‘Yeah yeah, you’re terrified I’m sure!’
‘Okay, guys, let’s have a group hug and let this go!’ chirrups a nervous- sounding Emma from somewhere behind me.
‘I’m not having a fucking group hug. Listen to me, you prick, do you know what I see when I’m near water and I lose control?’
‘Jaws?’ Than tries to laugh it off, and looks around for support, but only gets disbelieving stares from the others. ‘Get over it,’ he huffs.
‘I see my mother’s fingers clawing at the window of her sinking car. My mother, desperate to get out, bleeding and terrified. My mother, drowning.’ I can’t help it; I start to sob again.
Than glares at me and the others have gone completely quiet. I see Doreen wipe her eyes. Bay steps forward to place his hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off again.
‘Maybe I am a drama queen, but I think I’ve got a pretty good reason. If you don’t, then fuck you.’ I grab my boots, ram them onto my feet and trudge back up the shingle bank and away from the paralyzed group behind me.
As soon as I step out from under the canopy of trees and feel the sunlight on my face, my body relaxes, my shoulders slump and my sobs ease into a free flow of salty tears. I actually don’t mind the tears now that I’m away from the others. I know from bitter experience that if I try to hold them in, they’ll only catch up with me later.
I stride away from the sound of voices behind me and go in search of a little bit of peace and privacy where I can get back in control of my feelings. I need to get my armour back in place.
I’m already regretting my outburst. I didn’t want everyone to find out like that – or at all, really. Mind you, it’s not like I had much choice in the matter.
It doesn’t take long for the crying and shaking to start to calm, but all that means is that I’m now aware that my arm is throbbing. I look down at my hand and see that there’s blood dripping from my fingertips. Oh. Shit.
Coming to a halt at the top of the hill, I twist this way and that, trying to get a good look at where the blood is coming from. There’s a messy gash that runs down the back of my forearm. It looks pretty filthy too. Damn. All I want right now is a bit of peace and quiet, but I’ll have to get someone to help me clean this up, whether I want to or not.
I stand still just a moment or two longer and look back down the hill to where the others are emerging from under the trees, their swim cut short by the drama. I spot Bay striking out in my direction. Thankfully it’s just him; the others seem to be staying put. I really don’t want to talk about it yet, so I take a couple of steps towards the field gate.
‘Tori, wait! Please!’ Bay calls, speeding up in spite of the hill.
‘Why?’
‘You’re in shock. You’re hurt. You can’t go off on your own.’
‘Right. Well. Right.’ I hang my head. All of a sudden, I’m absolutely knackered.
‘It’s not your fault, you know?’
Great. Someone else telling me it’s not my fault. Does he really think I’ve not tried to tell myself that before? I shrug. The tears have started again. I can feel them snaking down my cheeks, hot and heavy. I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
‘Shit, Tori, you’re covered in blood!’ Bay gasps.
I examine my hand and realize that I’ve probably just managed to smear blood across my face.
‘Don’t worry, it’s just my arm,’ I sigh.
‘Don’t worry?’
‘I mean, it’s not my head or anything serious.’
‘Show me,’ says Bay, taking a step closer. I get the sense he’s been holding back until now for fear of spooking me, like a wild deer or something. But the sight of the blood seems to have galvanized him into action. I twist my arm around to show him.
He peers closely at it. ‘It doesn’t look too deep, but it does need cleaning properly.’
I know this. Really I do. But right now, I don’t want to go anywhere near the rest of the group. ‘I might just go for a bit of a walk to calm down,’ I say.
‘Sorry, Tori, but you really need to come back with us. You’re hurt and in shock, and that cut needs attention.’
‘I think I’ve had enough attention already, thanks.’
‘Tori, you have to—’
‘I don’t have to do anything! I didn’t have to get in that river, and I don’t have to come with you.’ I glare at Bay. My arm is now full-on throbbing. I know that I’m behaving like a child, but embarrassment is now mingling with the shock of what just happened, and right now, Bay is the only available target.
All I really want to do is hide under a fluffy duvet with a strong drink at the ready, followed by some serious comfort TV, but there’s no chance of any of that.
