by A L Makin
Oh how quickly things have changed ... so quickly. Now I’m a miserable shell of a 28-year-old, living in a village I’d never heard of until my brother moved here. I quit my job, have no social life, put my house up for sale and am miserably single. So much change in so little time.
I finish hanging the last of my clothes in a grand antique wardrobe. Closing the doors and stepping back, I sigh deeply. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back, and turn to see it shining brightly through the large bay window. Walking over, I look out of the clear glass. The rain has stopped again, and the sun is burning through the last remaining clouds in the sky. Looking beyond Tom’s back garden, I’m surprised to see nothing but rolling green fields and thick forests all set next to the black hills the village is named after. The view is nothing like I have ever seen before, and it’s definitely not what I’m used to with coming from a large city. But the more I look out at my new home, the more I realise that this is exactly what I need.
~
Its early evening and Thomas and I are finishing cleaning the dishes after dinner. Even when we were teenagers living at home doing chores, Thomas always chose to wash the dishes, and I preferred to dry and put them away. Stood in our familiar positions I feel like a teen again.
“I was thinking, what would you say to us going out for a drink tonight?” Tom asks.
I screw up my face and are about to turn him down when he interjects. “Look, before you say no, I’m not suggesting we go on any kind of wild drinking rampage. Just go for a few drinks at the local pub in town. We can use it as a mini celebration for you moving here.” Tom turns and asks after he finishes putting the last plate on the draining board.
I pick up the same plate and begin to dry it slowly. “I don’t know? I’m not really in the mood for socialising.” I protest.
“But that’s the thing, the pubs here are nothing like you find back home. They’re quiet and quaint. You’re lucky if there are ever more than ten people in one at the same time. You never have to queue for the loo or the bar.” He laughs trying to convince me.
I think for a moment while I put the dried plate into the cupboard.
Tom doesn’t wait for me to answer, instead, he leans against the sink and snatches the damp tea towel from my hands. He screws it into a tight ball and throws it at the laundry hamper next to the washing machine. Folding his empty arms across his chest, he looks at me with a serious expression. “If you’re still not yet convinced, just remember that we’re a long way from where we grew up. The people are different here. This place we’re going to is a ‘proper’ pub with real people. Not like the fancy-schmancy wine bars full of fake pretentious arseholes you get in Newthorpe.” He replies pulling a ‘la-de-da’ face.
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with the bars in Newthorpe. If I remember rightly, you would frequent them often before you moved here.” I reply mockingly.
Tom’s nostrils flare. “Yeah well, I was a dumb ass back then.”
I quickly sense that Tom’s response isn’t about the bars we used to drink in. Nope … remembering where we used to hang out reminds him of Megan. Feelings of hurt, betrayal and anger spark off him like lightning bolts and it makes my skin burn. I rub my arms trying to dull the feeling.
“Sorry Tom, I didn’t think. You’re bound to hate those places. I should have realised.”
Tom’s eyes soften as he sighs loudly. “No, don’t apologise. It’s me who should apologise. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” He unfolds his arms and grips the counter from behind him tightly. I watch as his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s grasping the unit. “I’m just angry. I’m angry that the mere thought of my old life, still makes me think of Megan.” He spits her name out like it is something rancid on his tongue. “But most of all, I’m angry at myself that I still care … that after all this time, what she did still bothers me. I should be over it … I should be over ‘her’.” He finishes quietly.
It hurts me to feel him in so much pain still. “Oh Tom, I better than anyone can sympathise with how you’re feeling. So what if you’re not over it all yet. These things take time to heal. She was a massive part of your life. I’m sure I’m going to feel the same way about Drew for a long time yet too. Do what you need to do, feel the way you need feel, and give yourself the time to heal.” I say to him.
