He buries his head into my neck and then suddenly pushes me away from him and looks at me, really looks deep into me. It’s like an instant connection of something more emotional than before, more intimate somehow, and as I feel a tear run down my cheek, I know that we’ve just made a huge leap, that he’s given me more than anyone else, ever. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and it seems like he’s trying to say something so I wait, searching his eyes for anything, but instead he just slowly leans his forehead onto mine and exhales a shaky breath.
My brain struggles to compute what it is that I’m supposed to say next. This beautiful, complicated man that sits underneath me in a damp hallway has survived something so abhorrent and unknown to me that I have no idea how I’m meant to make him feel better. He’s showing me something so unimaginable and private that I feel myself being somehow ashamed of my own perfect childhood and loving family. I wanted more from him and this is what he has to show me, to tell me. He’s giving me this so that I can try to make some sense of who he is today and why he behaves the way he does. I’m so stunned by it all, and humbled, that I simply can’t find words for this moment.
Eventually I drag up the only words I think either of us wants to hear while I’m desperately trying to shield him from that fucking door. Anger and resentment rushes through me at what he had to put up with and suddenly, I just want to get him away from everything this place represents.
“Do you want to leave now?”
“Fuck yes,” he replies, clutching me around the backside as he stands and walks us back towards the stairs. I can’t help but watch as that door gets smaller and think of him locked in it as a little boy. Then the little boy in the rain creeps back into my mind. The picture in his apartment. It’s yet another negative reminder of his past, not that there seems to be any positive ones. I sneer at the thought of his bastard of a dad and narrow my eyes at the door again as that venom rises back up in my throat. The thought causes me to surprise myself by spitting at it viciously over his shoulder. Thankfully, the lips I feel against my neck reward my quite disgusting and possibly irrational actions. It was revolting. But then so was his childhood, it seems.
Chapter 24
Elizabeth
“C an I use your phone please?” I ask as I look at him across his kitchen table, nursing a very hot cup of coffee. We arrived back at his just after ten and I’m freezing.
“Of course. Where’s yours?” he says as he pushes his iphone at me.
“In a million pieces,” I respond, searching through his contacts for Belle. He stands and walks into the kitchen area, grabbing some muffins and popping them in the toaster.
“Why?” he asks quietly. He’s been like this since we got back, quiet. It’s disturbing and so unlike him that I haven’t got a clue what to say to bring him back to normal.
“Because you didn’t call,” I reply quickly and without thought. Given what has happened this evening, I see little point trying to hide my feelings or play games. He’s shared something so precious with me that everything else around us seems to pale into insignificance.
“Oh really? A little pissed at me or hurt that I didn’t call? It was your choice to walk away if I remember correctly,” he says with his back toward me, his shoulders slightly slumped. That’s something he’s been doing a lot of since we got back, avoiding eye contact. I suppose I understand a little but it’s beginning to annoy me.
“Both, and you know I had good reason,” I reply as I text Belle to let her know where I am.
The toaster pops and he comes back to the table with honey and jam. We both begin to tuck into our muffins and eat in silence for a while. We haven’t spoken about what he told me at all on the drive home and I was glad of it at the time. While a gazillion questions whizzed through my head, I needed time to process the information and try to understand what the hell I was supposed to do with it. What does that sort of start in life do to a man? How the hell did he make such a success of himself? And how on earth did he get through each day without crumbling into a pile of weeping dust? At least I now know why he went into care at such a young age and where the anger and control issues come from.
“Was it enough for you, Elizabeth?” he asks suddenly, completely breaking my quiet contemplation of his life.
“Excuse me?” I reply, looking up at him as he pulls me from my thoughts. Beautiful but sad eyes greet me with a slightly nervous smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.
“Is the knowledge of my past enough for you to understand why I distance myself? Why I choose to keep people away from me?” His icy eyes burn me a bit in their questioning and I struggle to answer him because I don’t know how I feel about any of it.
