Between Before and After

by Dick, Amanda

  “Are you cold?” he asked, peering down at her in the darkness.

  “No. I’m okay.”

  Reaching the edge of the sandy foreshore, the jetty loomed in front of them and they paused, huddling together as they stared out over the dark void. The night sky was alive with stars, pin-pricks in the fabric of the universe. She felt so small suddenly. As if reading her mind, Max drew her closer, gently releasing her arm in favour of draping it around her shoulders instead.

  “You really scared me today,” she said.

  She felt his body sigh as he stepped behind her, wrapping both arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t reply for a full minute, which felt like a hell of a lot longer. With each second drawn painfully out, her mind wandered.

  “Do you remember how I was after Danny died?”

  Her voice was barely louder than a whisper and she closed her eyes, leaning back against his chest. He didn’t reply, but she could feel him nodding.

  “I think I was in shock,” she said, almost to herself. “All I tried to do was not think, not feel, because it all hurt too much. I didn’t want anything, I didn’t need anything – I didn’t care about anything.”

  “I remember.”

  “I just felt so hopeless. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t see the point in anything anymore. If it hadn’t been for you moving in and looking after me, I don’t know if I could have gotten through that. I’m not sure I’d be standing here now.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “That wasn’t me, Katie – it was you. You did that – you dragged yourself through it, you were the one who was strong enough to fight it.”

  “But that’s the thing – I wasn’t.” She turned to look up at him. “Not without you. You helped, you were my strength. You were there.”

  “I was there, yeah, but – Jesus, I needed – “ He huffed out a frustrated breath and his arms fell away.

  The chill was sudden and absolute. Goosebumps crawled over her body like a creeping vine, the pin-pricks they left sharp and painful. She reached for him, even as he took another step away from her.

  “What? Tell me.”

  She grabbed his arm and he stopped, staring at her hand.

  “I’m not the chivalrous knight in shining armour you think I am,” he said.

  She shivered – a full-body shiver this time – and it wasn’t because of what he had said. It was because of the way he had said it. Hopeless, desperate, heartbreaking.

  “I needed to be with someone as much as you did,” he choked, glancing up at her finally. Tears shone in the moonlight and her heart raced. “I hate that house – I fucking hate it with a passion. Every time I walk in that door, he’s all I can see. But I couldn’t not be there because you needed me to be – you even told me that, do you remember? You begged me not to leave you alone.”

  She could feel his body trembling, the vibrations travelling up through his arm to hers, transmitting the fear and the desperation through her fingertips into her own body. She could feel it feeding off him, getting stronger, hungrier, more desperate.

  “So I stayed,” he whispered. “And I sat in that living room and I stared at that stain on the carpet and I could see every little mark on that wall, even through the new wallpaper. I listened to you through the bedroom wall, and I heard you crying yourself to sleep at night. I heard you playing the voicemail message on his cellphone over and over again until I wanted to break that door down and rip it out of your hands.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You needed to do all of that – you had to get it out of your system, I get that. Somewhere deep down, you must’ve known that you had to put yourself through that so you could move on without him, but I never did. I still don’t know what my process is, how I’m supposed to deal with all this shit in my head. I don’t know what to do with it, I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

  She tasted salt on her lips as she sniffed back more tears. “That might be true, about working through it, but you were part of that for me, Max. I’m serious – I couldn’t have gone through any of that without you. You gave me the strength – I knew that you were there and that even if I wanted to let go, you wouldn’t let me fall. That’s how it works sometimes. You can’t do everything alone. Sometimes, even though you don’t want to take it, or you can’t ask for it, you need help. That’s what Danny didn’t understand, did he? I think he felt like he had to do it all on his own, but it doesn’t work that way. There’s no shame in asking for help, in accepting it. Let me help you – let us help you.”

  She squeezed his arm and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him.

  “Please? Just let me in – let all of us in, because we love you. We don’t want to see you like this anymore, it hurts too much.”

  She could feel his ragged breathing as he fought for control.

  “Please don’t give up. We need you – I need you. Please?”

  They stood there for several minutes, locked in a silent embrace. Her heart felt like it was breaking. She wished she had had the chance to have the same conversation with Danny. She wondered what he would have said.

  Max stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at himself miserably. He hardly recognised the face staring back at him. With his shaggy hair, a week’s worth of stubble and black smudges under his eyes, he looked like a drug addict coming down off a week-long high. No wonder everyone was looking at him strangely. When did it get this bad? The answer came to him almost immediately: when he had stopped looking at himself properly in the mirror.

  He was avoiding himself.

  He sighed heavily, bowing his head and bracing himself on the edge of the sink. He stared down at the porcelain. After that talk with Kate, what he needed was a drink. More to the point, what he needed was several drinks, preferably whisky or something equally as strong, and in quick succession. But that wasn’t going to happen. The bottle he had stashed in the boat shed was long gone after the scuffle with Finn. He cursed himself for not having more than one emergency bottle. He wished his heart would stop racing. He wanted a cold shower – his skin was on fire. His eyes felt like he had been rubbing them with sandpaper. He needed to sleep. He closed his eyes, just for a second.

