“I’m sorry. But I can book you on—”
“No,” I whisper, blinking tears. “No, thank you.”
I walk away in a daze, my blood pumping so hard through my ears that the airport noise is muffled. I’m too late.
“What are you doing?” Naomi yells after me, grabbing my arm and tugging me to a stop. “Get the ticket. Get any ticket. Just get through security and go find him.”
“Didn’t you hear her, Naomi? They’re already boarding. Even if I get in there, I can’t get to him in time.”
“Then wait for the next flight. Go back to Sydney. Find him. Don’t let this go, Paige. I’ve watched you fall in love with each other. You are literally the embodiment of every romantic couple I’ve ever read about. You’re soulmates. I know you are. And if you can’t make it work then what hope is there for the rest of us?” She wipes a tear from her cheek with an angry swipe.
I shake my head, frowning because I should never have come here. “You read too many books. Real life doesn’t work that way.” Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I turned to walk away.
“Don’t do this,” she says and I stop.
“Do you believe in fate?”
Her eyes light up a touch. “Of course.”
“This is it. This is fate telling me I was right to let him go.”
“No, Paige. This isn’t fate at all. You’re just not trying hard enough.”
“If fate wanted us to be together, I would’ve made it here on time. I would’ve gotten that ticket and made it through security just in time to see him go through the door. Then he would’ve looked back and seen me in that last second, and I’d run into his arms and he’d catch me, and we be together. Credits rolling. But that’s not real life. That’s not what this is. I left him. I left him because I’m a shitty person, and all of this—” I gesture around me “—is a sign that he’s better off without me. He’s better off. I promise you.”
“Paige,” she calls after me when I turn away. But I don’t stop this time. I keep going, and I don’t look back.
Twenty-Eight
Elliot
Life is so shit sometimes. Being trapped on a plane with nothing but your thoughts for company causes you to run through every emotion possible. I can’t sleep. So I spend a full day flying and staring at the vacant seat beside me, hoping she’ll somehow materialise next to me and tell me I was dreaming.
But I’m not dreaming.
At first, I was upset that she wasn’t with me. Then I was angry she didn’t trust me to understand, and then I tried to put myself in her life, so I could understand why she’d think that way.
One thing was very clear to me when I got off that plane. Paige needs me to go back there for her. She might not realise it because no one has ever stuck around for her before, but I know in my heart it’s true. I need to go back. I don’t care what she did in her past. I only care about what she does in her future, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that future is with me.
I’m not giving up.
When I exit the terminal, Mum is waiting for me, tears of joy in her eyes because she’s so happy to see me. I wave back, smiling at her excitement. But I’m almost fucking crying because it hits me real hard that Paige has never had this, she’s never had someone miss her so much they cry at the airport. Fuck. I’m grieving just thinking about it.
“Where is she?” Mum asks as I get closer. She was expecting Paige to come home as well.
I shake my head. “She didn’t come.”
She immediately pulls me to her, hugging me tightly. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she says, before she holds me at arm’s length and looks into my face, searching my expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m angry, and hurt, and exhausted. But I need to go back. I turn around and go back right now if they’d let me through customs.”
My mother sighs as she reaches up and cups my face in her hands. “My boy. Did you have a fight?”
I shake my head. “Everything was perfect up until the last moment. Then she left. It’s complicated, but I keep trying to figure out a way back and I’m caught in red tape. I couldn’t stay because I’d ruin my chances of getting another visa, and I can’t fly straight back as a tourist because customs will refuse me entry since my visa just expired. I feel so fucking powerless,” I say. “Pardon my French.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you’re hurting. You were so excited about her on the phone. But I know you’ll get through this. We’ll help you any way we can.” Trying to keep my breathing steady, I hug my mother and draw as much comfort from her as I can. It doesn’t matter how old you get. A hug from your mother always helps.
“Thanks, Mum.”
She drives me back to my place and walks me inside, trying to make some small talk about things that happened while I’ve been gone. I know I’m not listening to her properly. I just can’t right now. I feel so helpless in my own destiny. The woman I love is on the other side of the world, and there’s nothing I can do but fucking wait.
I collapse in exhaustion on my couch as Mum brings me a cup of coffee and some cake she’s brought around.
“I put some meals in the fridge for you, just to try to help you get through the jet lag. So you don’t have to worry about cooking or shopping,” she tells me.
I reach over to her and give her arm a gentle squeeze as thanks. “You’re the best.”
“Do you have any idea why she left?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath before I answer. “She’s scared.”
“Of what?”
Sitting up, I place my mug on the coffee table in front of me. “Of being loved. She's just had a really shitty life and has got it in her head that no one could love her once they know her whole story.”
My mother regards me quietly, taking a sip of her tea before speaking. “But you obviously do.”
“Yeah, I know it. I suspected something bad. But I wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it was. No one has ever loved her, Mum. No one. I need to prove to her she’s worth fighting for.”
“It sounds like you really love her.”
“I do. I love her so much it hurts me. It hurts so much.” And I don’t feel a tiny bit weird telling my mum about it.
