From the Heart: A Valentine's Day Anthology

by Anthology

  Chapter Four

  Two years later

  “You’re the one that makes you happy; you’re the one that is free from pain. From now on you’re a stranger; we don’t ever want to see you here again.” I hug everyone, then I step out into the blazing hot sunshine. Summer is here, it’s hit hard and I am in love with this time of year. The little song we sing is no different for me. Every time one of us leaves, we chant this little skit to wish that person well. It’s supposed to be healing and cathartic. I’m not sure if it works, but I do feel better than I have in a very long time. Saying goodbye is hard, especially to those whom you’ve come to know really well. I’ve made twenty-ish new friendships in eighty days. Eighty days, I have spent on ‘the wagon’.

  I’m leaving rehab.

  I remember joking about these places two years ago. I never thought I’d be the one to leave one of them. My life was spiralling out of control, the drink took hold. There was never a day that went by without a drink in my hand, and as time wore on, it was a bottle of rum in my hand, rather than a glass. I went from drinking to get drunk, having a few glasses of rum and coke to drinking rum neat out of a bottle. Some days I could go through two full bottles a day. Benny would come home to find me passed out on the sofa, on the floor, anywhere my body dropped after a session on the booze. ‘Not again’, she’d say and then find the strength to get me into bed.

  At first it was one big joke. ‘Oh my God, Kat’s wasted again’, Benny would say laughing. I’d wake from my drunken stupor, saying things like ‘why is the rum always gone’? In my best impersonation of a drunken Captain Jack Sparrow. Then I’d sing and dance around in my underwear holding on tightly to my almost empty bottle of rum… ‘yo ho ho and a bottle of rum’! I recall a few nights in Grumpy’s bar where I’d done body shots with complete strangers. Strange men would take advantage of my pissed up state. It was fun at the time, but I soon figured out that I’d put myself in a huge amount of danger.

  Benny and I would laugh so hard, but in the end, it wasn’t so funny. She struggled to wake me up after I’d binged so hard on the booze, it was then that we both realised that I had a problem.

  I was an alcoholic, now… I’m a recovering alcoholic.

  I’m going home. Bus, ferry and bus again. Thanks to Benny I am able to rejoin my life back in Jersey. I don’t want to be anywhere else. She’s fronted all the costs of my rehab treatment, my travel and so many other things I’ve lost count. She could’ve quite easily turned her back on me, but she didn’t and I am so happy that my life can finally turn around. I’ve had to quit my job at the bar. Being around alcohol for work is not a good idea for a recovering alcoholic. Everyone, including my psychiatrist thought it wise that I look for something else to do. I still have no idea though.

  I have a small suitcase that’s being dragged along behind me, and I’m walking to the bus stop. A car pulls up beside me. “Kat Powell?” The man asks me. I’m in two minds here, fight or flight?

  “Err, yeah. I’m Kat,” I say a little unsure of the stranger.

  “I’m here to collect you,” he says. Who the fuck is this guy? No one knows I’m here, except Benny.

  “I think you have the wrong person,” I say and start to walk away. The car follows me until it’s alongside me again.

  “Mr Reeves sent me; he asked that I collect you.” I stop in my tracks.

  “Tell Mr Reeves to go fuck himself.”

  “He said you’d say that, so he asked me to tell you that if you don’t get in the car he will find you himself.” Connor Reeves - the man who I fell in love with. The man who ripped out my heart and the very same man who caused me to start drinking a hell of a lot heavier. “Please get in the car Kat.” He’s pleading with me, but I vowed to myself months ago that I would never see him, or even talk to him again. I stand there with my hands on my hips; my body language is confident, sturdy but a little bit aggressive. The sun is beating down on me; it’s glorious weather, but a little too hot. I nod, then decide to get in the car. Maybe it’s time to clear this mess up, once and for all. The man takes my suitcase and pops it in the boot. After a few minutes I have no idea where we’re going. My mind starts to wonder about the man who stole my heart. I sit back in the seat and rest my head on the back seat, looking up at the roof of the car. I’m trying to figure out if my feelings for Connor have subsided after all this time being apart. Maybe I will be able to answer that when I see him…

  Two years earlier

  “Hey Jersey Girl,” Connor says as I open the door. I don’t know why he insists on calling me that, but I have to admit that I love it, and every time he says it, my heart does this little flutter thing that makes me giddy.