“Yes,” I reply quietly, looking back down at my empty coffee and wondering where else he’s going to go. I still can’t fathom how I’m going to deal with all this new information. I just know that I want it to go away for him and never have to see him in pain again.
“You know, I haven’t been there for a few years. It’s funny how it still looks the same. I always think it will change somehow but every time I’m there, I just see it through the eyes of a nine-year-old,” he says as he saunters off to the machine and makes us both another coffee.
“You said your dad doesn’t live there anymore so why do you have the house?” I ask softly as he returns and sits back at the table.
He chuckles and reaches for another muffin. “Call it self-torture if you like. He put it on the market about five years ago and I bought it, well a company of mine did. He doesn’t know it was me. I just wanted to have it. It somehow felt wrong to let someone else live in it. I made him leave everything in it, apart from personal items.” He shrugs almost apologetically for some reason.
“But why would you want to keep such horrific memories?” I ask, appalled at the thought of him forcing such negative images on himself. A bit like the bad dates on his back, this is obviously a recurring pattern for him. He sighs and throws his muffin back on the plate.
“Because they’re my memories and they make me who I am. They remind me how to live and to never back down again. No one else knows what I went through or how pathetically weak I was then. From the moment I left that house, I became a fighter. I learnt to attack first and pay the consequences later,” he replies with a wry smile, as that look of confidence seems to seep back into his veins, thankfully. It’s quite lovely to see again. “It wasn’t until later in my life that I realised I could manipulate my targets rather than beat them to death with a club to achieve what I wanted.”
I study his face for a few minutes, trying to formulate the right words for the question I want to ask. His brow is soft and he seems reasonably open to giving information so I decide to just go for it and deal with the possible aftermath. Asking him about his mental history probably isn’t the wisest move but I need to know regardless.
“Alex, you weren’t weak or pathetic. You were a child who deserved love not abuse,” I say quietly. He instantly looks to the floor again. “You said no one else knows. Haven’t you talked to anyone about it? Didn’t the care home try to help you? A psychiatrist or something?” I ask, looking at his downcast eyes and inwardly begging him to respond favourably and not hit the roof. His brow furrows and as he lifts his head, he looks perplexed for a moment, as if regarding an idiot.
“Why would I want to talk about it? I found my own way out of it. Conner found me when I was struggling and pointed me in the right direction again. I don’t think I’ve done too badly really, considering,” he says, trying to brush across the point.
Twiddling my thumbs on my coffee cup, I respond calmly and try to keep him in a talking mood while gently maintaining my inquisition.
“You mean you’ve never actually had a conversation about your feelings regarding your dad and your childhood? No one has been there to guide you or give you some explanations, to tell you that none of this was your fault?”
“What are you trying to imply, Elizabeth? That I�
�m unbalanced or unstable because I didn’t bare my soul and weep on the shoulder of a shrink?” he says with mock affront. I can see the hint of irritation looming in his eyes, though. I can also still see the emotion behind it. I just need him to keep that emotion coming and not close down on me. “And stop calling that bastard my dad. He is not worthy of the fucking title in the slightest.”
“Alex, you can’t make light of this. This sort of thing has a huge impact on people’s mentality and the way they handle their emotions. I’ve been pushing you to give me something you might not even know how to give. I knew you found your feelings difficult but this type of damage could mean something completely different for you,” I say as my mouth completely overrides any appropriate level of intelligence that I should have had. It’s too much and the instant I look up into his eyes again, I know he’s changed and I’ve lost him. Stupid Beth. His body stiffens and his quizzical frown has now transformed into the glower he uses when he’s about to charge.
“I didn’t take you there for your fucking sympathy, Elizabeth. I don’t want it so don’t you dare try that irrelevant bullshit with me,” he snaps as he stands and begins to leave the room with loathing pouring off him.
