by Anna Bloom
“I’ve promised him already.”
Anger flares inside me. “You shouldn’t have done that without telling me.”
“Yeah? And you shouldn’t have married me knowing you didn’t love me”
I turn and start to close the door. “Isaac say goodbye to Elliot.”
“Bye, Dad,” Isaac calls, and his words cut me through and through. This is one mistake I won’t be able to heal any time soon.
Even thinking the word ‘mistake’ brings a flood of other memories to the surface.
By the time I’ve shut the door, sworn at it a fair amount, and gone back into the house, mum’s woken up and is asking Isaac who he is, and whether he is a burglar. “No, Mum,” I sigh. “He’s your grandson, remember? I called and told you about him once, and you told me I would regret it.” The wine and Elliot’s interference are making me feel really up for it.
Isaac looks at me in alarm but I just shake me head at him with a smile and twirl a crazy sign with my finger by my head. He sniggers and then grabs his bag of goodies from the day up off the floor.
“Night, Mum.” He gives me a kiss as he passes for the stairs.
“You’re going to bed already? I haven’t seen you all day!” My frustration starts to boil. “What am I supposed to do?”
Isaac looks at me like I’m losing it and pulls his lip into a borderline sneer. “I don’t know, whatever parents are supposed to do when they are by themselves.” He starts to take the stairs. “I thought adults liked it when their children went to bed?” he says almost to himself, shaking his head at his question.
“Whatever,” I grumble under my breath and head back into the kitchen to drain the very last dregs of my wine before opening another bottle. I’m halfway through peeling off the foil wrap when the doorbell goes again. I’m beginning to think it’s the only thing that works in this house.
It’s more than likely Elliot coming back to wind me up some more.
I yank the door and a hand pulls me out of the house. A screech escapes from my mouth but a firm finger is placed against my lips as I’m backed up against the front door as it closes behind me.
The life I could have had pushes me against the door and a shudder runs through my body, swiftly turning surprise into something else. Freddy’s body is tight along mine, his knee pinning me in place, his nose skimming mine as his breath mingles with my own. His breathing has a ragged edge. My legs start to wobble, a shake taking over the whole of my body as I feel him press himself and me further into the wooden door, the door-knocker digging between my shoulder blades. My eyes are wide open, but his are closed, a faint bruise of purple hinting at tiredness under his resting lashes.
I go to speak, ready to ask him what he is doing and why he has me pushed up against my door, but my words are hindered by his finger still against my mouth and the probability that I couldn’t speak even if I tried. So I don’t. I close my eyes and relax my body, the jelly sensation taking over every limb as I breathe in the smell of him intoxicatingly close.
I don’t know how long we stand like that. After a while, his hand raises and his thumb skims along the edge of my jaw. My heart thuds with desperation, like wings of a caged dove desperate to escape.
I shouldn’t be letting Freddy do this. I shouldn’t be letting me do this, but for the moment it’s the only thing in this damn world that feels like it's going to satisfy me. His nose rubs gently against mine, his Eskimo Kiss and it brings back a flood of memories I’ve spent years denying myself.
Gently, he cups my face in his palms, the rough edge of his skin so familiar I could have only felt it yesterday. I think he’s going to kiss me. I open my eyes to check and find him watching me — his dark blues glinting in the evening dusk and a hint of a smile playing around the edges of his lips. His lips. I’m focusing on them, just like I always have.
“I don’t really care that you’re married,” he says. His voice is low, his Suffolk burr deepening the tone. He sounds hoarse and out of breath. “I’ve been hoping,” he hesitates. “No. I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
His mouth smashes into mine, his lips familiar and firm, as he unwinds ten years from my soul and allows it to soar into the night sky.
REVELATIONS
“Isaac, for goodness sake, come and get your breakfast!” My lungs are fit for bursting as I scream up the stairs at Isaac’s closed bedroom door.