  I walk into the kitchen and he follows me, I can sense him behind me, that thought feels sublime. “Would you like a drink?” I ask him, “coffee, tea or something stronger?”

  “What I really want is to do this,” he says, leaning into me taking my lips. His kiss is perfect. It’s slow and soft. He tastes my lips as he gently sucks on my bottom lip, I feel his tongue run across the seam of my lips, slowly and torturously. I feel his hand move to the back of my neck, he pulls me in closer.

  Our bodies are so close that I can feel every bulge, contour and ridge of his body. I feel the bulge at his groin too, “stop!” I pull away, but push him from me at the same time with my hand on his hard chest. I need to slow this down.

  “What’s the matter, did I do something wrong?” The concern he’s showing is adorable.

  “This is just too fast, I mean I…” I don’t know what to say, my eyes fall to the hardness between his legs.

  “Don’t worry about that, it will go soft again in a minute,” we both burst into laughter. When he smiles, or even laughs his whole face changes. He lights up, he looks like happiness personified. I really like him. “Kat, I can’t wait to make love to you. But not today, it’s too soon,” I love how he speaks. His voice is deep and dark, but incredibly sexy, “we only move forward when we’re both ready - okay?”

  “Okay,” I reply.

  “Grab your coat; we’re going for a walk.” I do as I’m told and wrap myself up, readying myself for the biting cold of winter.

  An hour later and we’re walking along the beach, the waves are violently thrashing against the shore and it’s freezing cold. We sit side by side on some rocks, a comfortable silence surrounds us. I find myself fascinated by the crashing waves and the seabirds in the sky struggling to fight against the harsh wind. I hear the unmistakable sound of seagulls; I listen as they sound like they’re in distress when really they’re just looking for food. “What’s that?” Connor asks. I follow his arm to the tip of his finger, he’s pointing at a light blue wooden cabin sitting on the edge of a small pier.

  “I think it’s an old storage shed for the boats that moor up here. It’s no longer in use.”

  “I think that would make the ideal building for a little coffee shop, perhaps sell cakes and some home-made produce.”

  “Yeah, I suppose, it’s the perfect location too. This place is swarming with tourists in the summer months. This beach is very popular, then you have the boats coming in with their catch of lobster and oysters. So I suppose you’re right.”

  “Hmm,” he says, “maybe one day I could own my own little place here. Set up roots,” he looks at me expectantly.

  “It’s a great idea,” I agree. It’s definitely something I’d like to do, I never thought of owning my own business and running a coffee house, I’m not too shabby at baking the odd cake or two either.

  “Come on, let’s get back. I can’t feel my toes,” he says with a deep laugh.

  We arrive back at my apartment and after making two cups of coffee and lighting the fire we sit side by side on the sofa. He puts his arm around my shoulder; I instinctively snuggle into his side. My knees are at my chest and I’m hugging my warm mug of coffee. It’s quiet, I can hear him breathing and I can feel his chest move up and down. I’m wearing my white slouch socks, black
leggings and warm, white woolly jumper. I feel comfortable in my attire and with the company I keep.

  I look up into his eyes. They are so soft and captivating, they suck me in. He takes our mugs and puts them on the table beside him. His hands are soft, but strong. My jumper and T-shirt are the first to go. He stares at my chest, my bra is on display. “I like this,” he says, pulling on one of the shoulder straps of my emerald bra. “The colour brings out the green in your eyes,” I feel his velvety words pulling on my heart, making it fall just a little bit more. His hand strokes my hair. “Black as ebony,” he says wistfully, “beautiful.” I wonder if he’s voicing his thoughts. Perhaps he doesn’t mean to say these things out loud, just think them. I drop my eyes bashfully and I can feel the burning heat in my cheeks. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Hide from me; don’t ever hide from me Jersey Girl.” His pet name for me seals the deal. Before long we are hot, sweaty and gasping for air. Sex with Connor is not for the faint hearted. He’s an amazing lover, but I am bloody exhausted. He wants to go again; I want to sleep off this fatigue.

