Summer Soap (Episode 8): Pain, regret as couple revisit their conflicts

Welcome to The Echo’s annual feature - Summer Soap. Now in its ninth year, Summer Soap is a daily fictional serial run over 12 parts, which started last Monday and runs till Saturday. Called The Space Between Us, the story is about a man who bumps into an ex-girlfriend and discovers she can travel through time. It was written by Robyn Kelly, from the MA in Creative Writing Programme at UCC. Catch up with previous episodes at echolive.ie. In the eighth episode, Francis and Clara revisit the pain of their past

FRANCIS had spent the early days of their friendship trying to find out what she liked from close friends, joining the same clubs as her just to have an excuse to talk to her.

Once they were together he found himself chasing forgiveness, for always screwing up. He had thought there was something pathological about it, that he was forever meant to ruin good things once he had them.

Losing Clara was what made him dismiss this thought entirely. He genuinely wanted to be better. No more lies, no more angry outbursts. He wanted to be well adjusted, not just for her but for him. If there was something to come from all of this, he wanted to like his own company.

He followed her up to the steps outside the Arts Centre. His stomach sank.

I take it you remember what happened here?

Francis didn’t answer.

“I’ve been thinking about our moments of conflict. How they were instigated and how they went from a spark to a destructive fire. I remember this day so clearly. It was such a strong example of our differences… and that scared me.”

“Do we have to go back to this day, Clara? I apologised.”

“You want to make it up to me? Then you’re coming with me.”

She grabbed his hands and squeezed her eyes shut. He had hoped his exaggerated sigh would change her mind but apparently not. He squeezed her hands back and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, night had fallen around them. This was the night of one of their biggest fights… all because Francis had to take out his shitty humour on Clara. Being back in this body, in this moment, it was hard for him to see rationality as he did only moments ago.

He could hear someone shouting for her from inside the building. This was the night she had been invited to read her poetry by the college. It was the first time she had ever read her work aloud. He knew how nervous she was.

So… are you going to come inside this time?

He nodded and followed her in. The place was packed with professors, magazine and journal staff, photographers, and loved ones of each of the readers. Most of which were cradling glasses of red or white, some helping themselves to nibbles at a precisely laid table. Francis wasn’t hungry, he felt sick knowing what was coming. And yet no amount of hindsight could seem to prevent it. It was like his anger had already bubbled to a boiling point and there was no turning down the heat.

Being too focused on this sensation had led to him already making his first mistake of the evening. Clara was frantically flicking through pages just off stage, pushing her hair back behind her ears and wiping clammy hands on her skirt. He wasn’t there for her. Not really.

A voice boomed over the mic, opening the vent and introducing the readers. Francis’s head started to swim. As the evening progressed he could feel himself slipping away. No matter how hard he tried to focus his mind was anywhere but here. Then he remembered where it all came from. He had lost his job and hadn’t told anyone. He could hear a tiny part of him screaming what the right thing to do was. It told him to smile through it, cheer Clara on, stay until the end and confide in her later.

But against his better judgement, he had already turned on his heel and was reaching for a cigarette in the back pocket of his jeans.

Clara stepped up from the podium, the only thing concealing the wobble in her legs. In her mind she was praying this theme was different. She looked up from the page in front of her. He was gone.

Francis sat on the front steps until the end of the reading when Clara finally followed him out. He didn’t want to talk, he knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from getting riled up if she came out to him. Without saying a word, she slowly walked out and sat next to him, staring straight ahead. After a few large groups had started to dissipate, she started to speak.

“Why?”

Can we not do this? You don’t understand.

She stood up and glared down at him as her voice raised.

“No! You don’t understand. All I ever wanted was for you to be there for me. I have given you the most insane way to make it up to me and you still can’t -”

He cut her off, he had boiled over.

“I lost my job OK! And I was too embarrassed to tell you because you always liked having the one up on me. I felt like a loser. I still feel like a loser. Does that make you happy?!”

As the words exploded from him, it pushed him to his feet. He stared back at her. The exhaustion was taking over her body. She looked dishevelled. He instantly regretted his words.

“I... I don’t know where that came from. Jesus, Clara, I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

She pulled her jacket over her shoulders and dried her eyes on the sleeve as she walked off. Francis tried to call after her but it was as if she had completely tuned him out. When she reached the gate she stopped and turned to face him, her words shot through the bitter air.

I still blame you for stupid choices you made, that won’t change. I don’t know though, I feel like it was all so fixable, it’s like you were untouchable.

She was right. He was untouchable. He made such a conscious choice to stop himself from getting hurt, but it didn’t prevent hurt, it passed it on to someone else. It wasn’t just hurt Francis was inflicting, Clara looked noticeably more drained now. Looking at her now it was like he could see the toll of their trips begin to catch up with her. The colour had spilled from her face, making her look more sullen. She was stiff yet evidently tired. Her shoulders remained slumped and unmoving.

He wondered if this was a result of the constant time jumping or a general exhaustion to the emotional turmoil of the day. This made Francis think back to what she had said about her aunt… the one who was destroyed by this power. He decided not to think too hard about the complications of it all until Clara wished to discuss it. If she chose to do so. Now might not have been the perfect time, she seemed to be quite agitated.

“Hey, do you wanna find somewhere to sit down? maybe take a minute to collect ourselves?”

“I’m fine.” She barked at him.

You have every right to be upset. I get it. But we aren’t going to be able to think anything through if we don’t clear our heads. Let’s take a break.

She was frozen for a beat, and then she fell to the ground. Francis rushed over to her, but she wouldn’t wake. Picking her up in his arms he screamed: “Clara!? Clara, wake up!”