The Burden of Integrity, The Cost of Its Absence

By Cora Tate

Robyn’s older sister, Elizabeth, lay dying half a world away, in the regional hospital in Sweden where both were born.  A tearful telephone conversation ten days earlier told Beth’s sibling doctors estimated Beth had five weeks to live.  Despite sibling arguments and rivalry as children, the sisters enjoyed a close relationship from their teens.  Now, the hours of Beth’s life ran out like grains of sand in an hourglass, and Robyn felt distraught.

The sisters’ relationship left Robyn wanting to travel to her native land and spend every minute she could with Beth.  Like most residents of the rural Waitomo settlement where Robyn had lived for fourteen years, she could not afford the $5,493 economy-class Auckland-Stockholm roundtrip ticket, let alone the expenses of getting to and from the airports.  She saw the trip as a fantasy and gave it little further thought.

Robyn abandoned her husband of twenty-four years for Arthur, a man she met in a therapy group prescribed, for each of them, by their psychiatrists.  Because Gary, now her ex-husband, once commented negatively on her weight two decades earlier, Robyn felt ever afterward that he didn’t appreciate her.  Arthur assured his new acquaintance, when he took her out to lunch after a therapy session, he preferred “curvey” women; their relationship blossomed, thenceforth.  In addition to resentment over Gary’s earlier slight, Robyn disliked his dealing with every problem like an engineer, as if everything could be handled scientifically.

Usually, Robyn resented that Gary wouldn’t fight back, when she attacked him, although she sometimes appreciated the way he gently talked her down from her explosive moods.  She appreciated his taking good care of her in every way but resented his consistent and intimidating self-sufficiency and his hyper-rationality.  Her new inamorato exhibited no such characteristics.  He couldn’t take care of Robyn as Gary had—could hardly take care of himself.  He needed someone to take care of him, and Robyn adopted that role with gusto.

Barely surviving on a disability benefit after a workplace accident years earlier, Arthur never had surplus funds.  Robyn didn’t mind that—it was just another way Arthur differed from Gary:  Arthur needed her, Gary didn’t.  The difference meant a lot to Robyn, although Beth’s diagnosis left Robyn thinking it would be nice to have access to Gary’s savings—of which she took half in their divorce—to fly to Sweden.  The straitened financial circumstances Robyn and Arthur endured seemed less appealing, as did Arthur’s general ineptitude.

Although Robyn formed friendships with neighbors, she had yet to make close friends.  She told a handful of neighbors and friends about her sister and two or three about wishing she could see Beth.  Because Gary communicated with his ex-wife almost weekly, usually by email, always reminding her of his enduring love, she told him about Beth, too.  He replied within an hour and offered to help her travel to see her sister.  That’s no surprise, Robyn thought, Gary loves me and would do anything for me.

While her ex- failed to surprise Robyn, she surprised herself by deciding not to avail herself of Gary’s help.  Perhaps more mature seven years after ending their marriage, perhaps afraid of undertaking such a trip alone, perhaps thinking the days or weeks remaining too few to reach Beth’s bedside—whatever the reason, Robyn did not respond explicitly to Gary’s offer.  She thanked him for his thoughtful message but did not mention flying overseas.

The day following that email exchange brought two visits: an elderly couple from half a mile down the road, unaware of Beth’s illness, appeared with greetings and neighborly bonhommie.  In the course of the congenial conversation, the couple described seeing Arthur having lunch with a woman at a café in Te Awamutu.  Later, two other neighbors arrived, bearing fruits, vegetables, and baked goods, to offer condolences with regard to Robyn’s sister.  One of them, whom Robyn considered rather scatter-brained, gave Robyn a lottery ticket, saying, “Maybe Lady Luck will help.”  Robyn thanked both, chatted with them for an hour, and bade them a conventional neighborly farewell.

