Absolution (The Infinity Series Book 2)

by Michelle Dennis

  ‘You couldn’t have known,’ Abbie says quietly.

  ‘I should’ve… I just should’ve been with him – protecting him – shielding him.’

  ‘You might’ve died too – then your parents would’ve buried two sons.’

  ‘I would have been his shield,’ I say, affirming my belief that it should’ve been me.

  Abbie lifts her head and kisses my cheek gently. ‘I wish I could fix it.’

  ‘You can’t.’ I pull her closer. I’m so disappointed in myself it aches.

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘You can’t, so don’t worry about it.’ I’m so tired.

  ‘I wish I’d found you earlier.’ Her words linger, like a sweet fragrance; her fragrance, and my heart just sinks even more.

  ‘You would’ve been way too young for me,’ I try to lighten the mood a little – she doesn’t deserve this misery.

  ‘Ha! I know, but it’s a nice thought.’ She moves closer so our faces are almost touching.

  ‘I didn’t know you existed.’ The mood takes a dive again.

  After a moment of silence, Abbie asks, ‘Can I tell you something?’

  Hoping she’s going to change the subject, I answer, ‘Of course.’

  ‘When we broke up, I could hardly be bothered to get out of bed.’

  ‘Me too,’ I say softly.

  ‘I mean I felt so crippled by grief that I really thought I wouldn’t recover. But, I had this little angel,’ she smiles and places my hand on her stomach. ‘I had someone relying on me to recover.’

  ‘I know. I’ve felt the same – most of the time – about Tyler.’

  She squeezes my hand and continues, ‘I agreed to go back to church – a place I knew I’d find my strength, eventually – but more because my family wanted to see me heeling.’

  ‘Oh, no! I’m not going down that track,’ I say firmly, pulling myself into a sitting position, my head spins and the room sways. I inhale to gain stability. ‘God has never been there for me!’ I grit my teeth and rub my hands through my hair, trying not to let anger erupt.

  Abbie takes an audible breath and reaches out to touch my face. ‘I know how you’d feel like that. I honestly do – I was like this for a long time. I promise I’m not preaching religion. I’m trying to tell you about meditation or seeing somebody who can help you on a professional level.’

  I immediately regret getting irritated with her – she’s my only life line. I’m terrified of losing her. I can’t let my mess tear us apart again. I inhale, tamping down the anger to a point where I can speak calmly. ‘Okay, what do you suggest?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I wanted to say that whilst I didn’t find a lot of help through Church – actually there was mostly judgement – I did find the sermons helpful, the meditation helpful and I definitely found solace in my psychiatrist. She’s the best.’

  ‘I’m not good with stiffs who sit in big chairs and poke around where they don’t belong.’

  She lets out a laugh; her smile and sparkle in her eyes catch my breath. She’s so beautiful.

  ‘Oh my goodness! Valentine, my psychiatrist is anything but a stiff! And she doesn’t sit in a big chair.’

  ‘Really? Well, I’ve seen my fair share of psychiatrists and child psychologists and they’ve all sat in big chairs, worn stiff faces and poked around where I didn’t want them.’

  ‘Would you consider seeing Doctor Lewis?’

  Shit. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t like making promises like this.

  I close my eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Valentine, you frightened the life out of me last night.’

  When I open my eyes she’s got tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. I place my hands on her face and wipe the tears away with my thumbs; pulling her lips to mine.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I breathe. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Please try to do something?’ She pulls away and looks deep into my eyes. ‘Please?’

  How can I say no? I stuffed up severely. Am I so afraid of losing Dillan – his memory – that I’ll risk losing this angel who loves me unconditionally?

  ‘Okay,’ I say. Her face brightens with a smile.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispers.

  I pull her closer and lay my hand over her stomach. ‘I love you, infinity.’

  Today we’ll just hold onto each other – the three of us.

  Chapter 12

  Getting a referral from my doctor isn’t a huge drama; I guess she was silently happy to see me making an effort to get help.

