Impulse, reflection and opportunity

Impulse, reflection and opportunity.
Putting away her book and pressing the bell for the next stop, Florence gathered her bags, and alighted from the bus. Walking the short distance from the bus stop home, she mentally checked off the ingredients for the lamb casserole that would be tonight’s meal, knowing how popular it was with her family. She sighed.
Turning the key in the lock, Florence recognised the signs Jim was home, the TV on in the living room, post neatly stacked on the hall table. “Hi darling, be through in a bit, just getting dinner on,” she called out to her husband, noting as she passed that Jim was watching ‘Top Gear’, so would be unaware of anything else.
Expertly preparing the casserole, Florence placed the dish into the oven, poured herself a glass of wine, and went to join her husband as the theme music signalled the end of ‘Top Gear’.
“Hello darling, thought I heard you come in. Good day?” said Jim, embracing his wife as she sat next to him on their very comfortable settee.
“Yes, though let’s not talk about work now! Find something decent to watch, and we can just relax all night in front of the box,” she said, as Jim selected a programme he knew both would enjoy.
Engrossed in the television, both jumped at the intrusive, peel of the telephone.
“I’ll go,” said Florence, “I have to check the casserole anyway.”
Walking quickly towards the telephone, the noise ceased as the receiver was picked up.
“Hello, yes, this is she,” said Florence, wondering who this person could be. “What? I’m sorry, you.....you said Graham?”
Sitting on the settee, ear half-cocked towards the telephone, Jim stood up at the name of his youngest son. Moving towards his wife, Jim heard her say that they would be right there, and put the ‘phone down.
“What’s happened love,” he asked, alarmed at the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“He’s been in an accident, we have to get down there now,” Florence said, barely looking at Jim as she moved into the kitchen, turned the oven off, scooping up her coat and handbag. Running towards the hospital, Florence barely registered Jim’s laboured breathing, oblivious to the looks of passersby at the crying woman, coat half on, who sped towards the hospital being followed by a slightly overweight man.
“Hello, I’m Florence Jones. My Son Graham is here I believe?”
“Date of birth?”
“Oh, uhm it’s 23rd December 1990.” Florence had hesitated, questioning whether this was indeed Graham’s birthday. Seeing her reflection in the glass surrounding the receptionist, Florence noted her face mirrored her feelings of reassurance as she was told where Graham was. The receptionist gave directions towards intensive care, telling Florence and a heavily breathing Jim that a nurse would be able to give more details once they arrived at the ward.
Placing his hand in the small of her back, his other hand gently taking her arm, Jim guided Florence towards Intensive Care. Walking slowly down the long, cold and impersonal corridor, hearing the echoes of their heels on the tiled floor, Florence commented on the large number of wards leading off the corridor, registering the irony that intensive care was the furthest from the reception.
Her footsteps faltered as they arrived at the door to the ward. She turned towards Jim and smiled, lost and frightened, gripping his hand tightly, knowing he would remain by her side, as he had been through their 30 years of married life. She then broke down completely, losing all semblance of decorum, dreading what the door would reveal. Enveloping her in his arms Jim tried to support his wife, but Florence felt unable to take the comfort on offer, compelled to go in, to see Graham.
A nurse arrived, and the couple followed her into a side room, silently listening to the news that Graham was in a coma, having had an accident whilst on his motorbike. He had broken his leg, though not badly, and apart from the head injury, was going to be fine. Florence’s face fell, her beautiful face ripped open with grief, shame, love, hope, revealing the turmoil of emotions inside.
Florence was lost in the thoughts of the last time she had seen Graham, two months ago almost to the day. They had had such a furious row. Graham was about to leave home for his first term at University, studying medicine. The whole family were so proud of him, that the baby of the family was the first University scholar. A surprise party had been planned for him at the local community hall, with all his friends and the large, extended family.
A ‘final’ family meal, of mum, dad and the 4 children was organised before the party. And it was at that meal, lamb casserole, Graham’s favourite, that Graham revealed he was gay. Florence winced as she remembered her reaction, feeling the heat rise over her face. “You’re what?....... Gay? Gay? ...........Is this some kind of sick joke? Gay? How can you expect to be happy being gay?” she’d said, her voice increasing in volume, working herself into a frenzy.
At the party, nothing was said of the life changing events which had occurred before. Florence had been the life and soul as usual, although had managed to skilfully avoid talking to Graham for the duration. Going home in the car later, Florence was aware of a heavy, oppressive blanket which seemed to have wrapped itself around everyone, all at a loss to know how to lift it.
The next morning, having spent much of the night considering how to apologise to Graham, she had been up at the crack of dawn, waiting for Graham to come down for breakfast. Florence was unaware that Graham had decided to leave the house for his new life as soon as he heard silence spread through the home.
Or that Graham would ignore the letters she subsequently sent, each returned unopened, with Graham’s distinctive handwriting scrawled across the front ‘Return to sender’. The shame she felt at her behaviour had prevented her from driving to see him in person, unsure of the response she would get.
Walking hesitantly into the quiet hospital room indicated by the nurse, Florence breathed in sharply as she looked down on her motionless son for the first time in too long. Taking in his pale, slightly chubbier face, his recently styled brown hair, and his hairy arms, Florence looked helplessly at the starch white sheet and blue cover which hid the rest of his body, aware his broken leg stuck out slightly.
