About That Night

by Natalie Ward

  Nick opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch before he clears his throat and he tries again. “If I’d never said those things to Zach,” he eventually gets out, the words husky and strained. “If I’d never been with that girl. If I’d just…if…” he trails off as his voice cracks with emotion. I slide closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his head falls.

  “Zach did this?” I whisper, immediately regretting it when I see Nick’s face contort in pain.

  “Nick, I know you want to believe that you saying those things were the cause of all this,” Adrian says, ignoring my question as he leans forward slightly and speaks to Nick. “But it’s simply not true. Nothing you did or didn’t do that night caused those things to happen to Amy. That was all the choice and the fault of Zach, and Zach alone.” Nick shakes his head as though he doesn’t believe what Adrian is saying to him. “Tell me something?” he continues. “Did they ever catch him?”

  Nick looks up now, meeting Adrian’s stare. “Eventually,” he says. “My dad, he’s…he’s a detective and…”

  “And he didn’t stop until he’d caught him?” Adrian offers.

  Nick nods. “He wasn’t officially on the case, he couldn’t be, but yeah. He made sure they got him.”

  “And how did Amy feel when this happened?” he asks.

  I turn to look at Nick, see the anguish on his face deepen. “It was too late,” he says. “She was already gone by the time it happened.”

  Adrian nods, but says nothing more. Nick buries his face in his hands now as though it’s all too much. I wonder how much more of this he’s going to be forced to relive today, how much longer Adrian is going to put him through the torment of rehashing the past. Even though I know he’s right when he says burying it will never solve anything, there’s a part of me that just wants to let Nick do exactly that.

  It’s wrong and I know it, but I also know it’s a form of protection, a coping mechanism. That the only way for Nick to be able to deal with everything that happened, everything he blames himself for, is to bury it so deeply that he can pretend it doesn’t actually exist at all.

  Even if he carries the scars of it with him everyday. Not just in the words he has inked on his skin, but the connection he still has to his sister that can never fully be taken away from him.

  “I think that might be enough for today,” Adrian eventually says.

  I nod and Nick all but collapses against me.

  “Before you go though,” he adds, looking at both of us. “Do me a favour?” I nod and both of us turn to Nick whose face is still buried in his hands. Adrian keeps looking at him, even as Nick all but ignores him. “Don’t walk out of here and not talk about what’s been said,” he says. “This isn’t the only place we need to be having these conversations and it’s important that both of you talk to each other as well.”

  I nod, wishing it were as simple as that. Nick is silent and Adrian stands, as though he doesn’t expect a response. I pull Nick up with me and after I arrange his next appointment, we head downstairs and out on to the street.

  It’s dark when we get outside. Adrian giving us late appointments so that I can still come now that I’m back at work. We skip the coffee shop though and head home. When we get there, Nick walks straight into the bathroom and showers, as though he needs to wash all the things he said and all the things he admitted to, away.

  I leave him in peace and instead reheat some leftovers for dinner. When he finally walks into the living room, I’m sitting on the couch waiting for him, a plate of pizza on the coffee table.

  “You must think I’m a total arsehole,” he says as he sits down. His face is weary with exhaustion and what might be resignation. His eyes are bloodshot and red too, as though more tears have been shed in the privacy of the shower.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Why would I think that?”

  He half laughs and runs a hand through his wet hair. He hasn’t tied it back like he normally does and the tips of it reach his shoulders, leaving wet patches on his t-shirt.

  “Because of where I was,” he says, his voice cold as he watches me. “Who I was with and what we were doing.”

  I stare back at him, wondering why of all the things that were said tonight that this is what he’s worried about. Adrian was right before, about us not talking about anything, and as much as I know he’s asked us to do exactly that tonight, I get the feeling this isn’t why Nick is saying these things to me now.

  I shake my head, unsure how to respond to this.

  “I don’t even remember her fucking name, Emma,” he says, his fingers curling into a fist as they rest along the back of the couch.

  “Why would you?” I ask, knowing this isn’t even about her. “After everything that happened,” I continue. “I’m surprised you could remember your own name.”

  Nick offers me a wry smile as though he appreciates the effort, but doesn’t actually believe what I’m telling him.

  “Makes you think differently about that night we met though, I’ll bet?”

  And for a second, despite me knowing this has nothing to do with me either, his words still sting. I know he was a different person back then, he had to have been. What happened with Amy changed him, in so many ways, because there’s no way something like that couldn’t change him. And I’m not judging him for how he once was or what he did or who he was with. I’m not judging him for who he is now either, none of that bothers me.

  “Why would you say that?” I ask.

  But even as I do, memories of my own reactions from the night we first met float to the surface; my antagonism of him over the bar and his job, or my reaction to his tattoo, and my refusal to stay and let him explain it to me. My anger even, when he finally did track me down at work and then my fear after that first night we slept together. Back then I had thought he was that kind of guy, even if I now know differently.

  Nick shrugs. “Because we almost hooked up that night.”

