Food. Oh, my God, I’m starving. Just the mention of food makes my mouth water.
‘Yeah,’ I manage.
‘Good. That’s good.’ Andy winks. ‘I’m going to root around in your kitchen and make something to warm you up, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Kim. You good with her?’
‘I got her,’ Kim blubbers.
‘She’s fine, Kim,’ Andy promises. ‘Stop worrying!’
Kim agrees with such excessive head jerking that I can feel her hands shake as her fingers dig into my shoulders.
‘Emma, you’re fine,’ Andy calms me. ‘Just cold and hungry. But fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
Kim waits until Andy is out of earshot to berate me. ‘Sweet God, what were you thinking? You’re like a feckin’ ice cube, do you know that?’
My head bobs up and down like a child in my class whom I scold for pulling another child’s hair.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble somewhat incoherent.
‘Oh, Emma,’ Kim softens. ‘I was so worried.’
Guilt weighs my stomach down like an anvil. My whole intestines tighten and a loud rumbling noise rattles around inside me. I pray I won’t have a sudden onset of diarrhoea.
‘I really am sorry.’ I drop my head. ‘I didn’t mean to freak you out.’
‘It’s okay,’ Kim says, sliding her finger under my chin and tilting my head up again until I’ve no choice but to look at her. ‘David told me.’
I close my eyes. The noise of the bath running imitates the pounding of my blood coursing through my veins.
‘Told you what?’ I say, my eyes burning I slam them so tightly shut.
‘Oh, Emma. Don’t. Don’t torture yourself. We don’t have to talk about this now. David was worried about you. He still loves you.’
I snort roughly, dragging my upper body forward. Kim steadies me.
‘So David phoned you, then?’ I say.
‘Yeah.’
‘When? He doesn’t have a phone? He lost his at the weekend.’
‘Really? Well, he must have bought a new one because he called a while ago. He had no idea where you were, and he was freaking out.’
‘He thought I’d be with you?’ I roll my eyes, pissed off that he has no doubt dipped into our house savings to buy the latest goddamn iPhone.
‘Yeah, I guess so. He got really upset when you weren’t with me. And when you weren’t at your mother’s either, he called back and asked me to help look for you.’
‘He called my mother?’ I squawk. ‘Oh, great.’
‘Emma, he was beside himself. I could hear it in his voice.’
I run my hand over the top of my head and down my hair. ‘He thought I might do something stupid, didn’t he?’
Kim nods slowly. ‘Yeah. Maybe. I guess.’
‘And did you? Did you think I’d run off and try to top myself?’
‘No. But at least I know why you freaked out and tried it years ago. David doesn’t. So he can’t possibly understand.’
‘Yeah.’ I sigh.
The sting of hypocrisy blisters. David couldn’t keep his affair secret from me, and I hate him for it. I resent him for telling me as much as I resent him for sleeping with Amber. Yet all these years, I’ve been hiding a huge secret from him. I’m a bitch. I tell myself that I hide the truth because I’m protecting him. Maybe I’m lying to myself as much as I’m lying to him. Perhaps, I should tell him. I should just phone him up right now and confess. It would put us on equal ground. One terrible mistake versus another. Would they cancel each other out then? Could we just go back to normal then? Could we just forgive each other and pretended like we’re both okay? But I know life doesn’t work that way. Even if David could forgive me, I could never forgive myself. And I could never, ever forget.
‘Emma. Emma, you okay?’ Kim clicks her fingers close to my face.
‘Yeah. Just cold,’ I lie.
‘I know what you’re thinking.’
I stare at Kim, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
‘No need to look at me like that,’ Kim moans. ‘Emma, you were seventeen. You were just a kid, and you made the right decision. Seriously.’
‘He cheated on me, Kim. David cheated on me.’
‘I know. It’s shit.’
‘But I don’t deserve to be mad.’
‘Eh, Yes. You. Do. You should be furious. I am.’
‘But what I did was worse. Way worse.’
‘It was different. Very different. It was a long time ago, Emma. You can’t keep beating yourself up. It won’t change anything.’
