See You Soon

by NC Marshall

  “I’m so sorry, she has you soaked.” I pointed down at his trousers where a stain of sand and sea water crept up the bottom of his checked shirt and covered his crotch. My eyes lingered in the area longer than they should have. Realising what I was doing, I looked quickly away a little embarrassed.

  “Do I know you?” he asked. Still staring. “You look very familiar.”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “We knew each other when we were younger. I’m Alison, Ali Martin.”

  “That’s right,” he snapped his fingers in the air. “I knew I recognised your face. Long time no see.” He shivered and moved his arms over his chest as a blast of icy cold air crossed the pier. “You look well, Ali.”

  I ignored his statement because I knew he was just being polite. To anyone with eyes in their head, I looked like crap.

  “How have you been?” I asked him casually, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck as it tried to escape on the strengthening frozen breeze.

  “Honestly… I’ve been better,” he replied. At that moment I realised he looked a little sad, like he had the weight of the world perched on his shoulders. His eyes were still boring into me; sexy and seductive, like they always used to be.

  I nodded “Yeah, me too.” We stayed silent, just looking at each other. I searched for the words that old Ali would have chosen to use next in this sort of situation: ‘Let’s get you out of those wet clothes, that will cheer us up.’ or ‘I know a good way we can get warmed up together,’ would have been up there. But new Ali settled on, “It’s freezing, would you like to join me for a coffee?” I pointed to the marina perched in the distance near the end of Cranley beach. To my surprise, he accepted. And that’s how it started.

  *

  Over the next few months, I opened up to him like I hadn’t done with anyone in years, and he was there for me, listening. A shoulder to cry on and a mountain of support at the darkest time in my life to that point. It became an almost daily routine for me to meet him on the pier in Cranley, usually when I was walking Missie in the evenings. We spent hours talking, but we were careful not to discuss too much about the past, as both of us had been through some pretty bad times. We both wanted to forget it and move on.

  Soon, the meetings turned into more than just a gentle stroll along the beach. We would spend time together wherever and whenever we could. Things moved fast between us, but neither of us made any attempt to slow down the pace at which our relationship was developing. I felt myself falling for him hard. There was a passion between us that I’m sure many would envy. Ultimately, we both just wanted the same thing—to be loved. On the two-month anniversary of us meeting at the pier end, he presented me with a gift, a beautiful delicate silver charm in the shape of a four leaf clover. Holding my hand in his, he attached it to the bracelet hanging on my wrist. He told me that I should wear it all of the time and it would bring luck my way. I told him that I had already used up my whole life’s share of luck the day I found him.

  Another month rolled by, and finally winter started to melt away to fuse into spring. My mood was the highest it had been for a very long time and I was the happiest I can ever remember being. Then, out of nowhere, on a chilly April night at the end of the pier in the exact spot it had all begun, he ended it. I didn’t see it coming at all and was totally shocked and heartbroken. He told me he loved me, but things were moving too fast, he couldn’t deal with the way he felt about me and the timing was all wrong. Through tears of rage, I ripped the charm from my bracelet and flung it at him. As he bent to pick it up from the wooden pier boards, he told me he wanted me to keep it. I told him my luck had just run out before I turned and left him standing at the pier end. That was over a month ago now; I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

  I went on a rapid downward spiral soon after he left me. I thought I’d found happiness and I thought that he felt the same, but now I see that was never the case. I often wonder if he was just using me as so many men have done in the past, happy to be seen with me on their arm, but not prepared to settle down, open their hearts, and spend the rest of their lives with me. I thought he was different, but I see now he wasn’t.

  I spent a lot of time alone living off takeaways and drinking away my sorrows. Life turned into one long monotonous circle each day, exactly the same as the last—Groundhog day at its precise definition. I hardly left the house, and the farthest I went was to the end of the pier and back with Missie, but even that became far less frequent. The pier brought back too many memories of him and I wanted nothing more than to permanently erase every memory that I had with his face in it.

  The darkness in my head was back swirling in my mind like the sea outside the window of my home on a stormy night. I tried to battle against it, but it was no use. So instead, I stopped fighting and surrendered.

  Chapter 21

  On my darkest day, I found myself on an isolated Cranley beach in the middle of a freak spring storm. Hailstones lashed down bouncing off the sand and scattering messily across its wind-battered surface. I walked to the sea where the waves raged ferociously, melting into a clouded dark and moody sky. I didn’t halt and kept walking until the water splashed over my shoes and bare ankles, then further until it was to my thighs. I winced as I waded out even further and the icy water circled my waist, piercing my skin and cutting deep into my bones. My clothes instantly started to get heavier as they became weighted down by sea water. The hailstones continued relentlessly, bouncing down into the ocean like bullets from gunfire in war. I wondered what it would be like—to let the water consume me, to succumb the icy lure and simply disappear. My thoughts flashed at one hundred miles per hour through my brain, but regardless of the temperature, I was already numb to any real emotion by that point.

  Somewhere in the distance, I heard a voice over the noise of the sea. I looked behind me to see a man walking a large dog along the beach. He quickly let go of the dog’s lead and ran towards me.