Finishing the sentence, I realise that while I’m here, I need to help Tom to heal as much as I need to heal myself. Reassuring him on how he’s feeling, is in a weird way helping to straighten out my own mind a little too. Hearing my own words of reason makes me recognise that everything that has happened with Drew, doesn’t mean the end of the world. I’ll get over him one day … but it’s going to take time and patience, and that’s ok.
I walk over to Tom and wrap my arms around his waist in a hug. He let’s go of the counter and immediately hugs me back by wrapping his arms around my shoulders and resting his cheek on the top of my head.
“I’m proud of you, you know. I’m proud that you took the leap and made a fresh new start for yourself.” I say as lean back so I can look up into his eyes. “And I also want to say thank you. Thank you for letting me come here and giving me the same opportunity to make a fresh new start too.” I finish smiling.
He smiles back down to me. “Of course, sis. What are big brothers for if not to let you live with them rent and utility free?” He laughs.
I push back as I playfully punch him in the chest and he mocks being hurt. “Give me five minutes while I run upstairs and freshen up?” I say changing my mind on going to the pub. No matter how unsociable I feel right now, if getting out of the house for a little while, helps either of us even a little bit, then it’s worth it.
“Five minutes, sure that’ll be the day.” He laughs back as I walk backwards out of the kitchen. “See you in at least twenty.” I hear him shout as I disappear up the stairs.
~
Turns out Tom knows me very well. Twenty-five minutes later, I make my way downstairs after freshening up and changing. Tom is sat on the bottom step and jumps up when he hears me coming down.
“Told you.” He laughs. “Are you sure you’re finally ready?” He asks as he looks me up and down.
I stop as I get to the bottom step and turn to look in the mirror on the wall. I’ve tied my highlighted hair back and dressed in a pair of white jeans and a salmon pink top with matching heels.
“What?” I ask turning back from the mirror and looking down at myself.
“Nothing” he replies smiling. “You look lovely.”
“Lovely?” I repeat. “I’m sure I do.” I say flatly. Tom is well known for being sarcastic at times.
“What?” He exclaims. “You do look lovely.” He protests.
I give myself once last glance in the mirror before turning back to him, hand on hip. “Then why do I have the feeling that you’re holding something back?” I question.
“It’s nothing. You’re just different from what this village is used to.” He continues smiling.
“Should I go and change?” I ask worried I’ve overdone it.
“No, Not at all. You look great, honest.” He takes a step forward placing a hand on each of my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “Just be you Willow … always you.” He finishes with a warm smile.
Letting go he opens the front door. The warm evening air swirls into the house filling my lungs. I turn and take another look at myself in the mirror and think of Tom’s words.
Just be me, always me … whoever she might be?
I don’t think I’ve ever known who I really am. Not deep down anyway. For as long as I can remember I’ve hidden under a mask of blonde highlights and pink clothes. A mask I foolishly believed people would rather see, than the actual woman beneath it all. It’s that same mask that stares back at me right now as I look in the mirror. It was always easier to pretend to be something that I’m not, to fit ‘in’ and be accepted; than to stand out from the crowd and justify my choices.
Who is Wi
llow? I wonder.
I grab my jacket from the hook next to the door and throw it on. As I take one last look at myself, I feel a quick rush of excitement …
Who is Willow? Plays back through my mind.
I turn and see that Tom has already started to walk down the driveway. “I don’t know who she is yet, but I can’t wait to find out,” I say out loud to myself as I step out into the night. This is the first step to finding just me, always me.
Chapter Three
It’s the end of September and summer has passed with autumn slowly creeping in. It’s unusually warm for this time of year. The sun is setting and the sky is alight above us. The deep reds, soft purples and burnt oranges in the sky make the black hills stand out. I’ve never seen a landscape so beautiful and eerie all at the same time, and I can’t help but stop and stare at the view.
“Wonderful isn’t it.” I hear Tom say with awe whilst standing beside me.
“Uh-huh.” Is all I manage to say; I’m far too lost in the swirls of colours and the peaceful chorus of the birds singing in the trees, to say anything else.