Two days later, Robyn went shopping.  She took her purse to the car, returned to the house, retrieved the lottery ticket, bumped along the drive to the road, then drove to town and her usual supermarket.  Robyn finished her shopping, then presented her ticket at the lottery-and-tobacco counter.  To her amazement, she learned she had won ten thousand dollars.  Recognizing she could visit her sister, Robyn hurried home, intending to ring Beth before remembering the time in Sweden was 4:00 a.m.

While waiting, Robyn rang a travel agent to book flights.  Her itinerary began the next day and required only two stops and changes of aircraft; Robyn arranged to pay when she collected the tickets.  At 6:30 that evening, her time, 7:30 that morning, Sweden time, Robyn rang the hospital.    The ward nurse told the caller Elizabeth’s condition had deteriorated and prevented the patient from taking the call, then suggested the caller ring back in half an hour.

The minutes dragged, as Robyn thought about Beth, about Gary, about Arthur.  Robyn shocked herself by wondering, What did I ever see in Arthur?  He doesn’t do anything as well as Gary.  Robyn immediately felt guilty for harboring such thoughts about Arthur.  A moment later she thought, Why shouldn’t I feel critical of Arthur?  I was critical of Gary for decades for no reason at all.  She suspended her internal dispute to ring the hospital again.

The nurse presented a different and almost-officious attitude and required Robyn to confirm her identity and her relationship with Elizabeth.  Once satisfied regarding the caller’s identity, the nurse assumed a gentler tone and informed Robyn her sister had died.

Beth’s diagnosis meant the news did not surprise Robyn.  Nevertheless, she again felt distraught—and bereft.  She wanted, needed to do something to ease the ache of loss.  Robyn could no longer fly to Sweden to share Beth’s last moments, so what could she do?  She wanted succor.  She needed succor.  Forcing herself to think rationally—Where did I learn to do that? she asked herself with rhetorical irony—Robyn recognized that Arthur could not help, could not provide the succor she needed, could not provide anything she needed.

Fighting down the turmoil in her mind, Robyn called the travel agent back and changed her reservations.  She inquired about direct flights to the Sunshine Coast, but learned the airlines discontinued those flights early in the pandemic and never reinstated them.  Robyn therefore booked a flight the next morning from Auckland to Brisbane.  If I can’t visit Elizabeth, Robyn thought, I can visit someone else who really cares about me.  Robyn packed clothes and dental and other hygiene and grooming products that night, rose long before her accustomed hour, drove to Hamilton before daylight, caught the 6:15 train to Puhinui, then spent twenty minutes in a taxi to Auckland airport’s international terminal.

In the terminal, Robyn found she had less than forty minutes to check in and get to the gate.  She hurried to check her suitcase and obtain her boarding pass, chafed while she awaited her turn for security screening, and arrived at the gate as the passenger agent announced the final boarding call.  Robyn hurried to the desk, presented her passport and boarding pass, then continued down the tunnel to the Boeing 737-9.

Relieved to see both her seatmates wearing masks, Robyn fastened her seat belt, retrieved from her purse a Fay Weldon book she’d wanted to read for months, and began reading.  She enjoyed three hours of reading, interrupted by a snack, before the big jet landed at Brisbane Airport with Robyn almost a third of the way through the novel.  Robyn re-set her watch to Queensland time, after a flight attendant’s announcement as the aircraft taxied to the terminal.  Robyn shuffled off the aircraft with the other passengers, went through Passport Control formalities, and headed to the baggage claim area.

She collected her suitcase, submitted it for customs inspection, then returned the bag to the luggage-cart and wheeled them to a telephone from which she rang Rent-a-Bomb.  The company’s driver picked her up fifteen minutes later.  Robyn rented the cheapest car available with an automatic transmission; necessary forms completed and deposit paid, she headed north on the Bruce Highway.

The Google directions Robyn had printed out at home sat beside her on the passenger seat.  Following those mostly correct directions, she left the freeway an hour later in Landsborough and drove to and through Maleny and straight onto Reesville Road.  She left Reesville for the road in Gary’s address about 2:00pm, when new worries began to assail her: What if he has someone there—a girlfriend or a live-in lover?  Even if he loves me, and she felt sure he did, what if he has someone else?  Those thoughts terrified Robyn and almost chased her back to the airport.

