Oceans Apart 2

by Amanda Heartley

  I struggled to get up and go to my room. My laptop was still on my bed and when I opened it; my heart did a flip-flop when I saw Tristan was online.

  I wanted to press the call button, but my fingers wouldn’t move. It was like my brain was telling me to stop and my heart was telling me to go. I stared at his online picture. He was a hot son of a bitch. And those eyes. What did he ever see in me?

  I threw myself down on the bed and cried. The earrings still by my side while I studied his picture through my tears. I didn’t know how long I lay there crying, I knew if it was evening here, it was early morning there. But Skype showed he was online. I pushed the call button and waited for the familiar ring. I didn’t want to call him so early in the morning, but I had to talk to him, if only to tell him goodbye. To thank him for the fun we’d had and to let him go. And ask him about the card that said he needed me.

  Skype stopped ringing and the message was ‘call failed’. Was he already talking to someone else? I blew my nose and sat up, pressing the call button again. It had barely started ringing when his face popped up onscreen and I tried to stifle the sobs from my throat.

  “Ginny?”

  The sound of his sleepy British voice triggered something in me and I lost it. My sobs came loud and ugly. My body shook and trembled as all the hurt and confusion came pouring out of me with each one of the hot tears that fell down my cheeks. I finally got my composure, and as I looked up at the computer screen, I noticed the bewildered look on Tristan’s face.

  “Gin, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” Tristan’s voice was full of worry and apprehension and I tried to calm the flood of emotions that came crashing out of me.

  “Yeah… no … I just…,” I had to stop and catch my breath. “Hold on a sec— I’m sorry that I’ve been ignoring you for the past few weeks,” I answered quietly, turning the velvet box over and over in my hands. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, about us and with your dad barging in and talking about a fiancée…I just— I couldn’t talk to you and—”

  “Don’t be sorry, Gin. He’s an arse. I’m the one who should be sorry. And there’s no fiancée. It’s his wishful thinking. Some stupid shit he thought up. ‘Armstrong family tradition’ shit. And I’m not bowing to it,” he sighed. I looked at him again and noticed he had worry lines on his face that weren’t there before.

  “Are you okay, Tris? You look tired. Are you sleeping enough?” The two-day-old stubble on his chin and his unruly hair was so unlike him. I thought maybe he was sick.

  “Yeah…I was sleeping. But things have been fucked up here, Gin. Mike was in an accident at work and I had another row with my father over some things and…” his words trailed off. His eyes met mine across the computer screen and I shivered. My heart was slowly breaking in two. He took a deep breath and said, “I had planned to come back, Gin.”

  “Come back? You’re coming back?” I asked hopefully. He looked directly into my eyes and I could feel the electricity in his gaze.

  “I had planned to come back to you.”

  His answer made my heart beat out of control, “You’re coming back?” I tried to contain my excitement until I realized he’d said 'planned’. Past tense.

  “But…not anymore?” I asked, unable to keep the sadness out of my voice. His silence gave me my answer.

  “Mike being hurt…it’s all my fault, Gin,” Tristan went on. “Everything that’s happened, my dad, my mum, you… It’s been on my mind so much, I dropped the ball and Mike got hurt. He might even be hurt permanently and it’s all because of me.”

  “Oh my God! What did you do? How did he get hurt?” My heart beat faster as I saw the pain in his face. I wanted to hold him, to touch him and take all his pain and guilt away.

  “It’s not what I did; it’s what I didn’t do. And I’ve tried not to blame myself, Gin, I really have. But the truth is,” Tristan paused and swallowed deeply. “The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want to stop thinking about you. But reality is, our lives are on two separate continents. You’re 5,437 miles away, Gin.”

  I wanted to reach my hand in my chest and pull my heart out piece by piece, listening to the harsh reality of our two separate lives. I tried hard to keep in the sob that wanted to break free of my heaving chest, but I couldn’t.