  “Are you crazy? Get out of the water, lady,” he shouted loudly over the sound of crashing waves. When he reached the sea, he kicked off his shoes and started to make his way in, beckoning me towards him when the sea finally reached his knees. His dog stood motionless at the water's edge barking loudly. As the man got closer, I studied him and saw he must only be young, maybe twenty or twenty-one at a push. His long hair was soaked from the weather. I backed up further until I was standing breathless, parallel to him. I didn’t want him to be harmed and he was already in deep enough.

  “Whoever he is, he’s not worth it,” he yelled, only half joking, as he waded out of the water and waited for me to follow him. It was as if he knew.

  I backed up further until I was back on dry land and toppled as my legs finally gave way beneath me.

  “You alright?” he asked, an air of genuine concern filled his voice and even in my distraught state I found myself quickly liking him. He ran over to me unzipping his coat at the same time. Kneeling by my side, he gently wrapped it around my shoulders.

  I nodded gratefully. My teeth were chattering so much I was unable to talk. My whole body shook beyond my control, a firm warning of what must have been no more than thirty seconds in the sea in the middle of a storm can do to the human body.

  “Do you live close?” the man asked. As he moved away, his shirt sleeve caught in the wind, showing a glimpse of an extremely well-detailed and realistic python tattoo on his upper arm.

  I managed another nod and turned to point at my home, now directly behind us.

  “Come on.” He helped me up from the cold sand. “I’ll walk you up.”

  We began the short walk to my house and the young man put out his hand. I shook it lightly, which resulted in pain shooting up my arm as it gradually began to thaw out under the stranger’s heavy coat.

  “I’m Callum,” he said. He appeared more confident than his years should allow.

  “Ali,” I replied. I recognised him but couldn’t think where from.

  Callum walked me to the gates of my house
where he bid me farewell and told me to look after myself. By then, the storm had subsided and a small haze of weak sunshine was peeping through the increasing gaps in the clouds.

  Callum and I had talked during the walk back up the beach to my house, well, I’m saying ‘we.’ Callum did most the talking whilst I listened. He told me that he was a keen surfer, and that he had recently finished studying IT at Uni and was now living in Cranley with his brother. He was currently looking for a job to earn some extra cash to enable him to get a place of his own. For now, he worked as a lifeguard on Cranley Beach during the summer season. I realised that is possibly where I recognised him from. I learned his girlfriend had recently dumped him for an older man and that his Doberman was called Rex named after one of his dad’s favourite bands.

  I felt downright stupid for what he had just witnessed me doing, but he made me feel comfortable and as the warmth once again came back to my limbs, the embarrassment had soon started to fade. Outside the gates of my house, I gave him back his coat and thanked him for his kindness. I told him I would buy him a coffee the next time I saw him on the beach. It was too little to thank him for what he had just done.

  Back at home, I tried to put the afternoon to the back of my mind. I could still feel the sea as it sunk into my pores and froze me to the core, but it hadn’t numbed the pain as I had wanted. I saw Callum’s friendly green eyes and it reminded me that not everyone in this world is bad and that hope may be out there. I just had to be patient. I busied myself cleaning and organising the house because I needed to do something to keep my mind focused.

  Later, I settled down with a bottle of Merlot for company as darkness crept in and the night approached. I would be glad when the day was over. The sky outside was clear now and a strange calm had descended after the storm had passed.

  When the second bottle of wine was half finished, I finally started to relax. I lay back on my beautiful sofa and glanced around my perfect room, absorbing my stunning view and hoping for an idyllic life. As I closed my eyes and the torture of the day finally faded away, I dreamt that someone was standing in the corner of the room with me. Hidden in the shadows. Watching me sleep.

  Chapter 22

  I watched you today as you walked along the pier, storm clouds gathering quickly in the distance. You look so sad, Ali. Is it hard to accept that the once famous and adored Alison Martin has turned into a nothing? They say what goes around comes around and in your case, it has. I watched as you walked further along the pier, your long dark hair blowing behind you in the breeze. You cried at the pier end for the love you thought was forever. Nothing is forever, Ali, you of all people should know that.

  I watched Missie curl into your arms like a baby as you held her and sobbed until there were no more tears left to cry.

  Later, I watched you walk back to the beach as the storm touched down, and as the lure of the choppy waves beckoned you towards them. It’s a real shame that a beauty such as yourself didn’t end up with the beautiful life to match.

  You didn’t spot me on the beach as I watched you walk into the ocean. I wondered what it was you were trying to do and quickly realised you wanted to harm yourself. Then I watched as you entered your mansion. I followed you in a little while later, using the key I keep in my pocket, that you don’t know I have.

  I was in the house with you for quite a while, not that you noticed. I hid in the shadows and watched as you cleaned the already immaculate rooms, furiously trying to banish the dark thoughts in your mind. I watched as you drank to forget and saw the tension in your shoulders start to disappear.

  I watched as you passed out, your breathing soon became heavy and settled into a comfortable rhythm. While you were sleeping, I crept through your house, looked through your belongings and did what I came to do. You think it’s getting better, but the truth is, it will only get worse. Don’t worry, Ali. Not long now.