She comes over and sits beside me, taking my hand in hers. “You do what you need to do, my love. You have a wonderful heart, and she’s lucky to have it. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get back to her.”
I nod and stare at her hand on mine. Everything just hurts so much, like there’s this hollow pit inside of me that is tearing at my soul. It’s horrible.
“Perhaps I should stay with you tonight? I’ll give Steve a ring and let him know I won’t be home.” She releases my hand as she searches through her bag for her phone.
“No Mum, I’m fine. I just need to sleep. You can go. Tell Steve I said hi, and I’ll call you tomorrow OK?”
Looking at me with worried eyes, my mother withdraws her hand from her bag, letting out a heavy sigh. “All right sweetheart. But, if you haven’t called me by midday, I’ll come hunting for you,” she threatens half-heartedly.
I thank her for everything and kiss her goodbye before I collapse onto the couch, my feet hanging over the end. I can’t even be bothered making it to the bedroom.
Despite my exhaustion, I lie there for almost an hour, unable to sleep. Grabbing my keys, I get into my car and head to the bottle shop where I pick up some wild turkey, take it home and drink it straight from the bottle. What the fuck to I care about a glass right now?
I obviously need to punish myself, because I pull my damaged phone out of my bag and plug it into my laptop, downloading all the data off it. I spend the rest of the night sitting on the couch, getting thoroughly smashed as I flick through the images of Paige and me in London. When I land on the one of her in our room at the B&B, when she let me take a picture of her back, I stare at it for a long time. It’s the last one I took when e
verything between us was perfect. I fucking knew something was up all week. I thought it was nerves, but I should have pushed her to talk to me. We could have sorted this out.
I pull the sim card for my Australian service out of my wallet and put it inside an old handset, charging it while I transfer the backup file from my damaged phone. Within twenty minutes, all of my photos, messages and contacts are back in my hand. Thank god.
Scrolling through the contacts, I stop when I come to her number. Everyone knows you shouldn’t drunk dial, but when you’re drunk, you really don’t give a shit about stuff like that. I tap the screen and dial. It takes a little while to connect but when her voice fills my ears, I can hardly speak.
Paige
My phone flashes the word ‘international’ as it rings, causing my heart to lodge itself firmly in my chest. I grab for it, needing to hear his voice. Who else could it possibly be? “Hello?” I say down the line, “Elliot? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” he says back, his voice sounds strange; it's slurred.
“Have you been drinking?”
He sighs. “What does it matter, Paige?”
He’s right. I feel instantly bad for questioning him. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I'm so so sorry. Are you OK?”
“How could I possibly be OK?”
Tears sting my eyes as I start to cry. It feels like his pain is pouring into me over the telephone. “I’m sorry,” is all I can say.
“Just tell me you love me. Don’t give me any bullshit about how you’re bad for me or undeserving of love. Just fucking say how you feel. I need to hear you say it.”
Closing my eyes, pain stabs through my heart as I fight for the words I need to say. “I-I love you, Elliot,” I force out. “With every fibre of my being, I love you.”
I can hear him sigh. I can hear breathing, thick with emotion. He’s so far away. My chest hurts. “I’m sorry I ruined us.”
“You didn’t. I’m coming back for you.”
“What? Don’t Elliot, please don’t. This can’t work. I know you think it can, but it can’t. I’m too messed up. Please, just let me go.”
“Fuck you, Paige, you don’t get to decide this. I’m coming back. Deal with it.”
My mouth drops open as the line disconnects, and I burst into tears all over again. He’s coming back? He can’t come back. Our relationship was supposed to be a beautiful moment in time. It’s not supposed to be forever. I can’t be his forever. I spent my past prostituting myself for accommodation, for food, for alcohol and drugs. It cost a baby girl her life. People like me don’t get happy endings. I shouldn’t even have a life at all.
Elliot
A loud banging on my front door wakes me from my alcohol-induced sleep. I sit up slowly and eye the almost empty bottle sitting open on the coffee table, screwing the lid back on and pushing it away.
My laptop is sitting open, so I hit the space bar to wake it up, expecting to find pictures of Paige. I need to set eyes on her, even if it’s just a photo. Instead, the website for the UK Border Agency is on the screen. I've applied for a new Visa.
Bang bang bang! “Come on, Elliot! We know you’re home!” I hear on the other side of the door.
I drag my eyes away from the computer screen and go and open the door. Standing on the other side is my old uni friend, Gary, and his wife, Stephanie.
“You look like shit,” Gary says as he takes in my appearance.
“Oh my god, Elliot. Did you bathe in bourbon? You reek.” Stephanie fans her hand in front of her nose.
“Nice to see you too,” I deadpan.
“Sorry, sweetheart, we just weren’t expecting…well…this,” Stephanie says, gesturing at my appearance.
“It’s been a shitty couple of days. Come on in,” I say standing to the side.
Stephanie goes straight into my kitchen and tells me she’s going to make a strong pot of coffee. I don’t complain because I really need to check what I did last night. I can’t believe I applied for a visa while I was off my face. I go into my email and check all the confirmations. I’ve set up my biometric interview and everything. Shit.
