Take My Hand

by Haken, Nicola

  Emily’s lips parted slightly – as if she needed the extra space to draw in more air.

  “So… what happened?” she asked nervously, gnawing her bottom lip to shreds.

  “My Aunt Sarah happened. She’d tried for months to make me see sense on her own. She cried, she begged, she kicked me out… but I didn’t give a shit about any of that. Didn’t give a shit about anything. So… she called the cops. Told them I’d stolen from her. Before I knew it I was in custody. Turned out I was linked to a heap of other shit too. I was given a suspended sentence provided I successfully complete a three month rehabilitation program.”

  I searched her eyes again. Yep, still no judgment there. What the fuck did I do to deserve this amazing girl in my life?

  “But, you’re here. Aren’t there rules on leaving the country when you’re under a sentence?” she quizzed inquisitively. Probably assuming I was breaking another law. Couldn’t really blame her if she was.

  “That was four years ago. I relapsed last fall but thankfully saw the signs in time to sort myself out before it was too late. When I entered rehab earlier this year, it was voluntary. That’s what I was trying to say last night. I’ll never be free of it, doll. I’ve just gotta work damn fucking hard every single day to keep myself in check.” Now, if that didn’t send her packing… nothing would.

  “Christ, Dex. I’m so sorry. And that’s not me pitying you, that’s me saying I care about you and I hope you never have to go through that again.”

  “You’re fucking incredible you know that?” I said, genuine awe dripping from my mouth. “How are you still here?” She squeezed my hand again and for some inexplicable reason I felt her touch resonating in my chest.

  “There’s no point in lying and saying I understand, because I don’t. And I hope to God I never do. But I’m still here because you’re not a monster by nature, Dex. I might not know you as well as other people, but the man I’ve been getting to know the last few weeks… isn’t the man you’ve just been talking about. All the bad stuff you described? I don’t need to ask if you’d do those things while you were sober because I already know the answer. Anyone can get lost on the wrong path, Dex. It’s whether you have the courage to turn back around that’s important.”

  I eyed her up curiously for the first time. Was she talking from experience with something here? It felt like despite what she said, she really did understand on some level. Not with recreational drugs… she was far too innocent for that. But something was hiding behind those blue eyes of hers. Wisdom. Regret? Maybe even guilt. Whatever it was I didn’t like it. The thought of her hurting through… anything, stabbed into my chest like a vinegar-soaked sword.

  “You’re wrong you know…”

  “About what?” she asked, perplexity forcing her eyebrows together.

  “About not knowing me. I don’t quite know how it’s happened, but you can trust me when I say that you know me better than anyone else in the entire fucking world. You’ve no idea how much I needed this,” I said, motioning between us with one hand. “Needed a friend. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, doll.” She stopped chewing her lip just long enough to stretch her mouth into the widest, most precious smile I’d ever seen.

  Turning my attention back to her tiny aching feet, I could’ve - and definitely would have if she’d asked – massaged her forever. I gave it my best shot, still going strong after another thirty-five minutes. But then she pulled away and the strangest sensation twanged in my chest. It felt almost like a piece of string had been stapled to my heart and when she moved away from me, I felt it tighten – pulling me with her.

  When I was with Emily, the loneliness was nothing but an un-mourned memory.

  “I’m sorry. I need the toilet,” she said, sounding as disappointed as I felt.

  “You know where it is. I’ll flip the telly on while you’re gone.” Notice how I said ‘telly’? Yeah, well I’ve been doing that a lot lately without even realizing it. More so since I started spending time with Emily. It must’ve been happening frequently because even my Aunt Sarah noticed over the phone.

  Speak of the devil… the second I stood up to grab the remote, my cell started ringing.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks,” I answered immediately. Aunt Sarah always used to call me sweet cheeks when I was little. Then when I was ten or so I started calling it her back. It’s stuck ever since. I was probably in for a lecture. I hadn’t checked in with her in four days.

  “Hey, Dex,” she greeted solemnly. Suddenly my heart started pounding as I began to pray this wasn’t the phone call I always knew would come one day. “I have some bad news.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emily

  I needed those few minutes in the bathroom to compose myself. The past hour with Dexter had been… intense. I had all these bewildering emotions bouncing around inside every part of my body and I can’t believe I’m about to admit this but… well let’s just say I’m not so sure my vajayjay is broken anymore.

  I could never do anything about it of course. He said I was his best friend, and when I started to think about what could happen if we took it further than friendship, all I could hear was Rachel’s voice banging away inside my ears.

  Guys and girls who’ve dated can’t ever be friends.

  What if she was right? I would never risk losing what Dexter and I had. Believe me I know this sounds ridiculous considering the length of time we’ve actually known each other, but I’ve never felt such a powerful connection with another person before. He makes me feel… alive I suppose. He ignites these exhilarating sensations deep inside me that I’ve never experienced before and I don’t want to lose that. I won’t lose that. Especially not by engaging in something as insignificant as the S word – no matter how much my hoohaa is tingling.

  Dexter was facing away from me, talking on the phone when I returned from the bathroom. When he ended the call he dropped the phone to his side and turned to face me.

