Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  “Thank you,” I whisper noting the start date of the fund. She’s been holding it for me for almost nine and a half years. Maybe she did care…a little.

  Elliot

  “There’s some mail for you on your bed,” Mum informs me, as I walk through the front door of her house after work. I find her in the kitchen slicing up a bread stick to go with what smells like a beef casserole.

  “Thanks Mum,” I say, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and pinching the crust the moment she butters it. “Is Steve home yet?”

  “He is. He’s out in the garage checking the car engine. He said it’s making a funny noise. He’ll be in for dinner though,” she says, before she pulls the curtain to the side in the kitchen calling out the window. “Five minutes, Steve!”

  “I’ll be down in a few,” I tell her, bounding up the stairs three at a time until I reach the landing and enter my room. On the bed, I find a small pile of mail with yellow redirection stickers indicating they were all forwarded from my flat to here.

  Flicking through the pile, I find a mobile phone bill, my bank statement, some junk that I don’t care about and finally, an envelope with the UK Border Agency logo printed on it.

  My breath catches as I stare at it, knowing that this is my answer.

  “Please be yes,” I whisper to it, praying they approved me.

  When I pull out the documents familiar to me after the last time I was granted a visa, I can’t contain myself. “Yes!” I yell out, racing back downstairs to share my news.

  “What was all that about?” Steve asks from the back sliding door.

  “I got approved!” I rush over and hug my mother, picking her up and spinning her around as she laughs at my behaviour.

  “That’s fantastic, Elliot,” Mum says, smiling up at me as I set her down.

  Offering me his hand in congratulations, Steve shakes mine as he beams at me. “I’m gonna miss seeing you, mate,” he says.

  “Me too. I'm going to miss both of you,” I tell him honestly.

  “Don’t go all soppy you two. That’s my job,” Mum cuts in. “Let’s have dinner. I’ll open a bottle of wine to celebrate.”

  “Is the computer on?” I ask as they move towards the kitchen.

  “Yes it is, sweetheart. Let me guess, you can’t wait to book your flight?”

  Grinning at her, I wink and disappear into the study to buy my ticket. Suddenly, the whole world is so much more wonderful to me. I'm going back, in only two weeks. I’m going back.

  Thirty-Three

  Paige

  “Are you ready?” my mother says as soon as I open the front door of my newly rented flat. It’s not that far away from where she and Daniel live, and it isn’t anything exciting, but it’s my own space. A place for me to rebuild my life in preparation for this tiny bundle growing in my belly.

  It’s one bedroom, one living area, a small kitchen and bathroom, and it suits my budget. I can afford it on my own with my hairdresser’s salary without having to touch the money from the trust fund my mother gave me. I'd prefer not to touch it unless I absolutely need to. Perhaps I’ll save it for my retirement or something?

  My mother and Daniel have helped me buy furniture for it, doing their best to be a part of my life. We’ve come to an understanding now, and we’ve been continuing to work with a counsellor to put our respective pasts behind us and have the best opportunity for a family that we can. It’s still weird though. I don’t know that I’ll ever come to view them as my ‘parents’ in the sense that they are the first people I want to share my world with. I just can’t see us being a family like that, but it does feel good to let go of some of my anger.

  “Come on, Paige, we’ll be late for your appointment,” my mother chides me gently, still waiting in the doorway.

  “All right, I’m coming. You don’t need to be at every antenatal appointment, you know,” I point out, reaching for a lightweight cardigan as I sling my handbag over my shoulder and step out the door, locking it behind me.

  “You’re entering your third trimester. I need to make sure you’re OK,” she reminds me, walking ahead of me down the stairs until we reach her car.

  I hop into the passenger seat, and she drives us to the clinic for my appointment. We sit in the waiting area and chat briefly about an article in a magazine before we’re called into the doctor’s office. My mother sits supportively beside me as the doctor asks me a barrage of questions, checks my health and sends me on my way, happy with my progress.

  “I told you it would all be fine,” my mother says as we leave.

  “Did you?” I laugh, before I take a nervous breath as butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Well, I worry,” I say, rubbing my hand over my stomach. I’m petrified of losing another baby. Especially when I’m convinced this will be a little girl as well, Phoenix, finally getting her chance to be reborn. It was no coincidence that I found out I was pregnant on the same day the voices stopped. Her spirit is growing inside me now. I have my second chance and so does she. I just need her to live this time.

  Elliot

  Today is the happiest day of my freaking life. I’m finally on the plane back to the UK, and this time, I have five years under my belt.

  It gives me plenty of time to find Paige and convince her that her past doesn’t mean we can’t be together. I don’t care what it takes; I want to be with her. I need to be with her. She doesn’t get to push me away.

