Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  “— along stirring at all up again.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Pitying disdain oozes from my eyes. I am determined to strike a blow. To hurt him. “What, you call hiding out in this pathetic little apartment doing fine? Spending all day terrified your workmates will find out who you really are? You’re not doing fine, you are coping.”

  My voice is stained with contempt. I know this is wrong. However, rather than stop, I ratchet things up a notch. “You’ve got no friends, no life. You spend your whole life pretending something isn’t happening to you. That’s not living. That’s a joke.”

  Silence fills the room. A sharp contrast to our raised voices.

  Andrew stares blankly at me for the longest time. When he does finally respond his voice is surprisingly soft. “Fuck you. Get out.”

  I don’t move.

  “GET OUT!” he roars. He grabs me and attempts to physically force me out of the apartment. I drop to the floor like a stone.

  “This is a discipline. It takes strength. I survived.”

  He tries to drag me without much success.

  “For years I’ve lived with this. Every day, working at it until it is finally… manageable.” The dragging is not working. He can’t get me out so he gives up.

  “Then you come along with your ‘Boo-hoo, I’ve been haunted for five minutes and I don’t like it’ and I know, I KNOW I should just leave it, let you drown, but for whatever idiotic reason I feel sorry for you. So against every sensible urge in my body, I try and help you.”

  I crawl into a ball. He stands over me, pointing a finger in my face. “And this is what I get?! You judge me?! You criticise my life?!”

  His lips curled into a twisted smile. “You think it’s bad now? Ha! They’re going to drag you to hell.” He glares down, pausing for breath. “How are you sleeping? Nights are the worst, aren’t they? See, I learned how to sleep.” Andrew stabs a finger violently into his chest again and again. “Took me years but now I sleep like a baby. Every night. I sleep. My head hits the pillow, I’m out.”

  I can’t look at him.

  “But I suppose that’s not living. That’s coping.” He shakes his head. “You’re drowning. You want to drown, fine. You’re not taking me with you.”

  He stomps out of the room, leaving me a sobbing mess on the floor. The bedroom door slams so hard the windows rattle.

  I guess I touched a nerve.

  I should probably go. Get out of there. Leave the poor guy alone. I may have been desperate to hurt him in the heat of the moment, and yet in a more calm, more considered frame of mind, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.

  Instead of leaving I sit on the only chair in his depressingly small kitchen, cataloguing the various items I can see. Wondering what is his and what came with the apartment. There’s not a lot there - stove, toaster, fridge. He has a coffee machine. Does he make himself coffees and just blow on them?

  He must know I am still here. He never heard me leave. Eventually, I hear the bedroom door open. I have no idea what to expect. More yelling? Gentle insistence that I get the hell out of his apartment? Out of his life?

  Andrew enters the kitchen looking a little sheepish. He hovers about awkwardly, nowhere to sit because I am in the only chair. His presence makes the quiet of the apartment seem all the more oppressive.

  For a long time neither of us says anything and when we finally do, our voices are a pale imitation of what they were.

  “Have you ever been attacked?”

  Andrew nods. “A couple of times. Some worse than others.” He lifts his shirt. A nasty scar runs along his wiry torso, all the way from his hip to his nipple. “That’s why you have to get a handle on this.”

  I trace my finger in small circles along his kitchen table. There is another long silence.

  “I meant what I said before. You’re drowning. You panic and splash and wave your arms about like crazy? That’s not going to help. You’re just going to drown quicker.” He takes his time, talking slowly. “But… If you take a deep breath. Relax. Try and float…”

  I watch my fingers. “You can’t float forever.”

  He looks away, not responding. I’m not sure he agrees.

  29

  I call Virginia and she agrees to come and pick me up. No questions asked. She is a good friend. Andrew says I can wait inside. I don’t. I’m happy on the street.

  It is getting late. Standing alone on an unfamiliar street like this would have made Old Ellie a little apprehensive. Vulnerable. Me, I couldn’t care. There you go. Some good has come from all of this. It has toughened me up.

  Ginny arrives and I can immediately tell she is preoccupied. Anxious about something. She keeps looking about like she’s trying to see something, despite the dark.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just… Never mind.”

  We drive off into the night. I probably should press her more. Figure what the issue is and try to help. Except I don’t have the energy for my own problems, let alone somebody else’s.

  “You okay to drive?” I asked out of nowhere, surprising myself. Maybe my anger from before hasn’t quite died down. It is possible I’m still itching to hurt someone. God, I hope not.

  Virginia doesn’t bother to look at me. “I wouldn’t be driving if I wasn’t all right to drive. You know that.” Her voice is icy.

  “I don’t know what I know anymore.” What does that mean? I think to my therapy sessions and Sharon. Could Sharon possibly have been right? Do I secretly blame Buckley for the crash? Somewhere buried deep in my subconscious. Sure, he didn’t mean to hurt me, but he did. He shouldn’t have been driving and now I am stuck here, in this horrid reality. Do I blame Ginny for letting the accident happen? Andrew because I’m haunted? Blame, blame, blame. All blame and no responsibility.

  “I saw you drinking and smoking this afternoon,” I inform her with more than a little spite in my tone.

