All in Good Time

Ashleigh looked at the glass of merlot sitting on the counter. ‘Don’t drink it yet,’ she thought to herself, ‘you need to at least appear sane’. She sat down on the edge of the couch, reaching for the drink anyway. She sighed, ‘Oh well’, she thought to herself, ‘Dutch courage’ and sipped at the smooth red liquid, noting its luscious dark fruit taste.

‘Still an hour until he gets here’, she thought, feeling the butterflies in her stomach settling down as she sipped the dark, red wine. ‘How did this happen?’ She let her thoughts drift back, resting on what she considered the ‘start of her adult life’. She remembered vividly the first day in her new lab after finishing her doctorate. Life had seemed so simple then, research on how to protect babies from stroke and cerebral palsy. That was all she’d wanted to do. Glancing over at her graduation photo on the sideboard, she gazed at the eager young woman, bright, shining eyes staring back at her, ‘yep, I was ready to take on the world’. She found herself smiling.

She considered pouring herself another merlot but instead got up and ran the glass under the tap in the kitchen. As she walked, she couldn’t help but compare the older lady staring back at her from the big silver mirror with the image she’d just been considering. She realised she wasn’t unattractive, her chic blonde messy bun looked elegant and sophisticated with the fitted black dress she’d chosen for tonight. Although nothing could take away the strain of life that now reflected back at her and the heartache etched into the fine lines around her mouth and eyes. She wandered out to the balcony, gazing at the bright lights of the Brisbane city, with the prelude of snaking black stillness that was the Brisbane River.

Her new lab had been a cheerful place from the start. Being one of three new graduate students had made it easier to fit into the new environment. Brad had stood out from the start. Those eyes… She’d always been a sucker for sparkling eyes that promised fun and witty conversation in one package. Ashleigh had only a momentary dip of disappointment when she’d found out he was already married; ‘how could he not be?’ she thought to herself. Tall, sandy blonde hair, a contagious sense of humour – and twenty-seven, ‘of course he had to be married’. It was only later she found out that he’d done a medical degree before completing his PhD and had fallen in love with a stunning blonde medical student called Sasha. The perfect couple.

Still, it hadn’t mattered. Before long, all of the ‘young mob’ in the lab were a pack. Working long hours and then, more often than not, winding down with a coffee or a glass of wine at the bar under their building before going home. The group had become close. It wasn’t just the work that drew us together; it was one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ phases where everything was good. Ash and Brad developed a reputation for making fun of each other that often had the lab in stitches. It was as if they had all known each other forever.

The third new starter was a more serious, sombre person called Sam. Darkly handsome and quiet, Sam had taken more time to become one of the group, but eventually had become the glue that kept them all together. Clearly intelligent, he also had a smouldering intensity that seemed to draw women to him. He was far more serious than the others. They all knew the work they were doing was important, but Sam was particularly intense and dedicated. Later, when he had finally gained the courage to ask Ash out, she realised that this dedication stemmed from his older sister, Leila, who had a child with cerebral palsy.

The group often went out on a Friday night, dancing. In hindsight, Ash realised that Sasha had rarely joined them. She hadn’t cared; she revelled in the easy conversation with Brad and the fact that he was a very good dancer and always the first on the floor; oh, how she loved to dance. Normally, about six or eight of them ended up going out and the laughter and joy was a memory she cherished.

After almost two years, Sam had asked her to go to dinner on a Saturday night. Smiling, she remembered her response, ‘sure, I’ll see what the others are doing’. She also remembered the frisson that had run down her back when Sam had said, ‘No; just you and me, alright?’ After that, things had slowly changed. She hadn’t realised it at the time, but it was the natural way that life goes when you start to get into your late twenties, people started to pair off, buy houses, have children and leave behind the spontaneous coffees, wine, and dancing.

One more glass won’t hurt, Ash decided, bringing her mind back to the present, as she poured herself a second glass of merlot. She knew the loss of Sam would never fully leave her. He’d only been 31 when diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of Leukaemia. One minute they’d been thinking of starting the family they’d both so desperately wanted, and ‘wham’, the next they were knee deep in doctor’s appointments, chemotherapy and hospitals. He had died nearly four years ago, when they were both 32. She had thought she wouldn’t survive.

Her friends had helped enormously. Even Brad, who had taken a job overseas after Sasha had left. That had been a shock, the end of the ‘perfect couple’. Ash couldn’t help but have a sneaky suspicion that the modest income and long hours of a medical researcher wasn’t quite what Sasha had expected for herself when she became a doctor. That feeling had been reinforced when she’d re-married an eminent, much older, surgeon.

Still, Brad had been as devastated as she was about Sam’s illness and called her over Zoom, often in the middle of the night, when he knew she’d be awake and alone. He also wrote letters. She smiled at the thought, ‘nobody writes letters anymore.’ Over the last year, the letters and zoom calls had become more frequent. She had even started to laugh again, Brad losing none of his ability to tease her mercilessly.

If she was honest with herself, her life had recently started to revolve around his calls and letters. ‘Why do you write to me?’ she’d asked him once after a very long and intense letter, ‘nobody writes letters anymore.’ He’d looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, ‘our calls are fun and I enjoy them enormously but it’s not until I’m in a quiet room that I feel I can write a little of what really matters to me’, he stated softly. ‘Also, you have time to think about what I’m saying before responding. Why, don’t you like them?’ Ash studied his face before replying. It was at that moment that she knew something had changed between them, his face, for the first time since she’d known him, was an open book. Gone was the casual, light-hearted banter. In its place was a man who looked insecure and vulnerable, not sure of what to say, but overwhelmingly appealing.

They both felt it, even though half a world separated them. It was like a jolt of lightning. The emotion was undeniable, and she felt a longing that she’d never experienced. Even, though she didn’t like to admit it, with Sam. ‘I have to go,’ she murmured. She hated the look on his face, he looked terrified. ‘Ash…,’ she stopped his words, I’m sorry Brad, I … I can’t.’ As she hung up, she realised tears were streaming down her face.

It had taken a while to settle down before she realised the truth. The truth that had been staring at her but that she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. She poured herself another glass of merlot as the phone rang again. This time she picked it up with more composure. ‘Brad?’ ‘Ash, I’m sorry I wanted to wait until I got home to have this conversation, but it seems that fate has other ideas’, Brad’s voice was soft and gentle, with a slight hint of desperation, ‘trouble is with the lack of flights and this damn virus, I’ve had trouble organising my return.’ ‘Your return?’ Ash knew her voice sounded strained, ‘you’re coming back?’ then the strain turned to joy. ‘I am. I finally have a flight booked for next Thursday, but then there’s two weeks quarantine.’ Ash felt her chest tighten at the thought of seeing Brad.’ ‘I figure it will be September 19 before we can see each other. Would you like to come to dinner with me? We have a lot to discuss.’ Tears again, streaming down her face, this time tears of joy and another feeling that she wasn’t quite ready to put into words. ‘Brad, I’d love to - It’s a date!’