  As I open the door of to where I’ll be seeing Doctor Lewis, I’m impressed that there’s nobody else waiting. I take a seat and observe my surroundings; wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. The floor is made up of a dark parquetry design and the seats are Chesterfields – pretty flashy – Doctor Lewis must make an attractive salary; typical.

  There’s a welcome sign on the wall, asking all clients to fill out the form provided and take a seat until called.

  I find the pile of women’s magazines on a small wooden table beside me and pick one up. Flicking through the pages, I’m not really looking at anything in particular, too nervous to concentrate on anything. Why the hell did I agree to this?

  Abbie.

  And the fact that I let her down – again.

  And for our precious baby.

  And for Tyler.

  ‘Mr. Hewitt?’

  I glance up at a blonde, middle-aged lady, wearing a grey pants suit. ‘Yeah… Er, um, yes,’ I say, getting up and placing the magazine back on its pile.

  ‘This way please,’ she says, turning swiftly and walking down a carpeted hallway. I follow.

  This woman is exactly what I imagined her to be – a stiff. And I bet she sits in a big chair. Abbie got me here on false pretences. I feel my heart racing and it’s incredibly uncomfortable.

  ‘Just through here,’ the lady gestures; her long red nails catching my eye. She smiles at me warmly, with big white teeth framed by hot pink lips and pushes her hair behind her shoulders, before raising her over-plucked eyebrows at me. ‘After you,’ she adds.

  ‘Er, thanks,’ I reply, walking through the open door and coming face to face with a woman who looks like a hippie from the sixties. She’s sitting on a large coloured floor mat, wearing a brown and yellow dress that clearly belongs in an “op shop”, has thick-rimmed glasses perched on her long nose and a deeply lined face.

  ‘Hello, Mr. Hewitt,’ the Hippie says, standing up and putting her hand out to shake mine.

  I glance back at the doorway, wondering where Doctor Lewis went and realise she’s disappeared.

  ‘It’s okay, I don’t bite,’ the Hippie adds.

  ‘Ahh, sorry, I thought—’

  Her eyes twinkle with unconcealed amusement. She’s still holding her hand out, waiting for me. She glances from my confused expression to the door and back again, with a knowing smile. ‘Oh, that’s Mildred, my secretary.’

  I stare down at her outstretched hand and try to pull myself together. This is Doctor Lewis? This escapee from a sixties Woodstock concert is Abbie’s Doctor Lewis!

  ‘Doctor Lewis?’ I ask, just to make sure.

  ‘Call me Teresa. Doctor Lewis is my father.’

  I let my shoulders relax a little and realise quickly that she’s no “stiff in a big chair” – and Abbie wasn’t lying.

  I take her outstretched hand and she squeezes mine with real enthusiasm. Her hair is silver white – long and pulled back off her weathered, make-up free face. I like her eyes. Wide, friendly and bright blue – not at all like I expected.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ she says, motioning to the large, multi-coloured mat in the middle of the room, which is strewn with some extremely large cushions.

  I follow and join her sitting on the floor; crossing my legs and positioning myself against a cushion. Weird.

  ‘So, Mr. Hewitt, you do understand that whatever we discuss today is confidential?’

  ‘Er, yeah. Sorry, I mean,
yes.’ I notice my hands are trembling and tuck them under my knees.

  ‘Good. The paperwork you filled out earlier explained all that?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Shit. I’m so nervous. I need a cigarette.

  ‘Now, how about you tell me why you’re here,’ she says with a warm smile, crossing her legs. ‘Just a brief run down.’

  I have to give her a brief run-down of how shit my life has been. How I’m suffocated daily by the memory of Dillan’s death. How I can’t step up to the plate when people need to rely on me…

  I take a deep breath. ‘I don’t know where to start.’ I’m honestly stuck for words. I don’t even know this woman.

  ‘The beginning might be best? The day you found your world turned upside down and caused your heart to break,’ she replies sincerely.

