One Take Only

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  “Maybe the meltdown was low blood sugar?”

  “Stace–”

  “What? You get hangry frequently. I always keep a snack for you in my pocket just in case.”

  I sighed, wrapping my hands around my mug that I knew Stacey had slipped brandy into. “I was a wreck, Stace. All the time I was telling myself to stop, that I wasn’t being rational, but I couldn’t help it and you know what he did? He held me. In his arms, in his head, everywhere. Christ, I don’t deserve that kind of love, not after how I freaked out.”

  “What an utter load of bollocks,” she said, putting her tea down, ready for action.

  I glanced at her but ultimately ignored her. “I feel like I don’t deserve him. Does that make sense?”

  “No,” she replied, rubbing Reggie’s head.

  “It felt fine as friends but now we’re…more. I don’t know if I’m worthy of him.”

  “Again. Bollocks,” she repeated, “but start from the beginning and let’s see where we end up.”

  “I’d not seen him since we–”

  “Banged,” she said, smiling.

  “Yes. And my head, Stace, it was all over the place. Wondering if he’d changed his mind or if he was coming over to tell me he wanted to go back to how things were and even when he came over and we–”

  “Banged again.”

  “Yeah,” I replied as she sniggered. “I still had this little doubt in my head. I was a train wreck. All of that crap just rolled into the giant ball of shit I try to ignore about Elliott, and it all tangled together until I was trapped.”

  “Why didn’t you call me to talk you off the cliff?”

  “You were in Rome enjoying your perfectly wonderful, normal relationship.”

  “Ha! Normal. Have you forgotten how we started?”

  “Things are good now though,” I replied, twirling a piece of hair around my finger.

  “How many times have I called you needing the come-down-from-the-cliff talk?” She turned herself towards me, pulling her legs up and crossing them. “Do I need to remind you about our first date? When I was a client and Matt was an escort and I nearly climbed out the bathroom window? Or when I found out about my boss and–”

  “Yikes, let’s not get into that.” I bit my lip and Stacey bit hers and the nausea that was tumbling in my stomach returned. “He’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “Yeah, but what’s new?” she replied. “Skye this isn’t a relationship in its early stages. You’re not in the phase where you worry about putting him off or doing and saying something that makes him look at you like you’ve grown another head right there in front of his eyes. He knows everything about you.” She held her toes flexing them against her fingers. “He’s seen you at your lowest point and he doesn’t hold it against you, if anything it makes you more human and he loves you for it.”

  “How do you know he loves me?” I asked, wondering if my two best friends had been talking behind my back, planning when Will was going to bring out the L word and causing my tension headaches from that point in. She covered her face with her hands and made a weird noise. I didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded frustrated.

  “I know, Skye. We talked about it before I went to Rome.”

  “What else have you been talking about?” Reggie jumped up and rested between us, his head on Stacey’s lap, his bum on my knees.

  “Good things.”

  “That was before my meltdown,” I replied. “Before he told me that he was going to give me reminders that I don’t need to feel guilt and right before he said I should talk to someone about Elliott.”

  “He said that?” I nodded as she handed me a biscuit. “What do you think?” I shrugged, but really, I hadn’t thought about anything else. I overreacted and a night of internet searching told me that I was juggling the symptoms of struggling with heavy loss and complicated grief. “Skye, can I be honest with you?”

  “Oh fuck.” I put a cushion over my face and slowly peered at her from behind it.

  “I think he’s got a point,” she said, pulling the cushion away with a smile. “What you went through was trauma, one that anyone would struggle to come to terms with.” She took my hand in hers and I needed that contact so much. “You’re no good with change and is it any wonder? Look at how many you’ve had in your life and, sweetheart, just consider all the loss. Not just Elliott, but your parents leaving, your grandma, your childhood. You stepped up for Elliott when you were only young yourself.” She smiled, hanging back, watching my reaction. I listened, didn’t make a sound. “And the trauma of finding him.” She dropped her eyes, collected herself. Along with Will, she’d seen me at my lowest point more times than I could count. “How does anyone ever come to terms with that?”

  “I thought I was doing OK,” I replied honestly as she took my hands in hers. “I just needed to…get on. Forget it. Keep busy. Throwing myself into other things calmed the chaos in my head.”

  “I understand,” she said, now passing me the plate of biscuits, not just one. “But essentially, you’re putting a plaster over a gaping wound.”

  “I have to, Stace. It’s…survival.”

  “But it isn’t working. You’re closing yourself off to people.” She hesitated. “Take your friendships.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How many friends do you have?” I narrowed my eyes and scoffed but bloody hell, I knew where she was going with this. “I mean good ones. Ones that matter.”

  “What kind of question is that?” She tipped her head, cutting the bullshit. “Well, there’s you and…Will.”

  “What about long term relationships?”

  I took a second to think and couldn’t come up with anything. Damn it. “None worth noting.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They leave. Like everyone in my life,” I replied taken by surprise as she shook her head.

