“It’s not a tantrum, Nana. She’s deeply, emotionally affected by Kevin’s abandonment, and she needs me to place my focus on her. And while I’m with Leo, she feels threatened. She’s afraid I’ll abandon her too.” I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “And you know, I don’t blame her. I have been distracted lately, daydreaming, counting down the time until I can see him again. I’m not doing my job with her. I need to be better.”
“So, you’re ending things with Leo, sacrificing your own happiness so she feels validated?”
I nod.
“Darcy, I think you’re making a terrible mistake here, pet. Your children need you happy so you can focus on them. Being miserable isn’t going to fix this.”
“I know, but I have to do something, Nana. I’m losing her. She’s my daughter. I’d do anything for her.”
“Don’t give up the man you love.”
I give her a small smile. “I’ll see you soon, Nana.”
“Darcy.”
With a copy of the New Idea in my hand, I stand in front of Leo’s front door. “Tear off the Band-Aid,” I say to myself, placing my hand against my forehead. I can’t do this. My heart has never felt so ripped in pieces.
Closing my eyes, I lift my shaking hand and knock on the door three times, my heart in my throat as I wait for him to respond. As if in slow motion, the handle turns and the door pulls open, revealing a freshly showered Leo wearing a clean white Bonds shirt and a checked pair of pyjama shorts.
“Angel,” he croons, voice smooth as silk, his face lighting up when he sees it’s me. My heart sings at the sight of him, and I want to throw myself in his arms and hold on tight until all of my problems sort themselves out.
“Oh, Leo.” I clap my hand over my face and burst into tears, the pain in my heart too much to bear. I don’t want to do this.
“Hey,” he soothes, pulling me into his arms and steering me into his apartment. Once gathered against his chest, I cry and hiccup and clutch at the fabric of his shirt. I can’t even speak. “What’s happened?”
Managing to push myself away from him, I hold the magazine up and his expression falls as he sees his ex-wife on the cover smiling with the headline that tells the world they getting back together.
“This is why you’re upset? Not a word of that is true, Darcy. You have to know that. This is just one of her bullshit power plays. And I should have known it was coming when she insisted we talk at the beach. She’s pissed at me because I won’t let Niall go to the UK with her.”
“I…I…” I can barely get a word out through my hiccupping. “I know there’s nothing between you. It’s…it’s the picture in…inside.”
“Let me get you a drink,” he says, lowering me to the couch where he pushes my hair back from my face then touches my check lovingly. “Then we can talk this out.”
A fresh wave of tears comes. “Whatever you have that’s strongest.”
His brow draws tight as he grabs a tumbler from the kitchen cupboard along with a bottle of tequila. He pours some in a glass and hands it to me. “Want that mixed with anything?”
I shake my head. “Straight is fine.” Lifting the glass to my lips, I knock it back in one gag-inducing gulp. “It burns so bad.” I gasp and splutter as Leo takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the side table.
“Show me this picture,” he says, sitting down on his coffee table so he’s directly across from me.
With a short nod, I thumb through the magazine and open it to the article, handing it to him as I point at our photo. “Abby saw it.”
“She did? Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit. She flipped out in the middle of the café, ran off, and I’ve spent all evening trying to find her.”
He covers his mouth. “My God. Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve helped.“
“It’s okay. She’s home now. We’ve been arguing and talking and, well, she just completely hates me right now. I’ve lied to her. Again. And I guess when everything is considered, I can’t blame her. She needs me and I haven’t been there.” I press my lips together and meet his eyes, filled with a growing concern.
“Don’t say it, Darce,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “I know where this is going, and I really don’t want you to say it.”
I reach out and take his talented strong hands in mine. “I’m so sorry. We got carried away, Leo. I forgot who you are in this world. I forgot that people—gossip magazines—care about what you do.” I let out my breath, close my eyes and shake my head. “I got so caught up in you, in us, and I really don’t want to do this,” I whisper.
He lifts my hands to his lips, pressing his mouth against them as he speaks. “Then don’t.”
I meet his beautiful eyes, my heart cracking open, raw and bleeding. “You know I have to. I have to choose my kids. Kevin did so much damage when he left and Abby needs someone—me especially—to choose her above everyone else.”
He nods, bringing my hands to the space between us before letting go. “So, you’re breaking up with me?”
Shit.
“I don’t want to break up. I just want to press pause. I care about you, Leo. I care about you so, so, so much. But we knew this might happen. We were pushing our luck as it was, being too eager. We should’ve waited. We always knew we should’ve waited. From the very beginning. We got carried away.”
His eyes flash, and he stands, head shaking in disbelief. “How do we press pause on this, Darcy? How do we go backwards when we were so close to moving forwards? Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”
My eyes burn and I press my palms together and try not to get hysterical. “Probably as much as you mean to me.”
“Jesus.” He wipes a hand over his face, jaw tight as he looks away. “How long, Darce? How long do you want me to wait? A month? Two? You want me to ask you on that date in August and see if you’re still free? Or do I wait forever? What do you want? Tell me?”