  The two weeks that follow bring extreme happiness for me, but in the back of my mind, I wonder what will happen to us once he leaves for London. I’m trying so hard not to let it bother me, and I don’t want to ask him. Being a needy girl is not at the top of my list of priorities right now.

  We’ve spent time together, walking around, drinking coffee, and talking. We’ve spent time getting to know each other. We have even had the conversation about previous relationships, it was a little awkward. We’ve talked about first loves, and last loves. He’s single, married to his work but manages to find the time to socialise. He’s a great guy, and I know that my heart will ache when he has to leave.

  I got to know a little about Fred too, he used to fly fighter bombers in World War II, I didn’t think he was that old, he doesn’t look ninety years old, but he is. The past two weeks have been the best of my life, I’m attached to him, I know it, and my life will crash down around me when he leaves. I feel a connection with him, I’m positive he feels it too. But I am wrong.

  Then he’s gone, no goodbye - nothing.

  That’s when the heartache begins. I don’t know where he works, where he lives, I don’t even have a phone number. I ask Fred where I can find him, he doesn’t know either. He said that Connor will be in touch soon, but I don’t hear from him. It’s like he never existed. The months that follow are really hard, but I learn to accept that he’s gone. That doesn’t stop the rum finding my mouth, it finds my liver too, and it causes a world of problems for me. We only had two weeks together, I fell in love and since then I’ve been on a downward spiral. Heartbreak and misery consume me, I consume rum.

  Two years post Connor and I’m admitted to rehab.

  Chapter Five

  In the car, I am listening to some classical music. My love for Beethoven grew while I was in the program, especially ‘Symphony No.5’ and ‘Fur Elise’. The music is doing a great job in relaxing my racing heart. I’m going to see him for the first time in two years, perhaps get an answer to all my questions. Why did he leave so suddenly? What did I do to make him leave? Why have I not heard anything from him, until now? What the hell is going on? The raging questions are doing nothing to calm me, but the music is helping.

  We arrive in London. I’m being led towards an office. As I look around, I notice that my surroundings are extremely grand. The furnishings, the décor, the people. Everything around me screams ‘money’. I had no idea that this was his life.

  “Please take a seat, Mr Reeves will be with you shortly,” I hear my driver say. As he walks away, I get this feeling of dread in my stomach. I feel like a lamb to the slaughter, there is a lion somewhere, he’s lurking about, readying himself to strike and devour me whole. I sit twiddling my thumbs nervously.

  A slim, middle-aged woman appears from nowhere, “come this way, please.” I follow her through heavy wooden doors. I see him… he’s resting his backside on the edge of his desk. His head is down; he’s looking at the floor. I can’t control my temper, I stomp over to him as my anger rises and start to hit his chest with my fists. Just the sight of him has brought all my emotions to the surface. He grabs my wrists, then pulls me into him, holding onto me so tight. His eyes look sorrowful; they shine, just as I remember them. Eyes so blue they will render anyone who looks at them, speechless. I start to calm down. “Why?” I ask, the tears burst and fall rapidly down my cheeks. But he stays silent; he’s not bothering to offer me any kind of explanation. We stare into each other eyes for ages; time is of no importance as I stand in front of him. It’s in this moment that I realise that all the feelings I ever had for this man never went away.

  “Hello Kat,” I hear a voice say. I didn’t realise there was someone else in the room, but I recognise that voice. I turn to see her, what the hell is she doing here? I look at Connor, then back at the woman who crapped on me from a great height so many years ago. I search Connor’s eyes, questioningly.

  “Tell her,” he says to the bitch I thought I’d never see again. I look in her direction and I see sorrow. I’m not falling for her tricks; I did that once before - hook, line and sinker. I swore to myself, ‘never again’.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, still searching the faces of the two people I loved. I need answers.

  “Please sit down Kat,” she says.

