by Lisa Swallow
Chapter Twenty-Six
JANUARY
EVAN
How can life turn so black?
The guilt over leaving Ness on Christmas Day switches to confusion when she won’t speak to me. I know what I did was wrong in her eyes, but if she won’t let me explain, how can I fix this?
Why doesn’t Ness want to sort this out?
I thought after a few days she’d calm down and we’d talk about this. Between Christmas and New Year, I constantly got her voicemail. Then New Year’s Eve, I sent her a text. A text she never responded to.
Although I understand what I did wrong, I can’t figure out why we’re over. How she can tell me she loves me, then freeze me out again so easily. Yeah, I fucked up, but enough to throw everything away?
The old insecurities creep in. At the end of the day, I’m not good enough for her. Too complicated. She’s taken the final step into the new world I was on the edge of, and left me behind. The hurt turns to anger – anger at her immaturity. I think Ness has big problems about letting people get attached to her. I should know; I spent years the same. Look at how she holds everyone at arms-length. Not just me, but friends too. Ness asked me to let her in, but never quite allowed me to have all of her. Why did I set myself up to be ripped apart? What the fuck happened?
I return to Leeds. Retreat. I don’t try texting or calling again. Why should everything be down to me? She’s obviously given up on us or she’d reply. So I switch off and stop thinking about Ness. Or try to, because every morning, she’s the first thing in my mind, and every night, she’s in my head as I fall asleep. This girl burrowed into my soul and I can’t get her out.
Gradually, the weight of carrying around the pain and confusion lightens. The more I manage to pack away in the corner of my mind, the less I think about things.
So I turn my attention to the other person who fucks with my head. Lucy. I need to be free of both of them; otherwise, I’ll never find the strength to become who I am.
***
EVAN
Snow remains on the Pennines as I drive back to Lancaster, back from the counseling session, with Lucy by my side. She doesn’t speak, sniffs occasionally, and when her bracelets jangle, I know she’s wiping tears. Sometimes the truth hurts.
Talking to the counselor about mine and Lucy’s relationship has dredged memories of Ness back up. My chest hurts as soon as I allow her into my thoughts. Ness won’t speak to me. Still. Four weeks since Christmas. I blocked Lucy out too, but as usual, this didn’t stop the phone calls. I started drinking again…all the time. Wiping out the few months of happiness by blurring them. My life rewound eighteen months, and I don’t want to be there again.
One thing Ness did leave me with is the knowledge I can’t live Lucy’s life instead of my own. Anyone’s life. That’s been broadcast in glorious Technicolor since the day the girl who put the stars in my sky gave up. So I told Lucy we’d go and see the counselor together so she could hear from someone else why I’ve pushed her away.
We arrive home, and Lucy goes straight into the garden to find her cat. I rinse two dirty mugs in the sink and watch. Lucy sits on the bench, cuddling the black cat who always accepts her suffocating love. Her mouth is downturned, eyes pink from crying. She heard things she didn’t want to, and I guess I did too. I have to do this.
The cat jumps from Lucy’s knee as I pass her the mug, slinking away, the black figure blurring into the bushes. Lucy doesn’t look at me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she says quietly, “and I know you need to do this.”
The mug is hot; I place it on the ground. “And you need to.”
“I know.”
“Things are better now. You’re medication is working; you have control over this. Life is moving on, but you’re not.” I want to say what the counselor hinted at; the Lucy clinging onto me doesn’t need my help, and I’m making her this way by doing what she asks. Putting her first.
“So I give you space? What does that mean? You won’t see me anymore?”
Her words are odd, as if I’m breaking up with a girl. Which I suppose I am in some ways. “I’ve decided I’m only coming back to Lancaster in the holidays. Or if I’m visiting friends. You need to take control of this.”
Lucy looks as if she’s about to say something, but I stop her. “Your doctor has my number. If you relapse, you’ve given permission for him to call me. But you’ve been well for a while; it’s good news, Lucy. You can focus on the future.”
Like I was. And now I’ve lost the future I wanted.
“I heard. I’m scared, though. Of being on my own.”
At least she’s backed away from Faye. Christmas finally showed Lucy why she shouldn’t be involved. But I worry that because of the children, she’ll get pulled back in. They’re in foster care; Faye left them alone one time too many and social services got involved. Even though I disagree with her involvement, Lucy is in touch with Faye’s children. Lucy’s channeling time into them, giving the love she’s filled with to someone else.
“You’re at college. You have friends; like the counselor said, get involved. Don’t focus on me. I won’t hold your hand anymore.”
Ironically, Lucy takes my hand and I resist the urge to pull away. “Don’t be angry with me anymore.”
“I’m not angry with you.”
“About Ness? You are.”
I close my eyes, blinking away the memories. “I’m angry with myself, the situation, and yeah, I was pissed off with you, but we both have to change. This is my fault, not yours.”
“Do you think you’ll get back together?”
My stomach churns. I carry Ness in my head and heart, and will forever. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about Ness.”
Instead, I stand and walk towards the edge of the garden and look back to Lucy. “If I won’t see you, return your calls straightaway, or fix your problems, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But it’s what I’m going to do.”
