He stopped mid-throw. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I would. Then he can come get his presents and I can explain that I didn’t raise an ungrateful son.’
There it was.
Did the lights just flicker?
‘I am not ungrateful. He pushed me too far and I fought back. You lot call me Sparks and then get shitty when I actually do explode.’
That nickname had taunted him for much of his life but it had also acted as a restraint. He’d tried to insulate himself from the bad side of it but sometimes even rubber melted if enough current went through it.
‘Just tell me this and I’ll leave you alone.’
He doubted that very much.
‘Do you want to be with Nick?’ She increased the voltage.
He resisted but his heart jolted. One more blast and it’d get fried. ‘What difference does it—’
‘Do you want to be with Nick?’ More pressure.
Thousands more volts pumped into him and fibrillated his heart. ‘Leave it alone, Mum! Why do you have to interfere?’
‘Because you’re my son and I hate seeing you like this.’
His clenched chest cramped from fighting her. He reached for a circuit-breaker.
‘You’d think that after all these years you’d realise you can’t protect us. Bad shit happens. Bryce should have been lesson enough for that.’
He slammed his mouth shut. Power gone. His heart stopped pumping at the sight of his mother’s falling expression.
‘Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. That was an awful thing for me to say. I’m sorry.’ He couldn’t say it enough, and she hurried into the house. He sagged to the floor and sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the van.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He scrubbed his face, wanting to peel it off, to scream and escape through his injuries. Heart sore, soul weakened, he ached. He hadn’t meant to say any of that to her, hadn’t meant to say any of what he’d said to Nick either. But it was out too fast, a surge strong enough to trip his fear and plunge him into darkness. If he couldn’t get on that plane, that would be it. Nick would have to leave him then. In the end he’d blown it sooner and not in the way he’d expected.
Flying now seemed easy.
Grace marched back into the garage, roughly brushing back strands of hair that had worked themselves free. He struggled to stand.
‘I just want to say, Lyall, that the lesson I thought you would have learned is that while there was nothing I could do to save Bryce, absolutely nothing, I will do everything in my power to make sure my children have the best lives possible.’ She jabbed her finger towards the ground.
‘If that means giving Rosie every ounce of my blood or any other body part to make sure she doesn’t leave us, then I’ll do it. If it means bankrupting myself so Chris can go as far as his talents will take him, then I’ll do that. I’d rob a bank to help him if I had to.’
She trembled as she bit off her words, each one flicking him with a tiny charge.
‘And if it means helping you see that whatever happened between you and Nick can be fixed so you can enjoy your fullest and happiest life, then I will meddle until that happens.’ She spun and hurried away.
‘Mum!’ He chased after her and circled in front of her. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it and I know you’re only looking after me but I’m just …’ He folded his hands into fists to stop them shaking, but it only went deep inside where no amount of clenching could quiet him. ‘I’m scared. If Nick could blame me for last night’s disaster, he could blame me when I have a panic attack and can’t get on that plane. We’d split up because why would he stick around for such a mental case?’
‘So you’ll let him go?’
He shrugged. It was something like that. Something weak like that. ‘What if it happens anyway? It’s not getting any easier.’
‘Look, Lyall, Bryce wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like you couldn’t fly anywhere, but this is your life so you shouldn’t let your fear stop you from going.’
Bryce had gone where he’d wanted and died for it. Wasn’t it better to go nowhere? Then you couldn’t leave anybody behind.
‘There’s a difference between wanting to and being able to.’
‘Can you honestly tell me your phobia hasn’t been getting better?’
He opened his mouth to say that it hadn’t but he wasn’t so sure when it came time to speak. The therapist had helped break apart some of the triggers. He hadn’t freaked out too much when Nick had given him the tickets. It was getting easier.
Or it had been.
‘What does it matter? I doubt he’d have me back now.’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’ She put her hand on the back of his head and bent his forehead to her lips. When she pulled back, a sheen covered her eyes and she walked away.
She was right. Talking to Nick was the only way of finding out for sure, but having been on the other end of the silent treatment, it was all too easy to ignore a phone call.
He ran back to his van, slammed the door and drove to Nick’s apartment. He had a run of green lights and little traffic on the way, nothing that could slow or stop him. His stomach tumbled, but he kept his foot on the accelerator and then he was outside Nick’s apartment building. He raced up the stairs, ignoring his heart’s resurgent pleading for protection.
He knocked on Nick’s door and after a thirty-second wait that stretched for years, enough time for him to circle the small concrete landing, Nick appeared.
Dressed in his uniform.
Lyall’s heart blacked out. His shoulders slumped.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I picked up a few extra shifts.’ Nick held the door but didn’t invite him inside. ‘I’m waiting for my ride.’ Clipped words. No smile. Eyes dark beneath the shadow cast by the rim of his hat.
He took a hesitant step closer, wanting to reach out and touch him, but Nick folded his arms across his chest. Lyall fought to stay still while his heart tried to recover. ‘You can’t go. We need to talk.’
‘We pretty much said it all last night.’
Who was this? It wasn’t his Nick. It was some cold person who looked like him. The captain, not the lover. Nick couldn’t get on that plane.