I clasp my hands and bang them gently against my nose. I can’t think; my mind is like quicksand and every rational thought is sinking.
‘What did you say?’ I finally ask, concentrating so hard my eyes bulge as I look at Kim.
‘I said guilt won’t change anything.’
‘No. I mean what did you say to David? What did you say when he told you he’d cheated on me?’
‘Nothing. There was nothing to say, and it wasn’t my place anyway.’
‘Were you angry?’
Kim lets go of me for the first time to shrug. ‘Dunno. I honestly didn’t think about it. I was just concerned with finding you. That’s all.’
I smile, but it does little good to hide the tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. I must look ridiculous as I try not to blink, hoping to hold the waterworks at bay.
‘Andy and I drove around for ages looking for you,’ Kim explains. ‘David was doing the same.’
My cheeks burn, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide my embarrassment.
‘You okay sitting there if I check on the water?’ Kim asks.
I nod, relieved when Kim turns her back and I can wipe my eyes unnoticed.
‘Where’s David now?’ I ask, as Kim rolls up her sleeve and dips her elbow into the bath as if she’s testing the temperature for a small child.
Kim pauses, turns around, and takes a deep breath. ‘At his mother’s.’
‘Of course, he is,’ I growl, the realisation twisting in my stomach like a blunt knife. ‘I bet his mother is loving this. Her favourite goddamn words are I told you so.’ I jerk from side to side on the loo. ‘I told you not to marry her. I told you she was crazy,’ I mimicked in a painfully high-pitched voice.
‘Yeah well, he told her to fuck off and married you anyway, so that’s all that matters in the end.’
I’m about to add something bitchy and sarcastic about him sleeping with his boss when I hear Andy at the top of the stairs.
‘That looks full enough, Kim ’ he says softly, looking into the bath from the doorway. ‘I couldn’t find any soup, so I just made some tea. I hope you like tea, Emma.’
I drop my face into my hands, and I can’t battle my emotions any longer. Tears fall uncontrollably. I can’t see the expression Andy makes, but I guess he looks confused because Kim begins to explain about Danny and tea and our ritual at the train station.
I feel a warm hand on my knee, and I look up to see Andy crouched next to me.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I didn’t know.’
His eyes are glassy, and his whole face, even his ears, is pale. He seems genuinely distressed that he has upset me. Although I barely know the guy, I suspect Kim may have found a keeper.
‘I just miss him,’ I explain with a rough cough.
‘Of course.’
‘C’mon, Emma. Let’s get you into the bath,’ Kim says.
I suck air roughly through my nose until it makes a squeaking sound, and my whole body stiffens. Andy sets the cup of tea down on the back of the sink next to us. My eyes follow his every move.
‘Maybe I should help her by myself,’ Kim says, moving closer.
I drive my spine into the back of the toilet and sit rigidly. My eyes dart from Kim to Andy and back to Kim. I repeat, giving myself a headache.
‘It’s okay.’ Andy softens even more. ‘You can keep all your clothes on, Emma. We just want to
bring your body temperature up. The only things we need to take off are your shoes. Is that okay?’
My hands ache where the cold has bitten my fingers, and the heat of the house attempts to thaw them out again.
Andy slides his arm around my waist and hooks his other arm under the back of my knees. He’s pretty strong, and his calm demeanour helps to make this all feel a fraction less awkward. I’d like to tell him I’m okay and at least make my own way into the bath, but my legs are cramping like I’ve run a marathon and every little twitch burns. Before I have time to overthink it, Andy is lowering me into the bath. I can’t help but let out a relieved groan as the warm water instantly softens my stiff jeans. The water soaks through my blouse and caresses my icy skin. I drop my head back on the ledge and close my eyes.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, sliding a little lower, submerging my shoulders.
Silence reigns, and I open my eyes to find Kim sitting on the edge of the bath, the cup of tea in her hand.
‘You’ll be okay, Emma,’ she says, waiting for me to sit up straight before she passes me the cup. ‘You always have me. No matter what.’