  “I didn’t want to give up so easily, Tristan,” my voice was small, but I forced myself to continue. “I know you’re hurting right now and things are all fucked up, but I don’t want to just throw it all away. I wish I could hold you right now. My arms ache to hold you. I don’t want anyone else. I want…” I couldn’t finish.

  Tristan’s eyes seemed to flash. “I want to hold you too, Gin, but there’s so much goi—”. The sound of a phone ringing broke our spell and I slumped back into my chair in resignation. I could see a similar expression of annoyance on Tristan’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Gin, hold on. My father’s calling and I promised I’d go visit Mike at the hospital,” Tristan said. I tried not to let him see my frustration at the interruption. The last thing he needed was me making him feel guilty for something else.

  “It’s okay. Go. Tell him I’m wishing him a speedy recovery.”

  “Fuck, what time is it?” Tristan said.

  I counted on my fingers the eight-hour time difference and replied “It’s a little after ten here, so it’s real early over there, like six in the morning.”

  “Fuckin’ hell, why is he calling me so bloody early?”

  “Answer the phone, he’s your dad.” I cringed at the thought of the older Englishman thinking I was some sort of floozy.

  “Thanks, Gin. I’ll see what’s going on with him.”

  I smiled and gave him a small wave before closing the video screen. Poor Mike. It sounded like he’d had a bad accident and I saw Tristan’s face wracked with guilt and anguish over what had happened to his best friend. He clearly blamed himself and I wanted to comfort him so badly.

  I sat there for several minutes trying to make sense of everything that had happened and my thoughts swung back to the huge distance between us. That was the only thing keeping us apart. The big fat, fucking Atlantic Ocean. Not my money, his money or even his parents’ money. I knew what I felt for Tristan was real. I knew I had to do something.

  Chapter 11 — Tristan

  I sat at the computer, staring at the screen where Ginny’s face used to be but I had to get going. I went into the bathroom to shave and change into something that smelled less like three day’s stink, before grabbing my keys and heading out of the door.

  I walked into the private room at the hospital where Mike was being looked after and the overwhelming feeling of guilt rushed in again. My shoulders slouched as I tried to seem as small and insignificant as possible.

  “Well don’t just stand there looking all glum. I’m the one in the fucking hospital bed, you ponse. Didn’t you see the sign outside?” Mike quipped, nodding toward the door.

  I glanced over my shoulder, looking for a sign or a placard or whatever he was talking about. “No, what sign?”

  “The one that says ‘No Wankers Allowed’ you twat! Now come over here and grab me some food before I waste away from malnutrition.”

  I laughed out loud at Mike’s absurd words. “No way would you waste away with that appetite of yours.” I tried to ignore my father as he stood to the side of Mike’s bed. I could feel him boring a hole in my head with his ominous glare and when I refused to look at him, he turned back to Mike.

  “As I said before, rest assured that the company will take care of everything necessary for your quick recovery. Don’t worry about the job, Tristan will handle your workload. You just concentrate on getting better. It’s going to be a while.”

  “Thanks Martin,” Mike replied earnestly and shook hands with him when he said he had to leave, ignoring the tension in the room. My father gave me a quick nod of acknowledgement before the sound of his retreating footsteps faded away down the corridor.

  “You really need
to talk to him, mate,” Mike said quietly.

  “I know you mean well, but leave it Mike, okay?” I replied in a clipped tone. He put his hands up in surrender and quickly changed the subject.

  “So anyway... look at these awesome selfies!” He held up an x-ray where I could see his foot with shards of bone where his ankle was supposed to be.

  “Is that your ankle…in pieces?”

  “That it is mate! That steel joist shattered the thing like a falling plate, didn’t it? The docs got those pieces out of there then put me back together with screws and metal. I’m like the fucking bionic man and I’ll be in this cast for at least twelve weeks. You’ll have to go to the pub on your own for a while.”

  “Mike, I’m so sorry fella,” I felt so guilty. “If I could trade places, you know I would.”

