What You Left Behind

by Len Webster

  She had never deserved Julian Moors’ love.

  Not from the beginning.

  Never in the in between.

  And certainly never in the ending.

  The last time she had lain in this exact bed, she had been intimate with Charles. She had admitted she loved him that day. Gary Cole’s family house by the beach had been the holder of her favourite memory of her and Charles. That night had been powerful and intense. It had been everything and more. As she stared at the white painted ceiling, Stevie’s palms ran along the mattress. The ache in her chest throbbed when she was alone with her thoughts. The darkness loomed and she knew it. No amount of alcohol could ever get rid of the image of Julian’s pain-filled face. The uncontrollable need to switch on her phone and call him was insanely great. But she knew whatever she’d say would never warrant his forgiveness.

  After their embrace, Charles and Stevie had walked along the beach, catching up on the two years they had been apart. Charles had graduated with a first-class degree in business administration. Ended up becoming the business operations manager at Whitmore Technologies. He hadn’t been serious with anyone since her. Only went on occasional dates. Though he had admitted that he didn’t stay celibate for as long as he would have liked. Stevie only smiled. She couldn’t ever fault Charles for his actions. When he had caught her up on his life, she had told him about meeting Clara, how she met Julian again, and confessed that Julian had been the first man she had been with since him. Charles had winced, but she had looped her arms around his and promised him that she’d never speak of Julian to him again. It hurt him, and it hurt her. Julian was a tough limit for them both.

  Stevie peeked down at Charles sleeping on the floor and smiled. He had argued with her over the bed situation. Although the Cole beach house had several free rooms, Charles had wanted to stay with her. So he took a blanket from one the closets and a pillow from the bed and slept on the hardwood floor. Reaching for the bedside table, she took one more glance at his peaceful state before she picked up her phone. Then, as gently and as slowly as she could, she tiptoed towards the balcony doors. Carefully, she opened them and stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the beach. It was cold, but Stevie didn’t mind. The cool prickles were a relief from the torment that ravaged her chest and sometimes would settle in the pit of her stomach. She leant against the railing and switched on her phone. When the home screen came to life, she had no new messages and no missed calls. Her heart sank. She had been right. No one missed her.

  She wiped away the ridiculous tear that ran down her cheek and messaged her mother.

  Stevie: Hey, I’m safe. Charles and I made it to Brighton okay. When I get back, we’ll talk about Paris. There’s nothing left for me in Melbourne. Good night.

  It took seconds for her mother to reply.

  Maman: That’s good to hear, Stéphanie. Maybe you need to start fresh. We’ll discuss when you come back. Would you like me to talk to your papa?

  Stevie: No. He said all he needed to. It’s not up to him anymore. I want to go to Paris. I just have to discuss this with Charles. He won’t let me go so willingly.

  Maman: He didn’t mean those things. He loves you.

  Stevie: I know. But I have nothing back there. I can’t face him after what’s happened.

  Maman: And what will you do about Charles?

  Stevie: I’m not sure. We’ll figure it out. Charles and I always do.

  Once Stevie locked her phone, she returned to the bedroom and closed the balcony doors behind her, instantly appreciating the warmth of the room. She made her way to where Charles slept and lay next to him. His arms wrapped around her within seconds.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked into her hair.

  Stevie turned in his hold so that her chest rested against his. “No.”

  Charles took a deep breath and then his body relaxed. “I’ve missed you, Stevie.”

  “Will you ever forgive me, Charlie?” she asked.

  “For what?”

  “If I decide to move to Paris with her,” she answered.

  “It makes visiting you a little easier than if you go back to Melbourne. I’d rather you stayed with me. But whatever makes you happy. Don’t make decisions based on what makes me happy. Base them on what will make you feel liberated, able to breathe freely.”

  She gently pressed her palms on his solid chest, relishing at how good he felt; how safe and content he made her. “Then I choose you.”

