by Wicks, Becky
'Ben...'
'She was there when I did my first dive, in the boat in California,' I carry on, looking at my feet now against the wood through blurred vision; her red sandy toenails. 'She wanted to be there with Toby, but Charlie ignored her. He told us what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.'
Izzy's silent. When I look up, tears are streaking her face, just like they are mine all over again. 'You've been carrying all this guilt around with you, all this time?' she says, dropping in front of me. 'You think Toby died because of you? And you think your own mother blames you for the tsunami? That's insane.'
'It's my fault he was out there...'
'Nothing is your fault!' She covers my hand with hers. 'If anything, that was Charlie's call, Ben. You were sixteen and he was looking after you! He made the final call for all of you to do that dive. You were just going along with it because you loved it, and you loved him and Toby. You would've done anything they wanted!'
I get up again, walk past her back down the steps and onto the beach. It's been ten years... more than that. She's only known me a matter of weeks. I knew this would happen. I fought the fucking voices in my head when I knew this would happen. I let her get to me more than the others. I kissed her thinking maybe Izzy was my salvation; I screwed her with my senses warped, like the hands of fate were personally delivering redemption. Idiot.
'I'm not playing you a fucking violin, Ben!' she shouts now, running in front of me again. Her hair and dress are flying out in the wind. 'You don't want anyone to take this guilt away from you, do you? You want it to kill you slowly, like you think you killed Toby?'
I ram my hands through my hair. 'I can't do this with you! We have too much shit between us, Izzy, we're always dragging up the past. Look at us, we're just making each other worse!'
'No we're not.' She stands beside me at the shoreline; lets the ocean wash over her feet. 'We're making each other better! You can't get better without feeling everything and you're feeling everything, aren't you, just like I am?'
'No.'
'Yes. It's scary but it's good, Ben, you taught me that! You have to let this go, all of it. You have to forgive yourself and let Toby go.'
'Go to Colin,' I say, gritting my teeth.
'You have to forgive yourself,' she says again, 'or you'll do this for the rest of your life. You need to let people love you, Ben, or you'll just be lonely...'
'Go away!' I yell and she lets out a sob that breaks my heart. 'Just go.'
'Fine,' she manages, swiping at her cheeks. 'But promise me you'll talk to your mom. She loves you, Ben, she doesn't blame you. Talk to her.'
'I can't make any promises.'
'That's so selfish! You're being stupid.'
'Well, that's just what I am, Izzy. It's not like I didn't try to tell you!'
I hear her inhale sharply as my own words ring around my skull like war sirens. When I finally turn around, she's gone.
IZZY
His instinct is to be alone in his cave where no one and nothing can get to him; where no one can make him feel any less guilty for what he did, taking Toby out there. He wants to feel guilt and pain, as much as I want to numb it. I pushed him over the edge. This is my fault.
'Izzy?' It's Colin. 'Peanut?' he says, offering me the packet.
'No.' I turn to the airplane window, focus on the way the clouds look like white, cotton trees below me. A different jungle. I thought I was helping him. But, God, maybe Ben was right. I thought we were making each other better, but maybe I was the one just taking, taking, taking, pulling him into this downward spiral of internal misery this whole time. What if I was making him worse by forcing him to talk about what happened?
'Chicken or fish?' the hostess asks.
'What?'
'Chicken tikka or baked fish with peas?'
'Fish are our friends,' I say quietly. 'More red wine, please.'
Colin puts a hand to my arm. 'You should eat. Don't just drink wine, Izzy. Have the chicken.'
'Fuck off, Colin,' I say through my teeth. I re-focus on the sky as a lone glass of wine is placed before me on my tray.
I felt him open up, I swear. But maybe I broke him. Colin was the catalyst but I broke Ben. I can't believe I had to speed to Lawan at seven a.m and hug her and Mali for the last time. I promised to Skype, of course. I'm going to send her an iPad. But it's the kids I'll miss most. I don't know when I'll see them again; I just ran away. I feel like an irresponsible failure of a teacher for just leaving them in the lurch, but I couldn't very well have stayed with Colin on my back and Ben yelling in my face, could I?