It’s fair to say my mood is terrible. I haven’t slept a wink. How could I? Freddy turned up on my doorstep, snogged the hell out of me, made me feel all kinds of good, bad and everything in between, and then left me there as he paced his way back down the driveway.
Who does that?
No explanations, no words other than “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
It was as close to a heart attack as I hope I will ever come.
Now though, I’m feeling angry. I’ve spent a long time distancing myself from my memories of Freddy and the way he threw me away once he was all fixed up after his crash. But worse still, I’m angry at myself because there is something I should tell Freddy but I just don’t know how. How do I tell him the reason why I never came back? Last night I sure as hell didn’t when he had me pressed up against the front door.
I want to pack my bags and run again. I wasn’t built with the fight or flight instinct. I just have the one that makes me run for the hills at the first sign of trouble, and Freddy Bale is trouble for me. I have a bad feeling he could bring me down with little effort at all. Or I could take him down, destroying us both forever with the secrets I’ve kept.
My head pounds with the weight of it all.
“What’s up with you?” Isaac slouches his way into the kitchen.
‘Don’t slouch,” I snap.
He doesn’t even bother trying to straighten up and it makes me feel hotter and madder. “Why are you so cross?”
“I’m not cross.” I feel like I could rip his head off.
“I wish I’d stayed with Dad for another day.” He’s not your fucking dad.
Isaac eyes me defiantly and I try and take some calming breaths. “Go outside and play, Isaac.”
“I’m not six,” the retort is quick-fire.
“No, you’re nine and you should do what you’re told.” The moment I say the words, I know I sound ridiculous. I’ve never been like this with Isaac before — it’s not my style. The two of us stick together like a band of thieves, not me snapping and scowling. I let out a sigh, expelling my confusion, frustration and exhaustion with it. ‘Fancy ice-cream?”
“But . . .it’s breakfast?” Isaac looks shocked at my random suggestion.
“I know. Come on, lets get dressed and get out of here.”
“What about Nan?”
This makes me stop, I’m not used to having two people to be responsible for. “Reckon she might like ice-cream?”
“Is she going to be embarrassing?”
I nod my head slowly. “Yes, probably; come on, lets do this.”
My decision made, I take the stairs two at a time and find mum to get her dressed. Half an hour later I have us bundled in the car and heading for the Suffolk coast. I haven’t been to Lowestaff for ten years, and my memories of the place are muddled from my efforts to erase them, but it’s the only seaside place I can think of taking Isaac to. He starts school tomorrow, I don’t want to be snapping at him the whole day, his new start here deserves more than that.
It’s late afternoon when we head home. It was a good day, mum looked positively glowing, she had so many tales to tell of my dad on the beach. I had no idea how much time they’d spent there in their youth before they had me too young and I ruined it all for them. It’s strange how her memories pre-me are so clear, but when I prompt about my childhood she can’t remember a damn thing. “Did you bring me here?” I asked, as we walked along the beach with our Ice-cream dripping down our fingers.
She looked at me blankly and I understood all too clearly she didn’t know who I was. She could be
out with a care-worker for all she knew. In her head, she was just telling whomever she was walking along the promenade with all about the love of her life.
How come I never felt that he was the love of her life? I always thought she didn’t believe in that.
Now it’s dark outside and she is watching telly. I’ve given Isaac a last half an hour with my iPad before he has to hand it over for his back to school night. I figured we should have a go at some reading or something — just to make sure he could still read after a summer holiday of not even picking a book up.
The twitchy, restless feeling which attacked me this morning is itching its way back into my skin.
Raiding the fridge, I find a bottle of wine. Funnily enough, I’ve stocked up the fridge with a fair volume of the stuff. I’ll have a quick sip and then start the bedtime battle with Isaac.
The doorbell disturbs my second lug of Pinot. The moment I hear the shrill ring, this heavy, low, expectant feeling grows in the pit of my tummy. My legs start a wobble before I’ve even contemplated walking to see who’s there.