Tremulous, she forced herself to implement her original intentions and cruised slowly along Gary’s road.  When Robyn reached his driveway, the drive, the house, the hill beyond—all familiar from photographs Gary had sent to her with his loving messages—reassured Robyn that she had arrived where she wanted and needed to be.  Feeling desperate for Gary’s love but terrified of rejection, she drove slowly down the drive to his house.

Gary must have heard the car, because he walked out the front door to greet the new arrival, as she parked right in front of him.  The look on his face left Robyn feeling both delighted and guilty.  The love, the happiness in Gary’s eyes and expression told Robyn he loved her and always would.  When Gary opened his arms, Robyn stepped into his hug and felt better than she had felt at any time in the seven years since she abandoned their marriage.

The ex-spouses stood, communing in some inaudible way, for several minutes, before Gary said, “What a wonderful surprise!” and asked about Elizabeth and mourned with his ex-wife the death of his former sister-in-law.  Gary comforted Robyn, until they could converse more or less normally.  He asked if she wanted a bite to eat or to sit inside and chat or a tour of the grounds.

Robyn chose the third option, and he showed her the nearby parts of the property, with special attention to the half dozen clumps of banana plants, some with ripening bunches of her favorite fruit.  He showed Robyn the raised beds that produced his vegetables, the many fruit trees he had planted and the bigger ones already there when he’d bought the place.  He showed her the many garden beds of rocket and mustard and other greens she knew he liked, the creek, the garage and attached one-bedroom apartment, but mostly he showed her that sharing with her was still the most important thing in his life.

After their stroll, Gary showed Robyn his house—explaining the verandah-in-progress as they entered.  He showed her the spacious living room, the space where he created his library, the little kitchen, the bedrooms, the former (from previous owners) classroom Gary used as both office and bedroom, and other, smaller but important rooms.

The tour completed, Gary made dinner then sat and chatted with his ex-wife for four hours before saying, “Crikey!  It’s almost midnight for you.  You must be exhausted.”

Robyn did not feel tired.  Being with Gary lifted all tiredness from her.  She thanked him for his concern and said she was happy to keep whatever hours suited him.  Gary said he could be flexible, and Robyn remembered how he used to wake up and work for two or three hours before she woke but then hurry back to bed as soon as he heard her stirring.  She said, “You prob’ly still like to get up early—don’t you?  Yeah, let’s retire.”

That brought a return to Gary’s guest bedroom—with two king-singles—and a reminder about the “granny flat” attached to the garage, with its own bathroom, toilet, and kitchen, in case she preferred that accommodation.  Beset by conflict between her confidence in Gary’s love and her fear of some obstacle, Robyn hesitated to reveal her thoughts but knew she had to say something.  Despite her misgivings, Robyn told her host, “I haven’t got to fall asleep in your arms for a long time, and I’d like that.”

Gary’s hesitation triggered alarm bells in his ex-wife’s head.  She felt her world beginning to crumble.  When Gary finally spoke, he said, “Oh, Robyn!  I’d like that so much, but I’ve made a commitment to someone else.  I wouldn’t have, if I’d known you wanted us to be together, but I—”

Robyn opened her mouth to scream at her ex- and tell him what a horrid, selfish brute he was but burst into tears before she could say anything.  He enfolded her in a hug and comforted her, and she noticed the tears running down his face.  Again forcing herself to think rationally, Robyn recognized that yelling and vituperation would not get her what she wanted and needed.

Although she had found apologies difficult since her teens, Robyn said, “Oh, Gary!  I’m so sorry I messed up our relationship.  I don’t know wh—”

Her ex- said, “Robyn darling, you must know I love you.  Don’t worry.  That’s ancient history.  If a time comes, when I am uncommitted and you want us to be together, I will welcome you back into my life.”

Robyn began weeping softly with her head on Gary’s chest, and he continued, “You’re already in my heart.  You know that.”