  His knees buckled and he felt himself falling. Grabbing hold of the edge of the sink, he jerked himself awake, blinking violently. No, he didn’t need to sleep. He needed to stay awake. He quickly thrust his hands under the cold water and splashed his face, desperately trying to wake himself up. Soaking a cloth and laying it on the back of his neck, he relished the icy feel of it against his skin. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, out. He didn’t dare close his eyes again.

  Staring at himself in the mirror, he was disgusted. He was falling apart – worse still, he was doing it with an audience. He tilted his chin defiantly, making a concerted effort to pull himself together, both mentally and physically.

  “Suck it up,” he hissed at his reflection through clenched teeth.

  A soft knock at the door sent his heart racing.

  Finn’s voice carried through the door. “Hey, everything alright in there?”

  Max cleared his throat and dragged the cloth off the back of his neck reluctantly. “Fine. Be right out.”

  He took another deep breath and held it for a moment as his lungs inflated. Then he exhaled, slowly and carefully. Dropping the cloth onto the sink, he squared his shoulders and opened the door. Finn was waiting for him, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, hands behind his back.

  “You okay?” Finn asked.

  His head felt like it was on fire, he could hardly think straight. There was a pain right behind his eyes and his stomach was on a spin cycle. He hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. He wished he could vocalise all this to Finn, but he didn’t seem to
be able to speak. Instead, frustrated tears stung his eyes.

  “Come on,” Finn said, draping an arm around his shoulder and steering him slowly towards the living room. He felt trapped. Frustration at not being able to keep a lid on his problems, the obvious worry he was causing, the desperate desire to find a way out of all of this pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.

  He slumped down into the armchair he had vacated earlier, staring at the fresh cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He knew he needed it in the absence of alcohol, but the thought of more coffee turned his stomach.

  “It’s okay,” Kate soothed gently, on her knees in front of him.

  He stared at her. She was worried. It was his fault. He was weak. He couldn’t do this. Why couldn’t he do this? Why wasn’t he strong enough? Why did he need a drink so badly? Why couldn’t he just forget what happened that day? Why couldn’t he move on with his life, just like everyone else had? What was wrong with him?

  “No,” He shook his head as the tears finally tumbled down his cheeks. “It’s not.”

  He hung his head and his fingers burrowed deep into his hair, grabbing it by the roots and pulling.

  “Hey, come on,” Kate’s hands covered his, her fingers gently but firmly prising his loose.

  He gave in to her almost immediately, too tired to fight anymore. He stared at her, a violent tremor running through him as he silently begged her for help. His body shook with tension, his muscles taut, his pulse racing. He felt like he was about to explode.

  Kate carefully wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. He closed his eyes as exhaustion overwhelmed him, the kind of exhaustion that creeps into your bones and makes you want to just curl up and sleep, regardless of the consequences. The kind of exhaustion that he had been fighting for three years. God, how he was tired of fighting it. He was tired of the constant questions. He was tired of the nightmares. He was tired of endlessly reliving that day. He was tired of protecting everyone. He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted it to be over.

  A hand squeezed his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Finn standing over him. Lacey was sitting on the floor at his feet and Gavin perched on the coffee table behind her. He could feel their desire to help like a blanket thrown over him, trying to comfort him, to block out the chill. He wanted to let it envelop him; he wanted to bury himself in it.

  “Talk to us. Please?” Lacey pleaded.

  His heart raced, thumping in his chest, stealing his breath. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “It doesn’t matter where you start. Start anywhere, just start talking,” Finn said, walking around to sit down on the coffee table beside Gavin.

  He nodded curtly. It felt like his head might fall off his shoulders. He tried to take a deep breath but he found himself almost choking instead. He could feel the sadness eating away at him. The hole inside of him was getting bigger and blacker with every passing day and he was falling in, he could feel it. He had to do something.

  Kate settled on the floor at his feet, wiping her eyes, waiting.

  They were all waiting.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Three years earlier

  It had been a while since Max had taken a sick day. He usually forced himself to go to work no matter how hung over he was. Today, though, he didn’t even feel guilty about it. The place wouldn’t collapse without him, and it was clear that something was going on with Danny that was far and away beyond the realms of normal behaviour, even for him.

  He phoned in sick, throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt rather than his customary work clothes, and made his way over to Danny and Kate’s. Traffic was light, giving him further opportunity to try and phrase his questions so that Danny would give him the answers he needed. The closer he got to the house, the less sure he was about what he was doing there. Maybe he shouldn’t get involved? No. It had gone far beyond that. Kate was terrified, by all accounts. She was his friend, too.

  When Finn had called him last night, telling him that Danny had flipped out and Kate was staying over at his place, he could barely believe it. That in itself was unusual, even given his weird behaviour recently. Then it got even weirder. When Finn told him that Danny had threatened to hit her, he got chills. As long as he had known him, Danny had never hit anyone – especially not a woman, especially not Kate. He was mouthy, he talked a good game, but an actual fight? No, no way. Max didn’t think he was capable of it.