Chapter Eighteen
EMMA
I throw back the duvet and slide my legs over the edge of the bed. Kim had insisted I go for a lie down after my bath, and even though I protested that I wasn’t tired, I’d manged to sleep for a while. It’s pitch black in my bedroom—the wonky street lamp at the end of the cul-de-sac must finally have given up—as not even so much as the moonlight shines in through the heavy curtains. I pat my hand around on the bedside table, searching for my phone to check the time. Groggily, I remember I left it downstairs and haven’t had it all day. I stretch my arms out in front of me at shoulder level, patting the air all around me. Making my way towards the door, I hope I don’t crash into anything along the way.
I’m relieved to find the landing light is on, and I squint as I adjust to the brightness. My legs are wobbly, and my calves are so bruised and achy, I feel like someone has beaten me up. I’m wearing one of David’s old rugby jerseys, and it comes down to my knees, but the timber floorboards drive cold through my bare feet all the way up to my knees. I’m about to dash back into my bedroom to grab my dressing gown when voices coming from downstairs distract me. The words are muffled as they carry through the ceiling, but I can tell they’re male voices. Two men, and they’re arguing, I think. I scurry downstairs, forgetting about my bruised muscles, and stop outside the closed kitchen door.
It’s David. I recognise his voice straight away. He came home. He’s hysterical. I think he’s crying. It’s hard to tell. I press my ear against the door and try to garner a better picture of what’s going on.
‘Emma’s fine, man. Calm down,’ Andy comforts.
My eyes narrow. I’m not fine. I’m healthy, if that’s what Andy means, but my husband slept with his boss on the day I buried my best friend. I am definitely not bloody fine, and I don’t know how I feel about a stranger telling my husband that I am. I know Andy’s only trying to help, but it’s mortifying that Andy is meeting us for the first time under these circumstances. He must think we’re insane.
‘Thanks. Thanks for your help,’ David says firmly.
There’s a moment of silence, and I wonder if they’re shaking hands or something. They don’t know each other so a hug would be too much, and David’s not the physical type anyway. I’m really the only person he ever touches. Or I was. Until Amber.
The silence continues, and I wonder if I should go in and rescue David from the awkwardness. But I’m not sure I can hold it together if I see him, and I don’t want to be a mess in front of Andy. Not again. I wait and hope I’ll hear Kim’s voice trying to lighten the atmosphere. I don’t.
Footsteps make their way towards the door on the other side, and I panic, knowing that someone is going to open it and find me standing in the hall. I scurry to the bottom step of the stairs and sit, pulling my knees into my chest. My heart is pounding, and my palms grow sweaty. I’m hiding like a scared child from a monster. David’s not a monster, and I know it. Any normal person would march into the kitchen and kick his cheating ass out. But I’m not normal, and I know that too. I don’t want him to leave. He’s all I have. He’s my everything. I can’t lose him. I won’t cope. I slide my hand inside the neck of the rugby shirt and pull it away from my skin; even with the top buttons open and me tugging at it desperately, it doesn’t help relieve the pressure as it becomes a struggle to breathe. I open my mouth wide and gasp. I feel the air come into my mouth, but it can’t make its way down my throat. My heartbeat quickens and ribs shrink until they’re so tiny and tight I worry they’ll pierce straight through my heart. I want to call for someone to help me, but just as air can’t make its way down, words can’t make their way out. Beads of cold perspiration trickle down my spine and rest on the band of my knickers. Shaking, I spread my legs and drop my head between my knees. Close to passing out, I begin to count backwards from fifty. I attempt to inhale on the beat of every fifth number. I breathe out again on the next five. I make it all the way down to twenty before the tightness in my chest eases and the pain subsides. I keep counting down, following the breathing pattern, and at zero, I sit up again. I can breathe. It’s still tight, but I’m not suffocating. I have some control. But I can’t control the emotional pain boiling in my stomach and bubbling like lava into almost every part of my body.