‘Fine,’ Bay sighs. ‘Look, tell you what, give me a second to let the others know what’s happening, and I’ll walk you back to the yurt so that you can have a rest somewhere safe. No need for you to talk to the others yet. Deal?’
I feel like arguing, but I have zero energy left, and if I’m honest I’m starting to feel a little bit fuzzy around the edges. I don’t particularly like the idea of being called a drama queen again because I fainted in the middle of a field like some drippy Jane Austen heroine.
‘Okay, deal,’ I say quietly.
As I watch Bay pelt back down the hill towards the others, I feel all my bravery and my desire for a new challenge dissolve. Reality is crashing over me. I’m broke, my only friends are people I’ve never met, I live in a damp, unappealing broom cupboard and the only man I’ve ever loved broke my heart in the worst way possible.
And here I am, at the culmination of it all, standing in a field with blood dripping down my arm, recovering from a panic attack and a dead faint.
*
As soon as Bay gets back, we start to walk quietly in the direction of the yurt. I hold my arm, doing my best to wrap it in a bit of clean T-shirt. The sense of relief when I spot the yurt is insane. All I want to do now is lie down and let the shock, which is slowly making my body feel like a heavy piece of putty, subside. I need to get some sleep and then I’ll feel a lot better. After that, I’ll decide how best to pay that bloody arsehole back.
‘Okay, you chill out here for a while and I’ll go in search of a first-aid kit. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?’ Bay says, his voice gentle.
I nod and duck into the yurt, grateful to be on my own for a few minutes. I yank my boots off and, after peeling off the rest of my damp clothing, I put on some fresh, loose trousers, wincing at the dark bruises that are already starting to bloom on my legs. The blood has pretty much stopped seeping out of the cut now, but I can see a whole bunch of dark flecks stuck in it. I’ll have to clean that properly, but right now, all I want to do is get warm and dry. I pull on the jumper I borrowed from Bay the other night, careful to wrap my arm in the T-shirt again to stop any blood staining it, and then I climb under my blankets.
*
The water is closing in on me and there’s nowhere to go. The fabric-lined ceiling above me is getting closer and closer and there are only inches of air left. My fingers are raw and bleeding, but I won’t stop clawing at the windows. I grab the door handle and still it won’t give. The air gap is almost gone. I gasp a few more lungfuls and press as hard as I can against the window. It won’t budge. My vision is filled with my mother’s unconscious face, eyes gazing lifelessly through the murky water, hair floating in a halo about her head like possessed seaweed. I suck in my last breath and scream, trying to wake her up. And then it’s gone, the air gap has closed.
I thrash wildly, holding my breath, but my lungs are about to burst. I open my mouth to scream again, but the in-breath just pulls in water. It streams up my nose and clogs my throat. I scream and scream but no noise comes out; there’s just tightness in my chest as my lungs fill. I am drowning and no one can hear my silent cries.
Then there are arms around me, lifting me, saving me. They’re pulling me upwards through the water towards the light, but I’m still screaming. Can�
��t they see my mum is still down there? She’s stuck. Unconscious. Drowning.
‘Help her!’ This time the cry isn’t silent. It shoots through the air and tears at the fabric of my dream, waking me up. But the hands are still there, holding on to mine.
‘Tori, it’s all right. You’re okay, you’re safe.’ It’s a man’s voice. I’m sobbing so hard I can’t see. I can barely hear.
‘Tori, calm down.’
‘Bay?’ I squeak through the tears.
‘Yes, it’s me. You’ve been asleep for hours, you know.’
I know. I can tell from the stiffness in my neck and the layers of fear that have built up inside me. I’ve been living that dream over and over again without the relief of waking in between.
‘Tori, you need to get that arm cleaned up. And you probably need something to eat too.’
‘No, no, I don’t. I just need to rest. I’ll be fine,’ I mutter.
‘No.’ This time there’s no arguing with Bay’s tone. ‘Tori, you need a rest from your nightmares. You’ve been tossing and turning for ages. Look, I brought you something.’ He gestures over towards the centre of the yurt.
