The Marble Collector

Epilogue

On Monday morning I return to work.

‘Good weekend?’ Eric asks, studying me, and I know he’s assessing my mental stability after the mug-throwing incident.

‘Great, thanks.’ I smile. ‘Everything is fine.’

‘Good,’ he says, studying me, blue eyes luminous from his orange fake tan. ‘You know I checked that phrase for you. The one about feeling antsy.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘It can also mean sexually aroused.’

I laugh and shake my head as he chuckles his way back into the office.

‘Eric,’ I call. ‘I’m going to start teaching my dad how to swim next week. And I was thinking of trying something different here. Aqua aerobics classes. Once a week. What do you think?’

He grins. ‘I think that’s a great idea, Sabrina. Can’t wait to see Mary Kelly and Mr Daly do the samba in the water.’ He gives a sexy little hip roll, which makes me laugh.

Grinning happily, I sit on the stool and watch the empty pool, the pool rules sign glaring down on us all like a crucifix in a church. A reminder. A warning. A symbol. Don’t do this, don’t do that. No this, no that. So negative on the surface, and yet, a guide. Take heed and you’ll be grand. Everything will be fine.

Mary Kelly is in hospital recovering from her heart attack, in a stable condition thankfully. I’m feeling anything but empty though, I feel rejuvenated, with fire inside, like I could look at nothing all day and still be okay, which is what will happen.

Mr Daly arrives in his tight green swim shorts, like an extra layer of skin, tucking tiny wisps of hair he has left into his too tight rubber hat.

‘Good morning, Mr Daly,’ I say.

He shuffles by me grumpily, ignoring me. He grips the rail and slowly descends into the water. He steals a glimpse at me to see if I’m looking. I look away, wanting this to happen straight away. He lowers his goggles over his eyes, grips the metal bars of the ladder and goes under.

I walk over to the ladder, reach into the water and pull him up.

‘You’re okay,’ I say to him, lifting him out of the water, helping him up the ladder and sitting him on the edge of the pool. ‘Here,’ I hand him a cup of water which he downs, with trembling hands, his eyes red, his body shaking. He sits for a while, staring into space, in silence, me beside him, arm around him rubbing his back, while he calms. He’s not used to me sitting with him after. I gave up on that some time last year when I could tell it wasn’t going to stop him. All I had to do was save him and take my seat again. He gives me a sidelong look, checking me out suspiciously. I continue rubbing his back, comfortingly, feeling skin and bone, and a beating heart.

‘You left early on Friday,’ he says suddenly.

‘Yes,’ I say gently, touched that he noticed. ‘I did.’

‘Thought you mightn’t be coming back.’

‘What? And miss all this?’

He bites the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He hands the cup back to me, gets back into the pool and he swims a length.