  I can’t tell her about Dillan. This isn’t normal. But as I look around at the room I’m sitting in, I realise none of it is normal. There’s a bookcase of strange trinkets – hardly any books. Little ornaments of animals, dragons, unicorns, travel books and candles. There’s a large print of Monet’s Water Lilies on the opposite wall and a long day lounge with a fluffy pink rug thrown over the back of it. Not one big chair.

  ‘I’m not sure I can,’ I pull in a deep breath, raking my fingers through my hair and re-positioning myself on the cushion – I feel very awkward.

  If she can’t fix me, then what the hell am I doing here? I decide it’s all a bit bizarre and start to stand up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not sure this is the right thing—’

  ‘Valentine, if I can’t help you, nobody can. And from what I can see, you need all the help you can get. From what Abbie has told me – during our sessions –you have, in my opinion, post-traumatic stress disorder. Sounds fancy doesn’t it?’ she smiles amiably.

  ‘I guess so.’ I shove both hands into my jeans pockets. Realising that Abbie must talk about me and the shit I’ve put her through makes me feel even more uncomfortable, but don’t I owe it to her to at least give this a try?

  ‘It basically means that you can’t un-see what you’ve seen.’

  She’s right. ‘I wish I could.’ I say simply.

  ‘Me too.’ She closes her eyes for a moment, then adds, ‘Can you share your thoughts with me?’

  ‘Okay,’ I agree. I sit back down and decide to open up about Dillan. I’ve spoken honestly about this to two people in my life. Abbie and this Hippie-looking woman; both seem to see something in me that I don’t see – maybe my desperate need for absolution.

  I suck in a deep breath. ‘It’s like a bush fire.’

  ‘The grief?’ she asks.

  ‘No, the guilt,’ I say quietly.

  She waits a moment before replying. ‘Grief can’t really move or heal without the guilt being dealt with, Valentine.’

  I keep my eyes focussed on the coloured patterns woven into the mat. I can’t look at this woman; I’m so embarrassed with my weakness. ‘I figured that – it consumes me most of the time.’

  ‘Abbie tells me your brother died in a horrific bomb blast in one of Belfast’s terrorist attacks about seventeen years ago.’

  It’s been seventeen years and I still feel the same. ‘He was only ten years old – and it feels like it was yesterday.’

  ‘You know you couldn’t have saved him and it wasn’t your fault?’

  ‘I’ve been told that by a lot of people,’ I sigh. ‘My head knows it – but, in my gut, I feel guilty that it was him and not me.’

  She stands up and puts her hand out to me. ‘Take my hand and we’ll do some breathing exercises just to begin our therapy.’

  Chapter 13

  Like fog clearing from the windscreen on a frosty morning, my guilt subsides. I learn to accept it for what it is – cold and useless – and I adjust to moving forward. Doctor Lewis becomes my shrink. I see her every Friday and she arms me with anti-anxiety medication and some breathing exercises.

  The first visit was excruciating, the second a little less and the third, more bearable. Abbie is thrilled at my progress and I’m sure I’m the top of her discussion matters when she visits Doctor Lewis for her monthly session. I don’t mind, I guess, it seems to be helping – not with the flashbacks, or the need to be with Dillan, but the way I cope with it.

  I’m learning to breathe.

  Having Phil over for dinner never eventuates and he seems to have moved on; another adjustment I’ve managed to make. Sarah has a new boyfriend too, some geek from the Italian classes she started taking, so she can go to Italy and speak the language – who knows, he’ll probably be exactly what she needs.

  Zane and Jed have moved in together and we’ve been invited to their apartment next weekend, which I’m actually pretty happy about. Abbie says Zane has been outcast from their church and she won’t be going back there either; so it’s become a touchy subject with her family, too. Not that they think any less of Zane, but everyone seems to have an opinion on whether or not a homosexual person should be allowed to attend church or even believe in God. Abbie assures me that Zane’s belief in God hasn’t faltered at all, only his belief in his family and the church – personally, I don’t think it’s anyone’s business who Zane shacks up with.

  Life is constantly moving.

  ‘Valentine! They’ll be here any minute!’ Abbie shouts with excitement.

