Empty

It started on a Tuesday.

‘Why not a Monday?’ you well could ask, and the truth is, I don’t know. It’s not as if they were ever very different from each other anyway. But no, Monday passed dutifully, as it always did, with not a hint of what was to come.

This particular Tuesday, I woke like usual. I stretched (creak, crunch), I got up, I stepped into my trusty old slippers and shuffled into the kitchen. Like I always did, I turned on the kettle and while I waited for it to boil, I looked at the calendar to see what needed doing that day.

And there it was. Sitting, waiting. It made my heart sink and my hands begin to shake. It seemed so total, so unavoidable - so threatening even.

It was plain enough, and that was the problem of course – it was too plain. A very plain, white, empty square. Completely empty. A day, an entire Tuesday, with absolutely nothing to do.

‘Hadn’t I had these before?’ I hear you asking, and of course I had. Many. Many, many more than you have, I’ll bet. But there was something about this one. It looked innocent enough, sure, a simple white box, but it was what it represented, wasn’t it? What it stood for. 

Empty hours was what it stood for. Long, slow, empty hours. How many? Well, it was seven then and I didn’t go to bed before ten at night, so that’s fifteen, isn’t it? There might as well have been fifteen empty squares there on the wall. They may as well have taken over the whole kitchen because I felt then that that was all there was… empty hours and that nasty, empty square.

I steadied myself against the cupboard and put my hand on my chest, hoping my poor heart would slow down a bit. Thankfully, the kettle boiled and I had to snap out of it to turn it off and stop the piercing whistle. My hands were still shaking a bit and it made me spill the water when I poured my tea. Never mind; I wiped that up.

I took that tea and some cereal and milk out of the kitchen over to the table, away from that calendar and its cruel empty square. ‘Think about something else,’ I told myself, so I looked at my favourite picture of my grandson, Jamie, when he was a baby and that made me feel a bit better.

Somehow, I got through that Tuesday; not sure how, but I did. Wednesday was fine because its little square had two things in it – ‘12pm – hair’ and ‘Joanne ringing’. That’s my daughter. She rings sometimes of an evening.

But Thursday. Oh! I should have known, prepared myself after Tuesday, but Wednesday had been normal so I hadn’t thought to worry. But, sure enough, when I turned on the kettle, Thursday leapt out at me like a monster hiding behind the door. Empty! Empty white square!

Well, this time I don’t mind saying that I felt even worse. My heart raced and my mouth felt dry. Both my hands shook. To make matters worse I’d woken up early that day and it was only half-six. Fifteen and a half empty hours. My knees felt a bit weak so I turned off the kettle before it had boiled and went and sat down. This had gotten bad.

Eventually I felt a bit better so I went to turn the kettle back on, and decided to take a sneaky peek at Friday, just to prepare myself. Of course – empty. I stood, catching my breath. Poured the tea in a daze, made the cereal with a jitter, went and sat back down.

Something was going to have to be done.

I thought about my options. Things that came to mind were: one - take down the calendar; two - make up something pretend to write on the calendar; and three - come up with something real to write on the calendar.

Well, I felt I really needed the calendar there to keep track of my appointments to I didn’t like option one too much. As for writing in something pretend, I’ve never been one to lie to myself and I didn’t plan on starting then. Which left option three – come up with something real. But that was the root of the problem though, wasn’t it? If I had things to put in there, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

My hands still shook while I ate my breakfast so I thought it might be good to turn on the radio. The usual presenters were there, sure enough, and that helped a bit. When I finished my tea, I was too scared to take the dirty dishes back into the kitchen so I just sat for a bit. On the radio they talked about an interview coming up with an author I liked. ‘That sounds good,’ I thought to myself. And then they said, ‘Eleven o’clock today, that is – don’t miss it. One to put in the dairy, for sure.’ And there it was - a solution! I shuffled bravely back into the kitchen and quickly wrote into the blank square that was Thursday ‘11am – author radio interview’. Phew!

I felt an immense relief at that and was able to look fearlessly at that square. ‘You don’t scare me!’ I said to it, getting a bit carried away. My eyes did glance momentarily over to Friday for a second, but I decided to quit while I was ahead and left it at that.

That afternoon I sat with the radio and listened for all the up-coming shows. I liked the show where they talked about books, and also the gardening one, even though I didn’t have a garden. I worked out that one of them was on Wednesday at 2pm and one on Tuesday at 12pm. I took down the calendar and filled in every Tuesday and Wednesday for the rest of the month and the next one as well. A very nice feeling of calm came over me as I filled in all those white squares.

But those Fridays remained stubbornly empty. And then there was the fact that Wednesdays weren’t actually empty anyway, because that was when Joanne usually rang, and sometimes even came over. It seemed a waste to have to put the gardening show in on a day when I already had something. I wondered if Joanne would consider ringing on a Friday instead, perhaps? I’d ask her next time.