  He hugged her just that little bit more. “Give yourself some time, Stevie. Don’t rush yourself. When you’re ready, you’ll know what choice to make. Here or there, I’ll support the decisions you make.”

  “You’re too good to me, Charlie,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and slowly fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

  “What’s got you down, little Moors?” Mitch, the bartender, asked.

  But Julian didn’t reply. Instead, he watched the froth of his freshly poured beer start to fizzle out. It had been four days since he’d watched those elevator doors close. It had been four days since he’d gotten Stephanie fired. It had been four days since he last saw her. It was the four worst days of his life. He knew he was cruel, but he couldn’t contain it. He was hurting over the fact that he would have had a child. He’d be a father. But she took away that opportunity when she had kept her pregnancy from him and chosen abortion. That baby had been half of him. He had as much right as she did. That was what he told himself at night.

  “Julian. Dude?” The concern in Mitch’s voice had Julian lifting his chin at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why are you so mopey? You’re a VP!” Mitch grinned.

  “Yeah,” was all he could reply.

  Julian’s thoughts of Stephanie had bombarded him. Her tear-stained face haunted him and left a clenching sensation that occurred with every breath he took. He missed her. But he could never forgive her betrayal. She tore out his heart and played him for a fool. It was time he had thought about himself and when the opportunity to fire her came to light, he selfishly took it. He couldn’t see her. Not every working day of his life.

  “It’s okay, Mitch. I’ve got him.” Rob’s voice had Julian shifting his line of sight from the bartender to his brother. “What’s going on, Julian?” Rob asked in his careful voice that Julian had known all his life.

  “Not much, Robbie. I’m quite all right.” Julian widened his grin and then gave his brother a thumbs-up.

  “It’s your promotion party. Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone?”

  “What is this? An interrogation?” Julian glanced at Mitch and pulled an ‘am I right?’ face at him.

  “Mitch, mind giving us a minute?” Rob asked, and Mitch had left within seconds.

  “Don’t send him off. He pours the beers!” Julian argued.

  “You drunk?” Rob leant in, eyeing him.

  Julian scrunched his nose and waved his hand. “No, sir, I am not. That there is about to be my first for the night. Though I hope to get pissed tonight and find me a new girl! I need new, Robbie. I need new to forget.”

  “Forget what? What are you talking about? New girl? Where’s Stevie?”

  The mention of her name had him bursting into laughter. “Who gives a fuck!” he shouted from the top of his lungs.

  “Julian,” Rob warned.

  Julian shook his head and then climbed the bar. Once he stood on top of the counter, he pointed at his brother. “No seriously. Who gives a fuck about her! Am I right?”

  Several people chanted, “Yeah!”

  “Rob, get him down. Now!” Julian heard Mitch shout behind him.

  “Stop that, Mitchy boy. Stop being a Julian downer and bring beer… bring whiskey. Whiskey to forget! Whiskey to forget what a horrible whore she is!”

  “Stop!” Rob roared and grabbed his arms and brought Julian off the counter. Then he pushed him into the barstool. “Don’t you ever call Stevie a whore again! She is not a whore.”

  “Because she did
n’t put out for you, she isn’t one? Sorry to break it to you; that woman you regard so highly slept with me in less than a month. She didn’t even deny it when I accused her of being one.” The bile rose up Julian’s throat. With a hard swallow, he managed it from passing his lips.

  Then, without a moment to react, Rob’s curled fist slammed into Julian’s jaw. It felt good. The pulsing pain was a relief. He needed it. Julian cupped his jaw and stared at his brother. The rage in his eyes was new and it unsettled Julian.

  “What. Happened?” Rob asked through clenched teeth.

  Julian had rubbed his jaw before he folded his arms over his chest. “She was pregnant with my kid, Robbie. Kept it from me. From you. From everyone. Her stepbrother gave me the sonogram. When I showed her the picture, she tells me she never gave birth.” He then reached into his pocket and took out the picture of her ultrasound, staring, wishing it were an actual toddler rather than a little dot.