I jump a little at the intensity of his words, coated in hurt and frustration. My tears fall and I can’t do anything to stop them. I hate that I’m doing this. But when a child is in pain, a mother will literally do anything to take that pain away. It’s the way we’re built.
“This is not about what I want, Leo,” I cry, pushing to my feet. “It never has been, don’t you get that? I was always a mother first, your lover second. And I’m sorry, OK? If I could have it both ways, I would. But we tried that, and I can’t lose my daughter because I fell in love with you too soon. We would never survive that.” This was never how I wanted to tell him how I felt. But there it is, the truth, raw and too late.
“You love me?” He stops moving, frozen in place as he searches my eyes with his.
I nod as I wipe at my tears with the backs of my hands. “I’m sorry.”
He blows out a loaded breath as he places his hands on his hips. “I’ll wait,” he says finally.
“Really?” The tiniest seed of hope burrows itself in my chest and takes root there.
He nods as he moves closer to me, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck as he presses his forehead to mine. “As long as it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.”
Placing my hands on his stubbled cheeks, I let out my breath in a gasp, wanting to cry again, but this time from relief. “It won’t be forever, Leo. I promise.”
“I know, angel.” He presses his lips against my temple, gathering me in his arms as he inhales my scent, holding tight. “But even if it does take that long, I’ll still wait. You’re the only future I want.”
As he presses a sweet, tender kiss to my lips, my tears fall harder as I wonder if we can survive this when this already feels like dying. It’s one thing to say you’ll wait for someone. It’s another to actually do it. My father didn’t stick around. My husband didn’t stick around or even fight for us. And Leo? He could have any woman he wants, why wait an indefinite amount of time for me? I’m not that special.
“I should probably go,” I whisper, this moment feelin
g far too much like goodbye.
Swallowing hard, he nods then kisses my forehead once more. “God, I’m gonna miss you.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too. I’ll be seeing you.”
When I walk back inside Nana’s apartment, I lean against the closed door and put my face in my hands, sobbing just once before I take a deep breath and wipe my exhausted eyes. “I’m OK,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I’m going to be OK.”
By the time I reach the living area, I have my face-anything smile on. I find Nana still sitting with Archer asleep on her lap.
“Tell me you didn’t,” she says, concern in her eyes.
I lift my chin and try to harden my resolve, but when I speak, my voice wobbles. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Nana. I want to get this guy into bed then go to sleep myself if that’s OK with you.”
“Of course, dear. We can talk whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” I say, pressing a kiss to her cheek before I lift Archer from beside her and carry him to his room. I’m not quite strong enough to get him into his bunk, so I need to wake him a little so he can climb up himself.
“Goodnight, buddy,” I whisper, kissing his sweet head.
He rubs a balled-up fist against his eyes as he yawns. “I would’ve said yes, Mummy.”
“To what, sweetheart?”
“If you’d asked me about Leo, I would’ve said yes.”
Pressing my lips into a sad smile, I brush my fingers along the round curve of his cheek. “Well, that’s where I went wrong, I think. I didn’t ask.”
“You’re the mum. That means you don’t have to.”
A ball lodges in my throat. “Sweet dreams, OK?” I force out, before I get out of the room and place my hand over my eyes. I can’t stop crying. Needing the confines of the shower, I push on the bathroom door and flick the water on straight away, biting on my knuckles as I sob and sob. My chest burns like an open wound. I feel like the best part of me has been torn away. This hurts so much more than before. So much more.
FORTY-FIVE
DARCY
You know when you’re young and you’re dating some guy and your relationship gets to this point where something needs to change, but you don’t really want to break up, so you ask for a ‘break’ in the relationship aka Ross and Rachel? After about a week or two, you realise it’s the best decision you made, so you fully break up. Yeah? That isn’t the case here. Weeks have passed since I put Leo’s and my relationship on hold and each day has felt like agony without him. Like I’ve been torn in two and struggle to exist without my other half. This is nothing like what I felt when Kevin left. It’s been weeks, and I’m still feeling so raw. I’ve become a zombie. Drifting through life like I no longer have a soul in my body, craving something but unable to get it. I skip the brains eating part—because that’s gross—in fact, I mostly skip the eating part all together. Instead, I fill the void in my heart with work and kids. Not work at the workshop. We couldn’t work that close after…you know… so I gave that up too. I work at the café now. At first, I was only working a couple of days a week, but when I showed them my technique for making melt-in-your-mouth steak, they took me on in the kitchen full-time. It means I have more money in my pocket, but less time with the kids because I tend to work into the evening. But I do my best to be present and spend time with them when I’m home, helping with homework and whatnot. And I take them on outings on my weekends off. I like to keep busy.
And the kids seem fine. Archer misses Leo, of course, but he’s got his school friends now, so that helps. And Abby, well, she’s Abby. I can’t really say if she’s better or worse, but she does pick a hell of a lot less fights with me. She’s still got that fiery attitude, but she’s quieter if that makes sense. Although, I wish I could say the same about her relationship with her brother. Those two seem to snipe at each other a lot more of late. They squabble over the smallest inconvenience and I’m forever breaking up their bickering, but until I can save enough to get a place of our own, I don’t see that improving. They need their own rooms to provide some distance, I think.
