Iona Iverson's Rules for Commuting

by Clare Pooley

In her experience, most endings turned out to be beginnings in disguise.

This was why he’d gone to nursing college—to heal hearts and minds as well as bodies. When he’d written that in his application form, he hadn’t just been trotting out the clichés, he’d genuinely meant it.

What use was a cancer nurse with a fear of death?

Sometimes fate just shows you the way to go and you have no option but to follow.

“Darling, what is the point of being alive if you go through life unnoticed, without standing out and making waves?

“They want us to be small, so we have to stand tall. They want us to be invisible, so we have to be seen. They want us to be quiet, so we have to be heard. They want us to surrender, so we have to fight.”

She’d always believed that adults knew all the answers, and that only she was trying to navigate through life without the requisite instruction manual. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that they were often as lost as she was. She wasn’t sure if she should find this reassuring or terrifying. Was everyone bluffing?

“No woman is anyone’s ‘other half.’ We are all entire people. Completely whole, and totally unique. But sometimes when you put two very different whole people together, a kind of magic, an alchemy, occurs.

“Your anxiety is the other side of the coin of your empathy. I suspect that’s why you’re such a good nurse. But there must be a way of finding a healthier balance—to care deeply about your patients while still protecting yourself. Remember the saying You need to fit your own oxygen mask before you can help anyone else fit theirs?”

When the thing you’ve feared for so long actually happens, you have nothing left to be scared of anymore.

Your past experiences, she’d explained, are the foundations on which you build your future. Build them on pride, not shame. Denying your history leaves your house standing on sand, always in danger of collapsing.

Why was it that men with gray hair and wrinkles achieved gravitas, whereas well-preserved women like herself became invisible?

“If you give up, they win,” she said. “That’s right, Bea,” said Iona, clasping her hand. “Remember, that’s what you said to me when I quit my job after coming out of hospital. And we said the same every time we marched, petitioned, and lobbied. They want us to be small, so we have to stand tall.” “They want us to be invisible, so we have to be seen,” said Bea. “They want us to be silent, so we have to be heard,” said Iona. “They want us to surrender, so we have to fight,” they both said together as Bea leaned in toward Iona and rested her head on her shoulder.

We have to be seen. We have to be heard. You need to show them what you can do. You are not past it. They want us to be small. You have to stand tall. You have to fight.

“The only way to be guaranteed of failure, dear boy, is not to try,” said Iona. “Love is the greatest risk of all, but a life without it is meaningless.”

“I love you, Iona,” said Bea. Iona wasn’t sure if Bea was talking to her, or to the memory of her, but right now it didn’t really matter. Either way, those words belonged to her, just as they’d always done, just as they always would. “Not as much as I love you, darling Bea,” she replied. “We’re the whole damn cake,” said Bea. “The whole damn cake,” echoed Iona.