8 December 2024
Greetings,
It’s the second Sunday of Advent – a second Advent Candle will be lit in this morning’s service at St Salvator’s Chapel beginning at 11 am. Fresh from a beautiful University Carol Service last night, St Salvator’s Chapel Choir will be singing music by Palestrina and Kerensa Briggs, and our visiting preacher is Revd David Coleman, Chaplain to Eco-Congregation Scotland. All are welcome.
Our window today opens on to the next chapter in the daily story for Advent. Thank you for feedback so far, and you’re welcome to get in touch with any reflections you have on the story.
Feathers
The story so far: Maryam realises she needs to tell her boyfriend Joe of her news.
Part 8
It was a bright Saturday afternoon, sun slanting through gaps in the branches overhead. As Maryam and Joe walked on the Lade Braes, the Kinnessburn was loud with spring rain from the hills. They’d barely started on the path fringed with bluebells, when out it tumbled.
“Joe, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Joe looked across at Maryam, still holding her hand as they walked. “Okay…”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
They walked on for five or six steps. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you. It’s just – you can’t be. We haven’t…” Joe looked ahead; there were small fresh leaves on the trees.
“I know,” said Maryam. “It doesn’t seem possible. But I know it’s happened.”
“How come?”
“I’ve taken a couple of tests and that’s what they say.”
“But how come? How come you’re pregnant?” His voice was more urgent than she’d ever heard before.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Maryam.” Joe stopped and turned to face her, letting go her hand. “Who is it?”
“No-one. I’ve not been with anyone else.”
Joe started striding ahead, and Maryam had to scurry to catch up. Little brown birds flitted between the branches above. He didn’t look at her, seeming to focus on the purple flowers drooping at ankle height on both sides of the path, before saying, “I might have known you’d get bored of me. Not good enough for you in your Harry Potter hall with all your lah-di-dah chums. Which one was it? One of the Ultimate guys? I bet it was Ben. No, it was Xander, wasn’t it?
“No, Joe, it’s–”
“Here was I, playing it slow, not wanting to push things, and all the time you were at it with some posh boy. What a fool I’ve been.”
Maryam told him again it wasn’t like that, that he was the only guy she’d liked here. But even as she said the words, she knew they sounded feeble. Her last hope was to tell him of the vision in the Library, though she knew it would sound desperate, a fairy-tale instead of the reality growing inside her. But Joe didn’t even give her the chance.
“I can’t believe this. I always thought you might leave me for one of your Uni friends. But this is classic. And don’t think I’m going to hang around. You’ve made your bed.”
Maryam stopped walking, and said, “But Joe, I’m so scared. What’s going to happen to me? I might be sent home, and have to give up everything. I…” Her voice ran out, and she closed her eyes, hoping not to cry in front of him. It wasn’t his fault; she didn’t want his pity. Birds twittered above them.
Joe turned round and looked at her. “I don’t know what you’re going to do. But I can’t see you again, not with…” He looked down at Maryam’s abdomen.
“You’re leaving me?”
“I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re thinking. I couldn’t face that. I’ll just tell people it didn’t work out. My parting gift.”
“Thank you,” said Maryam, and then a vision of her mother saying, “Whatever the situation, remember your manners!”
“I’d better go,” he said, and walked off the way they’d come, not turning round, the bluebells almost glowing in patches of spring sunshine coming through the trees.
Maryam walked on, then sensed someone behind, a dog scampering with them. She didn’t want to be caught up, and carried on quickly before she saw a bench and sat down. She replayed the conversation; she tried to remember his smile. Did he smile? Maybe he hadn’t smiled today. It was almost physical, the lurch in her stomach from being his girlfriend to being nothing. A kid passed on a bike, then a man also riding, calling out, “Jamie, don’t get too far ahead.” The bluebells swayed as they passed.
The Via dell’Amore, between Riomaggiore and Manarola, Cinque Terre
Yours,
Donald.
Revd Dr Donald MacEwan
Chaplain