I sit up to see what he’s talking about, pushing back my tangled hair and trying to unglue the strands from my damp face.
In the middle of the space is an old, metal bathtub, filled with steaming water. The air is sweet and herby.
‘A bath?’
‘As near as it gets. I wasn’t sure about the water after . . . but you said running water?’
‘Running water,’ I nod, and shudder. ‘Water that’s fast moving . . . that’s rising or . . . or comes up at me . . . unexpected.’ Damn, I’ve started to shiver in earnest at the memory of the face full of water earlier and the torrent of images it triggered. I shake my head to try to clear it.
‘So a bath is . . . ?’ Bay checks.
‘Perfect. Thank you.’ I force a smile. ‘How on earth did you fill it?’
Bay shrugs. ‘It did take a few trips, but I thought it might help. Even if you can’t get in, you can soak your arm and use it to wash.’
I spot a couple of buckets next to the bath, still steaming. It must have taken him ages, lugging the water up here.
‘What’s the smell?’ I wrinkle my nose. It’s not unpleasant . . . just . . . clean.
‘Oh, just a bit of lavender and tea tree oil. It might sting a bit, but it’ll help clean that cut of yours, and the lavender will help with the bruising too.’
‘I don’t think I’ll bruise. It was nothing really.’
‘Well, it won’t do you any harm, anyway . . .’ I see Bay looking at my arm on top of the bedcover where my sleeve has ridden up. There’s already the hint of a blue-black bruise on show. ‘Anyway, it’ll help you relax.’ Bay looks down, and suddenly seems awkward. ‘I’ll go. I’ll be off for at least a couple of hours, so just take your time.’
‘Right. Um . . . thanks. It’s really kind of you.’
‘I’ll get Doreen to look in on you in about an hour – just to check you’re okay. Right. I’ll go then.’
‘Bay?’
‘Yeah?’ his voice is low. He clears his throat, looking fidgety. I shift uncomfortably too. I’m still not very good at asking for help from people in real life.
‘Do you . . . could you . . . could you help me clean my arm? There are bits in it, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get at them properly.’ Cue a huge blush from me.
Why? I’ve only asked for some first-aid help . . . but after he’s spent a large portion of his day trudging backwards and forwards to fill a bath for me, it somehow feels far more intimate.
‘Of course!’ he says, sounding relieved for some reason. ‘Claire gave me a first-aid kit earlier. Come over here.’ Bay helps me to my feet and gets me to perch on a stool near the entrance flap so that he’s got more light.
He rummages through the little first-aid kit, pulling on a pair of gloves and handing me a couple of wrapped antiseptic wipes to hold. Finally, he pulls out a triangle sling bandage. ‘Needs must!’ he grins at me, dips it into the bath water, wrings it out and wads it up into a little pad.
‘Okay, this is going to sting a bit . . .’ He gently takes my arm in his hand.
I draw in a sharp breath as Bay swabs at the newly dried edges of my cut. I feel the sting of the cloth with every little movement he makes. He works in silence for a few minutes, but pauses briefly every time I give a squeak of discomfort.
‘Okay, that looks good,’ he says finally.
I stop biting my lip and heave a sigh of relief. That was worse than I expected, especially as he’s had to remove the little dark bits of dirt and slate out of it too.
‘Thank you – I think!’
‘No problem.’ He smiles at me and peels off the gloves that are so incongruous in this setting.
‘And thanks again for the bath. I’ll just . . .’ I’m eyeing the hot water.
‘Sure, sure. I’ll get out of your way.’ He scrambles to his feet. ‘You’re going to be fine, you know.’ He gives me a tiny smile, and before I know what’s happening, he leans over and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead before disappearing out of the yurt.
I’m left sitting on my stool, mouth slightly open in surprise, wondering what the hell just happened. Did Bay just kiss me? No. Not really. That was him just trying to make me feel better, wasn’t it? That was just the weird, slightly lowered boundaries that are normal around this place. It didn’t mean anything.
The question is, why am I struggling to catch my breath again? This time, it’s not through terror, but something far more . . . exciting?
