Imagine There's No Heaven

Gina stood waiting tiredly. It was a lazy afternoon. The students slowly slid out of the room like a slug. Gina chewed on her lower lip in concern. Guy hadn’t attended the class, of course. Not only had that made the lesson dull—as it always was without the exciting threat of the spark Guy always carried in him—but she couldn’t focus on her work for fear that he might have done himself or someone else harm. She gathered her papers on her desk and began to sort them into a file. She tucked the file in her desk draw.

  ‘Hi.’

  Gina turned round to find Kevin standing in the doorway holding a small but thick book. He was wearing a black tailored suit, having come from work. He looked particularly handsome, with just a little stubble showing and his hair slicked back. What most took Gina’s breath, though, was the excitement in his eyes, which he was trying to keep secret. She knew he had done something sweet for her.

  ‘Oh, hi, honey. What’s going on?’ She shuffled over to his side.

  ‘I thought you could use a new photo album,’ he said, holding the book high. It was a gorgeous looking album in a pink floral design. Kevin normally messed up completely when it came to design— he had an acute flavour for the garish— but he had chosen perfectly here. Gina’s face lit-up in delight.

  ‘Oh my goodness, honey, that’s so thoughtful of you.’ She kissed him on the cheek, grinning from ear to ear. She opened the album and began to flick through. He had completely transferred all her old photos to the new album. She was so excited she didn’t consider how strange it was for Kevin to give her a present at work. He was relieved; she wouldn’t have been pleased if he’d had to explain that he wanted to remind her that even at school her family was her family and that no student could ever replace them.

  ‘Look here,’ he said, holding her focus on the album by flicking to a page that held a portrait of Gina’s father as a boy. It was the original photo, some sixty years old.

  ‘You fixed it?’ Gina beamed. She held a hand to her mouth and ran a finger softly over the image. It was in perfect condition. ‘I love you. My goodness, you are such a sweet, loving man, Kev’. God I adore you.’ She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. Then her eyes widened with concern and she checked the vicinity to confirm they were alone. There was no one in sight.

  ‘All right, all right,’ he laughed. ‘I guess we should both get back to work. We can go through the album later.’

  ‘You keep it for now,’ Gina said, handing the album over. ‘I’m terrified I shall lose it. I couldn’t possibly.’

  ‘Sure.’ He tucked the album under his arm and kissed Gina on the forehead. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  Gina was still showering Kevin with affection later that evening. They sat on the couch together, flicking through the album. Kevin listened intently as Gina told him the stories of every photo. He pretended it was the first time he had heard them.

  ‘This is one of the sweetest things you’ve ever done for me,’ Gina said. ‘You know, these photos mean so much to me.’

  ‘I was hoping to start a trend,’ said Kevin. ‘Think how many photos we’ll have when we start a family.’

  Gina gazed into his eyes. They were so beautiful: soft, brown and reassuring. She leant over and kissed him. He lay back and held her in his arms. She felt a tenderness she hadn’t felt in months. She felt as though she were a teenager again, as though they’d just gotten back from a romantic meal. His soft, loving words had returned her dreams to her. Once more she was caught up in the intoxicating idea that he could whisk her away; the idea that they could set out together and create a beautiful future, as though time and troubles didn’t exist. His skin looked brand new. It was alive. She yearned to be suffocated in his flesh. She nibbled on the tough skin of his neck and began to finger at his shirt.

  ‘Shit,’ Kevin spat as the doorbell rang. ‘Come on, give me a bloody break.’

  Gina looked towards the hallway and bit her lip nervously.

  ‘Ignore it,’ Kevin pleaded. ‘Just ignore it.’

  He knew she couldn’t ignore it. She was too worried it might be urgent. Paranoid was the word Kevin would use, but no matter what word described her behaviour, she stood up, checked herself over and scurried to the door. She peered through the peephole. It was Guy. She prayed he wouldn’t need long. She owed Kevin some attention. Reluctantly, she opened the door.

  ‘Hi, Guy,’ she slurred in a hurry. ‘Is everything okay?’ His face was white as a ghost. Still, she could hope.

  ‘I found someone who knows her.’

  ‘What?’ Gina gulped. Someone who knows who? He couldn’t possibly mean who she thought he meant. That was impossible. She gave him the once-over. He was shaking. His face was pale. His breathing was short. ‘Found who?’ she asked, unable to believe what he was saying.

  ‘I’ve found someone who knows the truth about my mum.’

  Kevin was still sat on the couch with his shirt half undone, a tuft of hair poking out the top. Guy turned away.

  ‘Kev’, darling,’ Gina nervously called.

  ‘I heard,’ he acknowledged. Gina thanked him silently for not shouting, though she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. To say the least, things had been crazy as of late; she would hardly blame him if he thought of leaving her, not that he ever would. Praying that soon some resolve would be found for Guy and she would be able to move on, she grabbed the keys from the hanger and left.

  Gina backed out the driveway in her SUV as Guy was explaining the story to her.

  ‘Roy— he’s close friends with me, my mum and my dad— he finally opened up and told me what he knew,’ Guy said. Gina muttered an acknowledgement. She was fully focussed on the road. It was a dark night and the streets were busy with football fans heading home after a game. ‘He said mum was sent on a rescue mission and gave me some names: General Swanson, General Heuer and Lieutenant Daniels. I spent all day searching at the library— that’s why I wasn’t in class, sorry.’

  ‘Hell, you were at a library; that’s more than good enough for me,’ Gina muttered. She reached over and took a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, handed one to Guy and lit her own. An old banger in front was slowing her down. She sighed, looked in the rear view mirror and brushed her hair back.

  ‘The lady at the library said they had loads of newspapers from years ago,’ Guy continued. ‘I was there for hours reading them when I finally found something: a story about a soldier who had suffered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. His name: Daniels. That was what started it. I got the address and everything, and that led me to yet more information. Eventually I went right back to newspapers from when mum had left. Most of them didn’t say anything much, but this one reporter for the Post somehow knew more than the rest. He’d documented the whole story, or at least most of it. This is what he said....’