So Many Reasons Why

by Missy Johnson

  So this wasn't just in my head. He wouldn't be calling me at 1:30 in the morning if there wasn't something there for him too. My mind swept back into a series of happy daydreams.

  “Oh crap!” I was jolted back to reality by the realisation that I had a 9am appointment with Doctor Mellow.

  I woke up to Tom shaking me.

  “Em, you’re okay.” He soothed, rubbing my back. I realised I was crying.

  Another nightmare. I didn't remember it, but then again, I didn't remember half of them. I'd call things out, cry, scream. Then I'd wake up and remember nothing, except how I felt.

  Scared, and alone.

  As much as I didn't want to relive what happened to me, it scared the hell out of me not remembering. Sometimes if I woke up at the right (or wrong) moment I would remember little things. The scar above his left eye as he hovered over me. The stench of stale sweat and cigarettes. Other days I’d remember more.

  I sat up to catch my breath, with Tom next to me. I wiped over my arm. Perspiration dripped from my fingers. I glanced behind me at the sheets. Soaking. It must have been a bad one.

  “Are you sure you're okay? I can skip work?” I looked at the alarm clock. He was already late.

  “Go. I'm fine” I promised. Only I wasn't fine. I felt empty and scared. I felt the way I always did when I woke up. Like I was going to be sick. I threw my arms around him, knowing just how lucky I was to have Tom.

  Forcing myself into the shower, the boiling water hit my skin leaving big red marks in its wake. I didn't care, I needed it. I needed to feel something. I needed the empty pit in my stomach to leave. The only problem was I didn't know how to do that. My head was throbbing from last night, and if offered, I'd have quite easily taken a few more hours sleep.

  It had taken me a long time to find a psychiatrist who I felt comfortable enough to talk to, and almost as long to get past the fact that his name was Doctor Mellow. He sat opposite me on the couch with his mug of tea.

  Doctor Mellow was certainly an interesting fellow. In his late sixties, today he was decked out in an Adidas parachute tracksuit jacket and pants, you know the ones that were all the rage for a week in the 80s?

  It was sometimes hard to take the man seriously, but he was able to get me on a level not many people could.

  “How’re things, Emma? Since our last session?” Our last session had been a week ago.

  “Good. Okay.”

  “And how have things really been? Derek’s possible release must be hard on you.”

  “You know about that?” It surprised me how much he knew sometimes. Then again, I suppose that was his job.

  He nodded. “Yes. I know about that. How did you cope finding that out on the anniversary?” Seeing my shock, he added “Your mother filled me in on that.” Annoyance bubbled inside me. What ever happened to doctor patient confidentiality? What else had he and my mother spoken about?

  “Emma? Let’s pretend Derek is granted parole. How will that effect you?” I almost laughed. How would it affect me? How wouldn't it? I thought for a moment, trying to get the words right in my brain.

  “If don't feel safe with him locked up in prison, I don't know how I will cope with him out.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “He could be around any corner, lurking outside my window. I just-” I broke off.

  “What Emma? You just what?” Dr Mellow leaned forward, placing his cup on the coffee table. I focused on the marks the cup had left on the glass top.

  “I just want to feel strong. I want to do things and not worry, but it's always there and no matter what I do I can't focus on anything but that.”

  “Maybe you need to find something else to focus on, Emma.”

  “Like what?” As if I hadn’t tried that already. Dr Mellow shifted in his seat.

  “Emma.” He began. “Getting over your agoraphobia is going to be so much harder for you when he is out. Maybe you should try and take some steps toward overcoming this.” My body tensed. Dr Mellow glanced at my white knuckles as they tightened around the edge of my seat.

  “Start slow Emma. Stand on your balcony. Open the front door. Just make those first steps towards gaining control.”

  The grey clouds were moving over the sky. From the crack in the sliding door, I could smell the rain. This was my first step. Sitting on the floor inside my living room peering through the window may not seem like such a step, but the last time I’d even looked outside the window was before the attack.