  “You think she aborted it?” Rob asked in a small voice as he too stared at the sonogram.

  “She didn’t give birth.”

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t miscarry, you fucking idiot!” Rob snatched the picture, held it up to Julian and pointed at it. “What if she had a miscarriage and you accused her of something she never did? Is she really capable of killing a baby? She loves you. You really think she could have done this to you? It was her baby, too, Julian. I know her better than you do, and I can honestly say that Stevie wouldn’t, no matter the circumstances. You just accused my best friend, the woman you love, of horrible things. I thought you were the good guy. The one who sees the goodness in people. You should let her tell her story properly. If she did miscarry, then you’ve just made her relive a lot of pain.”

  Her tears…

  Oh God, she had a miscarriage.

  She must have.

  The realisation had Julian covering his face with his hands. He mumbled, “She must have. Fuck! I said some shit that I can’t take back.” He dropped his hands and gazed at his brother. His vision blurred by his unshed tears. “I have to go talk to her. I have to apologise. I have to tell her that I didn’t mean it.”

  Before Julian could even leap off the stool, Rob’s hands were on his arms, caging him. “If she tells you she had an abortion, then you can’t be mad at her. It was her decision, Julian. It was her body. You can’t say you’re emotionally attached to something that wasn’t really yours. You only knew of the baby. She would have felt it inside of her. She was alone in this, and you would have made her feel a lot worse. So answer this. That baby that doesn’t exist or your Stephanie? Choose. You can’t have both.”

  “Stephanie,” he answered without hesitation. “She’s my all-in, and I gave her and everything away. I need her to forgive me.”

  “Then you better pray to God that you’re not too late,” Rob stated before he took a step back and allowed Julian to get off the barstool.

  Don’t let me be too late.

  “Stephanie!”

  His fists connected against her door.

  “Stephanie, please!” he begged and let his fists pound once more.

  Still no reply.

  “Goddammit, Blondie! Open this door, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me explain. Talk to me. Please. Please!” he cried.

  Suddenly, he heard the flick of a switch and light seeped through the gaps the door had made. It had only taken him ten minutes to drive to her apartment. And by the time he had reached her floor, it was just after nine p.m. The unchaining of the deadbolt had him straightening; his heart beat uncontrollably. He’d beg and cry. Beg and plead. He’d do anything to win back her trust.

  When the door opened wide, his heart dipped and his stomach recoiled. “Ally?” he breathed out, confused.

  “Julian? Why are you screaming Stevie’s name?” Ally yawned and then scratched her head.

  “What… what are you doing in Stevie’s apartment?”

  Her brows furrowed. “I live here when I’m back in Melbourne. You woke me up. I just got back from New York and decided to come visit Stevie. Wait. I thought she was… She’s not with you?”

  Julian shook his head. “No. Do you know where she is?”

  It was Ally’s turn to shake her head. “Come in. We’ll find her. Have you tried calling Clara? She might know?”

  He quickly dug his phone out of his pocket once he entered the apartment. Julian then went into his contacts and pressed on Stephanie’s number. When he brought the speaker to his ear, he heard the disconnection beeps. He tried—once, twice, three times—and was met with the same tones. With a heavy exhale, he scrolled until he came across Clara’s name and then dialled her number. It took seconds for her to pick up.

  “Julian, seriously, can’t you give it a break? I’m on my honeymoon, remember? Now’s not the best ti—Oh! Noel! Cut that out,” Clara told off.

  “I don’t give two fucks that you’re probably in the middle of screwing your husband. I need you to tell me whether you’ve heard from Stephanie?” he asked.

  “What do you mean? Is she okay?” The concern hitched in Clara’s voice.

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No. Not since the call from the other day. Julian, what is going on?” Clara asked with more forcefulness in her voice.

  Julian had sighed before he asked in a small, tight voice, “Clara, did she have an abortion?”

  Clara fell silent, and Julian heard Ally’s gasp.