Tentatively, I unlatch the door and peer out. Please don’t be him. I can’t do that again.
It is. He’s propped against the wall, hands in pockets.
“What are you doing here, Freddy?” I exclaim. I can’t keep the surprise of finding him on my doorstep two nights in a row out of my voice.
Slowly, he peels himself away from the wall, his right hand reaches and rubs around the back of his neck. My legs wobble faster. “It’s funny, Amber.” He doesn’t make it sound funny. It sounds like someone’s died. “I can’t seem to stay away.”
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t respond. He takes one deliberate step across the space separating us. Unable to move, I remain frozen. He takes another step, his pace giving me the chance to back away. I don’t. I pull the door closed behind me and wait for his next move, the whole time my entire body shakes with anticipation.
“I can’t stay away from you.” His voice is nothing more than the lowest murmur as he slides his hands along my shoulders until they reach my neck and entwine with my hair. I watch his lips lower to mine in slow motion. This isn’t like last night. This is slow and deliberate. Expectation runs through me, heightening all my senses. I’m like a blind woman waiting in the dark for the touch she’s been missing all her life. I can hear the rustle of the leaves in the trees, the cricket on the overgrown lawn and I can see his mouth, the curve that used to be so familiar to me, getting closer and closer. The sensation of his fingers against my scalp sends ripples of heat across my skin.
His lips touch mine, the lightest brush of skin against skin. .
That’s it, my body springs forward finding its way into the familiar grooves of his. His arms slide around me and he tugs me closer and closer. Flames lick along my skin where the pressure of his body meets mine and my mouth opens hungrily trying to get as much of him as possible.
Leaning into me, he presses me against the front door, a soft groan escapes my lips. This is like denying yourself chocolate for a lifetime and then one day giving in and just diving headlong into a vat of the stuff. My hands skim along the curve of his back, fingers trailing the dip in the base of his spine, the muscles underneath are still taunt and firm. His fingers pull on my hair, lifting my chin for his mouth to explore, our breathing is heavy and fast in the night air, our chests rising and falling in unison.
“Mum!” The front door flies open from underneath me and I take a step back, my weight free-falling without the support of the door.
Freddy catches me, his arms which still feel like they are made of steel, hold me up from landing on my arse.
His eyes are open wide, shock radiating from his features. His arms release me and he takes a step back as Isaac moves further onto the front step to investigate.
“Isaac, go inside, I’ll be in in a moment.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. It’s a crackled whisper as my past and my present collide around me. Freddy is staring at Isaac, his eyes search over him, roving along every inch of him, absorbing the sandy hair and tall frame.
Without saying a word, Isaac closes the door and Freddy and I are left suspended in the moment, our past and present smashing together with an earth shattering crash.
Freddy steps away from me, his head shaking slightly from side to side. “A child?” he almost mutters the words, like if he says them they will make it easier to understand.
“Didn’t Danni tell you?” I kind of assumed she would. Maybe even a part of me hoped she would tell him so it wouldn’t have to be me.
He shakes his head silently.
“Do you want to sit down?” I motion to the front steps with my hand. He looks at them, dazed, but slowly nods his head.
We sit in silence, our legs close but not touching — I wish they would. That charge I got earlier, with his body against mine, that’s a once in a lifetime electric charge, there is only one person I ever felt that with and he’s sitting right next to me.
Suddenly the last ten years of denial, ignoring my heart and stopping my thoughts seem really long, and I recognise one astounding fact. It may not have been love with Freddy, but he is the only person who has ever had any real effect on me. It’s something about him. Another memory flashes awake. It’s because he’s magic. How could I have forgotten it? How much else have I made myself forget because I was angry and hurt. I’d definitely forgotten how beautiful he is, and how he charges my skin every time he touches it.
Exhaustion washes over me, and a tiredness like none I’ve ever known, floods every cell in my system the moment I stop fighting the memories and feelings that a teenage me tried to forget.