I shake my head again in an attempt to clear the cotton wool clouds that are drifting around my brain. I must still be in shock from earlier, that’s all it is. Right. Bath.
After sticking my head out of the entrance flap to double check that the coast is clear, I place a huge towel on a clothes rack and position it in front of the bath. There. Now, if anyone does happen to peek in, they won’t get an eyeful.
I sigh as I sink into the water, careful not to splash myself. The warmth starts to soothe the aches and I feel the last traces of my nightmare melt away. All that remains now is the image of a pair of strong, gentle hands, and the feel of a warm kiss on my forehead.
*
‘Knock knock! Are you decent?’ Doreen’s voice calls from outside.
‘Come on in!’ I call. After lounging around in my bath for what felt like an eternity, the water cooled so much I had to get out.
I feel so much better, like someone has washed the inside of my head for me too. I feel like I’m free of something; it’s hard to describe it, but I’m calm. My arm feels loads better too. It’s stopped throbbing, but that’s probably because it’s not full of little bits of stone anymore.
‘How’re you feeling?’ Doreen’s face appears. ‘Wow! This place is gorgeous!’ She sniffs. ‘What’s that smell?’
I smile back at her. ‘That’d be my bath.’
‘Bath?’ Doreen moves into the space and eyes the metal tub. ‘You lucky mare . . . Though I don’t fancy having to haul all that water up here!’
I feel myself start to blush again. ‘Erm . . . Bay did it. He thought it’d make me feel better.’
‘Ooh, get you and your special treatment!’ Doreen smiles and winks. I shift my weight uncomfortably. Hmm . . . maybe not the best thing for everyone to know about. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘Course not!’ she says reassuringly. ‘Anyway, I was just kidding. You must have needed it after that fall. Are you okay?’
A finger of fear creeps back into my mind. Am I going to have to talk everything through with Doreen? And then the others too? I really can’t face analyzing it all.
‘I’m fine,’ I reply tightly.
‘So, you’re ready for the next ordeal, then!’ says Doreen as she bounces around the yurt, picking things up, examining them and replacing them.
I shiver. Nope. I’m not ready for anything.
> ‘No one really expects you to turn up, you know. I think they’re all half-expecting you to disappear on us.’
I pull a face. Right now, I just want to hide out here. I can’t face seeing the others yet. Maybe they’re right; maybe I should bow out and head home.
‘You know,’ she says gently, ‘if you get on with things and have some new experiences, after a while, no one’s going to give much weight to what happened this morning.’
‘Yeah. I know you’re right.’ I say. ‘Anyway, I don’t fancy becoming the legend of the panicking water-girl.’
‘Well then, what could be better than Ted’s fire walk the day after tomorrow? It’ll give you a day to recover . . . But I’m not going to be able to do it if you’re not there to cheer me on, you know. Say you’ll come!’
‘Okay, I’ll be there,’ I say decidedly. ‘I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?’
Chapter 25
Fall in Love with the Journey
‘Everything about our society is set up to make us focus on outcomes; it’s all about the destination, not the journey. But it’s time to fall in love with the little steps that take us somewhere. Let us not forget to look around us and enjoy the view as we travel.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
How am I not completely freaking out right now? I’m about to help build a fire. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it, a nice little bonfire? How about if I add that we’re all expected to walk over the bloody thing? See, I should be freaking out!
But I’m not; I’m strangely calm about this part of the course. Cool as a cucumber. Because there’s no doubt about the fact that it’s going to bloody hurt and at least one of us is going to get seriously injured. It’s the law of the universe. Do something stupid and you’re going to get burned.
If I’m honest, I’m feeling so totally miserable right now, I’m not sure I care much. I’m still in hermit mode after everything that happened at the river. I don’t really want to engage with the others, and I especially don’t want to talk to Than. I managed to avoid all of them apart from Bay and Doreen yesterday. Claire came up to the yurt to try to talk things through with me, but I couldn’t, and my policy for today is blanking the whole thing out. I just want to get it over and done with so that I can go back to the yurt and hide out with Dennis.
The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness Page 20
