With or Without You

by Shari Low

  We were all silently sobbing now, hearts breaking at the pain that seventeen-year-old had suffered, and that she’d kept inside for so long. We’d met Sasha when she was eighteen and she never told us any of this. She was a fierce, fearless, live for today and take crap from no one girl. We had no idea of the darkness that she’d come from.

  ‘So I can’t leave him. I just can’t. A few years ago, before we realised how addicted he was, maybe I could have walked away, but not now. Because if I leave him when he’s like this, it could send him right back to the bottle. And I can’t watch someone else I love die like that. I just can’t.’

  I got it now. It made tragic sense. There was no judgement or arguing with this.

  ‘There he is,’ she blurted, and her hand went to the door handle, as our gazes swung to the pub entrance. There was Justin, walking towards his car, on the opposite side of the car park. No swaying, no staggering, no sign at all that he’d been drinking.

  Sasha opened the door and stepped out, but she was too slow. Her call of his name got drowned out by a transit van driving in front of us, and Justin was in his car and pulling away before she reached him. He didn’t even realise she was there.

  ‘Jump back in,’ Chloe shouted. We could see her weighing up whether to take her own car, but Chloe’s was ready, the engine was running, and he’d be out of sight before Sasha even switched her engine on. She climbed back in and Chloe took off, turning left out of the space. It took us past the pub door and I only got a glimpse, a tiny glimpse of a familiar face who’d just stepped outside. Blonde. Her hair was long now, but I remembered it being in a bob. She worked with Justin. Madeleine. In the fading light of dusk, she couldn’t see the disgust on my face.

  I didn’t have time to point her out to Sasha, because right then, as we turned out of the car park, through the same green light that had let Justin past, a Range Rover coming from our right didn’t stop. The police would tell us later that the driver had been for a romantic dinner with his wife and had consumed a few glasses of wine. It was one glass too many to register the red light. He charged straight on through, hitting the driver’s side of Chloe’s car, spinning us around, across two carriages, until we finally came to a stop.

  Then the screaming started. The other driver’s wife, out of the car now, standing in the middle of the road while he stumbled out of his seat and sat on a kerb, his face a mask of shock.

  ‘Sasha?’ I yelled, trying to get my seatbelt off.

  ‘I’m okay, I’m okay,’ she groaned.

  ‘Chloe’s hurt! Help me,’ I gasped, finally pulling the seatbelt off and climbing across the centre console to Chloe, pushing the airbag out of the way to get in front of her.

  The side of the car was completely crumpled, the window smashed, the door caved in, and I could see her legs were trapped. She was unconscious, but what scared me most was the blood that was pouring from a wound on the other side of her neck. I pulled off my cardigan, made a pressure pad, and pressed it on, controlling the bleeding while making sure her head was stabilised, praying that her jugular, only millimetres away, wasn’t about to rupture. She still had a pulse but it was erratic and her breathing was stilted.

  ‘Come on, Chloe, come on, we’ve got you,’ I repeated over and over. ‘We’ve got you, we’re right here, you’re going to be okay, we’ve got you.’

  Same thing, again and again, until the blue flashing lights arrived and took over, the firefighters cutting her out, the paramedics working on her lifeless body, the police breathalysing the bastard who caused it.

  We had her. Four days later, still sitting beside her bed, we prayed that she knew it.

  We had no idea where Justin was – Sasha had ordered Nate to tell him to stay away. Whether he was drinking or not, she wasn’t ready to deal with why he’d lied to her. Nate said he didn’t object. In fact, he’d seemed relieved that he didn’t have to deal with this.

  I blocked out any judgement about that.

  Right now, all that mattered was Chloe.

  And whether or not she had the strength to come back to us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Christmas Day at Liv and Nate’s House

  December 2011

  The doorbell rang and Finn went charging to answer it.

  ‘Finn, what do you never do?’ I bellowed.