God, this single parent thing is hard. I’m being the best mother I can and it still doesn’t feel like I’m enough. But, I devote every free moment to them. My focus is on them. I’m doing the best I can. The best I’m capable of.
It’s been eight weeks.
Leo is…well, it seems he’s missing. I don’t see him out on the deck any more, and on the rare occasions I see a light on in his apartment, the shades are down and the TV is on all night. I know this because I don’t sleep a lot. Whenever I try, I end up crying until I pass out and then I wake up with swollen eyes and a headache, and I’m no good to anyone that way. I’ve taken to making my notebooks again—the ones I used to sell on Etsy when I was with Kevin—and I’m getting really good at making the binding perfect, and my watercolour technique is really coming along. They keep me busy when the kids have gone to bed so I don’t have to pause and think. I can focus and work until I physically can’t keep my eyes open. I’ve woken up with a watercolour painting stuck to my face more than once.
The days are semi-easy because of the endless activity of work and home. It’s the nights that get me. Nana and Betsy sit with me a lot while I create my notebooks. They crochet willy warmers to sell at the fete, and they chatter along and try to include me, try and get me to laugh with them. But I can’t muster the energy to do much more than smile and nod a few times. I’m so exhausted from wearing my mask of coping all day that I simply can’t keep it up at night.
“You chose the wrong path, love,” Betsy says to me one night.
“No, I didn’t,” I reply. “I just chose the one that hurts me more than it hurts my kids.”
“Want me to read your cards again? Maybe those paths will join up again in the future.”
“I hope they do, Bets, but I think I’m going to pass on the reading if it’s all the same to you.” The last thing I need is hope right now. Hoping for my circumstances to change will just make being apart from Leo harder. What I need more of, is focus. That way, I can keep going.
God, I miss him.
“Well,” Betsy says. “They’re in my bag if you change your mind.”
I smile and nod. But I don’t need my cards read. I know what my problems are and only time and patience can fix them.
Some nights are worse than others. I get restless and stalk the house, back and forth. Nana tells me to go out, take a walk or a drive to clear my head. One of those late-night drives is how I learn Leo is back on the radio. I weave my way through the streets, mindlessly listening to Nova when an ad comes on promoting the morning show. I hear his voice. My chest jolts as though a hand reaches inside and takes hold of my heart. I’m forced to pull over so I can breathe.
In a cruel twist of fate—or perhaps at the hands of my pining heart—the place I’ve stopped across the street from is his workshop. I didn’t realise this was where I was headed, but I’m not shocked either. At the end of the long driveway, the roller shutters are up, and the lights are on inside. I can see his distant form, bent over his work while he carves a piece of spinning wood. A second revelation hits: he’s working into the night and sleeping in the studio upstairs. Does he feel as empty as I do?
I can’t tell you how much I wanted to go to him that night, sate this aching hunger by diving into him and staying there. But that will only put us back to square one, and I made promises I can’t break this time. So, I stayed put and just watched him from afar. I downloaded the podcast version of his show and listened to his smooth voice and glorious laugh while I stared at the workshop until he closed up. Then I waited until the all the lights went out before I left. So, yeah, I’m a stalker now.
EIGHT LONG WEEKS.
“Darcy, dear.” Nana’s voice snaps me to the present as I clear off one of the outdoor tables. It’s not really part of my job now that I’m in the kitchen, but sometimes we pitch in on the floor when we’re a little short-staffed. Toda
y is one of those days.
“Hey, Nana,” I say, smiling as I take in the state of her. She’s sitting perched on the seat of her electric tricycle, her Bayside Biddies shirt proudly displayed as she leads her growing ‘Trikie Gang’ as she likes to call it. She’s co-opted Betsy and Helen so far and is working on the remaining two ladies in the craft circle. “Were you after something to eat?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not why I said your name.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. Now, I understand you’re very busy right now. But I was wondering if maybe you could take a short break so we can have a talk.”
“Uh…” I look inside. There’s only a few customers having a late breakfast and the lunch service doesn’t start for another hour, so I can probably spare some time. “OK. Do I need to be worried?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Not at all.” Still, there’s something about the way she smiles at the end of that makes me think I’m about to get harangued—while they circle me on their trikes so I can’t get away. “Meet us around the corner?”
“Ah, sure.”
Betsy salutes me as they all motor off, and I tell my boss I’m going on break and will be back in thirty minutes.
“What’s going on?” I ask when I find them in a small parking lot standing next to their trikes, their colourful helmets hanging on the handle bars. They form a straight line with Nana in the middle, Betsy on her left and Helen on her right.
“We’re staging an intervention, dear,” Nana says as she takes my hands.
I snatch my hands back. “I’m working.”
“You’re always working,” Nana returns.
“I don’t need an intervention.”
“Yeah, you do,” Betsy says. “I hate to say this, kid, because I love you like my own family. But you’re a fucking drag these days. I literally feel my lifeforce slipping away whenever I’m around you.”
Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy Page 29