  His face was devoid of colour. His fingers were trembling. His eyes were burning.

  “Dex?” I pressed gently, walking tentatively towards him.

  “I, um… I’m getting a migraine. I need to lie down. You should go home,” he said, his voice utterly emotionless.

  “What’s happened? Talk to me, Dexter.” I could expect that much couldn’t I? I wasn’t stepping over the line – not after the morning we’d just shared.

  “I think I’m coming down with something,” he so obviously lied. “Please, Emily… just go home. I’ll call you tomorrow.” There was my proof that something was wrong. He called me Emily. He never calls me Emily. I don’t ever want him to call me Emily again if he says it with such sadness oozing from his gruff voice.

  “Okay,” I grudgingly agreed. “Call me if you need anything,” I tacked on, hoping that he really would. Hoping that he trusted me enough to.

  He forced a weak smile and headed straight for his bedroom without even seeing me out. It wasn’t until I made my way outside I remembered I didn’t drive here, or bring my purse.

  Two jogs in one day? Whoop de bloody whoop.

  **********

  “You got any Anadin, Ho? I’m dying over here,” Rachel asked, shielding her eyes with her hand as she lay sprawled out on the couch.

  “There’s some in my bag,” I answered, nodding my head towards my black leather shoulder bag just next to her on the floor. She made a feeble attempt to reach down to it and then flashed me the pleading puppy eyes. Huffing, I stood up and got her the aspirin, and then passed her the half empty bottle of water from the table.

  “Anything else before I sit back down?” I asked bad temperedly.

  “Fucking hell, Ho, who the hell shit on your toast this morning?”

  “No one,” I replied. “Sorry. I just want to get this finished,” I lied, sitting back down on the armchair and picking my Starbucks application form back up. I’d been working on it for an hour and so far I’d filled in my name and date of birth.

  “You c
an talk to me you know,” she offered, wincing as she swallowed the last painkiller. “But you better do it soon. Seeing as I’m dying and everything.” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’m just tired I think.” That was the perfect excuse, and if I said it enough times I might actually start believing it. I wasn’t worried about Dexter. I wasn’t feeling rejected. And I wasn’t feeling guilty for leaving him when I knew something was wrong. I also wasn’t used to lying to myself so badly.

  “I’m not surprised. You running? I still can’t believe I missed that,” she said sounding truly disappointed.

  A few minutes later we both jerked our heads towards the sound of the front door opening. Chris walked in looking completely revived, carrying two bags of takeaway food.

  “Chippy all round, girls!” he enthused, heading straight for the kitchen with the bags.

  “Ugh. That bastard obviously wants me to die,” Rachel groaned.

  “All the more for us, Emmie!” Chris bellowed from the kitchen.

  “Great!” I called back with fake enthusiasm. I’d barely eaten all day yet weirdly I felt so… full. Moments later he walked in with two plates overloaded with greasy fish and chips. I felt sick just looking at it. After passing me my dinner, Chris shoved Rachel’s feet out of the way so he could sit on the end of the couch.

  “I swear if I could move these legs you would’ve totally just got kicked in the bollocks, dick head.”

  “Well you can’t. So deal with it.” It was hard not to laugh at these two when they got going. They argued relentlessly but I always knew it was playful on both parts. Nevertheless they’re as stubborn as each other and neither one is ever willing to back down first.

  “Don’t forget I’ve got superhuman strength in my arms to make up for it. I could burst those balls of yours with just a flick of my fingers, twat bag.”

  “Ooo promise?”

  “You’re such a prick, Chris.”

  “Well you’re such a bitch.”

  “Wanker.”

  “Fucker.”

  “Nob jockey.”

  “Muff muncher.”

  See what I mean?

  “For God’s sake just drop it will you? My tea’s getting cold,” I snapped. I wasn’t in the mood for one of their contests tonight.

  “Who’s pissed on your chips, Emmie?”

  “Nobody!” I blared. Chris and Rachel shot each other one of those looks - the type where they silently asked each other if they knew what was wrong with me.

  “Sorry, Emmie. You’re right… eat up.” I poked and prodded at the plate of pure stodge with my fork but couldn’t bring myself to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls. I apologised to Chris, feeling ungrateful, and then took my plate to the kitchen to scrape my leftovers into the bin.

  “I’ve got a really bad headache guys. I’m going to bed,” I half-lied when I’d finished in the kitchen. “Rach, will you show Chris where the blankets are kept?”

  “Sure, Ho. Hope you feel better.” I simply nodded and took myself straight off to bed without bothering to shower. I had barely left the room when I heard Rachel mutter ‘shit brain’ under her breath at Chris.

  They were bloody impossible.

  **********

  I heard a text message come through on my mobile and climbed out of bed to get it. I searched through my bag, the drawers in my dressing table and even in the pockets of my jeans which were folded over the wardrobe door. It was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, I scratched at my head. That’s when Chris came in my room wearing a chicken costume.

  “Have you seen my phone?” I asked him.

  “Bawwwwk, bok bok, bawwwk,” he replied.

  “No. I’ve looked there already.”