  He screeched to a halt, then rolled his eyes like he was fifteen, not five. I tried not to show how amused I was by this, especially as the effect was diluted by the fact that the five-year-old in question was wearing flashing reindeer antlers and a Santa suit. I’d always sworn I’d never be one of those parents who dressed their children in gimmicky outfits. Apparently back then I just wasn’t in touch with my inner Rudolph.

  ‘Open the door without an adult,’ Finn answered, winning a point for the boy in the red suit.

  Nate caught up with him, and I was a few feet behind, when Finn swung the door open, only for Ida to scoop him up and swing him around until he was squealing with glee. Glad we’d made a plan not to get him too overexcited today.

  ‘Come in, Mum. I’m just…’ I stopped.

  Ida had stepped forward to kiss Nate and wish him a merry Christmas, and there appeared to be a man standing behind her.

  I didn’t have time to lift my chin off the floor, as Ida made gushing introductions – ‘Darling, this is my wonderful new boyfriend, George’ – then swept into the kitchen with a very dapper George to fill two champagne glasses.

  ‘Did you know?’ Sasha, the next to arrive, asked me surreptitiously as we stacked a tray of mince pies and shortbread.

  ‘I had absolutely no idea,’ I replied. ‘But hell, good for her. She deserves someone else in her life making a fuss of her.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because it takes the mother-heat off you.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I giggled. I know. Sometimes I’m a terrible person. But it felt like Ida had been trying and succeeding in making me feel guilty since I was Finn’s age, so if there was someone else giving her the adulation she needed I was all for it.

  ‘How are things with you two?’ Sasha asked, nodding over to where Nate was standing.

  I shrugged, sighed. ‘Same as they always are.’ I didn’t want to talk about this. Not today. I’d promised myself that I was going to have a wonderful Christmas with my boy, and create the perfect day of love and family, and then I was going to think about the future in January. It wasn’t the most scientific of plans, but it was the best that I had.

  ‘I think it’s because we all turned forty in the last year or so,’ Sasha said. ‘Makes you re-evaluate life.’ I knew it was more than that, but this was no time for deep and life-changing reflection so I went for flippant instead.

  ‘That’s pretty profound for you, Sasha. Have you been in at the liqueurs?’

  ‘Yep, sucking the Baileys out of them to give myself a buzz,’ she said dryly. I knew she was kidding. With the exception of Ida and her champagne, we were still an alcohol-free zone.

  ‘Do you think all Santa’s little helpers have messed-up lives?’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Sasha replied. ‘I think Mrs Claus is leading a double life as a high-class escort. How else can they afford all those presents?’

  Our laughter made Nate glance over, but I didn’t meet his gaze.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, trying to make a festive design with the shortbread. ‘Take my mind off my woes by telling me about your shite life. How’s things?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Sasha answered honestly. ‘Ever since the… accident…’ Both of us still struggled to get that word out. ‘…He still works long hours, and then hits the gym at night. It’s almost robotic. I don’t know what I’d have done without Nate dropping in over the last year. When he’s with Justin, it’s the only time I ever see a glimmer of the man I fell in love with. I’ve tried to get him to go back to a counsellor, but he says he doesn’t need it. In fact, he says I’m the one that needs therapy. He’s probably right.’ />
  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because I’m living in a loveless relationship, too scared to leave in case…’ she didn’t have to finish that bit. If the… accident… had any tiny glimmer of purpose, it was that Sasha and I had started being honest with ourselves and each other. It had definitely brought us closer together, bonded by a mutual apathy for the relationships we were living in. No judgement. No opinions. Just support.

  ‘Not that he knows that, of course. I’d never tell him. But he can’t be happy either.’

  ‘Do you still think he’s drinking again?’ How many times had we pondered this question over the last year? No matter how vigilant Sasha and Nate were, they couldn’t come up with a definitive answer.

  ‘I still don’t know. He’s so secretive about everything that it’s hard to tell. I don’t remember the last time that I said something and felt like it actually reached him.’

  ‘Do you think he feels guilt about the accident?’