  “No,” Clara finally answered. “She miscarried, Julian. And she feels a lot of guilt and still grieves over it. I saw it. It still hurts her.”

  “I’m a fucking asshole,” he breathed.

  “You didn’t?”

  Julian nodded, knowing that she couldn’t see. “I did. Where do you think she’s gone to?”

  Clara let out a heavy sigh. “You should leave her alone for a while. If you did what I think you did, then I don’t want you near her. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

  His heart sank and Julian dropped to his knees. “She’d go to him?”

  “The way she spoke of him, she had a lot of love in her voice, Julian. She told me that he saved her life. Ask Jarred if he knows where Stevie’s gone. But I think maybe this time she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she isn’t with him.”

  And in a tiny, regretful voice, Julian whispered, “God, I hope not.”

  “It was yours.”

  “Mine,” left his lips. “You were mine,” he said to the sonogram.

  “Here.” Ally handed him a bottle of whiskey she had gone to find and then sat on the couch next to him. “It just wasn’t meant to be for either of you.”

  Julian set the picture of his unborn child on the coffee table and uncapped the bottle of Scotch whiskey Stephanie or Clara had lying around. The pain in his chest doubled. The heat scorched through him. No matter how much he tried to forget the turmoil on Stephanie’s face, he couldn’t. He had even called her ‘Stevie’ in his accusations of her whoring herself around the office. He wasn’t the guy he knew. The Julian who had been unearthed after news of her pregnancy hadn’t been him at all.

  “Can we talk about something else?” he asked before he settled onto the couch and threw back a mouthful of whiskey.

  Ally drew up her legs and settled the tea she had made herself on her knees. “What would you like to chat about?” The eyebrow she raised was adorable. The sweetness in her was evident, and he knew what the papers said about her was all lies. She wasn’t the party girl. Wasn’t the girl who had more men by her side than days in a year. The media had made her out to be a cold, fame hungry nineteen-year-old.

  “Why were you in New York?” he asked, thinking it was a safe topic. Then he took two consecutive mouthfuls of whiskey. He needed and wanted the burning sensation of the whiskey flowing down his throat.

  “Business.”

  Julian chuckled. “That’s all you’re gonna give me. Business. Hit up a party with your Sydney socialite friends?”

  Her fa
ce saddened. “I don’t have any socialite friends. I have a couple of real friends, but I’m done with that scene. No more partying for me. My dad got what he wanted. I lured some of those men into doing deals with the company. Though my hands aren’t quite clean, I am free. I went over there to work on an investment. Dad and I reached an agreement that lets me move here soon.”

  Julian rested his head on the cushion and then stared at her. “Move here to be with my brother?”

  She flinched and then shook her head. “I don’t like your brother. He’s confusing.” Then she sipped her tea.

  “He’s Tarzan before Jane. Maybe you can be his Jane, Ally.” Another mouthful of whiskey. This time it hit him in the sweet spot in the pit of his stomach. He welcomed the light-headedness he felt.

  She placed the cup on the coffee table and then let out a hum. “Maybe I shouldn’t move down here.”

  Julian offered her the bottle of whiskey, but she shook her head. He threw back another gulp. “And that there is the reason why you should. You make my brother nervous. No girl has. He doesn’t trust himself around you. Doesn’t trust his heart to stop from fallin’ for you. You’re different for him. You, Allison O’Connor, are his Jane.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’ll let me in,” she pointed out.

  Then they were silent, both staring at their beverages as the clock on the wall ticked by. Eventually, when Julian had consumed just over half the bottle of whiskey, he placed the bottle on the floor and turned his body to Ally. Her brows had furrowed before she crossed her legs.

  “Allison, I think you… I think you are very smart,” he slurred.

  “Thanks, Julian.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “I think you’re the smartest woman. Maybe you can find her.”

  The slight smile on her face quickly faded. “I don’t think she’s coming back. She left everything behind.”