  “God, Ellie… We’re supposed to stop our lives because you’re having problems?”

  She is completely right. I want to apologise. I also want to hit her. I am a torrent of frustrated rage. I need to find an outlet for it soon.

  “You’re not the only one with problems, you know.” She is wrong about this. I know what Virginia’s problems are and they are nothing. They are the sort of things Old Ellie used to think were problems. They are not. Not compared with what I’m dealing with.

  We drive the rest of the way in silence.

  The cars and the streets drift by. Not much traffic. Not many people about.

  Virginia pulls into her street. The brakes squeal. We come to a stop in the middle of the road. I try and see what she sees. Her place appears normal to me.

  “Bear.”

  His car is not there. Buckley’s is. Ginny pulls out her phone and calls him. She swears quietly as it goes to a message. “Bear, call me.”

  “What’s up?”

  “He shouldn’t be driving. I only had one beer this afternoon, but Bear kept drinking. He was upset. Getting belligerent.”

  “Upset about what?”

  Virginia glances up and down the street, assessing her options. She doesn’t have to answer. Bear is upset about me.

  She tries his number again. Still nothing.

  Virginia throws the car in reverse and pulls a violent U-turn, thumping into the curb.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I thought I saw him. When I was coming to get you. I saw his car, but I thought I was just … I think he might have followed me.”

  The implications of this tumble through my mind.

  With Ellie gone Andrew assesses his evening. He glances over at his meal for one. He had barely touched it when she arrived. There is no having it now. It is ruined. The meals, while perfectly edible when first heated, are not so good cold or reheated. The upshot is Andrew will probably find himself hungry later and need something else, whereas usually, he is satisfied with his evening meal. Because he is usually sati
sfied he doesn’t need snacks and as such he has no snacks in the apartment. This is why maintaining the system is so important. He could have another whole meal. However, that would leave him a meal short until the next delivery arrives. There is always the option to go and purchase snacks, except he is home and tired and has little interest in going out again tonight.

  Bang! Bang!

  Another knock at the door steals his focus. Andrew assumes it to be Ellie again. Her friend must never have shown up. He opens the door without thinking. It is not Ellie. It’s the guy who was at the house with her. The enormous guy. Bear.

  Bear’s mouth twists into a cold smirk. His eyes are watery and unfocused yet eerily determined. “What do you think you’re doing?” Bear slurs. He reeks of beer and smoke. “You think you can ruin everything and get away with it?”

  This is the last thing Andrew needs. He swings the door closed. Bear sticks a heavy boot in the way and the door rebounds back open.

  Bear gives a little shake of the head, as in ‘Nice try.’

  Andrew assesses his options. Bear is a fair bit bigger than Andrew. Andrew didn’t have much luck forcing the much smaller Ellie from his apartment earlier. He would have no hope with Bear.

  “What do you want?”

  Bear doesn’t answer. Not verbally at least. He lunges, surprising Andrew with a fist to his right eye. The sharp impact causes Andrew to stagger backwards and fall to the floor.

  Bear takes a step forward and looms menacingly over Andrew. A savage expression covering his face. Ready to kill him.

  “Why would he come here? What is he thinking?”

  It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I ask Virginia this, I keep repeating the same question over and over. She keeps giving the same answer.

  “He’s confused, El. He doesn’t understand any of this.”

  We pull out front of Andrew’s. Sure enough, there is Bear, sitting in the gutter, in front of his SUV. He sways in small circles. It’s a miracle he and the car made it here at all, the wonky park a strong indication of the state he’s in.

  Virginia gets out. “What are you doing, Bear?”

  He pointedly doesn’t look at her.

  “Buckley’s accident wasn’t enough for you? You want to have a crash of your own?”

  He waves her away.

  I get out. Tiny pinpricks of terror tingle all over my body. Bear cradles his right fist in his left hand. His punching fist. It appears sore. I am desperate to know what he did. What happened here. But I’m terrified to ask.

  “Bear. We’re going home. Give Ellie your keys.”

  “Why?” He tries to find me with his groggy eyes. “Where is she going to leave my car this time?”

  “Bear…”

  He turns on me. “You’re a bitch, Ellie. You’re a bitch and you know it.”

  “Wilson!” Virginia snaps. “Give Ellie your keys and get in my car, now!”

  The use of Bear’s real name indicates how serious Virginia is and elicits a response from Bear. He sways to his feet, fishing his keys from his pocket.

  “What did you do to him?” I ask in a very feeble voice.

  “Nothing he didn’t deserve.” He holds up the keys up in front of my face and tosses them away. They clatter softly on the bitumen. Virginia grabs Bear by the arm and leads him into her car. His eyes don’t leave me the whole way.

  Virginia shuts the door. She places a hand on my arm. “Go check if he is okay, El.”

  She gives me a weak smile and gets in her car. I should go make sure Andrew is all right, I am just not sure I want to. I’m scared of what I might find.

