Sweet Deceit

by Duggan, K A

  “I hate you.” I moan, how can she be so intuitive yet so down on herself?

  “Hate you too.” She smirks, clinking her spoon with mine before wrapping her arms around me.

  After Trina leaves I realise I’m not ready to let my other emotions in, remaining hurt and angry is better, they’re emotions I’ve become more familiar with and accustomed to, I understand them and want to focus on the fact that this all seems premeditated. I still find myself armed with the next Journal though but allow myself based on my inherent nosiness.

  Dear Journal Ash

  Have you never been desperate? Felt complete and utter despair and that your life was falling apart and no longer in your control? And from that made a bad decision even though you knew it was wrong you continued because it helped you to function? It helped to keep you going, that you had a glimmer of hope and happiness. Your world was no longer governed by pain. I was selfish, I’m more than aware of that but if I hadn’t been, I don’t think I’d be here now in order to argue with you. I wouldn’t be living if I didn’t make that split second decision to chase my future instead of ending my life.

  I can’t regret that choice.

  I didn’t realise that by ending my pain I’d be transferring it to you. I have no more words, Ash. I can apologise until my last breath but I know it doesn’t make things right. They’re just words. My actions from here on out are all I have to prove to you I never wanted to hurt you. People think you can’t develop feelings for a stranger but I loved you before we even met. I needed you before I knew how much and I leaned on you when I should have fallen. You made me want to live again. You don’t know what a gift that was. You might hate me for deceiving you but I did what I had to to survive. We were meant to meet. If only for you to save a stranger’s life… by giving it colour. You kept me going on some of my darkest days. When my mum forgot who I was you stayed up all night with me playing silly games and making me smile through my tears. You never knew that did you? You took my mind off her terrible disease. You made me live, Ash.

  Thank you. Those two words are what I should have said to you the moment we met. Thank you for all the distraction from the chaos I was cloaked in. Thank you for sparing my life and thank you for making my dreams come true, if only for a short while. I’ll cherish you forever because I owe you so much.

  If you can’t find anything to cherish out of all of this then cherish that. You made someone want to live just by being you. Do you know what a gift that is?

  Fliss

  Fuck me! A tear falls down my cheek. I’m choked up. I never would have known she was in such a dark place. The Fliss I got to witness was a breath of fresh air but reading what drove her to me, how she wanted to end her life, cuts deep. Reading how she thinks I saved her, how I helped her without even knowing burns deep. I wish I’d known, I would have been a better friend. I could’ve given her a shoulder to lean on from afar. Hell, I would have travelled to her. That’s how much Monty meant to me. I would have done better than the substandard friendship she really received. Her gratitude bowls me over, it’s undeserved, my goofing around, taking things for granted were my own coping mechanism – she helped me, online, she was my sounding board, my champion, the driving force for my belief in myself to achieve my dreams.

  I get it now. I haven’t ever felt that desolate but I know if I did I’d likely react just the same as she did. I’d grasp onto any escape from the torture. I can’t blame her for using me as an out. I can’t be mad she didn’t come clean. Desperation makes people act out of character. The kindest hearts are always the ones that go through the most pain. And my girl has a good heart, one of fucking gold. Her lies could easily erase all that we’ve shared, but only if I allow it to.

  Forgiveness is something I can give her.

  Time is something she needs to give me.

  Felicity

  Current mood – Devastated

  Regret level - Endless

  Another month has passed. I’ve heard from Ash a total of zero times. And today I wish I could lean on him more than ever because that’s it. Mum is gone. The only mum I’ve ever known. And she was a good mum for the most part, if you don’t count the lies recently uncovered. I’ll never know the circumstances around my adoption from her. I never got to sit with her while she explains how I came to be theirs. Was I unwanted by my birth parents? A secret pregnancy? Did my real parents die? So many unanswered questions that I’ve left on the back burner. How do you forgive someone for injustices they’ve caused you? Especially when they’re not around to answer for them. To be held accountable. I guess that’s the difference, I’m here to be judged for mine and answer to my sins. She isn’t and it fucking guts me.