I need to think, anyway; I need to reassess. Did I make a huge mistake, thinking we could have been something? Did I want it so bad that I imagined it all? I swig on my wine, three sips out of habit, then another to make four so I'm not obsessing over anything I don't have to.
No. I didn't. I did feel something, just like he did.
Didn't I?
The wine is making my head cloudier than the sky.
Colin drops me off at Maria's when I insist I need to be here and not at the flat. 'Get some rest, I'll talk to you later...' he starts, but I climb out of the taxi and slam the door, walk up the steps while the driver helps me with my suitcase. The London air is cool and smells of diesel. For the first time since the tsunami I miss the ocean. I didn't realize how much it's grown on me; waking up to it, going to sleep beside it, learning to trust it, bit by bit... because of Ben.
I swallow as Maria opens the door. She ushers me inside onto the beige hall carpet and I kick off my shoes out of habit. My throat is dry, my clothes are crumpled, I haven't brushed my hair since yesterday.
'Darling, my goodness, tell me everything,' my godmother urges, shutting the big front door behind us and leading me up the hall to the lounge. I flop on the sofa next to her as the familiar scent of her pinewood and vanilla candles wafts up my nostrils. She looks at me with her gray eyes narrow and full of questions. Her neat brown bob has just been straightened; I don't recognize her red shirt. My eyes drift to the bird feeder on the patio outside the sliding doors, the small stretch of green grass, her row of potted plants. It's all so orderly compared to the chaos in my head.
'Why aren't you at work?' I say now.
'I took the day off to see you home. Isla, what's going on? Did Colin find you?'
'Yes, but I wish he didn't. We broke up months ago, Maria, he cheated on me.'
Her mouth falls open and for a second I'm shocked at what I've just said. 'I don't know why I didn't tell anyone, I guess I was too humiliated!'
'Well... what happened in Thailand?'
I grab a cushion, hold it over my face. Where do I even start? I want to tell her everything now, about Bangkok and the coincidence that brought Ben and I back together, and the way he acted like a knight in shining armor on that boat, and the elephant ride, and the dinner at Lawan's and the kids at the school... but as I open my mouth, all that comes out is a humongous sob that surprises me as much as her.
'Oh, Izzy, sweetheart,' Maria coos, pulling me against her and rocking me. I'm that teenager again; the one who showed up here over a decade ago without my parents, bruised and broken with no freaking clue about what the hell I was supposed to do next.
I don't even know how long I cry for. The only reason I stop is because my iPad starts making a noise in my bag. I pull it out. It's running on five percent battery, but it's Amy. I head upstairs with it to my room, jam the plug into the wall by my single bed.
'Are you psychic? How did you know I was here?' I say as her face comes into view. I see my own in another window. I look awful; all puffy-eyed and tired, but my face is tanned. I don't think I've ever had a tan in my life.
'Psychic? I just wanted to show you this!' She waves a magazine in front of the camera. It comes into focus slowly and I can see it's Sweet Eats. It's the cookbook article I wrote, complete with a photo of Chinda. Wow. It seems like a lifetime ago she fed me all that food in that restaurant. What would have happened, if
I hadn't bumped into Ben after that?
'She loves it! She called up asking about you, and your Ben bloke.'
His name from her mouth makes my entire nervous system re-shuffle itself. Amy slams the mag down, peers closer to the camera. 'Wait, are you in Watford? Isn't that your old room?'
'I just got home,' I say to her glossy pink lips as I sink onto the floor beside the bed. 'It got so messed up, Amy. Colin asked me to marry him.'
She gasps. 'Whaaaaaaaaat? When? Wait!' She shoots up from her chair now and her screen falls out of focus as she totters across the floor and closes the conference room door. She's in the office. 'Talk to me,' she orders, sitting back down again.
'He flew over, he was jealous of Ben...'
'Did you give him a good reason to be?'
'I don't know, probably. I need to fill you in, it's all been so...'
'You slept with him, didn't you?'