  I turn from the stove and see her rushing around the dining table, giving the wine glasses a last-minute wipe over with a napkin. She’s wearing a burgundy dress that fits her figure and shows off her baby bump – which is fast growing to the size of a basketball. No make-up and her hair tied up loosely in a messy bun. She’s glowing; although now that I take a moment to really study her, she looks tired – not in a bad way – just like the pregnancy is zapping her energy. I make a mental note to start taking more notice. She tucks a loose curl behind her ear and notices me watching her.

  ‘It’s six now, they’ll be here soon.’ Her eyes widen and she adds, ‘You did tell your dad six too, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did, a few times and he’s catching a taxi over.’ I smile at her. ‘Stop stressing, it’ll all work out okay.’

  She makes her way around the table again, checking the cutlery and suddenly fixes her gaze on the lounge room window. ‘Headlights! Okay, they’re here – at least, somebody is.’ She rushes over to me. ‘Do I look okay?’ She turns around, running her hands over her backside and glances back at me.

  I run my eyes over her backside and up to her glittering green eyes. ‘Perfect,’ I say, grinning like a loon.

  ‘Stop it!’

  ‘What?’ I grin even wider, trying to pull her close.

  She struggles free from my advances and laughs. ‘Our parents are coming for dinner – behave yourself!’ She slaps my hands away playfully.

  ‘You asked!’

  ‘Well, keep your mind out of the gutter for a few hours.’ She grasps my shoulders to stand up on her toes and kisses my cheek.

  I watch her walk toward the door.

  My mind is actually already in bed with her, but okay, I can behave – for now.

  ‘Mum! Dad!’ I hear Abbie say loudly. It’s loud enough to tell me to take a breath and come to the door.

  I do one last check of the lamb leg roasting in the oven, stir my masterpiece gravy, and tuck the tea towel into my jeans pocket, before heading over to greet the in-laws-to-be.

  Tonight’s the night. Dad meets Abbie’s parents. Wedding plans are going to fly around the room all night. Baby names are going to be bounced around and my job prospects will probably make an appearance in the discussions too – but I’m prepared – thanks to Doctor Lewis.

  As I walk to the door, Abbie’s parents are making their way through to the lounge room, depositing bags and wine as they go.

  ‘Valentine!’ Mrs. Bennet says with her usual enthusiasm. Her smile brightens as our eyes meet and I bend to kiss her cheek. ‘Dinner smells lovely!’

  ‘Thanks Mrs. Bennet –’

  ‘Please, drop the
Mrs. Bennet and call me Gail – we’re almost family!’ She turns and shrugs her cardigan away from her shoulder, in such a way that it’s assumed I’ll take it from her.

  I take the hint and grip her cardigan before it hits the floor. ‘Oh, okay,’ I reply, glancing at Abbie with an “I-think-your-mum-has-had-a-few-already” kind of look and Abbie giggles.

  ‘Are you cooking a roast?’ Robert asks, handing me his jacket.

  ‘Sure am,’ I declare, hanging his coat on the hook beside the door and clutching his outstretched hand in what feels like a sincere greeting. I think the in-laws-to-be are impressed.

  ‘Oh, thank the good Lord for that!’ he sighs. ‘I’ve been on a diet of lettuce and tuna all week.’ He taps his stomach and adds, ‘Not that you’d guess.’

  ‘Really, Robert, it hasn’t been that bad.’ Gail taps his shoulder playfully. ‘We’re not getting any younger and we have to look our best for the weddings.’

  There it is. The weddings. Two. Two weddings. The main topic for tonight – I can sense it.

  Abbie pushes in and puts her arms around my waist, before adding her excitement about the weddings. ‘We’re all going to look just fine, Mum. If our dresses don’t fit now, they’re not going to. I don’t think I can get any bigger.’ She rubs her baby bump.

  ‘Oh, honey, you will. I got to be twice your size with Sam!’ Gail pauses, placing a finger to her lip as she studies her daughter. ‘Actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t much bigger than you when I had you girls.’

  We all have a bit of a laugh, just as another flash of light appears through the curtains.