Waiting for you: A troubled vulnerable hero romance

by E. V. White

  “Iʼm here to see my mother,” Alex informed the man. “She isnʼt expecting me,” he clarified, seeing Edwardʼs puzzled face.

  The butler nodded and apologised before disappearing down the hallway that led to the library and the studio. Alex waited at the entryway, just like an uninvited guest, and that probably was exactly what he was. In fact, it took at least fifteen minutes for his mother to present herself. If she were happy to see her son after eight long years of absence, she would have not taken her time to welcome him. If she had ever cared about him, she would have rushed to embrace him.

  “Alexander Gregory Williams,” she greeted him coldly from the hallway.

  Alex thought she had not changed at all. She was always perfectly dressed and made up, even though she had probably only had breakfast at home. Appearance always came first.

  “Mother,” he said even colder than she did.

  “So, what brings you here? Money?” She tried to guess with an icy smile.

  Alex lowered his eyes to his feet. He was swallowing all his pride and facing the worst thing he could ever imagine: asking the heartless woman who had given birth to him for something.

  “How much do you want?” She continued without even trying to hide the sick satisfaction she felt.

  “Fifteen thousand,” Alex responded, raising his head and looking straight into her eyes.

  It was the worst nightmare he had ever had to face in his life but, at that moment, it was also his only solution.

  His mother asked him to follow her. Alex walked behind her down the hall and into the library. The black piano was still there. Suddenly a mix of emotions inundated him, sending shivers running down his spine. He was grateful to the woman in front of him for one thing only: having beaten him until he cried when he was a child, insisting that he practice the piano for at least three hours a day. That was the reason why he was a great musician. That was the only thing he would have ever thanked her for.

  Alex watched her take the cheque book from her purse with her perfectly manicured hands, fill one in and give it to him by placing it on the desk in front of him. Fifteen thousand pounds, as he had requested. The woman left the room before he could thank her. Alex hated her but the upbringing he received from his grandfather required him to acknowledge her regardless.

  Alex took the cheque, put it in his pocket, then walked over to the piano and sat down on the stool. He touched a key, almost afraid to let the sound resonate through the walls and books. Another key, then another and without even noticing it, Chopin Nocturnes were filling the room.

  Alexʼs eyes were closed and he was completely absorbed in the music when Edward rested his hand on his shoulder startling him. A sour note broke the magic of the moment.

  “Iʼm sorry, Mr. Williams. I must ask you to leave,” he implored in a tone full of rue.

  Alex looked at him. The man was pained and tormented by what he had to do. Edward had always loved him since he was born and he felt his heart ache seeing that wounded look on his face.

  “Iʼm leaving. Don’t worry about me. I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary,” he uttered in a low voice.

  Alex was about to leave through the library door when the man spoke again.

  “We miss you, Mr. Williams,” he confessed. “Your father, the other employees and I,” he explained seeing Alexʼs astonished look.

  The boy smiled, showing him all the love he felt for him. He knew he was sincere, he even genuinely believed that his father missed him, though he had his doubts. He had never worried about him when he was a child, why should he care about him now?

  “I know. I miss you, too,” he replied politely.

  It was true; he missed him, but certainly not his father.

  Edward walked him to the door, opened it and let him out without saying a word. Alex walked toward the taxi that was waiting for him; he got on and left without looking back, not even once. The cheque in his pocket burned enough to make him feel ashamed and miserable.

  Emily woke up and looked around. A hospital. She hated hospitals. She had been in one only once and it was enough for her. They reminded her of her stepfather, how he used to beat her.

  She tried to get up but every inch of her body ached. She could not remember how or when she had arrived there. Everything that had happened earlier in those hours, or perhaps even days, was blurred. She remembered Alex and his friend, Matt. They were arguing. She looked around, searching for the boy, but did not see him. She recalled that he said something about the fact that everything would be fine but she did not believe him. How could it ever be fine? She was lying in a hospital bed, probably because of an overdose, she did not remember. How could she ever get through it all alone?

  She wondered where he had gone. She did not know why, but she needed him. He was the only person who, somehow, had worried about her in a long time, if not in a lifetime. Maybe in a distorted way, but he had tried to help her. It was not his fault she took so many pills and ended up on that bed.

  She felt a chill run down her spine. She had almost died. She felt tears running down her cheeks and pain on her chest. This was her wake-up call, a sign telling her that she had to change, but she did not know how. She had tried in the past to cleanse and detoxify herself but had miserably failed each time. Why should now be any different?

  A hand stroked her cheek, right where tears were dampening her skin. She opened her eyes and found the deep blue ones of the boy’s. She tried to smile, but couldnʼt.

  “Youʼll be fine,” he tried to reassure her in a soothing tone.

  She did not know how to explain to him that she was not convinced about it. She could not do it on her own.

  “Iʼm here with you. Iʼm not leaving you alone,” he added as if he had just read her mind.

  She did not know why, but somehow she believed him. Perhaps because of his sad eyes or for all he had done for her. She felt a bit better, even if not completely confident yet.