“Wait, Alex, I didn’t mean to...” I shout, running after him and trying to grab onto his arm. His body swings round to face me with such speed it nearly knocks me over, and I stumble backward into the dresser as he glares at me.
“You think because of your perfectly balanced fucking family you’re more stable than me somehow? That you’re superior in your ability to manage your feelings? Well fuck you,” he roars as he towers above me. I immediately back up into the wall away from him, no clue what’s coming next.
“No, I didn’t mean to belittle you, Alex. I just...” I try to find what I mean but his overbearing presence and his furious scowl just leave me speechless. His body seems to increase in size again as his fists clench in anger. I flick my eyes to the floor as I sense the spike of adrenaline that’s coursing through him while he moves closer.
“You just what, Elizabeth? Felt sorry for me? The poor little boy who got beaten up by Daddy? The weak little shit who couldn’t defend himself? Fuck you. You can’t even raise your own head in a room full of strangers without crying about it. How does it feel to be reminded of your own pathetic issues?” he shouts.
My mouth gapes and tears threaten as I watch him loom down on me. He looks so mad, his whole being barely holding onto any reserve as I stare up in shock. And then he turns, picks up a lamp and hurls it at the wall, smashing the ornaments from the hall table to the floor in the process. He seems to coil into a spring as he launches his fist into the wall twice and then bellows in anger or frustration, his eyes trained on the spot he just demolished. I back into the wall further and crumble to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around myself in fear. He’s scaring me beyond belief. I have no idea where he’s gone but I’m now too scared to try and do anything about it anyway.
Blood is pouring from his knuckles and his breathing is so rapid I think he’s about to explode as his face glances around at everything almost manically. I have nothing left to do but shrink back as far as I can into a hard wall and hope he calms down. Tears begin coursing down my cheeks and I can’t stop the sniffing as I try to contain myself. His eyes flick back to me for a second and I rapidly look back at the floor in the hope of disappearing somehow, but when I dare to glance back up, his back is facing me and it’s all I can do to keep myself from bursting into tears again. I look at the carnage of broken things in the hall in front of him and realise how vulnerable I feel in his presence. I’ve felt it before but not like this, and never this defenceless. Not knowing what to do next, I just sit and wait for him to do something.
Minutes go by as I wait for him to make his next move. Is he calming himself now or getting more agitated? His body seems less tense but his breathing is still shallow and his shoulders have no intention of dropping any time soon. Suddenly, he turns and storms back towards me, hauling me up from the floor by my upper arms so he can look into my eyes and forcing me back onto the wall with his strength, squeezing so hard I’m sure he’s going to break something. I struggle in his grasp to try and break free but it’s futile so I go limp and let him hold me there while he sneers at me and I start sobbing again.
“You want emotion from me? There it is. I’ve spent fucking years boxing it up so it doesn’t ruin everything and a few weeks with you and I’m a fucking wreck again. I knew you’d do this to me. I saw it coming at me like a fucking steam train and I did nothing to stop it. Well no more. I’m fucking done with this shit. I don’t need it or you,” he shouts, releasing me with a forceful shove and heading down the hall for the door.
I stand shakily against the wall, gripping my now bruised arms and watch as he reaches for the handle, hesitates and then stands still again. His back is to me and he’s either questioning himself or waiting for me to help him find a way through the mess we’ve created. Have I really done this to him? By asking him to open up and reveal himself, have I inadvertently unleashed the anger and hurt he’s kept so well buried? I stare at his back in shock and confusion, trying to control my gasping and work out what the hell to do. If I have done this then I have to help resolve it somehow because I don’t want him in pain. I don’t want him to go, and I don’t want this to end. I want my Alex back. I want him happy and carefree.