  “But we didn’t,” I say.

  “But we almost did.”

  I stare back at him, wondering why he’s pushing this. “What are you trying to say?” I eventually ask, as a ripple of fear curls through me.

  He shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he says, even though I can tell from his eyes that he does. “That I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to bail, that’s all.”

  “What?” I ask as that fear now extends, radiating throughout my entire body.

  “I’m an arsehole, Emma,” he says, thumping his chest with his fist. “I’m the arsehole who was busy fucking some meaningless girl while his sister was getting beaten and raped by the guy I’d provoked in the first place. I mean it really doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?”

  He’s breathless by the time he finishes, his chest heaving as though just getting these words out has been a monumental effort for him. I don’t know what to say to him either, what explanation I can possibly offer to convince him that I don’t see him as being at fault for what happened to Amy. That I’m not judging him for whatever it is he thinks he did that night.

  “Look,” he continues, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure this, all this,” he adds, waving a hand between us, “is a lot more than you ever bargained for. And all I’m saying is I’d…I’d get it if you…if you wanted to leave. That’s all.”

  All of the air leaves my lungs in one giant rush so my chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, crushing my heart beneath it. I feel my hands start to shake, my fingers curling in on themselves as though I can somehow make it stop.

  “Is that what you want?” I whisper, my voice shaking.

  Nick stares at me, watching me for what feels like forever. “No,” he eventually chokes out, shaking his head.

  I swallow hard. “Then why are you trying to push me away?”

  Now it’s Nick exhaling hard, running another hand through his hair as his eyes close. “I don’t know,” he says. “Because you deserve so much better than this, Emma.”


  I reach for the hand that’s still curled in a fist on the back of the couch. Prying his fingers open, I slide mine over his palm, encircling his wrist.

  “I think you do too,” I whisper, brushing a thumb across the beginning of the ink.

  He shakes his head as though he doesn’t believe me. “I tried to fight it, you know?” he says, opening his eyes.

  “Fight what?”

  “Wanting you. Being with you,” he says, offering a half smile. “That night in my bar, when I asked you to stay, I knew it was a mistake. That it was going to ruin me.”

  “I was going to ruin you?” I ask, as a lump lodges itself in my throat. I can feel the tears forming, but as much as he’s hurting me with everything he’s saying right now, I know I have to let him continue.

  “Yeah,” he says nodding. “I didn’t deserve you. Didn’t deserve to be happy after everything that had happened. I’d been so strong too,” he adds. “Never again breaking my rule about hooking up with a customer.” He stops, his eyes closing again as he takes a deep breath. “But then you walked in,” he whispers, his eyes opening as his fingers encircle my wrist now. “And I couldn’t help myself,” he adds, shrugging a little as he offers me a smile, almost in apology. “I wanted you so badly, even though I didn’t understand why and I knew I didn’t deserve you anyway. Still don’t.”

  “Nick,” I breathe out as I slide over and into his lap. I can see he is struggling to keep it together now. That this confession he’s made is slowly pulling at something inside him and unraveling. I have no idea how long he’s thought this, whether he’s always thought it, but as he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face against my neck, I know that regardless of how long, it is all very, very real to him.

  “I’m not that guy anymore, Emma,” he says, his words pleading as though he needs me to believe them.

  “I know you’re not,” I tell him, my arms tightening. “Even though there’s nothing wrong with who you were back then anyway.”

  I feel his body shudder beneath mine. “You are more than just that night,” he says. “More than that girl ever was, or the ones who came before her.”

  I nod against him, unable to get any more words out as he slowly falls apart in my arms. This is different to the night he pulled me from the bathtub. That version of him, that pain…it was shock, disbelief and confusion as he slipped into an almost catatonic state at what he thought he’d walked in on.

  This right now though, this feels like anger, punishment and regret, raw guilt at all the things he can’t change and the ways that makes him feel. And even though I know it’s good for him to get these words and thoughts out, it kills me to see him struggling like this.

  “We’ve always been different,” I eventually say, my words a whisper against his ear. “I know that, and I think deep down, you know that too.” Nick nods, his body still shaking a little. “I’m not going anywhere, Nick,” I add, knowing that it’s this fear that’s driving this whole confession. “I promise you.”

  Nick finally lifts his head and for the second time today, I see tears streaming down his face. He cups my face in his hands now, his eyes searching mine as though he’s looking for answers and trying to believe me.

  “I’m not bailing,” I whisper.

  Nick nods once before crushing his lips against mine where I can taste the salt of his tears and the desperation as he kisses me.

  ~ Nick

  I dream of that night.

  Of me fucking a nameless, faceless girl.

  Of my phone constantly ringing.

  Of the pounding on the door.

  Only this time when I open it, Emma stands on the other side. She looks at me with what I can only describe as sorrow on her face. And as I stare back at her, it feels like I can literally see her heart break at what she’s just discovered about me.

  Then she turns and runs, and I wake up.