Her words make my chin wobble instantly. I close my eyes, suck in a breath. I see Ben's face. I replay his words: We shouldn't have slept together, I'm so sorry, it got out of control!
I didn't believe him; I still don't, I don't think. 'Yes, we slept together,' I tell her. 'But Colin asked me to marry him, and I said no, obviously, 'cause he cheated on me and also because...'
'Wait, slow down. Colin cheated on you?'
Crap. I'm so jet lagged and wound up; my mouth can't be trusted. I bash the iPad to my forehead, but she's talking at me, getting louder with every word now. 'Izzy, how could you have completely failed to tell me this vital information?! Who the hell did he cheat on you with? When did this happen?'
'Ages ago. It was Claire.'
'Claire?! Your flat mate?' She looks furious now. Her eyes look huge in all her make up as she stares right at the camera. She curses into the empty room, looking like she could kill. I feel terrible for not telling her, or Maria, or anyone. I'm furious at myself now, actually. What was I doing? I let him walk all over me.
'I'm sorry, Amy, I was stupid, I kept going back to him. But then I met Ben...'
'Why didn't you stay with Ben? What the hell are you doing back here, woman?'
I lean my head back against the bed, squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Then I tell her everything. Every last detail. And I listen as she tells me everything she thinks in response. I stare outside, across the drizzly sky and pale brown rooftops, replaying our final argument on the beach, a million miles away. I'm so far away from him now and it's like a rope I never even knew I was clinging to has been chopped in half and I'm drifting in the wind on the end of it. There are no swaying palms here, no birds squawking, no croaking frogs or chirruping crickets. No screaming kids in a school as big as this house, no elephants. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here anymore.
The thought hits me like a golf club. I don't know how it happened, or when exactly, but I feel so different already, here in this house, in this room, looking at Amy in that stuffy office I'll have to go back to. I've been back five minutes but I literally felt it when the plane landed. I wanted it to take straight off again, somewhere else, anywhere else, and it's not just because of Ben.
I just got started living my life! I was pulled into a world of color and animation, like when Mary Poppins jumped into that painting in the park with Bert, and now I've been yanked out of it again. Everything's so gray and structured already, and dull. Dull, dull, dull. It's terrifying, actually. I'm controlled here and I always was, by own fears, my own self-doubt, and by the boxes people put me in. I'm shaking. Amy's still talking.
'What do I do now?' I interrupt, scrambling up with the iPad.
'You need to talk to Ben! You need to sort this out, Izzy. Fly straight back there! The bloke is obviously still dealing with his crap, you shouldn't have just left him!'
'He told me to!'
'Men are idiots! Jesus, Izzy.'
The iPad makes a noise in my hand. Someone's logging onto Skype. I freeze and almost throw up when the name Bennyboy789 appears in my contacts list. It's him. He's just logged on. I watch the name like it might morph into a monster in front of me, feeling my fingers start to tremble around the screen. I'm so close. I have Ben in my hands. But I don't have him at all. My eyes fill to the brim and I jump as someone calls me.
Ben!
No.
'Colin's calling,' I croak.
'Point made,' Amy snaps. 'Men are idiots. Don't answer him, he's done enough. I can't believe that arsehole asked you to marry him after what he did. He just ruined everything, Izzy!'
I let the tears slide pathetically down my cheeks. She's wrong, actually. I think I'm the one who ruined everything.
BEN
THREE WEEKS LATER
Glenn looks bigger than I remember, like he's been eating, but also like he may have been relaxing. There are fewer grey shadows around his eyes, although I'm pretty sure mine make up for that. I feel like I haven't slept properly in weeks and the long haul flight didn't exactly help.
'How was the journey, son? he asks me now, reaching for my backpack and putting it into the trunk.
'Great,' I lie, walking to the door of his rented silver Audi. In truth it was hell. I saw Izzy's face in every magazine page I turned, every TV show I tried to watch. It's like she's haunting me more than she ever did when I thought she was dead. I can't get her eyes out of my mind; the way she looked when I acted like everything we did was a mistake, or the sound of her sobbing behind me, right before she turned and walked away.