  The funeral service went by in the blink of an eye, I think probably because I was on auto pilot. Just going through the motions. I’m holding everything in because being numb is better than the alternative. The second I let it out it may well be the end of me. I have a tight lid on my emotions right now but they could explode and break free any moment drowning all these people in the torrent.

  I smile politely at all the well-meaning strangers in my home. Mum’s home. Because it’s expected. All here for a free meal, giving me empty words such as ‘we’re here for you’ and ‘if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask’. It’s laughable because none of these people have the power to grant me the things I want most, yet they act like all I have to do is say the word and they’ll fix my universe with a simple click of their fingers.

  I could choke from the restriction around my neck. An invisible noose has me in its grasp and I almost like the pain, a tiny bit more pressure and I’d welcome the lights out. Mum’s employees, staff, her friends all milling about as though they own the place. It’s stifling and every time I see someone do the sympathy smile head tilt, I have to refrain from ramming a finger sandwich down their throat. I don’t understand this tradition of a wake. The celebration of someone’s life. Why would I celebrate? It seems morose and highly inappropriate but maybe a good excuse to get shit faced.

  I’ve been avoiding making eye contact as that invites conversation. I was never one for small talk and even less so today but all eyes are on me – the orphan. In less than three years I’ve lost both parents, albeit in different ways. Technically I suppose I’ve lost four parents in total, but who’s keeping count? The pity from these people is overwhelming. I understand this is the done thing but I’m trying desperately not to scream at them all to leave. Today I want the silence. I want and need to mourn, not put on a brave face and endure this farce. I debate whether I can slink off to my room and leave Gerry to socialising but that wouldn’t be fair to him. I’ve already left him to deal with enough.

  I make my way to the liquor cabinet, staring at the assortment of bottled numbness. I grab the first bottle I can, taste doesn’t matter, I want it for one thing only – the annihilation of my feelings.

  “Felicity, I don’t think…”

  “I don’t care what you think, Gerry!” I spin and scream at him, clutching the bottle to my chest as though it’s my baby. Heads snap our way and he gently and wordlessly takes my arm leading us from the room, across the hallway to our second reception room.

  Once we’re alone he wraps me in a tight hug and I don’t have the energy to fight him so I let him. I’ve reverted to my default setting. All the fight I had, has left me. Just another thing to add to my abandonment list. Gerry has been in my life for a long time. He was mums right hand man, he started out here as her PA but his role soon morphed into much more. He’s a piece of the furniture now, a surrogate father almost. We’ve never been particularly close but I appreciate this man more than he’ll ever know. Next to me, he loved my mum most. He stepped up when I stepped down, visiting mum everyday, spending hours at a time with her. Doing what I couldn’t. If only it was as simple to pay him to take my pain, my regret and all feelings of utter worthlessness, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I thought I’d experienced my heart fracturing before but they we
re nothing more than the foundations beginning to shift, allowing the ripples to grow over time until there’s nothing left but a great gaping hole. One that can’t be filled, pasted over or repaired.

  “I’m sorry.” I murmur against his chest

  “Don’t be.”

  “Do you think she knows?” I ask him, pulling back.

  He raises greying brows in question “That you left?”

  I nod and swallow the lump stuck in the back of my throat.

  “She would have understood Felicity, you spread your wings but ultimately I always knew you’d come back. You didn’t desert her. You found yourself.”

  “At her expense.” At his as well. I found myself at Ash’ expense. And lost them both.

  He guides me over to a chair and sits facing me “Where you’re concerned, she only ever wanted your happiness. If leaving her for a short period of time was what it took to find it, she would have been ecstatic.” That’s bullshit and we both know it. She never wanted me to leave this place, but I allow him to mollify me for his benefit.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how much time I missed with her all because I was selfish and couldn’t handle her illness.”

  “You handled it for years. Were with her every step of the way. I’d say you deserved a break, needed it, even. Don’t ever judge yourself for taking time to consider your own mental wellness.”

  I scoff at mental wellness. My mental state is so defective I should be in a straight jacket, “Did she ever confide in you?”