  I creep towards Andrew’s door, chewing furiously on the inside of my cheek. I have no idea what Bear may have done. I haven’t seen Bear like this before. Andrew is not that big. All sinewy. Skin and bones. I doubt he could survive many of Bear’s punches. Certainly not any type of sustained attack. Images of Andrew passed out in a pool of blood or worse rock my mind. And with them the acute sting of guilt. This is my fault. I might not have meant it, but I brought this on Andrew. Bear wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t for me and my inability to control my life. Am I going to have to take him to the hospital? To the police? Is he even alive?

  His apartment door is closed. I knock lightly. What if he doesn’t answer? I can’t just leave him in there. He could be dying. Even if he isn’t dead, I doubt he wants to see me very much. I assess my options. I’m not strong enough to break down the door. There are windows. It will be difficult to access those without looking like some kind of crazy intruder to the neighbours.

  I knock again, glancing around. I could knock on a neighbour’s door, see if they are home, except then what? Andrew doesn’t strike me as the type to have made friends with the people next door. Finally, I hear movement from inside.

  I hold my breath as the door swings open.

  “Three visitors in one night. What will the neighbours think?”

  I look Andrew up and down. His left eye appears slightly swollen. Apart from that, he seems okay.

  “Well, two more precisely, not three, since this is your second visit.”

  I follow him inside.

  “Did… Bear…”

  “Your friend? Yeah, he came by. What was all that about?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t send him.”

  Andrew laughs. “Of course you didn’t. Why would I think you did?”

  “I… I don’t know. What happened?”

  “Not much. He blamed me for something and punched me in the face. He seemed pretty mad.”

  “Oh, God. I am so sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything. Actually, it was quite funny.”

  My face contorts with complete disbelief. “How was it funny?”

  “He was trying to scare me.”

  Andrew’s expression suggests what he’s said should be enough for me to understand. It’s not. I have no idea what he is getting at.

  “The things we’ve seen. The things we face. And he thinks he can scare me? He’s nothing. Pathetic.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, he sucker punched me and I started laughing at him. I told him exactly what I thought of him. That he couldn’t scare me and how pathetic he was. I think my laughing scared him off. He ran away.”

  We sit on the couch while I absorb all this.

  I feel compelled to defend Bear, even if his actions are indefensible. “He is not a bad guy. He’s not usually violent.” My words are pathetic. Bear just came here and punched Andrew in the face for no reason. “He’s just… It’s complicated.”

  His eye looks sore. I have an urge to fuss over Andrew. Fix his eye. Make all this better somehow. Yet I have no idea how to start.

  In his kitchen, I open drawers until I find a small plastic bag. I put some ice cubes in and bring it back out.

  “Put this on your eye.” I have no idea if ice packs help black eyes, but it makes me feel better. We sit there in silence for a while.

  “He accused me of ruining everything. What is it I am supposed to have ruined?”

  I sigh. “This thing, seeing things, it is causing me problems with my friends. With my boyfriend. I think Bear was just looking for someone to blame.”

  I can’t find the words to exonerate Bear. Maybe because there aren’t any.

  The silence creeps over us again, remain for a long time.

  “Must be nice,” Andrew offers eventually.

  “What?”

  “Having people care for you that much.”

  I scoff. “I’d prefer him to show his affection in a less moronic, violent manner.”

  “Still, to come and do that for you. Must be nice to have friends like that.”

  It is difficult to tell if Andrew is being genuine or trying to make a point of some kind. If he’s making a point, I am not sure what it is.

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?” I ask.

  A mildly surprised expression crosses his face before he manages to
hide it. “Sure.”

  It’s hard to tell if he means it.

  30

  The drive home in Bear’s enormous SUV is quiet and uneventful. The streets drift by, momentarily caught in the headlights, before dissolving into darkness. I find myself lost in thought. Not really present. I don’t know how I would react if I saw the dead tonight. It may be the perfect time. I am probably too tired to react at all.

  My mind whisks me away.

  A vision of myself in a long flowing dress invades my thoughts. Walking alone in the dark countryside. The earth feels cold under my naked feet.

  I approach the edge of a lake. I don’t stop, easing comfortably into the cool water. Mud squelches between my toes.

  Soon I am deep enough to swim. The strokes come easily, despite my heavy clothing clinging to me. I swim until I am far enough out that I can’t see the land anymore. Only water.

  I tip over and float on my back, completely at peace. It’s nice, the peace. So foreign at the moment. The wet material of my dress doesn’t want me to float. It wants to pull me down. Under.

  I don’t resist.

  I sink down into the water. No resistance. Letting it happen. Deeper, deeper. The surface is a long way above me now. No chance of making it back up. Down I go.

  My eyes open with a gasp. I’m at Virginia’s house. I have no memory of how I got here. I must’ve been on autopilot the whole way home. Probably not the smartest way to drive.

  I sneak into the house. Thankfully no one is up. We’re going to have to hash out the events of this evening at some stage, Bear, Virginia and I. Fortunately they are not waiting up for me to do it tonight.

  I click the light on in the spare room. Someone is in my bed.

  Buckley. Fast asleep.

  A smile curls across my lips. I thought I didn’t want to see anyone else tonight. I was wrong.

  I crawl softly into the small bed and pull Buckley’s arm around me, doing my best not to wake him. He is warm and comforting and exactly what I need. Why have I been running from this?