Saviour

by Andie M. Long

  ‘I’ll see him,’ I tell the nurse and walk down the corridor towards the room.

  ‘Hello, Xavier.’

  He whips around, having been looking at the view through the non-opening windows. ‘Sorry. I… I didn’t think you’d see me. Kara said you were refusing to see her.’

  I fidget with the neckline of my tee-shirt. ‘I hurt her. I’m not ready to deal with that yet.’

  ‘She bears no grudge, you know.’

  My voice rises. ‘I can’t think about it yet.’ I turn to walk away.

  ‘Eden,’ he calls back. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. Is there anywhere we can go? We don’t have to talk. I’d just like to spend some time with you. Make sure you’re okay here.’

  I exhale. ‘There’s a day room. You can sit in there with me awhile if you like.’

  ‘Your hair?’ He points to my head as if I’d think he meant anything else.

  I brush my hand down the side of my head, exploring the shorn locks.

  ‘It won’t be back.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Follow me then. We can get a cup of the most awful tea ever.’

  He sits on a chair near me, looking awkward. I guess it’s not every day you visit a psychiatric unit to see a one-night stand.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admits.

  ‘It is all a bit weird. You can leave if you like. I know you’ll be needed for the court case but please don’t feel like you need to stay involved in my life. I bet you wish you’d never met me.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I don’t wish that at all. I just wish I’d met you under better circumstances.’

  ‘Other than doing the deed in a corner of a nightclub?’

  ‘I don’t regret that. Do you?’

  I’m not expecting that reply.

  ‘I regret feeling that sex was the key to my happiness. That kind of turned around and bit me on the arse.’

  ‘Is it bad for me to ask that you don’t put our night in with what, erm.’

  ‘My kidnapping and assault?’

  He blanches. But then he would. I’ve not spoken about this to anyone but the police and the staff here.

  ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Please tell Kara I will let her come and visit soon, but not now.’

  He nods. ‘Before you leave, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Why will you see me? We don’t really know each other. Why me and not Kara?’

  I sigh. ‘Maybe I’ll be able to tell you when I’ve had more therapy.’

  ‘You said I saved you. How did I do that? I don’t understand.’

  As I turn towards the door, I close my eyes and bite my top lip. I speak to him with my eyes tightly shut. ‘When he did things. When she did things. I pretended it wasn’t happening. I brought to mind the most recent feelings of good emotions I’d experienced. The ones from the club. I took myself there until it was over.’

  I don’t let myself see his face. Instead imagining the horror that must sit atop it at hearing my words. I open my eyes and begin to walk out of the room.

  His voice calls my name softly. I stop.

  ‘Eden. Can I visit again? Next week maybe?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say and I walk back to my bay.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Xavier

  From the ward, I drive to Paulina’s. While I eat, I find my attention wandering towards the door, expecting Kara to come storming in, demanding to know how my meeting with Eden went. I’d told her I’d ring her in the morning.

  ‘Earth calling Xavier.’

  My eyes return from the doorway and back to Jane. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Xavier.’ Her eyes narrow with concern. ‘I’m worried about you. You’re very distracted. Is it all this Eden business?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologising. I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I take a sip of my coke while I think. ‘I guess I’m concerned. About what she said about how I saved her. It wasn’t actually me, was it? It’s a mental image she brought up.’

  ‘Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t go there again. The girl will have a lot of psychological problems.’

  ‘I like her though.’

  Jane sighs. ‘I know.’

  ‘What does that sigh mean?’

  ‘Xavier. Do you think what attracts you to Eden is that you want to save her? Is this connected with your mother?’

  My eyes widen. ‘I never put the two together.’

  ‘Subconsciously, is there a possibility you are trying to save Eden because you couldn’t save your mum?’

  My hand automatically goes to my half-finished tattoo. ‘Something about Eden appealed right from the night I met her. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The bit I saw of her seemed so complex. Like she was a puzzle. It was interesting. The appeal was that she didn’t seem like a regular boring woman.’

  ‘There’s a lot to be said for having a regular boring woman.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you weren’t one, and neither was my mother. Maybe I have mummy issues?’

  ‘You do.’ Jane smirks.

  I chuckle.

  ‘Just make sure you use your brain and that it’s in your head.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re funny.’

  ‘Xavier. I’m as proud of you as if you were my own son. But I worry. One day I might get to meet this girl and find out for myself what it is about her that has you so mesmerised.’

  ‘Yeah, if she gets out of the psychiatric ward.’

  Jane shakes her head. ‘Oh, Xavier. You sure know how to pick them.’

  We eat our meals and chat about the world, but I can tell by the troubled look in Jane’s eyes that she’s not finished checking out how I am. Sure enough, more questions accompany dessert.

  ‘Did visiting the ward upset you? Make you think of your mother?’

  ‘Dad never let me visit when Mum was an inpatient. He didn’t want me around the other patients. I wasn’t there long, but I got to see a little of what the ward where Mum stayed might have been like. I can picture a real situation instead of what my imagination led me to believe. Real life is a lot different. I feel better knowing Mum was cared for all those times. I imagined her being locked in a room screaming, or similar.’