  “They don’t leave, Skye, you push them away.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, trying to object, but as I thought through the string of dates I called relationships, I realised she was right. I’d ended every single one. They started getting close, so I pushed them away before they pushed me.

  Survival.

  She took her phone from her pocket and started tapping the screen before handing it to me. “I want you to read this. It makes a lot of sense. I was interviewing someone recently for an article about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after serving in the military. She talked a lot about triggers and how one touch, one smell, one memory can take her right back to the frontline.” I started reading. “It made me think of you.”

  “How?”

  “Your reactions,” she replied. “Pushing people away or keeping them at a distance because you fear you’ll be hurt.”

  I continued reading the article Stacey had given me on her phone.

  Self-sabotage is a form of self-harm. When someone has experienced a particularly painful loss, forming close relationships is difficult. Survival mode kicks in and there continues to be a spiral of meaningless relationships, ones that usually end by the trauma victim pushing closeness away, before they’re hurt again.

  Putting my hand across my mouth I glanced at Stace. Fuck, it was like reading an article about me.

  “I think you’ve always loved Will; you just knew it was easier for you to handle if you kept things purely platonic,” she said. “Less chance of heartbreak.”

  Survival.

  And snap, it all fell into place.

  It was a liberating feeling, admitting to myself that I needed help but also a mixture of relief and pure terror. Relief that things were starting to make sense in the wildness of my thought processes and terror at knowing I was going to have to take the shaky first steps to address them. If I wanted to keep hold of the people that mattered, I knew I had to get help.

  “The night you took your relationship with Will to the next step, you sent me a text message,” Stacey said, “do you remember?”

  “No,” I replied, n
oting that everything was blur after that night. She gently took her phone and quickly turned the screen back to me.

  Skye: You know the whole sex will ruin what I have with Will thing? I was wrong. It hasn’t ruined us. It’s lifted us.

  “A little reminder of how you were feeling,” she said, smiling. “Just call me your anchor.”

  “I’ll call you my fucking Yoda.”

  She laughed and it woke Reg with a grunt. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I replied, reaching over for a hug. “See, I can say it! I’m not completely fucked up!”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she said, holding my hand. “I only want the best for you and although it took me a while to come around to you and Will as a couple, I know he was made for you. I just wish you could see it too.’

  “I need a break from my head,” I replied, confusion clouding everything. I remembered the euphoria of that night, the feeling that everything had slotted into place and we were meant to be. That finally there was something good, something that was mine to keep. How quickly did that feeling fade and doubt start to creep back in?

  Frighteningly quickly.

  “Tell me you’ll think about getting some help.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a card. “This is a bereavement service based in Brighton.” She handed it to me. “They have a helpline.” I rolled my eyes. “Hey! It could be a good place to start.”

  “I need to think about it,” I replied, “think about what I want.” I was overwhelmed and exhausted and right now, all I wanted to do was sleep. I could pick this up again in the morning with a clear head. “I’m not good at just jumping straight into things.”

  “Says the woman who started a business because a fortune teller told her to.”

  “I’m going to bed,” I replied, rolling my eyes again.

  We both stood and hugged, Stace giving me an extra squeeze before I disappeared and headed for the bathroom.

  Pulling on the light, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, bone weary and pale. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and as I was wrapping it into a bun, I noticed a note pinned to the mirror.

  You can forgive yourself now. Will x

  My first reminder.

  I took it down and studied it, only noticing I was crying when a tear fell to the paper and smudged his beautiful words.

  24

  Skye

  “I love this section,” Margot said, leaning into the screen on the wall of Religion, where I’d started this journey a few weeks ago. “The dialogue and the way they look at each other tells such a beautiful story.”

  “That was all unscripted,” I said, glancing to Robson the owner who was sitting quietly behind us. “Because they’re lovers, they already have this great connection. They were constantly checking in with each other.”

  “I think you got the perfect actors for this,” Margot said. She had helped me with the editing, often meeting late at night after she’d finished a shoot. She’d given me great advice, accepted my ideas and trusted my intuition. I could tell it was a project she was becoming passionate about and when Mickey got Robson to agree to view what we’d put together so far, she asked if she could come.

  “Doctor Chris, what do you think?” She was sitting on one of the pews dressed in a dark green velvet trouser suit with a peacock feather brooch down the lapel, Cher balancing on her lap…the dog not her idol.

  “Darling,” she said, taking her glasses off and shaking her head. I feared the worst until she started smiling. “I think you’ve done a beautiful job. Stunning. Visually it’s appealing, but the message it puts across, too? Fantastic.”

  “We can use it at the clinic?” I asked hopefully.

  She nodded, putting the arm of her glasses in her mouth as she thought. “I think we can do a lot with this, Skye. I want an education programme linked to the film. Group work for young adults where we can offer support if they’re struggling with their sexuality, linked with safe sex and of course, consent.”

  I pulled out the papers I’d been working on and handed them to her.

  “What do you think?” I asked as she flicked through them. “They’re leaflets and posters to go alongside the film. It gives details of the clinic, all the helpline numbers and the support we provide.” I turned one over. “The support groups and when they’re on, one-to-one support, the safe-sex programme.”

