Armchair
written by: Rex Fausett
The pain hit Ailsa again so she headed for the kitchen and her pills, thirteen bottles of them, some to take in the morning, some at night, and some as necessary; some in pairs and some just one at a time. She was hopeful, but not certain, that there would be an end to her pain sometime not far off. The pills kept her hanging on, though increasingly she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hang on. Her Scottish stubbornness and her stoic refusal to conform to her doctor’s expectations had so far guided her. The last year was supposed to be her last, but here she still was. She conceded that her doctor had a right to his opinion but then again he was quite young.
She swallowed her night-time tablets with a double helping of store-bought painkillers and a glass of tap water that seemed to taste of some vague contamination these days. Despite strict instructions from her medical professional, she followed the pills down with a generous helping of her favourite sweet sherry. It was almost her only real pleasure now. She missed those glasses of sherry with Ivan by the fireside of an evening.
She drank almost half the sherry while staring idly at the calendar on the kitchen wall above the work counter. The calendar, incorporating a large multicoloured map of Scotland, was a gift from the off-license around the corner and the best calendar she’d had for years. A nice change from the annoyed-looking highland cattle used so often.
She hadn’t noticed until that moment that it was the thirty-first of October and therefore Halloween, the anniversary of the day back in nineteen seventy-eight when she’d met Ivan Sutton in the bar of the Sprig o’ Heather where Ivan and his band were playing a selection of traditional Scottish tunes. The bar was decked out with a few pumpkins, some white chiffon ghosts strung up across the front windows, and a big hand-written sign advertising that night’s kitchen special, what else but pumpkin soup.
Ivan was a decent pianist, as was Ailsa at the time, and when the band had a break Ivan approached the pretty lass sitting at a table near the front of the room and introduced himself. He’d spied her from the bandstand and as soon as he found out she played piano they were deep in conversation about music until Ivan was summoned back to the bandstand for the next set. From that night on they were seldom apart until Ivan went on ahead four years back.
Ailsa refilled her sherry glass and shuffled along to the front room. She settled into her chair next to the fire, her favourite place in the whole world these days. It was deep-buttoned red velvet, old and large, the chair she inherited from her mother when her mother passed on back in the nineties, and it had been her gran’s before that. In fact, the chair was already very old when Ailsa’s grandmother had it handed down to her from Ailsa’s great-great-grandmother.
Ailsa’s backside found its comfort zone immediately. Given its age, the hollow in the cushion should have been deeper and the springs underneath should have been rusted and dysfunctional, but they weren’t. The chair was as soft and welcoming as ever. The cushions behind her were just perfect, soft but supportive. Ailsa sighed and closed her eyes and moved her feet a little closer to the fire.
But the sherry was reacting with something. Ailsa felt a little giddy but she enjoyed the sensation – took her back a few years to the times when she and Ivan went to the pub every Friday and sometimes on Saturday, depending on what band was playing where, that little buzz you got after the second sherry.
Poor old Ivan. Going on ahead, he said. Come along when you’re ready. Maybe there’s a pub up there we can go to on a Friday night. Could even have a good band and some decent beer and I expect you don’t have to pay.
Another touch of dizziness, more intense this time, then the whisper came. Ailsa couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from but it seemed to be from somewhere nearby. At first, she couldn’t understand the words but they became clearer. ‘Relax, Ailsa, just relax.’
Ailsa obeyed, slumping down and closing her eyes. My word, that sherry and the pills had made her feel good. She felt herself starting to drift as the voice said, ‘It’s time, Ailsa.’ The arms of the chair slowly encircled then covered over her, immersing her in the ultimate cosy comfort and guiding her away.
And then she was in a bar with music playing an old tune and there was Ivan, sitting and smiling, his eyes sparkling with pleasure when he saw Ailsa. Somehow he looked young again, just as handsome as he was in 1978. He put his drink down and headed towards her with his arms outstretched and asked her to dance.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Here in New Zealand Halloween is all about collecting sweets and getting ready for a sugar rush but in our sixth-floor aerie with security tight these days, Halloween can pass one by without it being noticed. Not a New Zealand tradition very much but there are suitable movies, one called Halloween in particular to celebrate the day.
- Armchair - October 24, 2024
- A Study in Pork Chops - December 22, 2023
