Our room had a small balcony and once we’d laid our luggage down and I’d kicked my shoes off I took a moment to lean against the railing, to welcome the crisp air across my tired face and to absorb the vast array of twinkling buildings below us. Don’t tell anyone but I had a little moment just then. When I was little I was obsessed with the movie Dirty Dancing and I used to dream about going to America one day and being swept off my feet by my very own Johnny Castle. Every Sunday morning whilst my dad was off playing golf and my mum was busy hosting brunch for her fancy friends, I would lock myself in my bedroom and teach myself all the moves. I’d use everything as my dancing partner – the wardrobe door, the windowsill, the curtain…
Everything about this country always enticed me. It was where the magic happened. Where the movie stars lived. Where people’s dreams came true. Obviously now I’m older I realise people lead the same lives and have the same struggles wherever they live in the world, but there’s still something a little dreamlike lingering in the air that I was breathing right now.
So yeah, even though I felt selfish because of the reason we were here, I had a moment. A moment where I wanted to squeal and jump up and down because here I was in America – the place my childhood self always ran away to in my imagination – and when I looked around I had my very own, even hotter, version of Patrick Swayze. I wonder if Dexter can dance? If not, I’ve watched that movie so many times I know every move (and word and song) off by heart, so maybe I could teach him!
“Thank you for being with me,” Dexter said, sneaking up behind me and twisting his arms around my waist.
“I wanted to come. You know that,” I replied, angling my head to the side so he could bury his face in my neck.
“I don’t just mean today… or here. I mean for being with me. Period. For… for believing in me.” His words pounded into my heart. He sounded so… so sad. So lost.
“It’ll be okay, Dex,” I assured, spinning myself round to face him. “I know this is going to be hard but you’ll get through it.” What else could I say? I didn’t know his friend. I didn’t even know what was wrong with him. I felt useless. All I could do was hold him and hope that was enough. “When are you going to see him?”
“Tomorrow. First thing,” he said sombrely. “I, um… I’d rather go alone if… well if you don’t mind?” he stuttered. Grief was such an all-consuming, soul-destroying emotion and to watch the man I loved more than anyone or anything in this world grappling with it was heart breaking.
“Of course not. I’m here whenever or for whatever you need.” I stroked his stubbled cheek with the back of my hand before rising on my tiptoes to kiss his soft lips. They quivered slightly when I gently ran my tongue across them and when I opened my eyes I noticed his were squeezed tightly closed. He was fighting tears. He was trying to be strong. “You don’t have to be brave in front of me, Dexter. I’m the one person you can always fall apart on.”
And with that, he pulled me tightly into his chest, smoothing my hair down my back with his hand. Then his whole body began to shudder, and he sobbed violently into my shoulder.
**********
I woke up to the familiar, and welcome, smell of McDonald’s sausage and pancakes. Dexter had been out while I was still sleeping and woke me up when he got back by rustling the delicious smelling paper bag under my nose. I thanked him with a yawn/smile/mmm sound, before sitting up against the chipped wooden headboard and patting my knees for him to hand me the goods.
“You know exactly how to treat a girl,” I said after swallowing my first bite of pancake. Dexter forced a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What time are you leaving?” I asked, knowing the cause of his dejection.
“Soon. Just wanted to see you before I went.” I wiped the grease from my hand on the bed sheet and then rested it on his knee, squeezing it encouragingly.
“Okay,” I nodded. “Remember I’m just on the other end of the phone if you need me.” He nodded slowly and then we sat in contemplative silence while I finished my breakfast. I noticed Dexter didn’t get himself anything to eat which made me feel somewhat guilty, yet also grateful that he thought about taking care of me. “I’m going to take a shower, then I might go and explore for a while.”
“Sure, doll. I’ll probably be gone by the time you get out. I’ll call you when I get back if you’re not here.” Climbing onto my knees I leaned over, took his face in my hands and kissed him softly.
“I love you, Dexter.”