  ‘Maybe you should see someone again, Xavier. To talk about these new feelings and what’s been happening.’

  ‘I know what you’re saying but I don’t think it’s necessary. For now, I’ll talk to you.’

  ‘I’m not a therapist.’

  ‘No, but you have good listening ears and right now that’s all I need. If I confront difficult memories, I promise I’ll make an appointment, okay?’

  ‘Fine. Just know that I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you.’ Jane uses her fingers to make the motion that her eyes are watching mine.

  ‘Yeah, like you haven’t been doing for the last few years.’

  ‘Shut up and eat your Panna cotta.’

  I drop Jane off and head back to my apartment, mulling over our conversation. Am I hanging around Eden because I want to save her? Does it tie into what happened with my mum?

  When I saw Eden in that club, I witnessed a woman confident about herself. She knew what she wanted, and she owned it. The woman I visited at the hospital was not that Eden. Yet a spark of her was still there. That snippy, acerbic manner was still present in her responses. My ego is responding to the fact she says I saved her. A vulnerability I had a glimpse of when she ran out of the club, and when I bumped into her in the street. Whatever it is, I seem to have it bad. All I can think of is revisiting her in hospital. Though Jane suggests I’m trying to save her, in reality, I think she’s in my bloodstream. I can’t let her go. I don’t want to. She’s made me feel alive for the first time in years.

  I feel sorry for Kara. All she’s done to help Eden, and Eden won’t even see her. It’s breaking Kara’s heart. I’ve barely seen
her as she’s thrown herself into work, trying to get as much money behind her as possible in case Eden needs her. She’s an amazing woman, to make the sacrifices she has. I hope Eden can forgive herself for hurting her one day soon because right now she’s hurting her more. I look at the corner of my bedroom, to the small pile of books Kara has sent for me to take to Eden. Her book collection is missing, along with the rest of her belongings and may ultimately never be seen again. Kara has spent what must be at least one shift’s wages and has replaced some of her books. She asked me to take them the next time I go. It’s hard to look at Kara when heartbreak is etched all over her face. The question is there: how come she’ll see him and not me? I just patted her hand, like that would do anything, and assured her Eden would see her soon. Empty promises because what do I really know about the girl from the club? Maybe Jane’s right? Perhaps I’m on a mission to redeem myself for failing my mother. It could be I need to be admitted right alongside Eden.

  Even though I had counselling after my year of self-destruction, the thoughts and feelings never completely fade. The therapists teach you different techniques for dealing with these thoughts and I’ll be forever grateful to my psychiatrist for organising an appointment with the alcohol addiction services that would teach me to respect my body better.

  How does one accept that they were having a tattoo while their mother drowned? They don’t. She’d tied her body around a rock under the water so she couldn’t rise to get air. A piece of rope she’d been carrying around in her backpack and I never knew. My beautiful mother, who was always such fun on holidays, had faked the happiness she’d shown me that trip. Instead, the mother that accompanied me was the bleak, dark mother who found living too difficult. I spoke to the doctors and read a lot of books about the subject afterwards. She would have been feeling numb. When she took her life, knowing I was there wasn’t enough to save her. A person who feels nothing cannot regret the pain they are going to cause loved ones. They can’t feel sad about it. They just do what they need to do to end their own pain. I’d wondered what all the commotion was about when I walked out of the tattoo parlour, the shouting having been so loud that my tattooist and I had agreed to break off the session to discover what was happening. The last thing I expected was to witness my mother’s lifeless body being dragged onto the shore. I never paid for the part-finished tattoo.

  Can you imagine what it's like to call your father and tell him he no longer has a wife? My father, full of the guilt of his affair, lashed out at me with words. Berated me for encouraging my mother to go on a holiday that had ultimately led to her death.

  Most people who need an escape go on holiday. I needed to escape vacations, and I needed to escape my home and life. Chloe was there with her supposed understanding, proffered words we all say that in the scheme of things mean fuck all.

  ‘You need time.’

  ‘It will get better.’

  Then she’d try to offer me her body as a source of comfort.

  I found my answers in the bottom of a bottle instead. I became vile. Angry, with alcohol giving me no boundaries. I would rage at my father. I’d stay in bed with my hangovers instead of going to work. Then when I felt a little more awake, I’d drink again. And so it continued. Only the amount of alcohol I needed to numb myself became greater. So I drank more. Alcohol costs money. The truth was, I wasn’t earning any, so I stole from my father. I sold my belongings. The final straw came when on a complete bender, Chloe challenged me. I pushed her away from me, but in my alcoholic stupor, I had no idea I’d pushed her too hard. Literally and metaphorically. She hit the wall behind us. Not injured, thank Christ, but stunned, she’d finally given up on me and walked away.