  Paige

  As I do every night before I go to sleep, I replay the last couple of voice messages from Elliot that tell me he misses me and still loves me. In this one, he’s talking about running into an old friend he never thought he’d see again. Then I look through the photos of our time together. I have printed a couple—OK, all of them—and have them framed around my house. I’m a little worried because this is the third day in a row that he hasn’t called. He hasn’t left it this long before, and I’m having jealous moments thinking about this 'old friend’ of his. Is it a boy friend? Or a girl friend? That part was left out. My mother thinks I should just call him back and tell him about the baby. But now, more than ever, he needs to choose his own path. I can’t let my changed circumstances be the deciding factor in what’s best for him. He’s the kind of guy who will stick it out with me until the bitter end just because it’s the right thing to do, and I don’t want that for him. I want him to be happy. Even if it isn't with me.

  I need to be strong. I can’t let my love for Elliot be the only thing I focus on or my life will fall apart. I’ve spent the last three months trying too hard to put it back together, and I’m finally at a point where I don’t feel like my past is chasing me around. I feel like I can move forward with my life, and I hope that Elliot manages to as well.

  As I drift off to sleep, my dreams are filled with him. Nights are my favourite time of the day now, because I can indulge in him while I sleep. I can love him there without fear of messing things up. Because even if he does come back. How is he going to react to having a pregnant girlfriend with mental problems? That could be his deal breaker.

  Elliot

  Waking with a start, I take a moment to realise where I am. I was just having the most vivid dream where I was searching for Paige but every time I found her, she’d turn around, and it would be someone else. I slide my fingers through my hair. I haven’t had it cut since Paige did it nearly six months ago. I can’t believe it’s been so long. It feels like it only happened yesterday.

  I only have a couple of hours left on this flight before I’m there. Jolene has agreed to pick me up from the airport, so I don’t have to catch a cab this time. They don’t have a spare bed, but everyone is fine with me taking the couch for a couple of days until I sort something else out.

  My leg bounces in anticipation. I’m almost in the same country as her.

  Paige

  My alarm sounds and I roll out of bed, yawning and stretching the kinks out of my back. It’s time to get ready for work. I don’t feel much like using a lot of produ
ct, so I twist my hair up in a bun and pull some curls down to frame my face before I apply some moisturiser, mascara and lip gloss. The baby kicks rhythmically the whole time.

  I rub my hand against her foot. “Only a few more weeks on our feet then we’ll be resting up, ready for you to be born. I can’t wait to meet you, baby girl.”

  I smile when she kicks in response. Then I pull on my black work pants, a white fitted singlet top and a grey asymmetrical cardigan that hangs long in the front and short in the back. Grabbing my keys and the salon keys, I get in my car and head off to work. It’s my morning to open and prep the salon today, so I pick up some breakfast on the way to eat it there.

  Elliot

  “Well, hello stranger,” Jolene calls out to me as I wheel my bags towards her.

  “Hi, Jolene. Thanks a lot for coming to collect me,” I say, as she leans up and gives me a friendly hug hello and kisses my cheek.

  “It’s no trouble. I got picked up when I arrived, so it’s kind of a karmic thing to pay it forward,” she explains.

  Driving to the flat is kind of surreal after being back in Sydney, but it feels like I’m going home. The big letdown is that Paige won’t be there, but I feel so sure I’ll find her. I realised on the plane she would have needed to find another job, and that means she would most likely have used Andrea as a reference. So the first thing I do after setting down my bags and saying a quick hello to all the housemates, is hand over the bag of Tim Tams I brought with me then take a walk to Stylz.

  Paige

  It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m so close to finishing the extensions in my client’s hair. This has been a very labour intensive morning, and I’m looking forward to the half hour I get to eat and sit down. My feet are killing me.

  Finally finished, I style my client’s hair to blend in the new hair in with the old. The sound of the blow dryer muffles the voice of Brooke, one of the other stylists, as she speaks to me.

  “Paige,” she calls over the top of it.

  I shut the dryer off so I can hear her. “Sorry,” I say turning to face her. “What’s u– ” I don’t need her to tell me because he’s the only thing I can see when I look up. I shove the dryer into Brooke’s hand and mumble something about needing to do something incredibly vague.

  Wrapping my cardigan around my middle, I walk toward him, not entirely certain this isn’t some sort of dream.

  “You’re here,” I gasp, tears filling my eyes. God, I’ve missed him so much. I want to jump into his arms and kiss him, but I don’t know if I can.

  Elliot

  Paige is standing in front of me, staring at me like I’m some kind of apparition. “I really thought you’d be harder to find,” I tell her with a smile. “One quick conversation with Andrea and here I am.”

  “Here you are.” She looks me up and down, her arms wrapped around her waist defensively. Please don’t run from me again.

  I hold out my hand to her, craving her touch. “Can we go and talk?” I ask gently. She looks at my hand like she did that time on the plane, like she’s unsure whether she should take it or not. Just like I did six months ago I make her a promise. “I’m not going to bite.”

  She keeps one arm round her waist as she slips the other one in my hand. The moment we touch again, I get this charge travelling through my body that reignites the life I've felt lacking since I left her here. I’m home.

  Paige

  I've become all heady being near him, and I can’t really think straight. I'm just kind of following along blindly behind him, not questioning where we’re going.

  “Stop,” I say suddenly snapping myself out of it.

  “What? What’s the problem?”

