by Nicola Haken
“Do you love Emily?”
Whoa… That was a new one. I didn’t say anything. Instead I just looked at him like I wanted to kill him.
“Another no? You don’t love her?”
“Of course I fucking love her!” I spat, balling my fists and slamming them onto his disorganized desk, making the gold fountain pen roll across the wooden surface.
“Finally! You do realize you just said six words in a row?” Christ this man is an irritating jackass. “You must let me know if you start to feel faint from the exertion.” I scowled at him, then turned my attention to the glitter-globe paperweight on his desk. Hmm… one quick crack over the head with that baby would soon shut him up. “Are you ready to see her yet?”
“No.”
“You know you’re hurting her. How does that make you feel?”
“I thought the point of this shit was to stop me feeling so fucking bad about myself?”
“I can’t make you feel anything, Dex. If you want to stop feeling all this guilt you’ve got going on, then you need to start acknowledging your behavior. That’s what this ‘shit’ is about.” The patronizing bastard actually air-quoted me.
“I do acknowledge it. I know what I am.”
“And what’s that?”
“Selfish. Worthless.” I exhaled a heavy breath. “I destroy people.”
“Why don’t you humor me and throw in some positives.”
“There aren’t any.”
“I see. Guess that makes Emily and your auntie pretty dumb then huh?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I yelled - ripping through my hair with my fingers. I was struggling to see where this conversation was going. I got that this dude doesn’t ‘do’ conventional… but I was seriously considering asking to take him up on his offer of checking out his papers. “Don’t talk about them like that.”
“Why not? You’ve just said you’re worthless and selfish with nothing decent in between. So, surely you’d have to be pretty dumb to love someone like that. Unless of course… that’s not all you’re about.”
Ah, I see where this headin’…
“I know what you’re trying to do and it ain’t gonna work,” I said, shaking my head.
“Yeah? And what am I trying to do?”
“You’re trying to get me to redirect my thoughts. You might go about it in a different way than the others but I’ve been through this shit before. It didn’t work then and it won’t work now.”
“Why won’t it? Why won’t you let yourself be happy, Dex?”
“Because I don’t deserve to be.” Shit. Did I really just admit that? So much for my ‘keeping quiet until he gets bored’ plan.
“Why don’t you?”
“I’ve told you – I destroy people.”
“How? How’ve you destroyed people?” He was firing questions at me so fast I didn’t have time to pre-empt the crap coming out of my mouth.
“I hurt them!”
“How?”
“I destroyed my own mom!”
“How?”
“I took everything from her!”
“How?”
“I shot her!” I blasted, slamming my palms onto the desk. “I fucking shot her…” My voiced trailed off into a hoarse, trembling whisper. I knew I’d just landed myself in a whole heap of shit, but you know what? I didn’t care. It felt good to get it out. I felt lighter… calmer… hopeful. Maybe now I’d admitted it, I really could start moving on. Just maybe…
“Why’d you shoot her?” he asked so calmly, seeming completely unfazed by my monstrous confession. He might as well have just asked why I bought her apple instead of orange juice from the store. I looked at Jeff warily. Why wasn’t he calling the cops right now?
“I didn’t mean to,” I admitted. “The bullet was meant for my father.”
I’m still not quite sure how it happened – how he got me to talk… but after two hours I’d given Jeff a very thorough run down of my childhood, everything that happened on that day and everything that’s happened since. By the end of it I felt… exhausted. Afraid. Shameful.
Free.
“That’s some heavy shit,” Jeff said, leaning back in his high-backed chair. Seriously, what is the deal with this guy? Not only does he dress like a teenager gone wrong, but he’s got a foul mouth, he listens like he actually gives a shit and even more bizarrely… he doesn’t write anything down.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“So,” he continued casually. “You said your father seemed pleased to see you in such a state that night on the bench. It’s funny, because I would’ve thought after everything he’s put you through, you’d want to prove that you’re capable of living a better life than the one he wants for you. Maybe there is a part of you that wants to make him happy.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snapped.
“Then why keep walking this same path, Dex? Why push everyone away? You wanna prove your father wrong? Change.”
“You say it like it’s so fucking easy.”
“Hell no. Nothing about changing is easy. If you want to succeed it’s gonna be one of the hardest fucking roads you’ve ever walked down. And you wanna know the thing about long roads, Dex?”
“Go on,” I breathed, exasperated – wondering what bullshit wisdom was gonna topple out of his Geordie mouth next.
“You can’t walk them alone without getting tired and falling. At some point you’re gonna need someone to carry you a bit of the way.”
“Jesus, mind you don’t choke on that philosopher’s bible,” I teased - for the first time in forever, cracking the slightest hint of a smile. “So what happens next? You gonna call the cops?”
“Unless you’re planning on nicking that pen you’ve been staring at all morning, then no.”
“I thought you had a duty to report serious shit,” I questioned, eyeing him up with wary eyes.
“Only if I believe it puts you or somebody else in danger. You planning on shooting anyone else when you get out of here?” he asked bluntly. I shook my head, trying not to laugh at his candidness.