‘I’m sorry. I should never have said what I said.’ He was desperate for a shot of hope, something that would spark life once more.
‘Why not? It was true.’
‘But it wasn’t.’
Nick shrugged. ‘Whatever. You’ve got some things you need to sort out, and it’s not right for me to be there pressuring you.’
Shock. Again. ‘But I’m getting better. I want to go with you.’ Please work.
He shrugged again and gave a pained smile—the smile that said I don’t care anymore. He was calling it.
‘Lyall, the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you and as much as these few months have been great, I …’ He cleared his throat. ‘There are things I need to do that I can’t wait around for.’
‘Like what?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ His words dropped like a pronouncement of time of death.
His heart battled. ‘Don’t say that. It obviously matters or you wouldn’t be behaving like this. I want us to be together and I’ll do anything to make that happen.’
Nick’s phone chimed. He looked over Lyall’s shoulder down to the street where a car waited. ‘I’ve got to go.’
He grabbed his suitcase and pulled it out as he locked his front door. Lyall shuffled out of the way, tempted to grab him, hold him, scream at him, anything to stop this hard refusal.
How could Nick feel this way while Lyall was dying inside?
Desperation surged through him, and when Nick turned around, he darted forward and poured all his hope into a kiss, the feel of his begging lips against Nick’s barely softened ones.
‘Please,’ he whispered.
Nick stroked his face, a touch that held
promise quickly dashed. ‘I have to go.’ And then he left, and there was nothing resolved, nothing to explain what had happened, of how it could all end so abruptly.
He was just gone.
Lyall chased after him but Nick ignored him, put his luggage into the boot, got into the car and then that was gone too.
All that love.
Lost.
Gone on a plane and never to return.
He wiped his cheeks of tears he hadn’t known had fallen, climbed back into his van and let the grief echo where his heart used to beat.
20
One night in Bangkok turned into seven. Nick lost himself in booze and the throng of millions of people but nothing reached the carved-out space inside him. Not even Sandy.
When he arrived home to an empty apartment, it was with an even emptier heart. But he’d made the right choice in breaking it off with Lyall. Sandy hadn’t thought so, and Rosie too apparently. She’d messaged to ask him not to cancel Lyall’s ticket. But what was the point?
Lyall would never get on a plane, and he wasn’t going to spend their relationship resenting him for it. His mother had done that.
Dimitri had also called and left messages. It wasn’t out of concern for his son. He demanded his access to cheap travel be restored. Eventually the calls stopped.
He sat on his balcony in the late afternoon light, a crisp wind slicing through him. How soon before he could get back on a plane? He considered changing his flights to Greece and going early, but Avarina’s birthday was still a little over a month away and knocking it off was like throwing trash on a grave. It had to be on her birthday. He had to wait.
He held his phone, thumb tapping the screen without typing. Lyall hadn’t contacted him but was that any surprise after how he’d been treated? Nick had reasons, good reasons, for what he’d done and he was going to stick by them, but that didn’t stop him from hoping—
His phone lit up with a call. His thoughts had summoned a Turner; it just wasn’t the right one. His thumb dragged across the screen, and he struggled to lift the ten-tonne weight to his ear.
‘Hey, Rosie.’
‘You answered! That’s a start. Are you in town?’
‘Yeah.’ His answer came out slow, cautious, like he’d been thrown into an unfamiliar dark room. He sensed there were things he could trip on but didn’t know where they were.
‘I’d like to come see you.’
He froze, skin prickling, body alert. ‘If it’s about Lyall, I think it’s best we leave it.’
‘Yeah, no doubt you would say that. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Lyall, I want to drop off your presents.’
He couldn’t go forward. He couldn’t go back. The risk of hurting himself was too great. If Rosie came, he’d ask about Lyall and that would make this even harder. He tensed; no sudden movements and he could wait it out without causing himself more harm.
‘That’s nice of you—and I’m going to sound like a jerk—but if you’ve still got the receipt, perhaps it would be best if they’re returned to the store.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon and drop them round. What’s your address?’
How had he got into this? How could he get out?
‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘Nick, honestly, it’s just about the gifts. Lyall won’t be with me, ok?’
She wouldn’t relent. This was what it was like to be surrounded by family, bothered to within an inch of your life with no way of getting out. He was going to miss it.
‘Fine.’ He gave her the address and said he’d see her the next afternoon. What had he agreed to? Hanging up didn’t bring him back into the light; it just made it more likely he was going to fall.
***
As the hours crept closer to some undefined time in the afternoon when Rosie would appear, the desire to leave a note and not be there when she arrived grew stronger. So he cleaned the bathroom. But no matter how hard he scoured, his anxiety stuck like caked-on mould. All those evenings at home and he wasn’t spending them with Lyall. They gave his day purpose. Now he just … existed. He was stuck in the airport waiting for a flight that kept getting delayed.
No, it had been cancelled, right?
And he’d been the one to cancel it.
Rosie knocked on his door at two o’clock, probably on her way to pick up the girls from school, leaving her enough time for a chat he didn’t want to have. He’d been scrubbing the toilet. He washed his hands, changed his shirt and opened the door.