  He was right. Hiding from this wasn't going to change things. I'd always blamed my agoraphobia on what had happened to me, and to some extent, it was to blame. But I was also to blame. By not facing my fears I'd let them grow into this huge, unrelenting problem that engulfed me constantly. If I couldn't get myself out of this suffocation, what hope did I have when he was released? If it wasn’t this time, it would be the next. They couldn't keep him locked up forever.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket.

  “Hey Cass.”

  “Hey you. What are you up to?” Her voice was slightly muffled, as though she was eating.

  “Not much.”

  “Cool. Might drop past. I have a free hour and I'm around the corner at Delinkski's.” The mention of the indulgent French bakery explained everything. “Want anything?”

  “An éclair.” I decided, giving in to my sudden craving for French delicacies.

  Cass stormed through the door, handed me a box and threw herself on the couch.

  “I am so buggered!” She declared, sighing loudly. I gently eased open the box and smiled at its contents. A feud was beginning in my head as to whether I should eat it now or save it for later. I should have asked for two. What the hell. I ripped apart the box and tucked into the layers of pastry, cream and chocolate. Heavenly.

  “Why are you so buggered?” I covered my mouth to avoid shooting bit of éclair across the room. Cass reached out to pat Carol.

  “Big night last night with Mr Bent Penis.” She grinned.

  “Excuse me?” I gasped, giggling and choking at the same time. Cass nodded, her blue eyes gleaming.

  “Yep. I swear it was like the letter L” she giggled.

  “No!” Cass nodded and joined me on the floor. “What did you do?”

  “Well we still managed it. He was quite good at hitting the spot actually.” We both collapsed in hysterics.

  “That’s good.” I sputtered, trying to catch my breath. “I’m glad you didn’t get all bent out of shape about it.” Another round of giggles erupted out of my mouth.

  “Oh that’s good.” Cass panted, slapping her leg. “I felt sorry for him though. Surely that would be enough to send you around the bend.” We were both laughing so hard I was sure the neighbours would call the police.

  “Seriously, we need to stop. That poor guy.” Cass sat up too, nodding, trying to swallow her giggles. “I mean, that would be insane to live with. Did it curve up?”

  “No you idiot! To the side.” She curved her finger over as if to show me.

  “How did you even get it in?”

  “Emma! You are so crude sometimes.” Cass scolded.

  “I’m crude? Me? What about you?” I fell flat on my back, still giggling. It felt good to finally release. It made me realise how much I needed this. I reached over and squeezed Cass’s arm.

  “Thanks for this Cass.” I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  Cass hugged me.

  “Thank you.” She corrected. “Who else would I talk about this stuff to?”

  The light pouring through the gap in the curtains at 6am did nothing to lift my mood. After my shower and breakfast, I decided today was a pyjamas day. I sprawled myself out on the couch, with the television on reruns of Dr Phil. Everything seemed to be reruns these days.

  Maybe if I lost myself in other people’s problems mine wouldn’t seem so major. First up we had a mother who had tried to kill her three adult daughters. Then a mother who refused to acknowledge her daughter because she’d wanted a son. Very uplifting
stuff.

  I changed over to a soap opera. It had been weeks since I’d watched it, yet they were still on the same issues. My phone vibrated. I scooped it off the floor. I was no longer hoping it to be from Simon, I was expecting it to be him. Which made spam emails even more annoying.

  Emma,

  I still feel I was out of line calling you and laying everything on you like I did. I hope things are not awkward between us now. I hope you have a good day whatever you're doing. Me, I will be enjoying a lovely day in the park with 30 screaming kids.

  For what it's worth, talking to you did help.

  Simon

  I laughed, wondering what on earth he'd gotten himself into. I recalled Cass saying he had a daughter. I wondered how old she was. I grabbed my trusty laptop and went on another Google expedition. Simon regularly took the high profile cases that came through the courts so I knew I could dredge up a lot of information on him.

  He and his wife had separated twelve months ago. They shared custody of their four year old daughter, Madeline. I was a bit taken aback. I hadn't expected his marriage breakup to have been so recent, though to most people a year is a lot of time. And a four year old daughter? That's some baggage.

