He  has always been good at self comforting; a skill he developed early in his life, when it became evident there was no one else willing to provide it.

Comfort and sympathy were two concepts unpracticed within the home Tony grew up in. The reason for which, he was never certain. Withheld by his mother and rarely presented by his grandmother, it was unspoken that to seek solace from another was a sign of weakness and he was not sired from weakness. His necessity for love and acceptance, as is every young child’s necessity, made him appear pathetic in the eyes of his mother and therefore, unacceptable to her. The need he held for giving and receiving love was something he was unwilling to permit his mother to squelch in him, and to this day it is something he still retains possession of in spite of the abuse he sustained.

Never experiencing a stable relationship with another individual, Tony has no one in which he can confide without feeling a steep price would be paid for the fulfillment of that confidence. The love and closeness a human being brings to the existence of another, begets only fear and trepidation in him. The panic at the prospect of revealing himself and his wants to another, has always overridden his need for companionship.  What he requires now and who he requires it from couldn’t be any clearer to him, yet he can’t bring himself to ask.

And so the lonely game of self-consolation commences. Moving through the cold and the darkness, his mind falls rapidly into step with the rhythm of his body. The placement of one foot in front of the other, together with the drawing in and expelling of breath provides him with the tempo. His thoughts, providing the notes of the melody he believes will expedite his recovery.

Over the years, self-comforting has turned into a routine, a ritual of sorts, which he believes helps him bring closure to the irreconcilable events of his life. However, as he has grown older and as his profession brought with it repeated occurrences of the irreconcilable, he finds the comfort he sought through this ritual further elusive. In his heart, he knows it will not alter the reality he will live with, but will only serve to salve the gaping wound for a time.

The life long series of tragedies which was this young man’s life is the catalyst for the pain Tony is finding it difficult to dispel. The boy’s death, though inevitable considering the company he kept, was still unjustified and unwarranted. It was the loss of what this boy had the potential to become and the burden of the knowledge his death had been preventable, which now held Tony at the threshold of despair. The possession of this knowledge, he concedes, is more than he is willing to bear alone. In his subconscious mind, he understands what is required to soothe the ache which threatens to drive him into the depths of his depression. His body, recognizing the yearning for emotional release, leads him to her. Misery, closing in around him, he stands soaked and shivering at the door of the one willing to console him. The only one he would allow to offer him the peace he seeks.

Finding him disheveled on her doorstep, did not surprise Alex. What did surprise her was how long it had taken him to realize she was his succor. Presenting no reason for his presence, she knew why he had come and what he sought. Opening her arms to him, he is welcomed by the relief of her embrace. Burying his face in her neck, he finds no judgment in her words or her actions. At last, he is free to let go of the pain and loss he feels over the young man’s passing. Over all the things in his life which he has lived with, yet was unable to make sense of.

Trembling as he weeps, Alex holds his body closer to her own. Stroking the side of his face, she coos words of sympathy in his ear. Whispering, that in time he will heal, in time it will be possible to think of this young man without experiencing the knot of anguish he now feels rising within his chest. And finally, in due time, he will be liberated from his loss and eventually allowed to move on.

His grief lessening, at least for the moment, she quietly leads him to the sitting room, gently laying him down on the sofa to rest. Unfolding the blanket she keeps nearby for her child, she places it over him for warmth. Resting on the floor beside his head, she sweeps back the hair which has fallen over his eyes. Tracing the deep lines of his visage, it becomes clear to her the sorrows he has wrestled with over the years have been something he was not adept at rectifying for himself. The good physician, being capable of healing others, was incapable of healing himself; a common malady within his profession. 

 Having never been allowed to step this far into his life, she understands for the first time how delicate his state of mind is and how the grief he has suffered over the boy’s death, was more than he was capable of coping with. It was this which had driven him to seek her and it was this which changed how he viewed her.  Caressing his cheek with her fingertips, she says nothing. There are no words left to fill the void he suffers. What he desires of her is support and understanding, both of which she gives to him.

Softly humming the melody she sings to her son as he awaits sleep, Alex kisses Tony’s forehead. Running her fingers though his damp hair, she offers the solace he’s searching for. Tonight, she will stand sentry over him as he sleeps. Rebuking the phantoms which will challenge the fragile peace he now clings to. Consenting then, to the provision of the safe harbor he needs for rest. As for him, he will consent to another’s protection and care. Finding in her, the complete acceptance he has longed for, but was never able to permit himself to seek, until now.