Rosie was in front but it wasn’t her his attention went to. Grace had come too. The full charm offensive. Rosie entered, kissed him on the cheek.
‘I hope you don’t mind Mum tagging along.’
‘Um … sure. Hi, Grace.’ He kissed her, took the presents out of her hands and invited her in. He closed the door behind them, sealing himself in with hijackers. ‘Coffee?’
They thanked him, and he put the kettle on.
Rosie went to the table and looked through the atlas. ‘It’s more beautiful than I remember.’ He hadn’t yet found the right spot for it.
Grace stood on the opposite side of the counter from him. She clasped her hands, the creases at the corners of her eyes a little deeper than normal.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked. Please let Lyall be ok.
‘Oh,’ Grace said. ‘Sort of. Nothing like before. He’s not in hospital or anything. But we’re worried about him.’
Be strong.
He couldn’t do anything for Lyall; it wasn’t his place.
He prepared the coffee, got the milk, added Grace’s sugar. He kept his hands busy because he had nothing to say.
‘Nick.’ Grace’s hands smoothed across the counter. ‘I don’t want to interfere. We all know that the fight was about Dimitri and that flight you bought Lyall.’
The way she said it—that flight—was enough of a reminder of what an idiot he’d been to book it in the first place. Lyall couldn’t overcome a lifetime of fear just because Nick wished him to. But he’d wanted so badly to share that last moment with Lyall, why shouldn’t he have tried?
‘Pretty accurate so far, Grace.’
‘But I’m sure you’ve had fights before, and if you really wanted to be with my son then relationships take work. They can’t just be thrown away like that.’
‘It’s not about the work, Grace. There’s just …’ He returned the milk to the fridge and stared inside at the other cold things. He sighed. ‘Forget it. Lyall and I couldn’t make it work even if we wanted to.’ Nick handed out the coffees.
‘Does it have something to do with that list?’ Rosie pointed at the fridge door.
Grace went around and scanned the three pages of countries. ‘You’ve been to all these places?’
He didn’t need to respond. Instead he needed them to drink their coffees and go.
‘Ahhh.’ She’d seen Greece, the one name still uncrossed, the place he was meant to be going with Lyall. ‘So you want him to be there when you finish it? Why him? And why now?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he mumbled. Why couldn’t they accept it was over instead of prolonging the inevitable? Avarina had lingered at the end when it would have been kinder for her to slip away.
And weren’t you glad for every second?
He pressed the heel of his hand into his sternum to dull the ache.
‘Then explain it to us.’ Rosie rested her hand on top of his. ‘But make it quick because I’ve got to pick up the girls.’
‘I appreciate that you’re only here to help but it’s over.’
Rosie and Grace looked at each other and their shared pity thawed his heart, dripping sorrow into a chasm. He wanted to tell them. They were the closest thing to family he’d had in a long time, but if he couldn’t tell Lyall about Avarina’s list, then telling his family wasn’t right either. It was better for everyone if they forgot about each other.
He invited them to sit down on the couch while he stiffly took one of the di
ning chairs. He sipped his coffee and scalded his tongue. He should have added some cold water to all of their cups, then they’d drink faster and leave.
‘If Lyall got on that plane, would you still want him with you?’ Grace asked.
‘Of course I would but that’s not going to happen. I put too much pressure on him and now I’ve ruined it.’
Rosie’s mouth squinted in the corners. ‘Maybe we’ve tried to protect Lyall when really we’ve hurt him. He took Bryce’s death very hard and when his fear of flying became more pronounced we thought it safer to keep him on the ground, keep him close, but that … that’s probably made it worse.’
He’d agree with them but how would that do any good?
‘I’m sure you already know,’ Grace said, ‘but he has been getting better. He’s going to therapy, he’s—I don’t know—lighter somehow.’
That’s what had given him hope. He’d seen that shift in Lyall—and then he’d thrown it into reverse with those damn tickets.
‘But that just means he’s got further to fall when it goes wrong. And it will. I thought I could help change him, make him better, but if I couldn’t do that for Dimitri, I’m not going to be able to with Lyall.’
He scalded his tongue again. Grace and Rosie hadn’t touched their drinks.
‘We know this must be really difficult for you, Nick, but losing you has been hard on Lyall too. Please don’t doubt how much you mean to him, and if you won’t tell us what’s going on with that list, then think about telling Lyall.’
His gaze fell into the beige pool of his coffee cup. The ice around his heart broke apart on her words, a cracking that echoed in his breath. He closed his eyes.
‘But he doesn’t want to go.’ The cracks widened.
‘Are you sure?’ Rosie said. ‘Have you gone through that atlas from cover to cover?’
His eyes fired open and he turned to the table. What was in the atlas? ‘No, I—’
‘I suggest you look,’ she said and then they were standing, undrunk coffees put on the table. ‘We’re going now. Just think about what we’ve said.’
He stood shakily and thought he said goodbye but didn’t remember speaking. They kissed him and left. The door closed behind them and a late winter wind, tinged with spring promise, blew through his chest. He went to the atlas and searched for what Rosie had alluded to.
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