  I giggled. Since when was I in the position to judge other people? If that was baggage, then I had a semi-trailer load full.

  Picture after picture popped up as I scrolled my mouse down through the images supplied curiosity of Star News. I sighed. The man couldn't take a bad picture. He was seriously gorgeous. And his daughter was adorable with her dark curls and pretty smile. I tentatively clicked on an image of his ex-wife.

  Wow.

  Wow, was she hot. She looked perfect, with her long legs, wavy golden hair down to her bum.

  I slammed my laptop shut, feeling dejected. As much as I knew I was being stupid, I couldn’t help myself. He could have anyone. I really needed to get a grip. One late night phone call does not mean the guy is into me. And let’s not forget the fact I am completely unstable when it comes to relationships. And the fact that he was closer in age to my parents than me! They would have a fit. There were so many reasons why this would never go anywhere.

  The thing that surprised me most was how even after all the negative thoughts rushed through my head, I really didn’t care. It had been so long since I’d felt any sort of connection with anyone, letting go would be near impossible.

  Somehow my phone found its way into my hands. Email was too slow, too easy to ignore. I needed answers now dammit! Thank god for SMS.

  30 kids! Not all yours I hope.

  There. Light enough to be friendly, but specific enough that he would hopefully tell me about his daughter. And his ex-wife.

  No, only one is mine, thank god. I have Maddie for the week while her mom is on a business trip in Asia.

  Well that didn't really tell me much. I needed answers now, and Google wasn’t telling me shit. I could feel unstable jealous Emma worming her way into my thoughts. I did my best to push her out, but she was a persistent little bitch. My god, I was crazy. The reality of my behaviour was starting to set in. I needed to settle before I lost the plot completely.

  As quickly as that reality hit, it disappeared completely. What went wrong with his wife? She was beyond hot. Awesome ass, long legs. Whatever it was, surely he could do better than me. I sighed at the realisation that unstable Emma was planning on sticking around for a while.

  I needed to distract myself, I decided. I started pulling things out of the cupboards. Some might suggest that I am a clean freak when stressed, and there may be some truth to that theory. I grabbed the rags from the laundry, turned on some music and began cleaning. I was bouncing away to the music, so absorbed in my cleaning mission I didn't even notice Tom stumble into the room. The music disappeared. I spun around.

  “Hey!” I cried out in protest. “I was listening to that.”

  “Yeah and I was sleeping.” He grumbled, putting on a pot of coffee. “Can’t you wait for a normal hour before you go all domestic on me?” He complained. He yawned, stretching his arms behind his head. His scruffy blonde hair looked just as it did every day, which made me wonder if he ever bothered to brush it.

  “Two things asshat.” He ducked as the rag I threw at him hurtled past his head. “One this is my house, and two its fricking 2pm-” My phone started ringing. Tom scooped it up with interest.

  “Give it to me!” I screeched, running at him. Tom, amused by my reaction held the phone just above my reach. My knee hit his groin. As he lost balance temporarily, I took my chance and lunged for the phone. Too slow.

  “Hey, that was low, even for you.” Tom shook his head in mock disgust. “Is this the crush? Oh, I so have to say hello.”

  I watched in horror as Tom answered the call. I threw my face in my hands and collapsed down onto the bench. This was bad. I tried to block out his voice. I didn't need to hear what he was saying to know I needed to be very embarrassed.

  “Asshole.” I muttered.

  “Hello?” Tom didn't even bother to hide his amusement. “Emma? Yes she's here. And who may I say is calling? Simon. Right, finally. I've heard so much about you. Em doesn't shut up about you.”

  I groaned, stumbling to the couch. I was so embarrassed. This was really bad. I threw myself onto the couch and buried my head in the arm

  “Uh-huh. Right. Yes I understand that.” Tom nodded, his face serious, as if he was deep in the middle of an important meeting. “I do need to know what your intentions are toward my Emma. Are you planning on becoming intimate?”