Soon I had another brain-wave. The television guide! I wasn’t typically a supporter of daytime television; I thought it a terrible waste of time. But for something worthwhile, I could make an exception. And – you know what I found? An Antiques Roadshow special! It went for an hour and a half. I popped that in for Saturday and felt quite pleased. Emboldened, I went through the guide again and also wrote in each time that Escape to the Country was on, Grand Designs, and just for a bit of fun, First Dates Australia. That would do it. I didn’t want to get hooked on television, but felt that was a reasonable amount of viewing.

As the week went on, I listened to the radio promotions and managed to find a whole lot more radio segments to write in. Soon the calendar was a mad scribble of events; never a dull moment! Just looking at all that biro in those squares made me smile. I always knew what I’d be doing next, and that was a very good thing.

A problem arose when I wrote in the radio show I liked about history into each week until the end of the next month. I ran into my next hair appointment. They overlapped! Then, the Escape to the Country re-run was at the same time as my regular doctor’s appointment. Never mind; I rang and changed both those appointments to a Friday (the day I still had the most trouble filling) and then I was off and away again. From then on, when I needed to make an appointment (the car servicing, the physio), I always made it on the next empty square. Why waste a perfectly good appointment on a day where there was already something booked in?

I waited until Joanne rang on a Wednesday and asked her if she could perhaps ring on a Friday evening instead.

‘Not really, Mum,’ she said. ‘Jamie has his basketball that night. Why?’

‘Oh, no reason,’ I said vaguely. ‘What about Friday in the day then?’

’Well, that would work some weeks…,’ she said, a bit doubtfully. ‘Actually, I was thinking of coming over tomorrow, around two. Is that alright?’

I looked at the calendar and saw straight away that I would be listening to the history show until three, and then watching Antiques Roadshow. ‘Um…’

‘What?’ asked Joanne. ‘Will you be busy?’

‘Ah, yes. How about Friday, could you come then instead?’

‘No, not this week. Why, what’s wrong with tomorrow? Have you got some new hobbies or something?’

‘Yes, I have actually. I’ve got a new lease on life!’ And it was true – I really did! Filling the calendar had become a full-time hobby and it was bringing me a lot of satisfaction.

‘What are you doing? And what can be so important that you can’t move it around so I can come over? I haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks.’

‘I’d love to see you, Joanne, but just not right at that time. What about…’ I glanced at the calendar. ‘Ten-thirty tomorrow morning? For half an hour.’

‘Half an hour? What? No, I’m not free then. Mum, I’m offended. What could me so important? You’re being mysterious.’

On the television, First Dates Australia was starting. ‘I must be off, love, sorry. Call me tomorrow. Or Friday! Bye.’

I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it, and I was right. Sure enough, the next morning she rang at ten-thirty on the dot. ‘Mum,’ she said.

‘Hello, darling.’

‘I’m a bit put out. I really want to see you. I think you should fit me in.’

‘Of course, dear. I would love to see you.’

‘Can you really only see me tomorrow?’

‘Well, actually, Mondays are a bit quiet sometimes. Could you call or visit Monday?’

She seemed to be thinking. ‘That’s my day off, actually. I could do that. Any time in particular that you could fit me into your busy schedule?’

‘One-thirty,’ I said without hesitation. I’d come to know the gaps in the week pretty well by then.

‘Right then, one-thirty Monday,’ she said and sounded a bit huffy. ‘I’ll just wait until next week to see my own mother because she’s too busy to fit me into her schedule.’

I frowned and decided not to respond to that. ‘How’s Jamie?’ I asked instead.

Finally, Monday came and it was such a joy to see her smiling face at the door. She came in and we had tea and biscuits. (I’d starting booking the trip to the shops in the calendar as well so I never ran out of things anymore.) It was lovely. She told me all about work and Jamie and his school, and her poor friend who was going to get divorced.

When she left, she hugged me and said ‘Thanks for fitting me in, Mum. I miss you.’

As I hugged her, I looked over her shoulder and noted that she was leaving just in time for the new radio cooking show. ‘What? Oh yes, darling, I miss you too!’ I said as I ushered her out the door. She gave me a funny look as she turned away, but I was already heading for the radio. I gave her a little wave.

The very next day, she rang again (Tuesday; so unusual!) ‘Mum,’ she said, ’How about this? I know you’re busy, but how about I come around on Mondays, like you said, and then Jamie and I will pop in on Fridays after basketball, on the way home. Then you can see him too. We won’t stay though, because it will be late. How about that? Can you fit that in?’

I admit, I was taken aback and was momentarily speechless. My mouth hung open like a clown game at the show. ‘Ah…’

‘Mum, come on, please? We really want to see you and it’s not fair you shutting us out like this! Tell the bridge ladies or whoever you’ve got all these commitments with that you’re taking some time to be with your daughter! Please? Jamie wants to see you more too. He asks about you all the time.’

I came to my senses, pushed my jaw shut and said, ‘Yes, darling, I think I can fit that in. I’ll make it work.’ I smiled to myself.

‘Good,’ she said, with satisfaction. ‘Thank you.’

And that’s how my daughter Joanne started coming around to see me twice every single week. And even bringing my grandson.

Copyright Sophie Ransom 2021