  My father dragged me to the psychiatrists, but I had already had a wake-up call. I’d never hit or hurt a woman physically. Now I had hurt Chloe. Where was it going to end? If I kept drinking, if she stayed thinking she could help me what would have happened? I’d like to believe I would never hit her, but under the influence of alcohol I lost control and awareness of my actions. She texted me that day, ending our relationship, but I was done anyway. After all my treatment, counselling, drugs to help me withdraw and support meetings, I was lucky. My father gave me a second chance. He gave me back my job. Others aren’t so lucky. I strived to be a better person, setting myself ridiculous targets of sales as if I could make it up to my father by being the best house-seller, earning his business more money. Showing him I could be relied upon and responsible. I also decided I needed to man up and be courteous to Jane, someone else who’d suffered the wrath of my grief. It was a fresh start. I made an agreement with myself. No more alcohol and no more relationships. I was better off alone.

  After my father died, it was Jane who stepped up. Jane who made sure I was okay. She made me see the psychiatrists again. To talk of my regrets and failings and how I could never hope to forgive myself for what I’d put my father through. They took me through it all again, coping strategies. What I had to focus on for now. What to do if I wanted a drink. I stayed at Jane’s for a couple of months. That’s when she told me owning all the branches was too much. We agreed they should be franchised out. Then I went back into the Estate Agents as an employer. Again, I set myself the tasks that I felt would make my father proud. I hoped he was watching me from afar and seeing that I’d taken care of his staff and his business. I sold the family home and moved out of Jane’s and into my own apartment. It was time to grow up. Jane told me it was time to date. But for fun, not to give myself pressure. I would settle down when I was ready. Another platitude that the right girl would come along.

  I scoffed.

  Then I met Eden.

  Maybe she’s a kindred spirit if you believe in that mumbo jumbo? All I know is that when I met her she seemed like she knew herself. Then all this happened to her and now she’s either lost herself, or she was never really the person I imagined.

  All I know is that I want to find out if there’s something there, or if it's in my head.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Eden

  I have been having regular sessions with Marnie, the Psychologist. In today's session, she is going to take me through what happens to me when I’m having a flashback, as they are still occurring. To say I’m scared would be an understatement of epic proportions. My feet feel mired in setting concrete as I walk down the corridor to her office.

  I knock on the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  All the clinicians’ offices are the same. Old desks that have seen better days, with no funds for new ones because this is the NHS. The drawers in them lop-sided because they’re broken. Grey, metal filing cabinets that contain our files and our secrets inhabit corners of rooms. A tea tray rests on the corner of the desk complete with dirty, used mugs and spilt sugar. It’s amazing what you take in when you’re in these rooms repeatedly. When you need somewhere to place your focus while you consider your therapist’s questions. Dust bunnies blow out from under the desk as the door opens. There because the domestics only ever mop the areas you can see.

  Marnie greets me with a welcoming smile. ‘I still can’t get over how different you look. Your hair looks very nice.’

  I touch my locks. ‘I’m still getting used to feeling the draft around my ears.’

  She rests back in her chair. ‘So tell me about the last few days.’

  I tell Marnie about Xavier coming to see me and about my difficulties in seeing Kara.

  ‘Okay. I want to work on the Kara situation today. You are scared to see her in case you attack her again. We will do some work with exposure therapy. It will be difficult. We’re going to go through the incident with the broom. There is no rush. We’ll see how we go.’

  I nod as I’m incapable of speech.

  ‘Okay. I want you to describe what happened that day. Everything you thought and felt.’

  My voice when I begin to speak comes out like a whisper. My throat feels dry. Marnie hands me a glass of water. I take a sip and then start aga
in. ‘He was letting me out of that room. I decided that the only chance I had to escape was to go along with things and let them think they’d won me around. When he invited me to their bedroom, I didn’t want to go. I wanted to curl up in a tight ball in my room and hide my face until they’d gone.’ I automatically curl up in the chair like I’ve just described, my face peeking out at Marnie from above my knees. ‘Instead, I went to their bedroom. I remember thinking how unfair it was that I’d been kept in a shit-hole of a room and they had all these comforts like a fucking memory foam mattress. He made me get on the bed and he made me do things with Sienna. I wanted to be sick.’ I put my head down.

  ‘Eden.’

  I don’t respond. I can detect the terror coming.

  ‘Eden. Stay with me. Focus on my voice. You are not there. You are here, with me, in this room at the hospital. Lift your head up and look around. Eden.’

  She shouts my name and I startle and look up.

  ‘Good. Now I want you to uncurl your legs and sit back up in the chair if you can. I want you to focus on me and stay with me while we talk.’

  My body trembles.

  ‘I know it's hard. All I ask is that you try. Lift up your head first.’

  I do it.

  ‘Now drop your knees.’ She hands me one of those circular stress balls. ‘I want you to squeeze on this instead. Also, keep looking around this room and at me, okay? It’ll help. Now, what did Jack make you do?’

  It’s the first time we’ve mentioned his name. I hate that name now. Hearing it aloud makes me feel as though a murky fog has entered the room, thick and stifling. My throat feels constricted. I cough and focus on where I am.

  ‘Sienna was just so, I can’t explain. He’d like, hit her and just like that’-I click my fingers-‘she forgave him.’

  ‘Subservient? Acquiescent?’

  ‘More like brainwashed.’

  ‘You mentioned that Sienna had at some point been captive in that same room you were kept in. Have you heard of Stockholm Syndrome?’