“Thank you,” he whispered under his breath before taking a long, deep breath as he inhaled the scent of my hair. Thank you? I couldn’t help feeling a little disheartened that he didn’t say it back, but then I instantly felt guilty with selfishness because I knew he felt it – he was just going through one of the most difficult times of his life.
I jumped from the bed and kissed the top of Dexter’s head before heading into the tiny en-suite to shower. My face crumpled as I eyed-up the mildew infested tiles and the toilet that looked like it’d never even seen a bottle of bleach. After fiddling with the rusty knobs for at least five minutes I finally managed to get some lukewarm water flowing. Then I remembered I’d forgotten my toiletry bag from the suitcase containing shampoo and body-wash so, stripped down to just my knickers, I opened the door to go out and fetch it.
I paused in my tracks immediately when I hear the sound of Dexter’s muffled voice, worried in case someone was in the room who might catch an eyeful of my boobs. After a few seconds it quickly became apparent that he was on the phone however, but still I didn’t enter the room completely because I didn’t want to interrupt what may well have been a difficult conversation for him.
Standing there, cold and almost naked, I prayed he wasn’t too late getting here.
“I told you I was coming alone – nothing’s changed… You know me, sweet cheeks, I don’t need anyone else…” Sweet cheeks? “Bullshit… I’ve got you… Don’t… Not now. We’ll talk when I get there… Can’t wait to see you either. I’ll be there within the hour… I know you do… I love you too.”
My mouth was locked open but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to drag any air through it. Sweet cheeks? I love you? I was overreacting. I had to be. Stepping back inside the bathroom and closing the door gently behind I sat on the toilet and threw my head in hands, remembering how much I knew Dexter loved me. Remembering the way he told me, how he showed me… replaying all the intimate moments we’ve shared. No one was that good an actor and I was a selfish cow for even thinking he could lie to me.
Not when we were here to wait for one of his oldest friends to die.
Just as quickly memories of the day he told me he needed to go home flooded my overwhelmed mind. I remembered how reluctant he seemed for me to go with him and for a fleeting moment I believed he only agreed because I guilt tripped him into it. But then he assured me he needed me and blah de blah and I forgot all about it. Just like I was prepared to forget his drunken ‘losing her’ comment.
Then there’s the fact he’s never even spoken about this ‘friend’. He’s never told me what’s wrong with him or even his name. What if the dying friend thing is all just a cover?
Damn it!
I mentally cursed myself - disgusted with the heartless direction my thoughts were going. Dexter is devastated – I’ve witnessed the unadulterated pain oozing from his eyes on numerous occasions this last few weeks. In that moment I’d never felt so self-centred. How the hell could I doubt him even for a second? I’ve never been the clingy or possessive type so what the hell had gotten into me? Maybe the jetlag was distorting my thought process. There would undoubtedly be a perfectly rational explanation for the conversation I just overheard and I was sure if I just went out there and asked him, he could explain easily.
But when I did, he was already gone.
**********
Me: Miss u xxx
I texted Rachel when I got out of the shower, for no other reason than because I really did miss her already. Be
fore Dexter left this morning I had plans to explore the city - maybe do a spot of window shopping. But now I was alone I felt a little lost and as wimpy as it sounds, I was kind of scared too. It felt similar to when I first moved to London – fear of the unknown alongside having the social skills of a diarrhoea stain made for quite a nervous Emily.
But this was a million times worse. I didn’t have Rachel by my side telling me to grow some balls.
Rachel: Miss u too ho. I’d prob miss u more if it wasn’t 5 o’clock in the fuckin morning! ;-) U okay ho? X
Crap. I’d forgotten the time difference. Ah well, seeing her words light up my phone made me smile, which was just what I needed right now so she’d just have to get over it.