Stephanie walks back into the lounge room balancing the three coffees. Gary—who’s been sitting on the other couch watching me curse myself repeatedly—jumps up to help her.
I nod thanks as she places my coffee beside me on the table, and I continue to wildly scan my application, checking that all the details I gave were correct.
“Elliot,” she starts. “Is there something wrong? Is there something we can do?”
“No, just… ” I click through to the last page of my application and let out a steady breath. It’s fine. I didn’t fuck it up. I sit back on the couch and put my hands on either side of my head, suddenly laughing.
Gary and Stephanie look at me wide-eyed, “Everything OK, mate?” Gary ventures.
“More than OK, everything is great,” I tell him, smiling like an idiot.
“Well, how was your trip? Oh! What did you think of Naomi? She’s cute, huh?” Stephanie asks.
“The trip was… life changing.” I turn my laptop around to face them. “I’m going back there to live.”
“What!” they both spit in unison.
“I met someone on the way over there—not Naomi. She’s a nice girl though—her name is Paige, and she’s staying there indefinitely, so I'm going back there for her.”
“Paige, huh?” Stephanie leans in with a curious expression. “I’ll need more info than that if I’m going to forgive you for not fawning over Naomi. I had dreams of couples holidays and same aged kids.”
Releasing the first chuckle I’ve managed since Paige walked away, I take a mouthful of coffee before I begin. “She’s a goddess,” I start. “Well, she’s my goddess.” Then I tell them everything wonderful about her, show them a couple of photos but avoid talking about all the bullshit that kept her there. I don’t want to focus on any of that right now. I just need to focus on getting back to her. The whole process will take around three months, and I need to be patient until then.
As I sit back I drink my coffee, listening to Stephanie and Gary as they catch me up on their lives while I’ve been away. The memory of talking to Paige last night filters back to me. She said she loves me with every fibre of her being, and still, she was fighting with me to let her go. I have to convince her to stop trying to force me away, because I don’t want a life without her. I won’t let her ruin us because she’s scared. I’m strong enough for the both of us.
Twenty-Nine
Paige
Applying the handbrake as I pull up outside the house, I take a slow and steady breath before opening the car door and striding up the driveway. I drag my suitcase behind me and knock on the door. I won’t be turned away.
When the door swings open, I’m confronted with my mother’s surprised face as she drags her eyes over me, pausing when she reaches my luggage. Her eyes fly back up to mine in question. I’m sure I’m the last person she expected to be opening her door to.
“I need a place to stay. I think it’s the least you can do for me considering.” I stare at her boldly, refusing to be polite as I step past her and into her home.
“Of…of course,” she stutters, scrambling down the hallway and opening a door for me. “Y-you can stay i-in here.” She flicks on the light and stands aside so I can enter her guest room. There’s a single bed with a mustard-coloured quilt and a three-legged bedside table featuring a crappy retro lamp, and an alarm clock that tells the wrong time. “You can put your things in the cupboard. There should be enough space.” Her eyes drift to the single door of the built-in wardrobe then back to me, clearing her throat. “Uh, the bathroom’s just around the corner, and the kitchen is at the end of the hall. Can I get you anything? Food? A drink?”
“No,” I answer, stepping into the room with my suitcase in hand. I turn around to look at her expectant face, an unfriendly glare on mine as I reach out and close the door. Before it’s almost clicked shut, I open it slightly, meet
ing her eyes once again. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” I don’t want her getting any ideas that we’ll be playing happy families anytime soon.
“Of course,” she whispers, her eyes swimming with tears. I click the door closed and spin the lock on the other side.
Pulling the covers back on the bed, I remove my shoes and climb in, curling myself into the foetal position as I close my eyes, thinking about everything that has happened this past week.
After the airport, Naomi took me back to the flat where I spent every day since lying on the couch and refusing to move. I was offered my bed back, but I couldn’t bring myself to live there again, not when being there reminds me so much of him. She keeps telling me to call him. “He’s coming back for you,” she’d say, like that was supposed to lift my spirits. She doesn’t understand that I don’t want him to come back. How am I supposed to face him now? How am I supposed to behave now that he knows what I’ve done, what I was? Do I give him the details, or does it become this dirty grey cloud we keep trying to ignore while we sit in the sunlight? I’ve felt constantly sick with anxiety, and I can’t seem to eat or keep anything down. My world feels so uncertain, and despite missing him terribly, I wish I’d never met him. The only world I’ve ever known was absent of love. It’s really hard living in one where it’s a possibility. I don’t know how to be here, especially now that I can’t wear my mask.
Eventually, I had to get out of the flat to escape his memory. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving or where I was going, because I’m an arsehole. I just waited until they were all out of the flat and wrote a thank-you note before leaving and driving here. That’s right, I left a note again. They’re always easier than official goodbyes. I had a whole weekend to farewell a close friend once, and it was awful. I prefer the ones that are short and sweet. Or better yet, no goodbye at all.
Forever: Beautiful Series, book two Page 21