  I lie in the darkness beside her. The apartment is quiet except for her soft breathing. She lies on her stomach, hands beneath the pillow, her face turned in my direction.

  She looks like perfection, and I can’t for the life of me understand why she’s still here, how she can even stand to look at me anymore.

  Saying all those things to her, all the things I felt and the way I tried to stop myself with her, I could see it hurt her. But a part of me knew she needed to hear it, that if there was ever a way I could give her an out in all of this, it was by saying those things to her.

  I didn’t actually want to hurt her, but I knew I needed to give her a chance to leave, to walk away and forget she ever met me. Like she tried to do on that very first night.

  How differently things would’ve been had I been able to ignore my heart and follow my brain back then. But I hadn’t, instead doing the complete opposite, knowing the whole time that it was wrong of me to ever think I deserved a life with her.

  But I’d done it anyway and in doing so, I’d found her, somehow convinced her I wasn’t the arsehole she thought I was, even if it was all a big fat lie.

  Yet despite all the things she now knows about me, she stays, only confirming once again why I don’t deserve her in my life and how I’m not only an arsehole, but also a selfish bastard for continuing to hang on to her.

  I roll onto my side so I’m facing her, watch as my fingers gently brush a path down her spine. She exhales at the touch, her body moving a tiny bit closer. I repeat the movement and this time her eyes open, finding me in the dark.

  She offers a small smile as one of her hands slips out from beneath the pillow and brushes against my cheek.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, the apology for so much more than just waking her up.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers back.

  My fingers run down her spine again and her eyes slowly close as though she’s going back to sleep.

  “Can I ask you something?” she says, opening them.

  “Of course,” I say, swallowing hard as I wonder what it is she needs to know in this moment.

  “That night we met,” she continues. “When you threw that guy out, the one who…”

  “I know who you mean,” I quickly say.

  She smiles again. “Is this why you reacted so strongly?” she asks. “Why you were so angry about what he was doing?”

  I exhale, sliding closer as my hand smoothes across her lower back. Emma turns so she’s lying on her side facing me.

  “Yes,” I eventually say, knowing my reaction was a combination of many things, not just about him harassing Emma when she so clearly didn’t want his attention.

  “You are a good man, Nick,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

  As I slide my hand up her back and hold her against me, I wish this could be the perfect time to tell her all the other things I want to say to her. The good things, like all the ways I feel about her in this very moment. About how Amy was right when she said that one day it would happen. That someone would walk in to my bar and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

  But it’s about as imperfect as it gets, so I don’t say anything, just pull her closer and allow myself to get lost in her for a while, knowing that things are going to get far worse before they will ever come close to being perfect.

  ~ Emma

  Adrian calls me the next morning, asking how Nick is. I try to explain the pain I can see he’s in and how him talking about that night only seems to have made it worse.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” I ask, even though I know it’s a ridiculous question.

  “You know it is, Emma,” Adrian says, his words kind. “And you have to keep him talking,” he adds. “Don’t pressure it, but if he opens up, let him talk, encourage it.”

  I nod, even thought Adrian can’t see me. “Yeah, we talked more when we got back,” I say, wondering if he expects me to elaborate on it all.

  It feels like a betrayal of trust, telling Adrian all those things Nick said last night about me and us and that other girl. I
don’t want him to judge Nick for anything and I definitely don’t want Nick to feel any worse than I know he already does.

  “That’s good,” he says. “You should also try to encourage him to start doing normal things again.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Getting up, going out, seeing his friends,” Adrian suggests. “I’m not saying it has to all be back to normal straight away, but don’t let him sit around at home doing nothing.”

  “I’ve tried,” I say, knowing that my suggestions are shut down every single time. It’s like he no longer cares about his friends or the bar.

  “It doesn’t have to be much,” Adrian says. “Just find a way to introduce it all slowly,” he adds. “Carefully.”

  “Yes.”

  “You can even be…” Adrian trails off, as though he isn’t sure what he’s about to say next is a good idea.

  “Be what?” I prompt, knowing I’m willing to try anything at this stage.

  “Mmm, slightly covert about it,” he says, almost as though it’s a suggestion. I’m nodding at his words, an idea immediately forming for a way in which to do exactly that. “And you should know,” he quickly adds. “That’s me being a friend saying that, not a doctor.”

  I smile. “It’s all good,” I tell him, knowing the fine line he’s walking. “I promise, your secret’s safe with me.”

  ~ Nick

  “You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Emma asks as she walks into the kitchen, sliding her phone into her pocket.

  I wonder who it is that called her this early.

  “I’m okay,” I say, trying for a smile.

  Emma slides her arms around my waist. “Bad one last night, huh?”

  I nod as I lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head. This is so much more than I deserve.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, resting her cheek against my chest.

  “No,” I say, letting out a deep breath. “They’re all the same anyway. It’s nothing new,” I add, knowing that’s part truth and part lie. I knew it was going to be a bad one last night. After everything I’d been forced to talk about with Adrian at my last appointment, how could it not be?