I’m going to make the new start I tried for when I first left for Leeds. The one I didn’t have the strength for. I know where the strength to do this really came from. And I threw her away.
The cat catches my eye; he’s stalking something in the long grass, and when I see what it is, I don’t know whether to laugh at the irony, or cry. A white butterfly flits into the air, circling the disappointed cat. A distant memory of catching butterflies as a kid flickers across my mind, the days when we were only brother and sister, and life was normal. Lucy has to be my sister again. The butterfly settles close by and I want to reach out, catch it, but seconds later, the butterfly disappears over the fence. Lucy watches too and smiles weakly at me.
I walk back into the house, ready to walk away. This isn’t the end of mine and Lucy’s problems, but it’s a start.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
FEBRUARY
NESS
“You need to eat more. You’ve lost weight.”
I look up, and Ollie frowns at me as he sits opposite with his tray of food.
“I am eating,” I retort, too defensively. Cafe 7 is packed with lunchtime bodies, and the smell of fried food hangs in the air. Ollie’s plate is piled high with chips and a burger.
He wrinkles his nose and looks at my half-eaten sandwich. “Sure you are.” Ollie tucks into his chips.
Back at uni, I’ve thrown myself back into studying, to replace the Evan-emptiness with evenings of study. I’m surprised when I don’t hear from him again. But I guess I ignored his text at New Year’s, so my signals were clear. But if fixing things was important, he would try to speak to me. He doesn’t. Not even a drunken encounter outside the med school, or a surprise visit at home. When he doesn’t, I decide he’s given up more easily than I expected. This hurts. But who can blame him? It’s what I told him to do.
Abby gives up pushing me to talk things over with Evan, and accuses me of being exactly like him: hiding from my true feelings because they’re too hard to cope with. Accusing me of imm
aturity because I won’t make the first move and speak to him. I point her in the direction of the psychology department, suggesting she changes courses.
I have to pull Evan out of my head and replace him with common sense. I’m twenty. I’m at uni, and I don’t need a complicated relationship with a screwed up guy. Even if he is Evan. Okay, so maybe I’m immature, but how many people around me are in hardcore relationships like this? I go over the year-and-a-bit I’ve known him in my mind, the fuck ups and complications. Since summer ended, we’ve headed this way. But why does my heart not agree with my head?
“You’re pale too. Are you okay?” asks Ollie.
“Fine.”
Ollie arches an eyebrow in a way that comments ‘I don’t think you are’.
Six weeks since Christmas, and since I’ve seen Evan, but annoyingly, he’s still with me. I didn’t eat a lot for a few weeks, but the vague nausea doesn’t leave, stomach filling with acid every time something reminds me of Evan. I won’t walk past the gym anymore, and have become more attached to the med school than ever before.
“Love sucks.”
It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. Ollie has never commented on my spilt with Evan, even though he’s aware we’re not together anymore.
“Sure does.” I sip my latte.
“She never came back.”
His girlfriend. Why is he talking to me about this? “She’s still in Australia?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugs. “Thought I’d say. So you know I understand how you feel.”
“Thanks. But I try not to think about what happened. I’m trying to move on.”
Ollie picks at his chips and offers me one. I shake my head. “You know that’s not true, right?”
I pause, coffee cup short of my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“You. You love him, so you can’t move on.”
“And you?”
“Same. But I’m not starving myself.”
“I’m not! I’m eating,” I retort. “I just don’t have much appetite.”
“Ness, you look ill. You should see a doctor.”
“It’s the break-up,” I mutter.
“If the break-up is still affecting you after six weeks, maybe you should reconsider whether you want to move on.”
“You’ve changed your tune,” I reply. “You don’t even like him.”
“No, I said he looked hard work and you couldn’t fix him. Have you seen him recently?”
“Not since Christmas.”
Ollie makes a small noise in his throat. “You never talked things through? That’s pretty childish. And look what is happening to you!”
“It’s not just me! There were two of us in the relationship!”
“And has he tried to call you?”
“Texted.”
“And you called him back?”
“No.” As I speak, I realize how immature I sound, especially talking to someone like Ollie.
“Why not?”
Evan isn’t the only one who hasn’t changed their behavior. The expression on Ollie’s face indicates how childish he thinks I’m being, and confirms to me I am. If Evan means so much, why am I not pushing past the hurt and trying to fix this? I rub my head. Because I’m confused, I don’t know if I do want to fix something that’ll get broken again.
Ollie holds his hands up. “Okay, none of my business, I know. But I don’t like seeing a good friend hurting. And sick.”
“Actually, I am going to see the doctor this afternoon.”
“Good.”
Late January I panicked when my period never arrived, I almost took a pregnancy test, but luckily I started bleeding. I think the stress and lack of food delayed things, but I’d spent two days cycling in my head what I’d do if I were. What I’d say to Evan, because we’d have to talk then. Maybe the paleness and nausea comes from the fact I’m still bleeding some days. Because this has been happening for a few weeks, and Abby has started nagging, I’ve booked a trip to the doctor this afternoon. I had endometriosis through my teens and managed to get the condition under control. The bleeding and back pain suggests it’s not anymore. Great.