  “Trade places with me and spoil all my fun? No fucking way sunshine! I’m down for a little physiotherapy with a hot, sexy nurse to massage me in all the right places so I can get back to walking without a limp. Walking with a stiffy is difficult enough but a limp I can do without.”

  I just had to jump in and burst his bubble. It would be rude not to. “Yeah? Is that what they told you? A hot nurse? Well guess what Metal Mickey… I’m thinking from what I’ve seen around here that she’s going to be built like a brick shithouse and her kind of physiotherapy won’t involve stroking your dick; ‘gentle’ isn’t a word in her vocabulary and she’s going to throw you around like a fucking rag doll until you scream for your mum. Ho ya like her now, lover boy?”

  “Fuck off Tris, I thought you came here to cheer me up? Serious though mate, worst-case scenario is I could end up limping for the rest of my life but either way, it’ll be an awesome story to impress the ladies with.”

  Despite his upbeat manner, I could see him occasionally wince in pain. “I’m so sorry I let you down Mike. If I’d been there—”

  “If you’d been there, that steel might well have landed on your head,” he said, without any anger in his voice. “With the way you’ve been lately, your mind in other places, you might not have seen it in time to get out of the way in any case.”

  “Well, don’t worry mate. It definitely won’t happen again. Ginny and I,” I paused, the growing lump in my throat almost painful. “Well, let’s just say I’ve got your back covered and I’m here to help you on the road to recovery.”

  Mike grinned as he shook his head. “You are the stupidest fucking wanker I’ve ever met. Why don’t you just move over there and be with her? We can all tell that you’re arse over tit, luvved up for her. It’s pretty nauseating to watch you know?” as the grin turned into a schoolboy snigger.

  “Mike, it’ll never work. She has her career there and I have the company here.”

  “—That’s expanding with contracts all over the world. Don’t give up just because it’s hard, mate. Otherwise you’ll end up a sad old man, chasing after younger women with short skirts and even shorter attention spans.”

  “Like you?” I quipped.

  “Arsehole!” Mike laughed, and I knew with that, he and I would be okay. I promised to pick him up the next day and get him settled into his place, even though he complained that he wasn’t a child and could get around on his own.

  Chapter 12 — Ginny

  “I’m going.” Kari stopped outside the door to my room and I looked up at her, suddenly more certain than I’d ever been about anything. “I’m going to London.” The startled look on her face did nothing to curb the sudden belief that I was right, that came over me.

  “You’re going to London…?”

  I grabbed my suitcase from the closet, unzipping it and dumping the junk inside out onto the floor. I began looking around my room for things to pack. “Yes, I’m going to London.” I went to my dresser and grabbed a random assortment of bras and panties, dumping them into the open suitcase before going back to grab more clothes.

  “Ginny, I know I said to go for the man, but I didn’t mean go all the way to London! That’s crazy! What about your job?” Kari had a point, but I was finished waiting around for things to happen.

  “I have vacation time saved up,” I answered, as I walked over to the closet again and grabbed a few dresses and sweaters. “Just tell them in the morning that I had a family emergency or something. Once I get over there, I’ll Skype you.”

  I’d packed my suitcase with enough clothing for at least a week and got my passport from the drawer; I stopped to look at Kari’s shocked, but impressed face.

  She looked up at me, “I think you’re insane, Gin.” She stood up and hugged me tight. “But I’m proud of you. Now let’s go find you a ticket. I hope you don’t need a visa to get into the UK. That could take fuckin’ forever.”

  I hugged her back just as tightly then pulled away and grabbed my phone and laptop. Five hours later, I was on a plane bound for London’s Heathrow airport, courtesy of Kari and my emergency stash money. I was nervous, excited and worried all at the same time. I’d never done anything this impulsive in my life.

  When the plane finally touched down, I was in shock. A little less than fifteen hours ago, I was in the U.S.A. and now, for the first time in my life, I was in London! England! The good ol’ UK! My Tristan was out there somewhere and I was determined to find him. I felt like a girl on a mission. Only I was the only one who knew it. I searched for the airport wi-fi and connected my laptop to it. “Good!” I saw him logged in to Skype so I sent him a message.