From somewhere deep down inside myself I found the courage to take a few steps toward him. He isn’t done with this. If he was, he wouldn’t be hesitating. Nothing about Alex hesitates, ever. It’s just not in his nature. How do I find a way to make him feel comfortable again? This is the reason he is the way he is. He needs the control to feel balanced in his life and I’ve turned that upside down for him by pushing, stupidly having the audacity to question his way of doing it. It’s a mess and his detonation clearly isn’t helping, but I know I’ve got to try and put this right, regardless of scary Alex because I can’t deny how I feel about the man in front of me.
“Alex, what do you want from me?” I say in a shaky breath, almost inaudibly.
“Some fucking respect!” His answer is immediate and harsh in its tone. He doesn’t move. His chest still heaves in and out as if he could very well explode again at any given moment.
“You’ve had my respect since before I even knew you. You still have it. You get respect from everyone around you. What is it that you really want from me?” I ask again with a little more voice. His body visibly exhales a breath and his fingers stretch on his tight hands as he hangs his head a little and leans it against the door. I wait again, hoping that all of the above is a positive sign. Minutes go by with no response so I try again. “Do you want me to tell you how I feel about you?” I continue, taking another step forward and crunching the broken glass beneath my feet. His body tenses again as he hears me approaching closer and his head turns slightly, probably showing me his displeasure at my advancement so I stop immediately.
“No.” His voice is still tense but there’s a softer tone coming through now. I’ve got his attention at least and I don’t think he’s about to explode again. This might work and even though I’m not sure I want to do this yet, I have to find the words to show him how much he means to me.
“If I tell you, will you calm down enough to really listen?” I ask tentatively, hoping for a good reaction.
“No, Elizabeth. I don’t want to hear it. I told you I’m done,” he replies quietly through gritted teeth as he bangs his head on the door softly. A small smile kisses the corners of my mouth at his blatant refusal to hear anything remotely nice given the circumstances, causing my eyes to soften as my heart melts a bit more for the man in front of me. He suddenly seems like a lost little boy again.
“Why are you hesitating then? If you really don’t want to listen, why don’t you just leave?” I ask, waiting for a response. Nothing.
I take another step forward so that I’m only a few steps away and p
ull in a deep breath. He’s given me so much this evening and I’ve almost ruined it with my lack of thought and reasoning. Still, he isn’t storming off and he deserves so much better from me, so much more. This proud and fiercely independent man needs me to tell him how important he is to me, how much I need him and how much of an inspiration he is to me. If he didn’t want any of this, he simply wouldn’t have shown me so much and I refuse to let one argument kill everything that we can have because of his stubbornness or my fear. So he’s going to hear it, whether he wants to or not and if the only way I can get through to him is to do this his way then he can have it his way.
Slowly dropping down to my knees, I assume a comfortable position and lower my head a little. I instantly notice his head move to the side the tiniest bit more and know that I’ve at least got his attention again so I smile a little and try to formulate enough words to keep it.
“When I met you, I couldn’t understand why you were interested in me. You filled the room with such a beam of light that I felt I could do nothing but sink into the dark beside you and hope you might remember I was there. I couldn’t understand what it was that you saw in someone like me, but now you’ve shown me someone within myself that I never knew existed.” He still doesn’t move, no indication to help me, but he’s not leaving. “The short time we’ve been together has been the best in my life and you’ve given me so much to respect you for, so much to admire you for. You have no idea how absorbing you are to me and how much I want your attention and affection. Every time you come near me, I can’t breathe. Every time you touch me, I feel faint and every time you make love to me, I feel like if I died in that very moment it would be worth every second.” I breathe out, trying to find something that might make him turn. I don’t know what though. “I’ll give you everything I have, Alex. You can have it all if you want, but please be careful because you scare the hell out of me. You could take my soul and destroy it with one hand if you chose to, and yet despite the consequences, my heart is yours.” I stare at his back, my pleading eyes worried about so much but not caring. “I want you to have it. I have never wanted anything more than I want you. I couldn’t take it away from you now even if I tried, so take it with my blessing and do with it as you please.”
Seeing White Page 41