Me: Sure. Just feels weird without u xx
It was only a half lie. I was okay compared to Dexter, and more importantly the person Dexter was probably sitting with right now. But deep in the back of mind, a tiny (think miniscule – smaller than a fraction of a grain of sand) part of me regretted coming. I’d only been here a matter of hours and I already felt like a bit of a spare part. Dexter seems determined to do this – whatever this is – alone, leaving me sat here worried sick about him.
There I go again being so self-bloody-important. It’s tiredness. It must be. I’ve never been this whiny in my life and I certainly won’t ever be this whiny out loud. As long as it all stays in my head, I can deal with it.
Rachel didn’t reply again and I suspected it was probably because she fell back to sleep the second she sent her first. I dressed quickly into my indigo skinny jeans and a light-knit jumper before scraping my hair back into a bun and braving going outside.
I found it strange how ‘normal’ everything seemed. I know that sounds stupid and I don’t know what I was expecting but nothing seemed very different from being at home. Obviously if you inspected closely enough there were small things like different traffic lights and cars travelling on the wrong side of the road etc., but overall I could’ve been shopping in the centre of London. Not that I could afford to actually shop. But I did see a fair few things I wished I could buy through the window.
I was on my way back to the hotel when a window I mustn’t have looked through on my way out caught my attention. Just inside there was a large glass shelf housing an array of model cars and bikes. Dexter – like most men – is an engine fanatic with a special love for all things bikes. I remember him mentioning once how, as much as he loved Jenny - his Yamaha - he was settling because that’s all he could afford. His real passion lay with Harley Davidson’s and it was his ultimate goal to own one someday.
Well today his dream was about to come true because amongst the toy cars sat a tiny replica of the kind of Harley Dexter had once described to me. Grinning widely, proud of my find, I walked into the shop and picked it straight out without a second thought. As I walked back to the hotel with Dexter’s gift tucked safely away inside my handbag, I wasn’t sure when I planned to give it to him. I wanted him to be happy with it – see that it was simply a taster of the future I knew he could achieve. Realistically I probably wouldn’t get that reaction from him during this trip. I doubted the future would be easy to think about when your friend didn’t have one at all.
So, when I reached our room and tossed my bag onto the lumpy mattress, I decided I’d give it to him when we got home.
Lunch time had been and gone by the time Dexter came back to me. In all honesty I was starving after munching on nothing but a bag of crisps since breakfast but of course I didn’t dare say anything. I just hoped my stomach would keep quiet about it too.
Dexter walked straight towards the bed, sat himself down on the edge and slumped forward with his eyes fixed onto the stained, green carpet between his feet. I lowered myself down next to him, respecting his silence and placing a reassuring hand on his knee. Cocking his head to the side he glanced up at me briefly, offering the weakest of smiles, before resting his own hand over mine and squeezing it gently.
The pain he was so obviously feeling in his heart radiated from his entire body and in that moment the reality of the situation slapped me in the face, making me angrier than I’d ever been with myself for doubting him this morning. Feeling guilty and overwhelmingly sad for the man I loved more than anything, I crawled onto my knees and threw my arms around his huddled body – holding him in perfect silence for what seemed like a lifetime.
**********
Three days in and my newfound selfishness reared its ugly head. Understandably Dexter had been quiet, but it was getting to the point where he was becoming all out withdrawn. I was starting to feel like he was locking me out – maybe even like I was a burden. I understood his need to visit his friend alone the first time but if I’m honest I suppose I expected to get the opportunity to meet him too. Not out of nosiness or some kind of morbid curiosity, but because I looked forward to meeting someone from Dexter’s past – someone who knew him long before me. Someone who could share stories and insights – swap tales and antics.
Plus I wanted to support Dexter – that’s why I’m here after all. But he’d closed down so much we’d barely spoken a full sentence since we arrived. It was hitting him so hard. Harder than I expected. I hope to God this doesn’t make me sound like the most heartless bitch ever to walk the planet, but the grief Dexter was already experiencing seemed so powerful – too powerful - for a friend he’d never even mentioned before. A friend he still hasn’t mentioned.
