she was coming.” Bert shrugged his shoulders like he did when Julia was a girl and her mother said something silly. Julia silently blessed him for the comforting memory.
“Thank you both.” She stepped into the room and then turned back. “Can I use the phone in here? I need to make an overseas call, but I’ll put it on my calling card.”
Bert answered. “Of course, honey. Use the phone as much as you need to.”
Julia blew them a kiss and shut the door. With a heavy sigh and heavier heart, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked for a number hidden in her purse. She found it and dialed.
Deirdre sat reading a book in the study when the call came. She heard the housekeeper answer and then call for Spencer. Engrossed in her book, she paid little attention to the muffled conversation. Moments later, Spencer entered the room and she glanced up.
He slouched against the doorframe, his face ashen.
“Are you all right, darling?” She put her book down and stood.
He walked towards her, sorrow filling his eyes.
Deirdre felt a chill run up her spine. “Who was on the phone?”
Spencer took her hands in his. Softness filled his features and he spoke delicately. “Brace yourself, Dee. It was Julia.”
“Julia?” She only knew one Julia and that call should not come for months.
“Julia?” The color drained from her face as realization dawned. “Oh no. Oh
no
, Spencer. Please.” She turned away but he pulled her back into his arms. She pounded against his chest as her knees gave way. “No Spencer, please don’t tell me this!”