  She balanced her glasses on the end of her nose. “You’ve been working hard, darling.”

  Robson and Mickey gathered around Dr Chris. “These are great,” Robson said. “You’ve really gone all out with this.”

  “Had to,” I replied.

  “She’s a woman on a mission,” Margot said behind me. “Her ideas and dedication to this have been inspiring.”

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking,” Robson said. “Skye emailed me bits and pieces and I was really impressed with what she’s put together. After talking to the team, we want to offer you something that we think will help with publicity, but hopefully get more young people who need support coming to the clinic.”

  “I’m all ears, darling.” Dr Chris said.

  “I’d be more than happy to put the leaflets and posters in our shops and at the cinema. I’m sure a few other places in Brighton would too.”

  “That would be fantastic,” I replied as Mickey put his arm around me.

  “There’s something else,” Mickey said, smiling.

  “We want to offer to premiere the film at our cinema,” Robson said. “It would be a way to launch it and promote the shit out of it. Of course, we’d want Margot there as a leader in the industry.”

  “Count me in,” she said, as I covered my mouth in shock.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all,” Robson replied. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think it hadn’t been done well.”

  “I’m speechless, really.”

  Dr Chris laughed. “There’s a first time for everything!”

  “So, are we all in agreement?” Robson asked. “Chris?”

  “I’m all for it and exceptionally grateful to you, Margot, and Skye. I had this small idea in my head, and it’s turned it into something I couldn’t have even fantasised about. I’m shocked and stunned, truly I am.”

  “We’ll organise it all, invite some of the big players. I’ll try to get it in the industry publications, invite the press.” Robson pulled out his phone. “Do you think it will be ready to go in the next few weeks?”

  I turned to Margot who nodded. I mouthed thank you and we pencilled in a date for the frigging premiere.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the email Will had sent me. There was a video attachment and a he’d written Another Reminder in the subject line. I stood back from the counter as I played it. Brighton beach filled the screen, Elliott wearing a wetsuit as he approached the water. I could hear my voice in the background, shouts of be careful and don’t go too far. Will’s laughter mingled with Elliott’s and his face got closer, a blurry focus but his words were clear. “She’s the best mum ever.” He rolled his eyes like I’m often accused of, but as he backed away from the camera into the sea, he pointed, smiled and shouted, “Best mum I could ask for.”

  “You know, a few years ago I’d be up for a few cocktails and a dance, but I’m happy with a coffee and a chat nowadays.” Dr Chris settled into a comfy chair as I put my phone back into my pocket and thanked the barista who brought over our coffees as I sat opposite her.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” I said as she perched Cher on his own chair.

  “I’m glad you had time to join an old girl for a drink.”

  “Of course,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “Anything for you.”

  “I’m still stunned, darling.” She popped two sugar lumps into her cup and stirred it slowly. “I couldn’t have wished for anything better.”

  “I had a lot of help,” I replied as I caught her staring at me. She brought the cup to her mouth and took a sip.

&nb
sp; “I cannot tell you how proud I am,” she said. “What you’ve done is going to transform the services at the clinic. Update everything, bring some fresh life to the place. Skye, I’m seen as an old fuddy-duddy now, many of the youngsters don’t want to accept advice from me.”

  “That’s not true,” I replied. “You’re well respected.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “But there’s no getting away from the fact I’m getting older, darling, and at some point, I’ll be retiring and letting a younger, more spirited and enthusiastic person take over. The fact that we have this kind of video as part of our education services before I go, fills me with the greatest joy.” I smiled as she handed Cher a treat from her bag. “Now, let’s get to the important stuff. Tell me what’s wrong?”

  I shouldn’t have been taken aback by her question, we’d gotten to know each other well over the last few years and she’d been a great source of support after Elliott died. I decided honesty was the best policy. “How did you know?”

  “There’s a little something missing, a smaller sparkle than normal.”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged, unsure where to start. “I think I’m broken.”

  She glanced at me over her coffee cup. “This has been a passion project for you, hasn’t it?” I nodded. “But it’s really about Elliott.”

  “He’s been the driving force,” I replied honestly.

  “It’s a wonderful thing to do in his memory, Skye.”

  “I’m not sure who I’m doing it for anymore,” I replied. “Him or me.”

  “Explain yourself, darling.”

  “I think I need…some support.”

  “What are we talking about here, Skye?” she asked softly. “Bereavement support? Counselling?”

  “Yes, but other stuff too.” I sighed. “Not just Elliott but all the other crap. There’s been so many losses, Chris. I’m not sure I’ve worked out how they’ve impacted on my life.”

  “Darling, everyone has their own journey. We get no maps, no instruction manuals or built-in sat nav.” She leant in. “But what we do get is a good spirit level. We know when we start to tip. Some of us do something about it and others ignore it, deny it, hope for the best.” She took my hand. “You, my darling, know you need to do something about it.” She tapped the back of it. “That’s half the battle.”