She nodded and held onto Gary with a desperate grip, until she felt strong enough to walk to the guest room and quietly cry herself to sleep.  She woke in the night and thought of slipping into Gary’s bed to try to change his mind.  She swung her legs out of the bed, then stopped to think about how important commitments had always been to Gary.  Recognizing she would never get him to breach a commitment he had made, she lay back down thinking about the commitment she had broken and, eventually, cried herself back to sleep.

The next morning, Robyn woke up wishing her ex-husband lay beside her, wishing she could see him gazing at her with the rapture she remembered from two decades of their shared life.  What a fool I was, Robyn thought.  She rose, dressed, and found Gary working at his computer.  He stood and hugged her, stroked her hair, and asked, “Are you OK?”

Robyn nodded, although she did not feel OK, and relaxed in Gary’s arms.  She thought about her situation, thought about Gary, thought about her life, and faced how much she wanted to resume the marital relationship she now recognized as almost ideal.  Determined to practise openness, she explained those thoughts.

“I would really like that, too,” he said.  “I’ve made a promise though, and you know how I am about promises.”

She did know.  She remembered how he became alienated from his parents because of their broken promises.  Other examples came to mind, but Gary interrupted her train of thought by continuing, “I mean, I love Lorraine, but I don’t love Lorraine nearly as much as I love you.  I have made a commitment to her though.”

Gary had porridge made and a skillet ready.  He put bread in the toaster and made scrambled eggs just the way Robyn liked them, the preparations frequently interrupted by her need for comforting hugs.  To say, “They ate in silence,” might sound dramatic, but they chatted as they ate, covering dozens of topics of interest to both.  Gary exhibited all the enthusiasm she remembered from their days as husband and wife—so much so, Robyn hoped he might relent, but, no, she knew better.

After washing up, the ex-spouses shared another walk around Gary’s property, also interrupted by comforting hugs.  They crossed the creek and walked almost to the foot of the hill, where Robyn asked, “How far up does your property go?”

“See those big trees on the ridge-line?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re in the state forest just on the other side of the fence.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t living up there, further from the road.”

“I’ve often thought how nice that would be, although it’s a quiet road, deadend and very little traffic.  An agent has recently begun representing one of my novels, and—”

“That’s neat.  Your first one, about the guy from California?”

“No, my second one—more marketable, I suspect.  But, anyway, if she gets a good advance from a publisher, I was thinking I would use it to build on one of the flats up on the hill.  Do you want to walk up and see?”

“I’d rather go back to your house and get you into bed.”

Gary’s voice sounded like a moan, as he said, “Oh, Robyn, I would like that, too, but we’d better not.”

“I know,” and she did.  “I’ll keep hoping though.”

They held hands, as they walked back to the house and Robyn’s rented car.  As he loaded her suitcase in the back, Gary said, “If there’s any change in my situation, I will let you know immediately.”

“I’m glad—and, like I said, I’ll keep hoping.”

The two ex-s stood beside the car and shared a lingering hug, that Robyn hoped might mean Gary would change his mind.  She climbed in and started the motor, and Gary leaned in through her window and bestowed a kiss remarkable for its gentleness but no less passionate for all that.  “Drive really carefully, please,” Gary said.  “I love you.”

Robyn didn’t begin weeping until she was far enough up the drive that he couldn’t see her face.  From that distance, she couldn’t see the tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard.  She looked in the mirror and saw him still standing in the middle of the drive, blowing kisses to her, as she turned onto the road and headed home.

Educated as a scientist and graduated as a mathematician, Cora Tate has made her living as a full-time professional entertainer most of her life, including a stint as a regular performer on the prestigious Grand Ole Opry.  Cora’s repeated attempts to escape the entertainment industry have brought work as a librarian, physics teacher, syndicated newspaper columnist, and city planner, among other occupations.  Cora has written five novels, five novellas (two published), ten novelettes (three published plus one forthcoming), and about a hundred short stories, of which seventy-seven have been published in eighty-seven literary journals in eleven countries.  Her short story “While The Iron Is Hot” won the Fair Australia Prize.