  Her answer was swift and definite. ‘Absolutely not. He says that’s all on me. Maybe he’s right about that too.’

  How many times had we rehashed this too? Justin’s explanation for that night was simple – after he’d said he was going to work late and go to the gym with Nate, the guys from work announced they were having a birthday celebration at the Clydemont and he’d decided to stop in there instead. When it was put like that, it was fairly plausible. It also, therefore, made sense that the blonde former-bob would be there too. But it had just never sat right with me. Or Sasha.

  He was sticking to the story though, and adamant that he was still on the wagon.

  The doorbell went again, and Finn thrust both hands in the air and cheered, almost punching a hole in Ida’s beehive.

  ‘Race you,’ Sasha said, and I took up the challenge. The two of us skidded to the door a split second behind Finn.

  ‘Who do you think this is?’ I asked him.

  ‘I think it’s…’ I opened the door, just as he hollered, ‘AUNTIE CHLOE!’

  At which point, and I’ve no idea why, but I burst into floods of tears.

  ‘Liv! What’s the matter with you?’ Chloe said, her face flushed with alarm.

  ‘I’m just… I’m just… I’m just…’ I couldn’t get it out between the sobs. ‘So…’ sob… ‘glad…’ sob… ‘that you’re here.’

  At which point, Chloe promptly burst into tears and Sasha rolled her eyes and said, ‘Come on, Finn, let’s go get your wellies. The hall will be flooded in no time if these two get started.’ Giggling, Finn trotted off with Auntie Sasha

  ‘Sorry!’ I sniffed, ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry, it’s just that…’

  ‘I know,’ she sniffed back, but laughing through the tears.

  Chloe’s recovery had been long: it was months before she was fully mobile again, and more than six months until she was cleared for work. The crash had left her with a scar that ran from her jawline, down her neck, to her shoulder. If you touched the right place on her face, you could feel the screw heads, just under the skin. That scar was mostly covered by her hair, but the limp was harder to disguise. Not too noticeable under normal circumstances, but when she was tired it became more pronounced. ‘If that’s all I’ve got to worry about, I’m doing okay,’ she’d say when anyone offered sympathy.

  As for Justin, she didn’t hold any kind of negative feeling towards him at all. It was an accident, pure and simple. That’s why she had no issue in being with the whole group on special days. There had been loads of them since that fateful night. We’d all made it to forty, and were grateful to have got there, but none of us felt inclined to stage the kind of parties that had been thrown a decade ago. How things had changed. Back then, Justin was the life and soul, the fun guy we all adored. Sasha had been madly in love. Chloe had just split with… I couldn’t remember. Some bloke who went off to sell timeshares in Ibiza and was never heard of again.

  But today deserved to be celebrated.

  Last Christmas, she’d stayed at home, surrounded by her mum, dad, and aunties, who’d all flown over to be with her.

  This year, we had her back. And I was so, so grateful.

  We went on through to the lounge, and there were hugs, kisses, and ‘Merry Christmas’s’ all round, right up until she got to my mother.

  ‘My mum surprised us today with a little gift to herself,’ I teased, making Ida’s new friend flush. ‘This is George, Mum’s boyfriend.’

  Chloe stopped, put her hands on her hips, and pursed her lips. ‘Hang on, so, Ida, you came today and produced a boyfriend out of the blue that absolutely no one knew about?’

  Suddenly, I didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did anyone else. This was so unlike Chloe, who would normally be all gushy and delighted for any new relationship. However, now she was acting really pissed off. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, but she certainly wasn’t giving off happy vibes.

  Ida, sensing a potential challenge, drew herself up to her full five foot height. ‘Indeed I did,’ she said, chin high, daring Chloe to object or criticise.

  There was a pause, then Chloe dissolved into gales of laughter. ‘Goddammit, Ida, you totally stole my thunder!’ We were all laughing now, but we weren’t entirely sure why. In my case, it was just pure relief that any potential conflict had been averted.