  His behaviour lately seemed to see-saw from sullen and moody, to withdrawn and depressed. Then last night, it had apparently taken an even more serious turn. He had no idea what was going on and he knew Finn was in the same boat. Even Kate appeared to be in the dark about it. Work was fine, everything was okay with his family, no one could really figure out what was going on, and he wasn’t enlightening them. Instead, he was burying his head in the sand and pushing them all away.

  Well, fuck that. Enough was enough. Today, he was going to get some answers. While Finn was with Kate, he was going to go over there and have it out with Danny until he got the truth. This kind of thing had the potential to get really ugly.

  He called the house before he left home, but the landline just went to the answerphone. It unnerved him when he called Danny’s cellphone, only to get a chirpy message from him on his voicemail that further reminded him of how different he was lately. It didn’t even sound like Danny anymore.

  He pulled up outside the villa slowly, keeping a close eye on the kids riding their bikes in the neighbourhood. He had no idea why Danny and Kate loved this place so much. It had charm, but neither of them was a particularly keen gardener. The once-beautiful cottage-style garden was now overgrown, and the whole place could do with a lick of paint. With the landlord living overseas though, that kind of thing would probably be ignored for a while longer.

  The front gate squealed as he opened it, and he cringed. Walking up the front steps and across the veranda, he tried to focus on what he could say that might get Danny to open up to him. Finn had said he was pretty distraught. He took that to be a good sign. He should be. Remorse was good. Answers were better, though.

  He pressed the old button for the doorbell by the front door and heard it reverberating through the house. When Danny didn’t answer it a few moments later, he knocked instead. Still no answer.

  “Mate, it’s Max!”

  Nothing. He knocked again. Again, nothing. Out of patience now, he dug his car keys out of his pocket and searched through his key ring for the key to the door. Kate had given it to him one weekend when he had house-sat for them and he had just never given it back. It had come in handy on several occasions, including now. He found the key and opened the door, peering around it hesitantly.

  “Danny? I’m coming in,” he called, mumbling as an afterthought, “You better not be sitting there in your birthday suit.”

  No answer. He closed the door behind him and ventured into the hallway, heading for the living room.

  “You here, mate?”

  That’s when he saw him.

  He was lying on his side on the living room floor, one arm beneath him, the other flung out wide. Wide eyes stared at him, sightless and empty, a pool of blood dark beneath his head.

  Max’s heart stopped.

  In a fraction of a second, his eyes absorbed everything but his brain refused to believe it.

  Blood was everywhere. It dripped down the wall and seemed to cover everything, near and far. A distant part of his brain, able to function while the rest of him froze, knew he was dead. But another part – the part that tried to convince him that none of this was real – thought he might be alive. If he could just get him some help, he could save him.

  He ran to him in slow motion, the keys slipping out of his hands and falling to the floor. The roaring in his ears blocked everything out. He sank down beside him, giving in to the panic as he carefully lifted Danny’s head into his lap.

  “Jesus… fuck… hold on, Danny, just hold on!”

  The sm
all entry wound in the side of his head glared at him but he refused to acknowledge it for what it was. Blood slid down his fingers and settled in the sleeve of his shirt. He gagged, the smell of urine and decay overloading his senses.

  “Help me!” he screamed. “Somebody please help me!”

  Desperately trying to stem the blood, his fingers fell into the gaping hole in the other side of Danny’s head. Half his head was gone, disintegrated.

  Realisation slammed into his chest, sucking the breath right out of his lungs.

  He struggled to breathe as the contents of his stomach curdled. This can’t be happening. His hands shook violently as he cradled Danny’s head in his lap. Blood stuck to his skin, his fingernails, soaked through his shirt and his jeans. His trembling fingers hovered over Danny’s blood-soaked hair as he tried desperately to deny that what he was seeing was real.

  Then he saw the gun, on the floor, just a few inches away from his hand.

  A low, anguished moan ripped at his throat as he bent double over him. The pieces of the puzzle that had been floating around in his head untethered, finally fell into place.

  The picture it formed was brutally clear. He didn’t recognise the feral cries that filled the air around them. He didn’t even hear them. He saw nothing but Danny, frantically pulling him closer as he tried to gather the pieces of him up and put him back together.

  Rocking backwards and forwards, he screamed again, Danny’s body heavy and lifeless in his arms.

  “Help me! Somebody help me!”

  Finn stared at him, numb.

  “I thought that maybe…” Max whispered, his eyes wide, fixed on the floor. “But there was so much blood. And it was too late. He was already gone.”

  Sitting on the floor in front of him, Kate sobbed into her hand. Finn automatically laid a trembling hand on her shoulder, incapable of much else. He blinked slowly, his head spinning. The only way he could keep it together was if he kept his mouth shut. If he opened it now, there was no telling what would come out. His teeth ached from the effort.