  “Fuck you Tom!” I screamed loudly. My face flamed. I wanted the couch to swallow me. I was going to kill Tom. It may take a while, years even, but he was going to pay for this.

  “Right. Just be safe. And remember, if it's not on, it's not on.” He wandered out onto the balcony, knowing I wasn't likely to follow him out there.

  Could this get any worse? I wondered how hard it would be for Tom to 'accidentally' fall over the balcony of my level 10 apartment with me still standing within confines of the apartment.

  “Sure, I will put her on.” I felt the phone hit me on my back. I reached behind to grab it. I contemplated hanging up. This was beyond embarrassing.

  No. That would only make things more awkward. I would have to speak to him eventually.

  “Hello.” I mumbled, cringing.

  “Well hello there.” He said, amused. Way too amused. He was loving this.

  “Hi.” I responded, feeling embarrassed. And angry. I was so fucking angry.

  “So, Tom seems like a nice guy.”

  “Tom’s a fucking asshole.” I yelled, loud enough for him to hear. Tom yelled back an inaudible response. Simon chuckled.

  “So” I tried desperately to redirect the conversation. “You’re at the park.”

  “Yes, my daughter’s friend’s birthday party. I've been making balloon animals all day.”

  “Yes, your daughter.” This was good. Maybe I could scoop up some information on the ex-too. “How old?”

  “Four. A little ratbag.”

  “I bet she's adorable.” I said, already knowing she was, thanks to Mr Google.

  “She is.” His voice softened dramatically. His whole demeanour changed. I knew then how much his little girl meant to him. She was the most important person in his life, it was obvious he'd do anything for her.

  “And you share custody? How often do you have her?” I was hoping I could lead this into gaining some insight into his ex-wife. Jealous paranoid Emma was back.

  “I usually have her two nights a week, and one weekend a month. Claire is in Asia for work at the moment, so I have her for a week.”

  “Claire is your ex-wife?” I asked innocently.

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “I am sure you have googled her already.”

  “No, I'm not some crazy woman.” I lied, forcing out a laugh. Unfortunately, my voice came out way higher than I’d have liked. “Besides, why would I Google a professor’s ex-wife?” God I am such a mo
ron. He laughed again.

  “Anyway, I better go, I just wanted to say hello. And to reassure you I'm not a psycho.”

  “You probably think I'm the psycho now.” I moaned, shaking my head. I was going to kill Tom.

  “You’re not a psycho.” He chuckled. “I think it’s cute. And Emma?”

  “Yeah?” I squeezed my eyes shut, sure his next comment was going to be another dig.

  “I like that you have a crush on me.”

  I groaned again, as his laughter filled my ears. He thought I was cute. Cute was a monkey in a fur coat running around Ikea. I didn't want to be cute. And I was no closer to finding out about him and Claire. He chuckled again before hanging up. I saw Tom peer around the corner.

  “Come here you bastard!” I growled, stalking toward him.

  He was so dead.

  Chapter Six

  Kitchen sparkling, lounge room clean, entire apartment vacuumed, I flopped down on the couch exhausted. Tom had gone out on some hot date. Probably an excuse to get out of my way. I was still pissed off at him from earlier. He had said sorry over and over, but when you can't say the word without breaking into fits of giggles, you're not really that sorry. I would make him pay someday.

  I hadn't heard from Simon since the phone call. Which really wasn't that unusual since it was only five hours ago. I just was not used to feeling this way. I hated that I liked this guy so much. I hated it more that I would probably never act on it. And if he made a move who knows how I’d react?

  The fantasy of him was great, and there was undoubtedly a connection there, but being intimate with him, and not knowing how I’d react to that, was unnerving. It was embarrassing that my mind was even going there. Even the thought freaked me out. Yet, at the same time, it aroused me. Why couldn’t I just pick a damn feeling and stick with that. I hadn't even met Simon, yet his voice sent me into a frenzy, and I checked my email every five minutes in the hope of hearing from him.

  Beep. Speaking of which.

  If I never see another balloon animal it will be too soon. What a day, though I did find out some interesting information so it wasn't all bad.