  Matt was sitting on the couch in the rehearsal room. He had rented the place with Jaden and Jordan in the hopes of finding a new vocalist to replace Alex. They were annoyed and partly sad for the decision but understood that it was something they needed to do. Alex was no longer a reliable person. Even Jaden, the most reluctant of the three, had agreed to find a substitute after his conversation with Matt.

  “Do you think we should tell him?” Jaden asked.

  Matt looked at him and sighed. He had tried to go and talk to Alex, tell him that they were making some changes, but when he arrived at his apartment he found the door broken down and the remnants of what appeared to have been used by paramedics in the living room. He asked the neighbours what had happened and they told him what they knew of Emily.

  “Alex has got too much on his plate right now. I donʼt think heʼll even notice,” he put forward.

  Jordan and Jaden looked at him distressed, but didnʼt ask for an explanation. They continued listening to the chap in front of them, doing his best for the audition, but without exactly succeeding at it.

  “Canʼt we at least stop this fucking agony?” Jordan asked.

  Matt smiled and stood up.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, interrupting the boy. “Weʼll let you know,” he added, smiling.

  “So, this was the last one. What do you think of them?” Jaden asked when the boy was out of the room.

  Matt looked at him, then laid his eyes on Jordan and sighed.

  “The green-haired guy was pretty good, I guess,” he ventured.

  The other two looked at him wide eyed, then laughed.

  “No, he was shite just like the others,” he added making them laugh even more.

  Alex had just woken up. He had slept next to Emilyʼs bed the entire time. He could not tell the last time he had been to his flat. He was beginning to lose track of the days. He looked at the girl; she was peacefully sleeping with all the stuff they were pumping through her veins. He could not imagine what would happen when they eventually stopp
ed treating her with the medicines.

  He sat straight up; he needed to stop thinking about the worst and do something concrete. He took the brochures of the rehabilitation clinics and went to the front desk.

  “I need to talk to someone about these,” he said, showing the papers in his hand.

  The nurse nodded and picked up the phone. She asked for someone almost whispering.

  “May I ask you to wait over there?” she asked, pointing to a chair in the waiting room. “Someone will be with you in a few minutes,” she added.

  Alex sat in the waiting room. It was completely different from the emergency room where he had waited the first night when they brought her to the hospital. The first was full of people suffering in a dazed and unresponsive state, while the one in which he was now was much more empty, populated by people almost resigned, waiting for a change. There was no anxiety in their face; they were just waiting for something to happen. Good or bad, they did not care: they only hoped that something would lift them out of their situation. Alex was doing the same; he was waiting for something to take a direction in his life.

  The woman who had given him the leaflets approached him, arousing him from his thoughts.

  “Have you decided to go for the minimum treatment?” She asked gently.

  “I was thinking about the complete package, actually,” he said smiling, as if he were buying a full option car.

  It was the first time in a long time that he was sure he was doing the right thing.

  The woman smiled in surprise and invited him to follow her. They went to Emilyʼs room.

  “Wait,” Alex stopped her before entering. “She doesnʼt know I want to pay. Could you tell her you have managed to admit her for free?” He pleaded.

  The woman studied him perplexed for a few seconds, making him feel uncomfortable.

  “Please,” he begged.

  “Fine. I’ll make something up,” she promised before entering the room.

  Emily was still asleep when Alex and the woman entered. The boy sat on the bed and tried to wake her. She slowly opened her eyes meeting his. His eyes were tired and worried at the same time. She had probably scared him to death collapsing in the middle of the living room. She felt guilty about it.

  “Can you talk to her?” Emily realised that Alex was addressing her.

  “What?” She squawked confused.

  “This lady would like to talk to you about some clinics, is that okay with you?” He asked gently.

  Emily nodded and looked at the woman who was coming towards the bed. She could not understand everything she was saying; she only assimilated some words like ʼclinicʼ and ʼdetoxificationʼ but continued nodding nevertheless. She did not have the faintest idea what she wanted at that moment; she was fine with everything. She only knew she was just tired.

  The woman left the room and Alex went closer to the bed. He looked so young and desperate.

  “Is it okay with you to enter the clinic?” He asked.

  She nodded. Anything was better than living on the streets. She felt sleep seize her once again, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a dreamless limbo.

  *

  Alex entered the flat. Someone had left the door ajar; essentially, it had been broken down by the paramedics. He ought to have called someone to fix it. He went in and found a pair of latex gloves and other paraphernalia that he did not recognise in the middle of the living room. Paramedics had most likely left them there when they struggled to take her away from his arms. He felt tears on the verge of erupting but did not allow them to break through. He did not want to cry, he knew if he had started he would not have been able to stop. He felt guilty, helpless. He took a glass from the table and sniffed it. It smelled like sewage so he took the bottle of scotch and drank from it instead. He felt the sickening sensation of having to vomit. He had not touched a drop of alcohol in days and it was quickly going to his head. In addition, he could not remember the last time he had eaten except for something he had been given at the hospital.