  ‘Once, just once, I try to be the one to surprise people,’ Chloe said, still chuckling, but now she was walking over to the patio doors that led from the living room out to the garden. She flipped the lock up, then used her body weight to slide open the door. ‘I have something for you all too,’ she said. I peered into the garden, thinking maybe a bouncy castle?

  Nope, we’d have noticed that.

  A new barbeque? An airplane flyover? Fireworks? I wasn’t understanding this at all.

  That’s when I saw the shape, a person, coming from the side of the door, shaking a smattering of snow from his hair and stepping inside.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said, ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me and I was going to freeze to death out there.’

  Chloe threw her arms around him and rubbed his cold ears. ‘Everyone, this is my new boyfriend. I believe you know him already,’ she said, bursting with joy.

  I was the next to squeal with excitement.

  ‘Oh, happy flipping days!’ I yelped, beyond thrilled to see him. ‘Connor Smith, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Just thought I’d come see this one for Christmas,’ he said, his grin huge as he gestured to the woman he was cuddling. ‘And maybe, if she’ll have me, I’ll stick around.’

  For once, perhaps the only time in her life, Ida didn’t mind being upstaged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ida’s Wedding

  September 2012

  Chloe leaned over to whisper in my ear as Ida broke into a storming version of Diana Ross’s ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’. ‘You know, we could have been her backing singers up there. I’ve totally got all the moves.’

  ‘You have and you could,’ I agreed, ‘but neither Sasha or me could hold a note if we were in a siege situation and our lives depended on it.’

  I wasn’t joking. Even Finn covered his ears when I tortured ‘Wheels on the Bus’.

  Vocal failings aside, it had been a fantastic day. My mum and new dad had thought of everything and the hospitality had been perfection. It was every bit as spectacular as Ida had wanted it to be and I was thrilled for her. She deserved this happiness – and George deserved a medal and very large noise-reduction headphones. I’d grown incredibly fond of him. He was an easy going guy – of course, he had to be to live with Ida – and he seemed thoroughly decent and good fun. I’d yet to discover any skeletons or criminal habits, his friends and family were lovely, and he treated Ida like a goddess. He was definitely a catch.

  ‘I hope you’re taking notes,’ I said to Chloe. Her wedding to Connor wasn’t booked yet, but I had no doubt it was on the horizon.

  Who�
�d have thought it? Almost fifteen years after they’d split up, a few pokes, a near-death experience, a broken engagement to a former pageant queen from South Carolina, then a typed conversation that lasted for months, had brought him back to her and it was quite clear he’d never leave her side again. Her only sadness was that she’d missed the chance to have a family with him. She was almost forty-two now and knew the odds of falling pregnant were slim to none. But the accident had taught her to keep looking forward, focus on life’s positives, and make the most of every day, so that’s what she was doing.

  I wish I could say the same. It was getting harder and harder to keep up appearances with Nate, to lie next to him every night and know that I didn’t want to be there.

  The toughest thing of all was that he’d done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t let me down, or break promises, or treat me badly. He didn’t make unreasonable demands and I’d rarely heard him utter a harsh word. He even put up with my long hours and unpredictable schedule without complaint. He had so much going for him and all of it would make him a great husband – for someone who wasn’t me.

  The truth was, this was all my fault, not his. Twelve years ago, when I decided to give our relationship another try, cowardice had fuelled that decision. Maybe optimism too, but mainly fear that I was doing the wrong thing, that I’d rue the day, that I’d never find another love, that I hadn’t tried hard enough to save us.

  Yet, I’d never regretted it. If we hadn’t stayed together, I wouldn’t have Finn and he was worth any lifetime of imperfect love.

  ‘What are you looking all serious about?’ Sasha asked, sliding in beside me. ‘You’ve just become the stepdaughter of a man who has no other kids and who appears to be richer than several small counties. Slap a smile on your face and let’s start planning how we’ll spend your inheritance.’

  Luckily my cackle couldn’t be heard over the chorus of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’.

  ‘You are the most shallow person I know,’ I retorted.