  “Often. Do you mean about something in particular?”

  “I’ve just been wondering about the day she had me, she never told me my birth story. I’ve wondered why they never had more children, I would have liked siblings. Especially now.” I watch for his reaction, waiting for the lies I’m sure are to come.

  “Don’t ever think you’re alone, Felicity. I’m a poor stand-in for both of them, but I am here for you, night or day. Reaching out for help isn’t weakness.” And there’s my answer. Diversion from the question I posed.

  But I still cling to him a little longer. I appreciate him a little more. He may not have the answers I need or be willing to tell them to me if he does, but he’s the only one around offering comfort and kind words I want to believe. And when we realise how long we’ve been gone, we pull apart and rejoin the sad affair in the other room.

  * * *

  The best part about having staff is that they do everything, all the mundane tasks I’ve never had to, they’re paid to do these things. This is why I can’t cook, because we have a chef, why I’m messy – because it always miraculously became tidy again. And now it means I don’t have to linger, clear up after all the people have left. I’m able to slink off knowing when I awaken in the morning it’ll be like nothing ever happened here. I stumble up our expansive staircase, it looks lovely but is a pain in the arse, especially as it isn’t straight. I could navigate my way straight up whilst drunk but this winds around, causing me to stumble. I grip the balustrade as I try to keep my balance and just for a second I stay rooted in place wondering if I fell, would it really be that bad?

  I stay paused considering the idea for a few moments but realise I’d likely only end up with broken bones prolonging the pain I’m already in. Not ending it.

  I push off and sway again as I make my way to my room and once I reach it I collapse to the floor because after all that exertion making it to the bed isn’t an option.

  Sleep claims me quickly, mercifully and there’s nothing but darkness. For once I’m allowed some respite from my dreams.

  * * *

  I’m wrapped in strong arms, my nostrils invaded by a glorious scent, one that is so, so familiar. Held as though I weigh nothing. I’m floating and breathe in deeply, letting the smell calm me. Letting the comforting thought of him being here with me engulf me.

  I’m placed in my bed and feel it dip as he joins me.

  I latch on to his arm “Stay with me.” I beg

  “I will. I’m here and not going anywhere.”

  “How are you here? Did I sleepwalk all the way to you?”

  He laughs and I feel immediately lighter. That is a sound I never thought I’d be lucky enough to hear again. Ash is a tonic, he feeds my soul happiness.

  “This time, I tracked you down.”

  “I’m not allowed boys in my bedroom,” I tell him

  Another laugh “Good job I’m not a boy then.”

  “Mum is really strict about…” I trail off remembering house rules no longer apply because the one who set them is no longer around to enforce them. I start to cry. A grief surge. That’s what the support groups call it. A grief surge is a literal hit of grief. They can come from nowhere but the pain it strikes into you is frighteningly deep. Something as simple as a sound, smell, picture, or phrase can bring one on. Triggers are everywhere.

  I can’t hold it in any longer, the alcohol has lost its edge, I’m dreaming that Ash is holding me and finally I can unleash it all. My body wracks with the strength of my sobs. I’m really and truly alone in this world. The last person that loved me unconditionally is gone. What will I do without her?

  He smoothes the hair from my face, gently shushing me, whispering endearments as his arms remain wrapped around my fetal position “Let it out, Fliss. I’ve got you.”

  When I wake the following day, I turn to see if he was imagined. There’s nothing but an empty space beside me so I scream into my pillow as I punch it repeatedly. It really was a dream. My throat hurts so I sit up hoping I was wise enough last night to bring water with me. I look around my room but I find none, instead, my eyes fall to something propped on my vanity unit. Stacks of white paper, a yellow post-it note attached to the front.

  I creep towards it as though it’s a message from the grave. Something mum left behind for me to read over. When I realise it isn’t her handwriting but the lazy scrawl of Ash’ I wonder for a second if this is some kind of peace offering, maybe he wants me to beta for him again. Gerry must have left it here for me to find.

  I peel the note off:

  Read me, then finish me.

  Our story isn’t over yet but I’m going to need your help writing our ending.