Something missing

There had always been something missing, constantly that feeling of not being complete. A sadness that was hard to define and would come over her suddenly at unexpected and often inappropriate moments. Scenes of people greeting their loved ones at airports or a little lost dog would have her in floods of tears seemingly out of proportion to the event. 

Gaynor realized Christine was saying something to her.

'I'm sorry, I almost dropped off.' she turned her head sideways and smiled.

'I was asking if you wore glasses or contact lenses.?'

Gaynor sat up and pulled her long hair back up into a ponytail.

'I'm really short-sighted, I wear contact lenses all the time. I've had bad eye sight practically since I was born. Why do you ask? Do my eyes look red''

'No not at all.' 

Christine wrote something in the notebook that she was holding.

'I'd just like to ask you a few more questions and then we've finished.'

Gaynor lay back and tried to relax. She breathed in slowly through her nose and counted to three and then slowly out through her mouth like Christine had suggested. She thought consciously of the air filling her lungs and felt a bit dizzy.

It had been her friend Patsy's idea to have a few sessions with Christine. She'd been when her husband left her and said it was her salvation. Christine helped you work through your problems and find your own solutions without making you feel a failure or resentful and bitter. Patsy was now happy with a new boyfriend and looked ten years younger.

' Have you any brothers or sisters Gaynor?' Christine's voice was soothing.

'No, there's just me. Mum had such a hard time when I was born the doctors advised her not to have any more. My husband Tom has got two sisters and they treat me like one of them. I'm really lucky to have them.'

Gaynor often thought how lucky she was, everyone thought she was, she knew she was. She had a mother and father who doted on her, a husband who adored her and two small lively, adorable little  boys, Eddie and Sam. So why had she always had this feeling of loss, of something missing?

'Ok that's it for today Gaynor. If you want to come again next week ring and make an appointment, I'm free in the mornings.'

Gaynor stood up and straightened her top.

'You must think I'm awfully spoilt. Here I am with everything going for me and taking up your time like this. I don't understand it. I know you must see so many people with problems. I feel guilty taking up your time.'

Christine was silent and then took a breath.

'Look Gaynor lots of people take what I do with a pinch of salt, laugh at it even or try to rationalize what I tell them. I was going to wait until you'd had a few sessions but I think you need to know.'

Gaynor's eyes were enormous and she nodded at Christine to continue.

'This short sightedness of yours tells me that you didn't want to see something, way back at the start of your life, something enormous, tragic even and it is blocking your vital channels. We'll get it sorted out, you'll be fine.'

The moment Gaynor got in the car she burst into tears, a feeling of deep pain went through her. Christine was right about people being sceptical. Tom would say that she somehow knew about  Gaynor's short sight and was using it to appear clever. Her phone rang, it was her mother, Sheila. Gaynor grabbed it like a life belt.

' Oh mum I feel awful' she sobbed.' I've just been to see the alternative therapist that Patsy recommended and feel worse than ever. Can I come round, are you at home?'

Gaynor sat in her mother's kitchen and sipped the hot sweet tea and told her what Christine had said about her eyesight. Surprisingly her mother didn't comment or scoff and instead looked very serious and Gaynor stiffened as she saw a tear drop onto the table.

'I should have told you years ago Gaynor. I'm so sorry.' her mother put her hands up in front of her eyes. Gaynor gently took them away and held them in hers.
She felt afraid.
'What is it mum, tell me.'

Gaynor's mother took a deep breath.

'You were a twin.' then she broke down as the years of painful emotion, heartbreak and loss poured out, overflowing and engulfing the two women. Gaynor hugged her mother and stroke her hair.

'Oh Gaynor, I'm so sorry. I thought you'd never need to know and wanted to spare you this pain. In those days we just had to buck up and get on with it. I was so lucky really, I had you and you have been the most wonderful daughter I could wish for. Your father was and still is my rock and he helped me through and get on with the business of looking after you.'

A bond formed then stronger and deeper than ever as the two women held each other, understanding the pain and joy of the miracle of birth.

When Sheila closed the door after seeing her daughter off and reassuring her again she went back into her kitchen and poured out a large glass of her home made sloe gin. She kept it for Christmas and special occasions. As the drink flowed  through her, warming and burning at the same time, the tears poured down her face and she wept at last for her lost daughter, for the moment when the insensitive doctor had told her that it was Christine's foot pressing into her sister in the womb that had been the cause. She was determined that Christine would never be burdened with this pain.











'