Just Between Us

by Mrs Hayley Oakes

  “Oh Kyle …” I said, “as much as I would love that, is it really a good idea?”

  “I think so,” he said firmly.

  “We’d just be even more miserable,” I sighed, “it’s taken me two months to be able to smile again and this conversation alone is going to set me back.”

  “Have you been thinking about me?” he asked.

  “Constantly,” I replied, a groan in my voice at the pathetic girl I was. I couldn’t hide how much I was drawn to Kyle Hanson, just like every girl. I had visions of him swamped by girls at Exeter uni, and it gave me physical pain.

  “Why shouldn’t we see each other then?” he asked, earnestly.” Why be miserable alone when we can be together?”

  “Where would it end Kyle?” I asked, “Sneak around for another couple of years and never move on.”

  He was quiet, “I know where you’re coming from Soph,” he said. We both knew, our little arrangement meant that we wouldn’t move on, wouldn’t meet other people and we had accepted university as the end of it all, a boundary that we could work with. If we extended the perimeter it was dangerous and where would that lead?

  “Maybe we should just wait it out until Christmas, try and make things work apart and … then hopefully we can be friends when we see each other then.”

  “Okay,” he said cheerily, eerily unlike Kyle’s usual banter.

  We chatted a little more and eventually I put my phone down when the sun was almost ready to rise. I slept for a couple of hours and when I awoke the conversation felt like a dream. I didn’t know if the boundaries had shifted and if now we would text regularly or he would ever call again. I waited for him to make another move, not wanting to embarrass myself and get myself into hot water craving Kyle every second of every day all over again.

  He didn’t call. He didn’t come home for Christmas that year, either.

  The next time his name flashed on my screen and my heart raced was the middle of the night in my final year at university when I laid curled in Simon’s arms. I jumped out of bed at the sound of the shrill noise, assuming it would be serious at this time of night. I saw his name, glared at it, and dashed into the corridor away from a sleeping Simon.

  I gulped and answered the phone. “Soph?” the gruff voice asked. I could hear the alcohol affecting his voice and could almost taste him, his voice so welcoming to me like a hot bubble bath after being caught in the rain.

  “Yes, Kyle, yes, are you Okay?” I whispered.

  “I need you Soph,” he crowed, “it’s all fucked up.”

  “Kyle,” I chattered, “Kyle calm down, what’s happened where are you?”

  “Oh God.” He began to weep, “I’m such a stupid fuck up.”

  We spoke for an hour as he sobered up, he was upset, but he didn’t divulge as to why. He asked how I was, he asked how my life was, and whether I was happy. We were like strangers. It was comforting yet awkward at the same time. I moved into the lounge, curled up on the sofa under a blanket and listened to his familiar voice. When the conversation ended, he was in a better frame of mind, and we said our goodbyes. I thought about saying I missed him, thought about telling him how I had for three years but as the conversation ended he sighed and said, “You were right, Soph. I’m not the happy ending for you.” I crawled back into bed with Simon who instinctively curled into me. All I could do was think of Kyle, his voice, his sadness, his life, and I knew that even though I was here with Simon, it would always be Kyle that I wanted. But … Simon was who I would allow myself to have.

  Two years later Kyle came home for Christmas. I was still living at home but saving for a house with Simon. Kyle hadn’t given Mum much notice, but she was extremely excited and even though Mick didn’t show it, he was too. He had mellowed towards Kyle these last few years and they had built a mutual respect for each other. My mum had refused to let them become estranged, forcing Mick to visit Kyle when he was settled, so they disappeared weekends at a time to see my elusive step-brother. Mick and he had become closer through the years but they still lacked the strong foundations that a father son bond was built on.

  Simon and I had our Christmas planned, and when I heard Kyle was coming home, my mind was sent into a spin. I wondered how it would be, us under the same roof. I wondered how it would feel to see him, whether he had someone, whether he would see me and wonder what the hell he was thinking all those years ago. Our attraction may have died years ago, but we never had the chance to find out.