Tom nudges me in my side, catching my rib with his elbow.
“Oww!” I yelp feigning pain and grabbing the assaulted area.
“Don’t be so soft.” Tom laughs. “We need to get a wiggle on or we’re never gonna get there. You’ll have plenty of time to stare at the sunset another day. Right now a pint is calling my name and I don’t want to be rude by ignoring it.”
“Lead the way then,” I reply as I link my arm through Tom’s.
~
We take a left out of Tom’s drive and walk down the gentle hill towards the village. With everything that went on with Tom’s break up and his move away, we’ve not kept in touch like a brother and sister should have. In the early days, this was on his terms. He just wanted to be left alone. It’s was the same as what I’ve said to Becca. But as time went on, I didn’t make the appropriate effort. As the saying goes ‘out of sight, out of mind’. I was a shit sister for selfishly concentrating on myself, Drew and my life back home while he went through one of the toughest times of his life. I can’t help but think that maybe I’m suffering some sort of karmic retribution with everything that has happened to me with Drew. The difference this time though is I’m lucky to have Tom’s support to help pull me through it.
The walk to town seemed to take no time at all, as we filled it with laughter and gossip. But as we’re walking along the road to the pub, I’m distracted by an uneasy feeling that we’re being watched. I can feel a set of eyes on me as Tom enters the pub, so before I go in I turn and scan my surroundings, but fail to see anyone there.
~
Tom was right, the pub is a quaint looking place. It feels warm and inviting with its soft stone walls, a large open fire, pale wooden floors and tables surrounded by comfy looking brown leather chairs. The pub is fairly empty with only a few small groups of people sitting at different tables. Some of the people turn to look as we enter the pub, and they smile warmly. The rest are too busy talking, laughing or joking with their friends to notice us enter. Tom points to a table by the open fire while he goes to the bar to get us some drinks.
I sit in the comfy chair and stare mesmerised at the burning fire enjoying its warm glow. It’s not until I hear someone’s phone in the pub ring that I realise that I’ve not switched mine on since leaving Newthorpe. I take it out of my jacket pocket and turn it on. I wait and watch as my phone comes to life but struggles to find a signal. It takes it a few more moments when suddenly my phone begins to bleep loudly with the familiar tone telling me I have several new messages waiting to be read. I scroll through my inbox to see who’s messaged. A few are from Becca; telling me to drive safe, that she misses me and to ring her as soon as I can. I carry on scrolling and open a few more from some old work friends wishing me luck and that we need to catch up as soon as I’m back; they might be waiting a while, I think to myself.
And then there it is … that one text message ... that single message that all this time I didn’t realise I was holding my breath for – a message from Drew.
Before opening it, I quickly check to see where Tom is. Luckily he is busy chatting to the busty blonde barmaid. If Tom saw that I was about to read a text that Drew sent me, he’d go bat shit crazy. My heart begins to pound in my chest as my thumb hovers from side to side over the screen.
Do I read it, or delete it? Read it or delete it? Argh! I can’t decide!
Half of me wants’ to not give a shit and delete his ass! But then the other side of me, the side that I think is beginning to win, wants to know what it is that he’s said?
I take a deep breath and press down with my thumb ... opening the message. Who we kidding, we all knew there was no chance I would delete it before reading it. I look at the black letters against the bright screen not taking the message in properly.
It takes me a few attempts at reading his message before his words finally sink in. And for a micro-second, his words make me feel happy. But that initial feeling of happiness is short-lived as it quickly evaporates and is replaced with nothing but anger. I grip the phone hard in my hands. Who the hell does he bloody think he is texting me? Me! After everything, he’s done, what makes him think he has the right to message me and ask for my forgiveness. This is all without acknowledging the fact that he’s had the balls to say he loves me! If that was true, then he wouldn’t have had an affair with that fucking whore! He wouldn’t have thrown everything we built over the years away! He wouldn’t have crushed my heart, lied to me, cheated on me ... betrayed me! I start to shake with anger. How fucking dare he!