  “I’m not doing a fucking thing, until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on,” I can feel my temperature rising, the anger has resurfaced. I wipe my tears with the back of my hands; I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me so upset. Silence - but we all take turns in looking at each other. Seconds, minutes pass. “Would one of you fucking speak to me?”

  “I’m sorry Kat,” never in the last fifteen years have I ever heard her apologise, I’m stunned.

  “So you should be, but why am I here?” The resentment in my voice is strong and noticeable.

  “I’m here to make up for all that I’ve done, all the pain I’ve caused you,” her eyes tell me that she’s genuine, but still I’m suspicious of her. “I was the reason Connor left you without a word.” I’m willing her to continue. “I told him some lies.” Rage is starting to consume me once again.

  I’m waiting for more, “go on.”

  “I told him that it was you that spent all the money.”

  “You lying bitch,” I scream at her, the anger I felt all those years ago boils up to the surface, I fly towards her, fully intent on doing some harm. Connor stops me; he’s trapped my arms to my sides, by holding me around my waist. I start to kick out, but I don’t make contact with anything. “You were the one that took all the money and squandered it all. That money was ours, our inheritance, yet you took my share and left me with nothing. How could you do that to your own sister?”

  I see tears in her eyes, “I’m so sorry,” she sobs.

  “Yeah, yeah. I don’t believe you. You’ve never been sorry for anything in your whole life. Why should I believe you now?”

  “Because… just because,” she says offering no explanation.

  “Tell her Lisa,” I hear Connor say from behind me, he’s still gripping my arms.

  “I came to try to make everything right, I regret everything. I was the reason for your stint in rehab, I was the reason you’re so unhappy. Now karma has kicked me in the teeth, she has avenged my nasty streak. I have breast cancer.” Connor releases my arms, I sit down. It’s necessary, before I fall down. “I was so selfish when mum and dad died, they trusted me and I broke that trust.”

  When our parents died, they left us two hundred grand; I was entitled to half of that. But Lisa, my sister was older, and they trusted her to make sure that I got my share when I turned eighteen. Instead, this coward in front of me spent the lot. I had nothing; I had no-one and so I started working at Grumpy’s bar, just to make ends meet. Benny was kind to let me stay with her, and if it wasn’t for Benny, I dread to
think where I would’ve ended up. There’s only eighteen months between Lisa and I, so I was due my inheritance fairly soon after our parents were gone. It was part of the will my parents had set. The trust was locked until we were both at an age we could handle that amount of money. She grabbed it all and took off, leaving me with nothing. I hated her so much; I was grieving, penniless and alone. She is the reason for my darkness, the reason my life was so meaningless. I drank, then I met Connor, then he left and I nearly drank myself to death. And it’s all Lisa’s fault, I still hate her. Even though she’s ill, I cannot find it within me to forgive her. Just to twist the knife a little bit more, she told the guy - who I fell in love with, that it was me who took the money.

  “Well, thanks for everything,” I struggle out of Connor’s arms. I walk towards the door, but something stops me. Something occurs to me. I stand at the door with my hand resting on the door handle. I slowly turn, “did you two get together?” I say, pointing at him, then her. The looks on both their faces tell me all I need to know.

  “She tricked me, then seduced me. I believed her…” Connor pleads.

  The door slams behind me.

  I don’t look back.

  Chapter Six

  “Coffee babe,” Benny says, handing me a warm mug. She sits down beside me. It’s just after 6am and I’ve not slept well at all, maybe two hours a night for the last week or so. “I heard you moving around again last night, still not sleeping well?” I shake my head. “Okay, we need to do all we can to get you to sleep. No coffee after 5pm, only herbal tea. A warm bath at 9pm, and a lullaby sung by yours truly,” that would be torture. I laugh, something I’ve not done for a long while.

  “You and I both know that there’s only one thing that can help me sleep, but I’m not falling off this fucking bumpy wagon. I refuse to succumb to my vice.” With all the stuff that’s happened, I’m surprised at myself, I’m surprised I’ve not had the urge to hit the bottle again. Perhaps I’m stronger than I thought.