  “I think I should spend Christmas day at home, considering Kyle is back. He may never come again,” I told Simon. We had planned to go to his parent’s house. He nodded. I wanted to be with Kyle and my parents, and selfishly, I didn’t want him there.

  “I understand,” he said kissing my head. He was so ridiculously understanding that it was hard to ever ruffle his feathers. I knew he wouldn’t fight for me, I knew he wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t there. It was easy for me, but there was a small part of me that was disappointed that he didn’t insist I be with him, insist that I was by his side.

  Christmas day was lovely. The four of us spent the morning opening gifts and ate a lazy breakfast of eggs and bacon. Mum put the turkey in the oven and then we all walked to the local pub for a couple of drinks with other Christmas revellers. The pub was packed to the rafters, and only open for a few hours so people had to go home to continue celebrations. We left at around three and Kyle regaled us with stories of his life in London. He placed an arm around my shoulder casually as we traipsed through the ice-laden pathway to home. Mum and Mick marched ahead, laughing and chatting, and we held up the rear.

  At home the table was beautifully laid out. Mum was so glad to have us both there and she took her time preparing the vegetables so we started to play monopoly in our Christmas hats, drinking wine.

  “This is nice,” Mick bellowed as Mum finally sat down, a starter of prawn cocktail sitting in front of us all.

  “Isn’t it just …” Mum sighed, “oh Kyle, we don’t see enough of you back up here.”

  “I know,” he shook his head and gave us all a grin, “today’s been great, thanks.”

  Mum misted over a little as she squeezed his hand. “Any time.” She smiled.

  The day was wonderful. It was as if we had never been apart and the attraction that I considered faltered was still there. It was almost impossible to deny but I had no idea whether Kyle still felt it. I had Simon, I was happy, and he fit my plan, and so I just had to suppress the urge to throw myself at Kyle and beg him to take me into our shared bathroom for another round on the sink unit.

  Simon was the furthest thing from my mind, despite a few texts throughout the day. That night we all went to bed after a thoroughly enjoyable day, playing games, eating too much food, and watching Christmas television in the party room.

  As I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth, Kyle poked his head around the door. I hadn’t locked it as I used to when he was there, I suppose that habit had died a long time ago.

  “Night Soph,” he said with a grin, “great to see you.”

  I nodded as my mouth was full of toothbrush, he disappeared behind the door again, and I wondered why that sounded like a goodbye.

  I finished and then peeked through his door. “That sounded like a goodbye,” I said. He was surprised to see me and looked up from his book, his beautiful face illuminated by the lamp-light.

  “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow,” he said, “I’ve got a lot on leading up to new year.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking to the floor. “It has been great to see you,” I whispered. I suddenly felt nostalgic, perhaps due to the copious amounts of alcohol consumed and the fact that Kyle in his bedroom and me in mine brought back so many memories, both happy and sad. He saw my face fall and moved from the bed, I swallowed hard as I watched him approach me.

  He stood before me and placed his hands gingerly on my bare arms, waiting for me to resist. I didn’t resist, I just looked up into his beautiful eyes and he stared into
mine. He ran his hands up and down my arms tenderly and I moved into him, closer until our bodies touched lightly. I couldn’t meet his eyes in this position, we were so close and so I leaned my forehead on his chest. He moved his arms to hug me, and I moulded myself into his hard, muscled body, allowing him to cradle my weak body next to his. I breathed him in, allowed myself to take comfort from everything about him that was so familiar. We stood there, immobile for some time, and eventually I tore myself backwards away from his warmth. He watched me closely. I tipped my head back, and put my hand gently behind his head. We were so close and the air between us was so electrically charged that I felt unable to move form the spot where I was rooted.