“Graham, Graham, its ok, mum and dad are here.” Florence had caressed her son’s hand as she said this, not expecting his hand to recoil and move away from hers. She sat silently in the visitors chair after that, listening to Jim prattle on about Graham’s brother and sisters, Felix the cat, mundane daily lives.
Florence excused herself when the nurse came in to check Graham, glad of the opportunity to be alone and absorb what was happening. She came back half an hour later, standing at the door, looking in on Graham, a smile playing around her mouth.
“I bumped into Craig outside darling, he’s on his way in, just answering a call from nature!” said Florence cheerily as she strode confidently back into the room and sat down next to Graham. Jim looked at her in surprise. Graham did not move his hand from his mothers’ as she took it.
“Do you remember that first trip we all made to Clacton? You would have been, oh, well, maybe 2, I think. You were fascinated by the laughing clown, kept demanding I put more money in. And I had been so sure you would be petrified by it just like your sisters Chloe and Claire had been when they first saw it! Jack, well, Jack may well have been your older brother, but he wasn’t one for clowns at all! We had to leave in the end ‘cos he was making so much noise, screaming with terror!”
Florence smiled at the memory, including Jim in the conversation through her glances towards him, and then gazing intently at Graham’s face, searching for some sign, some movement, something which would show Graham had heard. She was not put off by the apparent lack of response.
“Hello Mr Jones, I’m Craig, Graham’s boyfriend,’ said the handsome, tall man pumping Jim’s hand up and down.
“Jim, p p p please call me Jim.” Florence had stood up as Craig entered, telling Graham mum and dad would leave to make some phone calls, leaving Graham and Craig alone together. She leant across and kissed Graham, “I love you,” she said, clutching his hand. Florence seemed to pause before letting go of Graham’s hand, almost as if he prevented her from letting go...............
She had turned round, hugging Craig before leaving, telling him it would only be a few minutes. Florence felt so at ease with Craig, like she had known him for ages, not someone just met. At last, Florence knew she was being allowed back in to Graham’s life, and was determined not to waste this second chance.
Taking Jim’s hand, Florence walked towards the coffee machine, and selected two cups of, well, something warm at least! Taking out her mobile phone, and moving towards the entrance of the ward she went outside to call her children.
“Hi Chloe, its mum.................What? Oh, yes, it is a bit late isn’t it! I, well, I wanted to call you to tell you about Graham. He’s..........., he’s been in an accident Chlo, he’s unconscious but the doctors say he’ll be fine. I think he’s aware though that we’re both here. No, no darling, there’s no point you driving down now all that way, we’ll call if anything changes, promise. Come down tomorrow, you can meet his rather dishy boyfriend, Craig, who’s keeping him company now.”
Florence smiled at Chloe’s enthusiastic response to the last bit of news, knowing her daughter had recognised the opportunity for her mother and brother to rebuild their relationship.
She turned to see Jim watching, and smiled, suddenly so certain, so poised, so in control. She had a briefer chat with Claire, getting her one year old grandson James first, and having to spend time chatting nonsense to him. Claire planned to drive down tomorrow.
Sighing, Florence phoned Jack, her voice tremulous as she told him the news. Of all their children, it had been Jack who had shown his disgust for his mothers’ reaction the most, telling her in the aftermath that she should be ashamed of herself. Florence had won back the affection of her children through her unquestionable efforts to reach out to Graham, and the belief she could make amends. It was this determination which Florence relied upon now, as a mother, looking after her young, trying to protect them from the pain of the accident, to reassure them it would be alright.
Walking back to the ward, Florence told Jim that Jack would come over to the house that night, especially when he’d heard there was a lamb casserole to be eaten. Jim went into the room to say goodbye to his son, and then turned to his wife and said “It will be alright you know Flo. Give me a call if anything changes.” He kissed his wife, who again marvelled at Jim’s ability to provide her with the reassurance and space she needed.
Florence spent the night with Graham and Craig, telling stories of the family from many years ago, reminding Graham of his obsession with Blue Peter and sticky back plastic, of family trips, and of how much she loved him. Florence knew this was her opportunity to spend quality time with her son, to try to rebuild her relationship with him. She moved to sit on the bed to hug Graham, begging forgiveness for her thoughtless and hurtful response to Graham’s revelation.
Florence sobbed, disclosing for the first time the story of Aunt Edna, who had been badly beaten in the 1930s for being a lesbian. Her fears that Graham’s life would not be any different from this had overshadowed her acknowledgement of the progress gay rights had made.
Craig had moved to hug her at this point, looking at both Graham and Florence as he said “We all have to move on.”
Florence was visibly tired when Jim arrived back the next morning with their 3 other children in tow. Florence stood up to hug Jim, refusing to let him go, feeling the years of their shared love and strength, knowing how vital it would be for the future.
Hearing the sound of movement from the bed, both turned, smiling as Graham said “Oh, get a room, please! You’re such an embarrassment!” his arms open to welcome his parents into his embrace.
Florence walked to his bedside, seized his hand, and told him he was never going to be so distant from her again, that she could not change the past, but could help shape the future. Contented, Florence looked around at her family, overjoyed it was complete again.