I rush up the stairs; the heavy beat of my feet against the solid oak pounds loudly, creating the impression that I weigh much more than I do. I scurry into the bathroom, and with my fingers shaking uncontrollably, I fiddle with the key and lock the door behind me. No one remembered to pull the plug on the bath earlier, and a weird, blue-grey scum wraps all the way around the inside of the bath, settling at the rim of the water. It must be the dye that bled from my jeans, I think. It’s disgusting, and I don’t relish the thought of having to bleach to the foamy stain tomorrow.
For a brief moment, I think about sliding under the water with my head down. How easy all my problems could be solved. I could close my eyes and never open them again. I notice David’s razor on the back of the sink, and my eyes seek out the slender, silver blade. I jerk my eyes away and settle them on the nearest bright colour. My makeup bag. I think about the tweezers I know are inside. Nail scissors, too. My dressing gown is stuffed into the laundry basket and the belt dangles over the side of the cream wicker basket like a sky blue fleece rope—teasing me. It begs me to wrap it tightly around my neck. I slam my eyes shut, wobbling on the spot just inside the door. Easy options, I warn myself. Easy options.
At some point, I must have leaned my back against the door and slid to the ground because when the pounding comes on the other side, I realise I’m sitting with my knees tucked tightly against my chest, and the bony parts are digging into my boobs.
‘Emma. Open the door,’ David orders.
I put my hands over my ears.
‘Emma!’
The door rattles behind me as David jerks the handle up and down so roughly I’m certain he’ll break it.
‘Emma, Emma, Emma,’ he shouts, pounding his fist against the door furiously.
I stand up and turn around to face the shaking door. I instinctively scurry backwards, half-expecting David to break the door down any second.
‘Oh God, Emma. Please. Please just open it.’
My tense shoulders fall, and my head feels too heavy for my neck to support. I understand. David’s not angry, he’s desperate. He’s afraid.
I take a large step forward and turn the key counter clockwise. David’s still pounding his fists against the other side and doesn’t hear the key turn.
‘Baby. Please. Just answer me. Tell me you’re okay.’
I don’t reply. I can’t tell him I’m okay. I’m not okay. But I’m still alive. I haven’t hurt myself. Danny would be proud of me today. I cling to that thought.
‘Emma. Oh God, baby. Please just let me in. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please open th
e door.’
My lips are suddenly dry, and they sting and crack as I open my mouth. ‘It’s open.’
The handle twitches, and before I have time to draw the breath that I desperately need, the door swings open and David charges towards me. He grabs me roughly and gathers me into his arms, pressing my whole upper body into his. I stiffen. I can’t bring myself to wrap my arms around him too, even though I’m desperate to feel a tender hug.
David sniffles and snorts, kissing my head over and over between shaky exhales.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you,’ he whimpers.
I believe him. I know my husband loves me. I love him too. But the puncture of betrayal is taking its toll. Just like the air seeping from a tyre, the love I feel between David and me is slowly seeping from my heart. David is my air. And just like a tyre without air, I feel deflated and low without my husband’s fidelity.
‘Emma, say something, please?’
I break away and look David in the eye. His usual sparkle is missing, and his bright, blue pupils look dull and grey like the ocean during a storm. He seems shorter too. As if what he has done is weighing him down so much he’s actually shrinking.
‘I never meant to hurt you. I swear. You are everything to me, Emma.’ David drags his arm under his nose and snivels. ‘You’re everything. Please forgive me. I’m begging you.’
David stands between the sink and me. Even tilting my head to one side, I can’t see around his broad shoulders to catch a glimpse of white porcelain. I can’t see my makeup bag or his razor. The laundry basket is behind me, so I can’t see that either. David stands between me and all the things that I could use to hurt myself, and I wonder if it’s some sort of metaphor. I think I want it to be. All I can see is the bath full of murky water. I force the sleeve of David’s rugby shirt up my arm as I step closer to the bath. I lean over and plunge my arm all the way to the elbow into the cold water and pull the plug. I watch as the drain guzzles the water down.
See Me Not: A gripping psychological thriller with a heartbreaking twist. Page 11