  He moved slowly, so slowly that I was afraid he would stop, and he was allowing me to say no. I tipped my head back and kept my eyes open as his lips softly grazed mine. It was delicate, quick and soft and nowhere near enough. I launched myself at him and he caught me. I kissed him like I hadn’t been kissed in years, I fused my lips to him, tasting him, feeling him and allowing his tongue to roam my mouth. He held me tightly against him and our breathing became laboured, torrid and we were quickly out of control.

  “You’re going to regret this tomorrow, Soph,” he said between kisses. “You know you will.”

  “No,” I said simply, pulling him closer to me, if that was even possible.

  “You will, you can’t keep coming back to me when you know I’m not what you want,” he said firmly. “I’m not your happy ending, babe.” He said that with such assurance and just a hint of sadness that it made me think. He was right, wasn’t he? I didn’t want Kyle. I had made my mind up years ago that we didn’t have a future, that I should find someone else, and here I was yet again unable to resist him when he stood in front of me in the flesh for the first time in five years.

  He sensed my unease and dropped me back to my feet.

  “It’s only because we can’t be together that we want each other so much.” I sighed.

  Kyle nodded sombrely. “I used to think that,” he said, his hand under my chin and his thumb rubbing my cheek gently, “but I stopped thinking that a long time ago.”

  “What do you mean?” I watched him, dumbstruck, as he started to back away.

  “I just mean that I can’t imagine any situation where I wouldn’t want you, whether I could have you or not.”

  I stood, unable to move at his admission, and wondered what the hell I was doing. It was starting all over again, my body was craving Kyle and every word he uttered just drew me in like the pied piper. I had to distance myself, this was self-preservation and sheer madness once again where Kyle was concerned. He walked back to his bed, and I stepped back into our bathroom. It would have been so easy to follow him to that bed, let him hold me or make me feel good, but the stronger person inside me had to honour the decisions I had made and had to walk away. I had chosen Simon, not just him, but what he represented. He was dependable, safe, uncomplicated, three things that Kyle was not.

  It was another four and a half years until I saw Kyle again … the day I had been due to marry dependable Simon.

  Twenty-Seven – Just hospitalised

  Now

  Despite the way I felt about Kyle I managed to slot back into my old life very well. It was surprising really, refreshing even, how I existed on auto-pilot, but I think it was because he had never been a part of who I was now, and so I couldn’t miss him in my every day routine. I was Miss King, Year 5 teacher. I was known in our local community, and I had friends who were glad that I was finally out of hiding, none of whom even knew Kyle. I had kept myself holed up at my parent’s house for so long that people didn’t try and contact me, as they felt awkward. I had hidden myself away from them all and their seemingly perfect lives because I was embarrassed about what Simon had done. However, when I did venture outside, they seemed to be waiting with open arms.

  I was able to bury the happy memories of my summer with Kyle and push the happy thoughts of our time together deep, deep down into my subconscious. I also managed to mask the hurt and the pain of leaving him by not associating anything I did with him. My home would always remind me of us, but I could embrace that when I was alone and have a cry if I needed to.

  Most days I could just be Sophie King, teacher, friend to Ashley who had a lovely newborn baby, and daughter to the ever-social Maggie Hanson. My friend from work, Tasha, who was ten years older than me and single, tried to get me to venture out and socialise. She mistook my existence as mourning for Simon, not knowing that it was Kyle that I really missed. I couldn’t say that I hadn’t been upset about Simon at first, hurt and heartbroken, but that was just consumed by feelings I had for Kyle. I never dealt with how I felt about Kyle, so now I was dealing with both, in a way.

  I managed to fool them all, Mum thought I was back to normal and was glad to see me back at work and taking some pride in my appearance. Ashley and I skirted the Kyle topic and were able to focus on Stanley and the daily changes in his little face and abilities. I loved going round to her house and holding that little bundle of joy, helping me forget how messed up my life was. After the conversation with Kyle I had to finally admit defeat. It was not written in the stars for us. We were Romeo and Juliet, and if we weren’t careful we’d kill each other trying to be together. I had pushed him away again because I was ashamed, and yet I always wanted to go back for more, which wasn’t fair for either of us.