“Thought not. Okay, so I think we’re pretty much done for today.” Thank fuck. “But before you go I’m gonna throw this out there so it’s not such a shock when it comes to it.”
“Why do I think I’m not gonna like what you’re about to say?”
“Because you’re not,” he stated flippantly. I sucked in a deep breath in preparation. “I want Emily to come to some of your sessions. Maybe even your auntie on occasion.”
What!
“No fucking way.”
“Like I said, just putting it out there. But just so you know, I’m kind of persistent.” Who the fuck was he telling? Sensing the end of our session I stood up to leave. Shit, I needed a nap. That guy sure knows how to tear you down.
“Oh and, Dex?” Jeff called as I pried the door to his office open. I looked back and gave him a nod. “You did good today.”
I hesitated by the door for a few extra seconds to absorb his words. Then, nodding again, I walked out and closed the door behind me.
Yeah. I did do pretty good today.
Chapter Twenty-One
~Emily~
A light tap on the bedroom door stirred me, but not enough to wake me up fully. It was the second, more forceful bang that made me sit up in bed.
“Come in,” I called through a sleepy yawn.
“Mornin’, Emmie.” I smiled warmly at Chris as I rubbed my puffy eyes. He ambled over to the bed so I hitched myself a little closer to the headboard to make room for him at the bottom. “Emily, I’m going to have to head home soon,” he said despondently. My chest tightened.
“I know,” I breathed, nodding understandably. It’s been nine days since I last saw Dexter – nine days since he broke down on me in the hospital. Sarah and I went to see him after meeting with Patricia in the posh café but he refused to see us… and has continued to do so ever since.
“I don’t want to, but… the garage…” He stu
mbled on his words like he felt guilty for saying them.
“You don’t need to explain. I can’t and don’t expect you to put your life on hold. You need to get your business set up.”
“Come with me,” he practically whispered. There was a pleading undertone to his voice that wound tightly around my heart, pulling me to him. But the piece tied to Dexter was just that little bit stronger.
“You know I can’t.” Chris shook his head resignedly and I knew it was because he struggles to understand my loyalties. “I know it makes no sense to you,” I added. “Dexter and I haven’t had time to give what we have much of a shot – I know that. But I also know, that in the short time we did have, it’s the only time I’ve ever been happy. Really happy. Accepted. Sure of who I am.”
“You’ve been unhappy?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised as he reached across the bed and took hold of my hand. “Since when?”
“Since always,” I admitted. “Since Livvie died…”
“Emmie you know no one blames you for that. Is that why you get the nightmares? Do you feel guilty?”
“Sometimes,” I confessed – lying only slightly. Truth is, since meeting Dexter I don’t feel guilty anymore. I don’t know why and I don’t suppose it really matters. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen what misplaced guilt can do to someone. Part of me wanted to tell Chris that Mum blames me… but that would only cause the already open can of worms to explode.
“Look, don’t hate me for saying this…” Chris began to say. I cocked an anxious eyebrow. “You say he makes you happy? I’m just…” he trailed off while he gathered a deep breath. “I’m just struggling to understand why. I mean… how? Your whole world’s been tossed upside down since you met him. You’ve been flitting back and forth between home and the states, you’ve given up Uni and work, you’re not talking to Rachel anymore… All the while he’s too busy feeling sorry for himself to even talk to you!”
He shouted the last part and instinctively I shrank back.
“That’s not fair,” I retorted. Though, I suppose I couldn’t entirely blame him. I still haven’t found the courage to explain why Dexter was really admitted to hospital – or where he is now. Instead I fed him some made up spiel about Dexter becoming depressed after his mum died.
“I’m sorry, Emmie. But I don’t give a flying fuck how sad he’s feeling. You should come first.” An awkward silence descended upon us. I don’t blame Chris for how he feels. I understand he’s just being protective of me. I also appreciate that despite voicing his opinion on the matter, he still supports me in whatever I decide. “I’m going to see if I can get a flight tomorrow or the day after. I want you to call me every day you hear? Reverse the charges – I’ll pay. I just need to know you’re doing okay. You’ve been left too long to deal with this shit on your own.”
“Damn it, Chris,” I scolded weakly, rubbing the tears from under my eyes before they had chance to spill down my cheeks. “You’ve made me cry.”
Without hesitation Chris moved up the bed and enfolded me in his arms. I buried my head in his shoulder and let three months of emotion spill all over his shirt.
“I love you, Emmie,” he whispered shakily into my hair, his breaths slightly stuttered. I pulled away instantly to check his face but he jumped to his feet and faced away from me before I could get a look at his eyes.
“Are you crying?” I asked, clamping a hand to my chest. I can’t remember the last time I saw Chris cry. In fact, I’m not sure I ever have. “Chris?” I prompted.
“Am I fuck,” he said, trying to laugh it off. But the big snotty sniff (yeah it sounded just as gross in real life) he did beforehand gave him away. “Right, I’m um… going to go and look on the internet for flights,” he added. Then he left the room without ever looking back at me.