I was eighteen. It wasn’t my fault.
“Why did you leave, Amber?” He whispers the question out into the now dark sky.
“Because you broke me . . . uh, broke up with me.”
He turns slightly, his gaze catching mine. Exasperation furrows his brow and his lips which used to grin at every opportunity, are set in a firm line. “I’ve waited ten years to get the chance to explain, I’m probably going to fuck it up.” He offers a rueful laugh and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Amber, I was scared, we were so young and I hated that you’d given up months of your life while I was stuck in that damn hospital. Then when you said you were going to stay here, I panicked. I didn’t want you to resent being with me. I just wanted more for you.”
I carefully think through his words, picking up threads of forgotten dreams that chase through my mind.
“So it wasn’t my mum?” I always believed it was my mum who had convinced him to break up with me. I hated her for it, and him for listening to her. It’s the single reason I never ever came back. Two people conspiring against you is enough to make you feel unwelcome. Their apparent conspiracy ten years ago left a deep wound on my heart, by the time it had healed and I allowed my subjective older self to contemplate the situation, too much time had passed to come back. I regret it now; it made me miss seeing my dad, but that’s hindsight for you, and hindsight’s a bitch.
“I never spoke to your mum. It was your acceptance letter to Suffolk which made up my mind.” He speaks the truth. I can hear it in every syllable.
A sob starts to build inside me when I acknowledge what my anger has done. It’s prevented me from having an adult relationship with my family, stopped me from coming home.
‘I didn’t want you to regret me,” he continues.
“What do you think I feel now?” I can barely get the words out, my chest is heaving with the tears I want to cry from my own blind stupidity.
‘Regret.” The word slices through the night air. He turns and his own eyes are lined with unspent tears. Slowly, one falls and then another and I start to cry too. His arms slide around my waist as he pulls me in tight, our breaths hot and our skin clammy with salt water.
When I’ve calmed down, I shift away. “You once told me you thought our love was too easy.” I watch the memory flicker
in his eyes. “Is it hard enough for you now?” I stare at him intently. “Has it been hard enough for you, Freddy?”
It’s hard enough for me, ten long years of missing someone so much you could bleed but at the same time, denying the pain exists.
“Yeah, it’s hard enough.”
When I came back to town, I thought if I found out Freddy had missed me like this for ten years, it would make me feel better, vindicated. But it doesn’t. It makes me feel empty and hollow, just like I did in the days before Isaac arrived.
“What now?” he asks.
“Nothing. Freddy, we can’t do that again. Anyway, Isaac comes first, he’s always come first.”
Freddy runs his hands down his jeans. “Did you marry his dad?”
I look at him long and hard. “No.” The relief I see on his face makes me soften my stance. “I never got to tell him.” Automatically, my go-to, standard line falls from my lips. If Freddy has anything to say about this, or any questions to ask, he keeps them to himself.
“So what now?” he asks again, the grin I used to know so well flickering to the surface.
I let out a nervous chuckle. “What now? Well now you live in the village, and I live in the village. Some days we see each other and we wave like old friends, we say hi and then we walk on, back to our own lives.”
“We could.” He gives a partial nod of agreement. “We could,” he repeats again. In a blindingly fast move he reaches for my face, lifting it in his hands. His lips come against mine, the lightest of feather touches, just like the very first time he kissed me. The memory comes back with the kiss. Breathing out a sigh, I open my mouth and he moves in, closer, hotter, more insistent, kissing away ten years of absence.
My head is spinning when he pulls away, a magic eraser washes a third of my life away and I forget I’m no longer eighteen. Blood rushes through my body, heading to areas long starved. “Or we could do that,” he murmurs low.
“Bleugh.”
Freddy starts to chuckle and stands from the step, holding out a hand, he pulls me up alongside him. “It’s okay, Amber, I’m not excepting a miracle, nor for you to forgive me, it was just nice to be able to do that again.”