Crap. That really does sound heartless.
Still, I had to work with what I was given and if all Dexter needed was a cuddle at the end of each day, then that’s what I’d do. I’d do anything he asked to help him through this time. Possibly naïvely, the way I saw it was, if he had me to turn to he wouldn’t need to find any other ‘outlets’. So, I decided I needed to get over myself and stop focusing on what I needed and concentrate on Dexter. That was all going swimmingly until I came back from grabbing us some lunch at the café just outside our hotel today.
When I approached our door I could hear the unmistakeable sound of Dexter’s laugh. I recognised it instantly because it’s one of my favourite sounds in the world. Plus it’s also a sound I’d not heard for what seemed like a very long time. I pushed the door open as gently as the precarious hinges would allow and listened intently. The laughing had stopped but he still sounded… himself. If that even makes sense. Whoever was on the other end of the line was on the receiving end of ‘normal’ Dexter… content, comfortable, at ease Dexter.
Whoever it was, sure as hell wasn’t being pushed aside.
And then it came – crashing down on me like a tonne of bricks and knocking the wind from my lungs. I felt agitated. Then frustrated. Then downright annoyed… Then of course I felt guilty for it. Was it… jealousy I was feeling? I couldn’t be sure seeing as I’d no experience in the green-eyed-monster department, but if I was jealous, then I was sure I’d be going straight to hell.
“I’ll be round again this evening, sweet cheeks… Try not to miss me too much… You know I will… I-I…I can’t think about that right now… I know… Maybe later… Okay…”
When Dexter ended the call I closed the door loudly behind me – announcing my arrival.
“Who was that?” I asked casually, as if I’d just walked in as he was saying goodbye.
“Just a friend,” he answered passively after a second too long for my liking. A friend huh? Vague much?
“I’ve got a headache,” I complained – only half lying. There was definitely a twinge. “I’m going to lie down for a while.” Dexter strolled over to me and kissed my forehead and then I didn’t know whether to feel angry or yet again, guilty. What the hell was wrong with me?
When I thought about things rationally, I’d overheard just a couple of one-sided conversations and I’d turned all raging-jealous-bitch on his arse. But as hard as I tried there was just something inexplicable niggling away inside my head. A feeling that I was being lied to, even though I had no right or reason to. It’s a b
it like when your back is turned and you get that sense of someone watching you, then you turn around and what’d ya know… someone is right there behind you.
I lay wide awake with my eyes closed for what must’ve been a couple of hours. I could hear Dexter pottering around the room the whole time – the crinkling of crisp packets, the tapping of buttons on his phone, the pages of a magazine being flipped… Every so often the mattress would sink and he would lie down next to me and softly rub my back or sweep the hair from my neck.
My mind was in turmoil and the twinge I felt earlier soon turned into a full-blown mother of a migraine as I tried to figure out why. I considered texting Rachel because she always knows what to do about everything. Granted it usually has something to do with sex but still, I’ve always gone to her with all my troubles. She never fails to know what to say to cheer me up.
But then I decided I was wrong to mistrust Dexter and that I was actually pretty disgusted with myself for ever doing so. Therefore I didn’t need to text Rachel for advice – because I was going to forget all about my stupid and unfounded suspicions and start supporting Dexter like I was supposed to be doing.
Chapter Twenty-Four Point Five
Emily
Lying in bed pretending to be asleep this afternoon, I was adamant all these insane doubts I was having were the result of being over tired and over emotional. That’s why I decided I was going to forget all about them.
So, why was I now following Dexter like some kind of creepy stalker lady down streets I’d never been before and most definitely wouldn’t recognise again if I got lost, when it was getting dark? Why was I hiding behind corners like some dodgy detective when I was absolutely crapping my pants about getting lost, raped, murdered… or caught by Dexter? And why oh why couldn’t I just summon the courage to ask him outright who the bloody hell he’s been talking to?
Take My Hand Page 21