  Simon hadn’t contacted me since our chat at the old house. We had communicated through the solicitor who acted on both our behalves very amicably. I didn’t want any of the furniture and so was allocated a little more of the profit from the sale than Simon. The money was placed in an account waiting for me to purchase a property of my own.

  Mick had offered to double the money, so I could afford a decently sized house in Lytham, as on my single income the area was a little bit pricey for me. The problem was that at the point in time I had no impetus to actually move and couldn’t face looking for my spinster pad.

  It was getting very cold out and nearing the beginning of December when things changed in a heartbeat for our family.

  I was in my classroom, and it was a Thursday, the children were getting tired and restless, it was almost 3.30 pm, the time when they would be going home. Just as we were discussing homework there was a tap at my classroom door. It was the headmistress Dana Lancaster.

  “Hello Miss King, could I please have a word.”

  As I slid out of the room, the school secretary, Karen, slipped in and gave me a worried smile. I looked at Karen and then Dana and followed her into the quiet hallway.

  “Sophie.” She put her arm around me. “You need to get your things, your mother called, and it’s your step-father.”

  “What?” I asked panicked, “What is it?”

  “I’m afraid he’s suffered a heart attack. I don’t know the specifics, but she sounded very upset and wanted to be sure that someone would tell you and be with you coming to the hospital.”

  “Oh God, is he alive?”

  Dana looked at me with sympathy, “I really have no more information. I’m so sorry, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  “No,” I shook my head, “I’ll be fine; you don’t need to do that,” I squeaked as a sob escaped from my mouth without warning. Just then the bell chimed and children started to filter out of the various classrooms. Dana put her arm around me and marched me to her office, which was a few feet away off the main corridor.

  “Karen will get your bag from your desk, then we’ll go,” Dana soothed.

  “Oh good God,” I gasped, “My poor mum and Mick, oh God.”

  Within minutes Karen had retrieved my things, and I was marching with Dana to the staff car park to drive to meet my mum and Mick at the hospital.

  Dana insisted on walking inside the hospital with me despite my constant refusal. I just wanted to be alone, not observed by my bloody boss. We barged into A&E where the waiting room was massive and there were scattered pockets of people si
tting in isolation. I saw my mum straight away, doubled over with her head in her hands, wearing a pale grey suit that made her look so business like, in complete contrast to her tattered stance.

  “Mum,” I said, running to her and crouching in front of her. She looked up at me and her face was puffy from the tears. She leaned into me and held me tightly.

  “Oh Sophie, thank God.” She pulled me closer to her, and I clung to her.

  “What happened? Is he Okay? What’s going on?”

  “He’s alive,” she said quickly. “He stopped breathing, they had to resuscitate, he hasn’t regained consciousness yet, and they won’t let me in to see him. He’s critical,” she said through silent sobs.

  “Where was he? What happened?” I asked frantically.

  “At the sales room,” she said. “One minute he was chatting away and the next minute he was blue on the floor, thankfully one of the staff members had had some first aid training and got to work keeping his heart pumping until the ambulance got there.”

  “Oh my God.” I gasped.

  “I was at work, and Deirdre, his secretary, called me in tears. I got here before the bloody ambulance,” she said. “I’ve just abandoned my car out there somewhere, they can tow the thing away.”

  “Okay.” I gave Mum’s arms a rub and stood up slowly. “He’s going to be fine; I know it. He’s a fighter.” I knew I had to be strong. I needed to be there for Mum as she fell apart, and I needed to take charge. “Have you called Kyle?” I asked. It pained me to say his name.

  “No, oh my God, no.” She shook her head frantically and the tears began again.

  “Right, calm down, give me your car keys.” She handed them over and wiped her tears away, looking at me expectantly. I turned to Dana who stood close behind me and smiled.

  “I need to move my mum’s car,” I said calmly, “please could you just sit with her, I’ll get her a coffee, I’ll only be ten minutes.”