  See you soon.

  Chapter 23

  I suppose some would say that starting up a little charity work was the pivoting point in my life. Dr Langley—Monica—suggested that it might be a good idea to get involved with some of the hospital charity and fundraising events, so I did and the couple that I have been involved in up to now have been good.

  My social life is also becoming a little better. I have made a friend. She has recently moved to Cranley and we have found we have quite a lot in common, have the same interests and have dealt with the same sorts of troubles in life. It's good to be wanted by people and to have someone to talk to. Although I'm still grieving over the loss of my mum and the break-up of my relationship, things are slowly beginning to get better. I’m starting to feel like me and I’ve even started my daily walk along the pier again.

  I've been thinking a lot about Jenna and Emily lately, my friends from back at school. I wonder if I should contact them and hope that maybe I can trace them. I regret losing touch and could do with their friendship now. Maybe I’ll try to get in touch with them soon.

  I saw him yesterday. The man that recently broke my heart was at the hospital. I passed him in a waiting area after I’d finished my weekly appointment with Monica. He didn’t see me or at least, I don’t think he did. I wondered what he was there for then quickly reminded myself that his health is no longer my concern. But still, I kept thinking about him for the remainder of the day. I hope one day I will be able to stop caring for him and wonder if that place in time will ever come to me.

  So my life continues, and admittedly day by day I get better and better. My doctor has reduced my medication dosage, and Monica even says that if my progress continues at the rate it is going I can stop with the sessions. But even they are far less tedious these days.

  As the weeks pass, life has gone from pretty terrible to bordering on good. Finally, I can start to live again. There is only one flaw in my plans–something that I must report to the police, but have not yet had the evidence to take to them. It’s happened before in the past, something that comes with the territory when you have been in the public eye, as I once was. It could even be in my head, my imagination playing games with me. It wouldn’t be the first time. So I’ll just leave it for now. I’ll wait a little longer and see if the feeling passes.

  The overwhelming feeling that almost every day, I am being watched.

  Part Five

  Emily

  Chapter 24

  There’s a distinct chill in the evening air as I head along the beach to Logan’s Tavern. Although I'm not too sure if the chill is formed from the weather itself, or it is inside me already, nestled deep in the marrow of my bones. Either way, it feels as if it’s growing by the minute. Thoughts of Ali play out in my mind, her words in the diary and her overall state of mind as she described has shocked me, and I briefly wonder how much I really knew her at all.

  I’ve read about how low she was and how a mysterious man she did not name lifted her from the deepest, darkest place she has ever been, only for him to callously throw her back into it a few months later. I wonder who he is, and why she didn’t mention his name. Maybe the thought of writing it caused her even more unnecessary heartache. She was obviously trying hard to forget about him and cut the connection they had clearly shared in the beginning.

  I read how she had contemplated suicide and would have possibly let herself drown if a young man named Callum hadn’t intervened on the beach. I thank God that he showed up that day.

  I’ve read about how a blossoming friendship and involvement in some charity work that she loved had given Ali a new lease of life and with it, the hopes of a new beginning. That’s where the diary ended, bringing me up to date with her life since she returned, up to near the time she first contacted me. Love, loss, death, friendships, ups and downs—pretty standard for most normal lives, just to an extreme extent, spanned over the short space of six months for Ali.

  As I continue along the beach, I try my best to attempt to put Ali’s written words to the back of my mind. Mark and Chrissy say she will be fine and I must
talk myself into believing they are right.

  *

  Tom and I had arranged to meet at his bar for a drink before we head for a pizza in the town centre. My stomach has successfully managed to twist itself into a hundred knots by the time I reach Logan’s Tavern. I stop before I enter, nervously smoothing down my windswept hair over my shoulders and adjust the waistband of my jeans, pulling at them to rest on my hips. I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass doors and question why I am here. Although I have tried to make myself look half decent with a lick of makeup and a pretty lace top, still I wouldn’t describe myself as anything other than borderline average.

  Tom waves as I enter. He’s sitting at the same booth that we had been in when he tended to my wounded leg, I can still feel his fingers lingering on my skin, warm and soft, and a shiver of excitement runs through me as I make my way over to him.

  “Hi, Emily, you look great!” He stands as I near him.

  “Thank you, so do you,” I say casually, nodding towards his red-checked shirt and dark blue jeans. Let’s face it, the guy could have shown up in a black plastic bin bag and I would have still swooned. I’m pretty sure he knows that.

  “Take a seat.” I sit down opposite him as directed before Tia—the waitress I saw here last night—appears next to me.

  “Can I recommend the cocktails?” she asks, as she politely hands me a menu. “I make the best strawberry daiquiri on the coast, and don’t let this one tell you any different.” She points at Tom who starts to chuckle.

  “Stop trying to impress the boss, Tia,” he jokes. I scrutinize the menu and decide on a less potent concoction of exotic-sounding fruit juices mixed with vodka, but make a promise to Tia I will give the famous daiquiri a try another time. Tom orders a beer and the waitress promptly turns to leave us.