  “What are we doing? Why are you here?” I ask. The last thing I expected this morning was to see him. This is all so surreal. I don’t know how to act, or what to say.

  He stops and takes a step toward me, hooking his finger under my chin and tilting my head up. “I’m here for you,” he whispers as he brushes his lips against mine. Shivers run through my body as I forget what I did to him, and my guard falls away. I whimper a little against his mouth as I part my lips and allow his tongue access. Oh, how I’ve missed the feel of him in my mouth. The taste of his tongue as it slides sensuously with mine. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against him as want takes over my senses.

  Elliot

  I’m lost in the sensation of her mouth as I pull her closer to me, our bodies meld together, and I can’t help but notice a … bump? My eyes pop open, and I immediately stop kissing.

  Staring at Paige’s face as she slowly opens her eyes, I slide my hands around to her waist and over the firm mound that is now where her flat stomach used to be. Her eyes widen as she jumps away from me and wraps her cardigan back around her waist, trying to cover up.

  I shake my head. “No, no, no, do not cover that up.”

  She releases her cardigan, and it falls either side of her protruding bump. I look from it to her, pointing at it. “At what point, were you planning on telling me about that?”

  Her lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears. “I…I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back. It doesn’t have to be your problem.”

  “What? How can you say that? How could you keep this from me? This is my child, right?” I glare at her, still pointing at her stomach. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tears roll down her face as she nods quickly.

  “Yes, it’s yours,” she barely even whispers.

  I stand there and stare at her, trying to think of what to say without ruining everything completely, so hurt and angry I can hardly form a thought.

  I close my eyes and press the pads of my thumb and index fingers against them. “What time do you finish work?” I say as calmly as I can.

  “Six,” she answers.

  “All right,” I say, nodding before I walk away from her. I need some time to deal with this. I need some time to calm down.

  “Elliot,” she calls after me. I shake my head without turning around. “I’m sorry!”

  Reaching up, I place my hands on my head. It seems to be the only thing I can do to stop it from exploding. I came here for her. She’s been my sole focus for the last three months. And I know she’s been dealing with shit. I know she’s got these messed up ideas in her head that tell her she’s not worthy of a good life. But, a baby? My baby. I’m going to be a father and she didn’t tell me? What the fuck?

  Thirty-Four

  Paige

  Fuck. I’m caught between elation and fear. I’ve been both dreading and looking forward to this moment since I left him at the airport. I knew it would come. Even when I tried to convince myself he’d grow tired of waiting, I knew he’d come back. And I’ve managed this entire situation horribly.

  There’s so much I need to explain to him before I let him in my life again. My therapist asked me if I’m testing him, and I think that maybe I have been. Every man I’ve ever known has either left me or thrown me away after using me. I think I needed to test the extent of his love for me. How hard can I push before he stops coming back?

  He’s waiting for me when I walk out of the salon, standing up against the wall with a storm on his face. I don’t say anything when I reach him. I just stand in front of him then incline my head to tell him to come with me.

  I didn’t tell him I was carrying his child. I think that’s where I fucked up most in this situation. He had a right to know, I’m aware of that. But you have to understand how frightening this pregnancy has been for me. Imagine I told him about the baby and then I lost it again? What if my mental health deteriorated to the point where they hospitalised me? He could take the baby and return to Australia with her, and I’d never see her again….

  In a lot of his messages, he said that my past didn’t matter to him. It only matters what I do in my future. But he needs to understand that my past has affected my future. I’m a time bomb who’ll need to be forever watched. Does he really w
ant that burden? And when he finds out what I have, will he trust me to raise his child? He’s a good man, and I feel sure that he loves me—the fact he’s here tells me that—but every love has a limit. And a woman with Schizoaffective disorder could be his.

  He walks beside me with his hands in his pockets and his brows tightly knit together. I long for him to lace his fingers with mine the way we used to. I’ve missed him so much and having him here in real life fills my heart with such joy. But he’s hurt. I’ve caused him a great amount of hurt.

  We get into my car. We still haven’t spoken and continue on that way until we arrive at my flat. I let us in through the front door and hang my bag and keys up before leading the way to the living area where he pauses, looking around quietly.

  I move about the kitchen preparing some tea and sandwiches. I don’t drink coffee at the moment, and since it’s usually only my mother and Daniel visiting me, tea is all I have.

  When I walk out holding the tray, he looks up, a framed photo of him and me together in his hand.

  “Is it strange that I have them up?” I ask him as he places the frame back on the bookcase and moves quickly to take the tray from my hands.

  Shaking his head, he says. “You should have seen the wall in my bedroom while I was home. I had this whole collage thing going on.” Giving me a sad smile, he carries the tray over to the coffee table in front of the couch and sets it down.

  He clears his throat. “This is very English of you.” he points to the tray as we sit next to each other on the couch. I laugh a little through my nose and take a sip of tea, enjoying the warmth of the liquid as it slides down my throat. I don’t know what to say. I finally have him here with me, and I’m really not sure how to act. I want everything to be exactly how it was before. I want to touch him, kiss him, and be with him. But I’m just sitting here, sipping tea.