  Ginny: I’m at the airport.

  I sent Kari a quick message to let her know I’d arrived while I waited for his response. I didn’t dare leave the airport on my own as I didn’t even know where Tristan lived. I remembered he said he had a view of the Thames from his penthouse, but that could be anywhere. The plane ticket had eaten up most of my emergency money, so I only had about $300 to live on for the next few days, until my paycheck got deposited into my account. I quickly sent another message to Tristan thinking that perhaps he didn’t know which airport I meant.

  Ginny: I mean, I’m at the Heathrow Airport. Are you there?

  I sat and waited at the baggage claim. I knew he’d answer; maybe he was working. He said they worked a lot when it wasn’t raining and it looked clear outside. That had to be it. He was working and didn’t hear it.

  I glanced at the clock and realized I’d been waiting for close to three hours and not once did Tristan even check his Facebook messages. The excited hope that had filled me earlier was slowly turning into despair. I couldn’t imagine spending the night at the airport, in a foreign country, no less.

  I sent him another message, this time on all the social media channels and waited patiently; walking around the international lounge until, I came across some much-needed food.

  I ordered a salad and coffee, thinking the caffeine would help me stay awake a little longer. “I’m so stupid,” I mumbled to myself, checking my phone one more time. “A fifteen hour flight and a thousand dollars wasted. This has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Maybe he didn’t want me here after all. Maybe he really does have a girlfriend already…. or God forbid, a wife? That would totally explain why he ignored me.

  Tears welled up in my eyes once again and I swore that I was done. Done with Tristan, done with trying and definitely done making thousand dollar rash decisions. Searching through my wallet, I found the emergency credit card my parents had given me and walked back to the ticket counter after sending off one last message.

  Ginny: I waited... and waited. I guess you have a life here without me. Never mind, I’m going home.

  I silenced my phone then turned to the woman at the counter. I took a deep breath and gathered up the strength to do what I knew I had to do. “I need to exchange this ticket to get back to Los Angeles as soon as possible please.”

  “Certainly,” the agent replied, taking my ticket and swiping the monitor in front of her with her fingertips. “Miss Peterson, I see you arrived just a few hours ago. You’re leaving so soon?”

&nbs
p; “Yes I am. Please book me on the next flight,” I replied, handing her the credit card.

  Her eyes scanned the screen and then she smiled and looked up. “We have American Airlines flight 6186 to Los Angeles, tomorrow at 15:40. Would you like me to hold that for you?”

  “Uh, fifteen forty? What time is that in English? I mean American.” I blushed, not knowing the 24-hour clock format.

  “Oh, right. That’s three forty in the afternoon. I can book the flight right now if you’d like. Its 120 Pounds administration fee to change your existing ticket.”

  “You don’t have anything sooner? It’s just that —”

  “Will you need accommodation until tomorrow, Miss Peterson? I can book that for you as well.”

  I looked at my wallet and realized just how stupid I’d been to come here in the first place. The card was for emergencies, and I was going to have a hard time explaining to my dad how coming to England for a few hours was an emergency, but I couldn’t sleep at the airport. “Uhm… accommodation? Here? Close?”

  “Yes, Miss Peterson, she smiled. We have the Hilton or the Sofitel right here in Terminal 5.

  Chapter 13 — Tristan

  “Tris! You scrub up well when you have to,” Mike greeted me as he sat up in bed drinking a cup of tea.

  “Too bad there isn’t a cast big enough to put over your mouth,” I shot back and it made me smile to hear him burst out laughing. The nurse looked between the two of us with an amused expression on her face before she slipped him a small piece of paper and walked outside. I shook my head as I helped him into the wheelchair and pushed him out of the room to the car park.

  “Where’s your phone mate? I forgot to tell my nurse that I’d need her healing touch later on tonight,” Mike said with a smirk.