We continue our meal in silence. Well, Ollie eats his chips, and I force myself to finish the sandwich to make a point. I study Ollie. Does he hurt as I do? A strange part of me is angry someone could break the heart of this gentle guy. I’ve been too caught up in myself to notice if he’s behaved differently and decide he copes in his quiet, Ollie way.
“Well, big brother, I’m going. See you in class.” I stand.
Ollie watches me through narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong with looking out for my friends?”
“Looking out for versus lecturing. You tread a fine line, Ollie.”
“Okay, Ness. Let me know if you need any more brotherly advice.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine.
***
NESS
I can’t get to the surgery toilets quick enough. Slamming the stall door open and shut, I lock the door with trembling hands and rest against the cubicle, fighting the bile rising in my throat.
I can’t. I vomit the sandwich I forced myself to eat earlier into the toilet and stagger back, sweat cooling on my back.
Pregnant.
Not true. I’d know by now.
The pink lines on the test the doctor gave me haven’t gone anywhere. I stare at the plastic item again for a moment, hoping they’ll disappear.
How?
Why?
I should cry, scream, something, but I feel nothing. Have I suspected all along and denied this? Letting myself out of the stall, I splash cold water on my face. Pale-faced Ness, with dark shadows under her frightened eyes looks back. There I was, hoping the endometriosis wasn’t coming back, and now I’d give anything for the symptoms to have been that.
Evan.
What the hell do I do? Tell him? Wait until I’ve decided what I’m going to do about the pregnancy? Question after question crashes into my mind.
One thing I do need is an answer. How did this happen? And how fucking stupid we still relied on condoms because I never got around to organizing something more reliable.
I shove the paperwork for blood tests and hospital appointments into my bag, along with the pregnancy test. Making my way out of the building, I sit on the low wall outside until the nausea and dizziness subsides enough to walk away.
As I walk along, I stare down at the ground, fighting the desire to slump down and cry. What do I do now? Home. Go home. Talk to Abby. Maybe. I don’t know if I want to talk to anyone about this. I can fix this. Tears hit as the realization seeps through a little more.
“Ness?”
Fucking great. I look over and Ollie sits on a bench near the library. I frown at him. “Are you stalking me?”
“No. Sort of, I guess. Abby asked me to.”
“Abby?”
“We’re worried about you. I told her you were going to the doctors and she wanted me to wait and check if you were okay.”
Instead of being happy my friends care about me, irritation sparks. How much do they talk about me? “I’m fine.”
“Then why do you look worse than when I saw you before?”
I can’t do this. I don’t want him here. I don’t even want to see Abby. All I want to do is go home, crawl into bed, and wake up with this nightmare gone. The doctor says the bleeding is unusual. He sent me for a scan, so I should go home and make an appointment. Going to hospital, scans – they’d make the pregnancy real. And this would make one of the choices I have harder.
“I just…it doesn’t matter. Call Abby. Tell her I’ll see her later.”
As I start to walk away again, I stumble, and Ollie rushes over to me in alarm. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No!” I throw his arm from mine, sucking in air. “I want to be on my own!”
A shadow crosses Ollie’s face. “What did the doctor say?”
“None of your business!”
�
�Right, come over here and sit down. I’m calling Abby. You can’t drive like this!” He maneuvers me towards the wall, and in an attempt to get his hands off me, my bag flies off my shoulder.
I haven’t zipped the bag, and the contents fly across the pavement. I slump onto the wall, and Ollie kneels down to gather up my belongings. His hand hovers over the white plastic item, and he stares for a few seconds. I jump up and snatch the pregnancy test off the ground. The test I kept, as if taking the thing home would make the line telling me I’m pregnant disappear.
For a long time, Ollie doesn’t speak, and I close my eyes. So much for hiding this.
“You need to tell Evan.”
Snapping my eyes open, I meet Ollie’s look. His hardened features surprise me. If anything, I’d expect him to be sympathetic.
“I don’t know…I…”
Ollie stands and looks down at me. “I’ll find Abby. But promise me you’ll tell Evan.”
“That’s up to me!” I haven’t even thought through the telling Evan side of this.
Ollie runs his hand through his hair and studies my face. “Grow up, Ness.”
I reel from his words.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “If it was me, I’d want to know.”
Something in the quiet tone of his voice and intensity of his look suggests why. Someone didn’t tell him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
EVAN
A text from Ness?
Six weeks and no contact. This is the first I’ve heard from her since Christmas.
‘Can u call me?’ Typical Ness style - to the point.
My first thought: why the fuck don’t you call me? After freezing me out each time I attempted to contact her, now this?
The aching emptiness she left behind deadened everything I ever felt for her. I vowed not to let someone get access to my heart again and buried Ness into the ever expanding box of ‘shit I can’t deal with’ in my mind. Ness’s text breaks the seal. All the memories seep out, and my mending heart comes apart.
Why? Has she changed her mind on a whim?
I don’t call. I chicken out and text.
‘I’ll talk in person. When and where?’