**********
“Emily?” I heard my name being called but I fought against the pressure I felt on my shoulder. “Emily… Emily…”
“GET OFF ME!” I screamed, burning the back of my throat. “I need to get to her. I need to get her out!”
“Jesus, Emily, wake up!” The pressure on my shoulder increased and it felt like I was being jostled. “EMILY!” My eyes sprang open and Sarah’s terrified face was hovering above mine. “Dear God you’re soaked,” she whispered, wiping the beads of sweat off my forehead with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as soon as I’d gathered my bearings.
“Don’t be. I was worried about you. You were screaming and shaking…”
“I, um… have nightmares,” I admitted. “About losing my sister.”
“Oh, honey,” she consoled, patting my burning cheeks down with her hands.
“I don’t always get them. They sort of come and go in phases. At times when I have a lot on my mind I suppose.”
“That makes sense. Have you talked to anyone about them?”
“Only Chris and Dexter. No one else knows.”
“What about a doctor?”
“A doctor?” I repeated, my face wrinkling in confusion. What good could a doctor do?
“Sure. There are meds out there to help you sleep. And therapy… have you thought of that?”
“God no.” I dismissed her instantly. There is no way anyone will get me to pour my heart out to a total stranger – ever. Besides, it doesn’t seem to be doing Dexter much good. He’s still refusing to see me.
“Well, just think about it.”
“I will,” I lied.
“Do you want anything or are you going to try and get back to sleep?”
“I’m good. Thanks, Sarah.”
“Okay, honey.” She bent down to kiss my flushed forehead. “See you in the morning.”
Sarah left with a concerned sigh and I rolled onto my other side. I briefly wondered why Chris hadn’t heard me – he always hears me. Plus, this flat is so miniscule I actually heard him fart in his sleep the other night.
It’s times like this I’d usually pick up my Kindle to stop me falling back to sleep. I know from experience when I’ve been pulled from a nightmare I always slip back into it if I chance going back to sleep so soon. But I was in such a rush to get here this time I forgot to pack it.
So instead I just stared at the wall and made pictures out of the shadows on the wall.
Please come back to me, Dexter…
**********
I couldn’t go back to sleep, or rather I wouldn’t let myself, but I stayed lying awake in bed until a reasonable hour so I wouldn’t wake anyone else. I gave in at 6 AM and tiptoed around the tiny flat – showering, changing and making some toast as quietly as I could. Chris was still asleep on the couch. He was curled up into a tight ball and had a pillow clamped to his face with his forearm. Assuming he must have been having one of his migraines, I left him alone and went to sit in the kitchen with a strong coffee.
I detested the silence – it gave me time to think. Though on reflection I preferred it to the sound of my phone ringing in the bedroom. Darting on my tiptoes to get it I flew into a panic. I couldn’t think of anyone who would call me so early in the morning unless something had happened to Dexter.
“Hello?” I answered in a fluster without checking the screen.
“There you are, princess. It’s been too long,” my dad greeted, calming the fire of nerves in my belly. “I thought you might have called on your birthday.” Why? I thought to myself. It came and went like any other day. The only difference being I can now tell people I’m twenty. Besides, he could’ve always called me – you know, seeing as I’m his daughter and everything.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, choosing to dismiss his birthday comment because the more I thought about it the more peed off I was getting. “Why are you calling so early?”
“Early? Princess it’s half past eleven.”
Oh.
Damn.
“Oh um… I’m in America. It’s early over-”
“What on earth are you doing in America?” he cut me off, sounding disgruntled.
“I’m sorry, Dad. It was kind of a last minute thing. I’m visiting my boyfriend’s family. I’ll be home soon.”
“You have a boyfriend?” He knew that already didn’t he? I didn’t tell him where I was at Christmas but assumed Rachel did.
“No need to sound so surprised, Dad. I’m not that ugly,” I teased. He let out a heavy sigh. Over the years I gotten to learn what his different sighs mean. This was his regretful sigh.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell us that’s all. We don’t talk anymore. You don’t visit. Everything’s changed since you moved down to London. I miss you, princess.”
“I miss you too.” I didn’t realise until I heard his voice that I really, truly did. “It’s just… well…”
“Your mother.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a humourless giggle. “But you’re right. I know I should make more of an effort. I’ll come and see you as soon as I get back I promise.”
“I know she doesn’t always show it well, but she loves you too. She’s just had a lot on lately with this new charity of hers.” There he went again – making excuses for her. “So, how’s university?”
Double, triple, quadruple, bazillionuple crap balls…
“I um… sort of don’t go to Uni anymore,” I confessed shakily.
“Oh, princess,” he replied, followed by his disappointed sigh. “This is my fault isn’t it? Because I didn’t stand up to your mother about paying your fees.”
“No, Dad… it’s-”
“If you needed money you could have still come to me,” he interrupted. “Maybe it’s not too late. I can send you some money right away. If you pay your fees they might let you back in.” The tone of his voice was so hopeful, which made me feel really crappy about what I was about to say.
“They didn’t kick me out, Dad,” I confessed guiltily. “I left of my own accord. I’m just not cut out for university.”