  He walked over to the kitchen counter and saw the sheets of paper with the song written on them. A wave of nausea swept over him, hitting his stomach, making him vomit on the floor right where he was. He clung to the kitchen counter, trying not to fall. He felt angry and guilty. His eyes fell on the bottle in his hand and he was at once overwhelmed by a surge of revulsion. He threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces that ended up on the kitchen and living room floor. He suddenly started to shiver. He knelt on the floor and began to cry and to think about how scared he was and how terrified she might be. He fell asleep there without even realising it or having the time to go to his bed.

  Emily woke up and struggled to open her eyes. She felt worse than the day before, if that was humanly possible. Every single bone in her body ached and her head felt as if it was going to explode from the intense throbbing. She wanted to call someone but no sounds came out when she tried to open her mouth. She tried to breathe slowly but her lungs were burning. She thought she was going to die. She was convinced of it. She needed a dose of oxycodone but was certain no one in there would have helped her procure it. She tried to get out of the bed, she wanted to leave the room and even the hospital, if that was possible, but every movement she tried to make was a wave of pain she could not bear. And yet, she had not fallen, she had not had an accident and her stepfather had not beaten her to unconsciousness. Still, she felt the pain as real and needed to alleviate it with drugs.

  A nurse came into the room, looked at her and smiled. Why was she smiling? Couldnʼt she see she was dying on that bed? Couldnʼt she see that every time she moved she writhed in pain? Emily lowered her gazed to her body. Only then did she realise she was not moving at all. That was the reason the nurse was smiling. She was lying still, motionless. Awake, but essentially a mummy.

  “Youʼre awake,” she almost whispered.

  “Yes,” she tried to answer but could not pull off anything else except for a strange guttural sound.

  The nurse smiled again.

  “Are you feeling any pain?” She asked her.

  “Yes,” she was able to answer, better than before.

  The nurse smiled for the umpteenth time. She was starting to get on her nerves. All those smiles were something that did not suit the mood of that moment and were certainly not helping. She saw her fiddling with the drip feed and a syringe and quickly began to feel better. The pain gradually disappeared and her head finally became lighter. Slowly she slid into another peaceful slumber.

  Alex arrived at the hospital later that morning. He almost felt like throwing up again when he inhaled the smell of disinfectant in the air. He still felt chills in his bones after spending the night on the kitchen floor just inches from his own vomit. He tried to drink a couple cups of coffee but they did not help him to warm up. The only thing that helped him go on was the person down the corridor. He walked toward Emilyʼs room passing by the front desk.

  “Mr. Williams,” a voice called him.

  He turned and recognized the psychologist who had helped him with the clinic for Emily. He tried to smile but failed miserably.

  “Emily will be discharged this morning,” she informed him. “I called the clinic and they can already take her in this afternoon. You should go with her,” she suggested.

  Alex nodded but did not answer. The woman smiled at him and followed him into Emilyʼs room.

  She was still asleep and looked much healthier than the previous days. Alex suddenly felt a warmth in his chest, something that had not been there for many years. It was a feeling that terrified him.

  He approached the bed and sat down on it. He grabbed the girlʼs hand and gently rubbed the bandage that covered the marks of the needles they had now removed.

  “Emily,” he whispered.

  The girl did not stir.

  “Emily, wake up,” he repeated in a louder tone.

  The girl slowly opened her eyes and looked in his direction. A smile slid a
cross Alexʼs face when he met her gaze.

  “Good morning. How are you feeling?” He asked with a note of sweetness in his voice.

  Emily smiled and nodded.

  “Theyʼre throwing you out this morning,” he chided her with a smile.

  Emily suddenly became serious and concerned. Alex noticed it and smiled.

  “Don’ʼt worry. I’ll go with you to the clinic,” he tried to reassure her.

  Emily looked confused.

  “You do remember you’ll be going to a rehab centre, right?” He asked her.

  Emily seemed even more lost than before but nodded. Alex knew she was lying but took her hand in his and smiled at her reassuringly.

  “Donʼt worry, everything’ll be fine,” he whispered.

  He himself was not sure about it but hoped everything would go well with all his heart. It was a feeling he had not felt in years. He handed her the tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt he had brought from home and left the room to wait for her to get dressed with the help of the psychologist. If he really were her boyfriend, he would have stayed inside and helped her himself, but he did not want to make her feel self-conscious. He did not want to force her to be around him more than it was necessary. The memory of how she had screamed that night when he tried to touch her to calm her down was still clear and vivid in his mind.

  Emily struggled to get out of bed. The medications they had given to relieve her pain were working, but made her feel muzzy. The woman who had entered with Alex was helping her put on the clothes he had brought. She seemed kind.

  “Where am I going?” She asked in a whisper.

  She felt light-headed, as if she were about to faint. That was the first time she had tried to get up since she arrived at the hospital and felt weak. She was also hungry. The woman helped her put on her tracksuit trousers.

  “To a clinic in north London,” she replied without looking at her.

  Emily thought about it. She could not remember a word of what she had been told about the clinic.

  “Who’s paying for it?” She asked her.

  The woman looked at her tenderly.