  I heard it ding again and my eyes sprang open. You’ll be as relieved as I was to know that Chris is still entirely human and I was having one of those dreams where you’re half-awake and half-asleep. The one’s where you’re convinced you’re actually up and about getting on with things only to discover you’ve actually fallen back asleep. One day last week I got showered and dressed for Uni, grabbed some breakfast and packed my bag, only to have to do it all again when I really had woken up.

  I don’t know why I was having such a hard time finding my phone in my dream because in reality I knew exactly where it was – lying next to my Kindle on the bedside table. Yawning groggily, I picked it up and swiped across the screen.

  Jared: Don’t spose u have sex with u?

  Jared: Stupid spell correct. *Dex* with u?

  My eyes automatically wandered to the time in the top right hand corner of my phone. It was 1AM. He should’ve been in work with Jared at this time. A fire of panic ignited in my belly as I tapped the reply bar.

  Me: I thought he was working 2nite? X

  Jared: Never showed up & I can’t get hold of him. Mick’s blowing his fucking top. I’ll deck the fucker if he’s out gettin laid while I’m dealin with his shit

  The panic in my belly was now a full-on raging inferno. This couldn’t be good – not after the way I left him. And of course, no one else knew how I left him therefore no one would bother checking on him. I was already pulling my pants on when I typed my reply.

  Me: I’ll go check if he’s home x

  Jared: Wouldn’t bother. Dex does this kinda shit. Just normally tells me first. I’m tellin u he’ll be getting his end away that’s all.

  No. That wasn’t what it was. I know what kind of guy Dexter is. I know he ‘has company’ often, but the empty eyes I looked into before I left his flat this morning, weren’t the kind of eyes that suggested all he needed was a good old seeing to.

  Maybe foolishly, I had to find out either way. If he was ‘entertaining’ someone then I’d just have to deal with it. At least I’d know he was okay.

  The lights to Dexter’s flat were on when I pulled up outside his building. I’d tried texting him three times and calling him twice on the way here and he hadn’t replied to any of them. So maybe the lights meant nothing. Perhaps he’d just left them on before he went out. Unless he was lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs…

  On that note I jumped from the car and sprinted over to the entrance of his building. My hand went to hover over the call button but then I noticed the door was slightly ajar. I pulled in a deep breath and pushed it open slowly.

  The thumping music, which I could hear outside but assumed was coming from another flat, grew louder and louder the further up the stairs I climbed. I paused on the top stair and seriously considered turning back - afraid of the scene I may have been about to walk into. I even went as far as going down a step, but then realised I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I’d seen him… whatever or whoever he was doing.

  Taking another preparing breath I threw open the door, making the handle crash into the wall behind it. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and didn’t know if I’d ever be able to open them again. The image of Dexter slumped back on his couch with his emotionless eyes glossed over and his navy-blue shirt ripped open, while three half-naked girls danced in front of him would be burned into my retinas for eternity.

  Certain the chippy I nibbled at a few hours ago was about to make a dramatic reappearance, I turned to leave. My foot hadn’t even crossed the threshold when I was pulled back into the room by my arm.

  “Here she is, g-g-girls! Th-the famous Emily! The reason I c-can’t seem to get it up for a single fucking one of you whores tonight!” Dexter slurred/sang/shouted.

  “Dexter, what are you doing?” I snapped as quietly as I could, refusing to look at the dancing girls who seemed quite amused with his little performance.

  “Whaddit look like, doll? I’m having myself a paaartaaay!” he slurred/sang again, holding an almost empty bottle of lager up in the air. This was bad. Really bad. I knew this was a place Dexter wouldn’t have visited if he wasn’t hurting deeply.

  “Let go of my arm,” I demanded, his grip beginning to smart. I don’t think he heard me over the blaring music because he didn’t budg
e an inch. “Please, Dexter you’re hurting me!” I shrieked, tugging myself away and finally succeeding.

  “Fuck me, you hear that, girls? I’m hurting her!” Dexter was laughing but there was no happiness in his eyes. This whole situation was way out of my league and I knew the sensible approach would be to turn and leave. Maybe call Jared or Chris. So why was I still standing by him?

  “Maybe you should leave?” I suggested to the girls, disgust oozing from my voice.

  “Sh-she right. You’s no use here anyway. My dick gotten harder lookin’ at my g-grandma.”

  “Gladly,” one of them sneered. I don’t know which one because I was still refusing to look at them. “He’s a fuckin’ weirdo,” she added, sounding disgusted. She had a cheek in my opinion. Dexter was undoubtedly behaving like a complete moron but she was hardly Mrs Respectable – dancing half-naked with two other girls in a strangers’ house.

  I heard some shuffling and zippers being pulled before the sound of high heels came stomping past me.

  “What a jerk,” one of them insulted as they made there way out. But once they were gone they instantaneously became insignificant.

  “Dexter what the hell is going on with you?” I asked – a mixture of concern and anger flooding my veins. He laughed in my face before taking another swig from his bottle of beer.

  “Give me that,” I ordered, reaching for the bottle. I jumped back, for the first time feeling afraid of him when he threw it violently against the wall, smashing it into a thousand shards. I was stunned into a nervous silence and all I could do was watch as he walked over to the kitchen area and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the counter.