Slamming my phone down on the table, a small flower-filled vase tips over and spills out its watery contents. I don’t bother picking it up, instead, I tightly fold my arms across my chest. I either do that, or I throw my phone against the nearest wall. I’m unemployed now so could do without the extra expense of having to buy a new phone, so I keep my arms tightly locked down.
Tom notices my outburst from the bar. He grabs our drinks and rushes his way back to our table with a concerned look on his face.
“Willow, what the hell’s wrong?” He asks sitting down and placing our drinks on the table. The barmaid appears at the side of him with an old looking cloth in her hands. Without moving his eyes from mine, Tom takes the cloth out of her hands, thanks her and begins to wipe up my mess. Sensing the palpable tension in the air, the barmaid mumbles something about having to get back to the customers and leaves as quickly as she arrived. Tom’s eyes remain fixated on me as he places the sopping cloth at the side of the table and puts the flowers back in their empty vase.
I remain silent. Uneasy at the feelings swirling around my head. Tom mimics my body language, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “I’m waiting.”
I think for a second whether I should tell him the truth, or make up an excuse. I decide to go with the first. I’ve been lied to for so long, I can’t start my new move with more lies and deceit.
I take a deep breath before answering. “Dip shit Drew text me,” I say while looking him straight in the eye. I watch as his face contorts from concern to anger.
He leans forward resting his arms on the table. “What the fuck does he want?” He grinds out quietly.
I knew telling him the truth would make him angry, and I know the anger isn’t directed towards me. He hates Drew for what he’s done. Any big brother would hate the man who broke his little sister’s heart. But for Tom, I think it stings that little bit deeper because it feels so close to home. He’s felt the same heartbreak and betrayal with Megan, so knows first-hand what I’m going through, and it only re-reminds him of what he went through … is still going through.
Leaning forward I uncross my arms and reach out grasping his free hand in mine. I give it a gentle squeeze to keep him focused on only me. To help bring him back from those painful memories which I can see playing through his eyes like a sad film.
With a moc
k smile on my face, I pretend as though I’m not bothered by the message. “Oh you know; the usual ... he can’t believe I’ve left ... he loves me ... he wants me back ... he wants me to forgive him, blah, blah bullshit.”
I feel his hand tense in mine, so I give it another reassuring squeeze.
“Stop it, Tom,” I beg. “I can sense your thoughts … you know I can. And I don’t want you to worry. I don’t believe anything that comes out of that idiot’s mouth! I know that all these years he’s been feeding me nothing but bullshit; it’s a bit late to the party I know, but better late than never, eh?” I sigh, before continuing, “This message is just another example of how full of crap he is. He can try to ring or text me all he wants, but he’s never gonna get a reply. The day I left Newthorpe is the day I left him and everything that was our life, behind.”
Tom’s shoulders relax slightly, but his eyes fill with dread. “But I do worry Willow.” He sighs. “Men like Drew can talk themselves out of any situation and back into anyone’s bed. If you let him, he’ll win you back. He’ll grind you down and talk you around by telling you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. Please don’t give him the chance to worm his way back in, he’ll only continue to hurt you. He’s scum and doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone get to call you his! Please promise me, Willow … promise!” Tom begs.
“Look, Tom, I can assure you with everything that I am, I’ve zero intention to ever speak to, or see him again for as long as I live. He’s hurt me bad … real bad. Worse than I ever thought possible in fact.” I sigh again. “But I won’t deny that it’s not hard … it’s so bloody hard! As much as I hate him right now, he was a massive part of my life for such a long time. Some mornings I wake up thinking it’s all been some kind of horrid nightmare. But then inevitably, as it always does, reality sets in and I remember that actually, it’s my life that’s the nightmare.”