I couldn't even say goodbye to her in the end. I ignored her knock on the door the next morning, pretended not to hear, even though I spent the whole night wide awake with her words stabbing at my brain like swords: You push everyone away because you're scared to be loved!
I had to force myself to stay in that room, not to go to her and apologize and tell her she was right. She was so fucking right about everything. I knew it instantly, but I was too stubborn to admit it.
'Go to her,' Sonthi said last night, before I got on the plane. Mia hugged me tight around my backpack.
'You need to be with Izzy. She's good for you,' she said. Both of them know it. Even Lawan knows it.
'What happened?' she cried the day after Izzy left. She was distraught and so was little Mali when I caught them at the school. I felt like an asshole telling them we argued and even more of one telling them I told her to leave with her boyfriend. They assumed we were together. Lawan had practically married us in her head. But she just hugged me tightly while I cried, like she understood; like she always knew I was broken and that no one could ever really fix me, no matter how hard they try.
As we pull out of the parking lot it hits me that Izzy is here somewhere, in London. But I know I can't reach out to her. It's worse somehow than being back in Thailand, where I've been staring at her screen name every time she logs onto Skype. I find myself watching it till she logs off again. I almost type something every time, but what's the point? I sent her back to Colin, amazing Colin who flew all that way to offer her everything I definitely never could; not least security. I can't screw that up for her, not now, especially after what I did. She told me I was selfish and she's right.
'Your mom's real excited to see you,' Glenn says now, dragging my attention back to the fact that he's driving us away from the gray of Heathrow to even more gray - a busy London freeway. They've rented an apartment for a week while he works with some firm on a case.
It's an hour of traffic at least. Glenn and I make small talk and listen to weird British voices on the radio that all remind me of Izzy, but eventually we pull up outside a street of matching white townhouses somewhere in Islington. The stairs are steep, my backpack feels heavier than ever. I'm probably dropping sand from my flip flops on the creaky old staircase but I'm too exhausted and anxious to care. Glenn unlocks the door to an apartment on the second floor and straight away I see her; the back of her in blue jeans and a lilac sweater.
She spins around with a dish in her hands. Her rubber gloves drip soap suds to th
e floor tiles. 'Ben!' She pulls the gloves off, puts them in the sink as Glenn helps with my bag. Her eyes are shining with tears as I step towards her. She puts her arms around me, pulls me in. She's shorter somehow but she smells like I remember, too; sweet but not from any kind of perfume. It's just her. Mom.
She lets me go, but reaches for my hands and holds them between us. Her blue eyes are filled with so much love suddenly, it stuns me. 'I'm so glad you came.'
'Me too,' I croak in response. 'Nice place.'
'We've got it for the week, your room is through here,' Glenn says from where he's observing us in the doorway. He motions to the room right next door. The apartment is tiny. The kitchen and living area we're standing in is the size of my hut back in Khao Lak. Mom ushers me to the couch behind us, flips the kettle on to boil. I can see she's nervous. Maybe more so than me.
'Tell me, how's the dive shop?' she asks, putting tea bags into three cups.
'We've closed for the season now, but it was a good one,' I say, letting my eyes run over the hanging wall canvas of a vase of red flowers behind me, the black matching cupboards and cabinets throughout the small space. It's so neat and orderly. So English.
'Sonthi's been working hard. He sends his love. He's back with his girlfriend, Sasi,' I say. 'They've broken up a lot but I think this time it might last. They're kind of perfect in a messed up way.' I'm aware I'm saying anything, and that the blood is zinging through my veins now as I talk. I'm waiting for something already; an argument, maybe. An accusation.
'Such a sweet boy, I'm so happy you're still working together,' my mom says as she watches the kettle start to bubble and boil already. I wonder how many times she boiled it, waiting for me to get here. 'Do you have a girlfriend? You must meet a lot of people, running the dive shop?'
'I've had a few,' I reply.
'No one special?'
I take the cup of tea she's handing me now and move along on the couch to let her sit down. She studies me with those eyes, the same blue as mine. 'There's someone,' I admit, 'but I think I ruined it. Long story.'
