by Chapple, GL
I’d moved my arm from my face and raised my head to look at her. I was stunned by how accurately she’d described my life. She reached her hand across and rested it on top of mine.
“Everyone is too scared of saying the wrong thing, pussyfooting around you and trying not to upset you, but - y’know what? - you didn’t die, and you’re disrespecting Lindsay’s memory by refusing to live. Sometimes life sucks! It tears your heart out and shatters you into so many little pieces that you’ll never be able to be whole again, but at some point you have to pick yourself back up, stick as many broken pieces together as you can and move on. Life doesn’t stop. There’s no pause whilst you catch a breath or figure things out. It goes on, with or without you.”
The words came out before I could stop them: “I’m fed up of picking myself up and getting on with things. You have no clue so just leave me alone!”
“Tell me then! Speak to someone, Marcus!”
I tried to move away, but she’d anticipated my reaction and blocked me. She pushed her hands against my chest and forced me back onto the sofa.
Her voice gentler this time, she spoke again. “Talk to me, Marcus - or at least, talk to someone. You can’t carry on like this.”
I didn’t say a word. I lay my head back against the cushion and closed my eyes. She sighed, and I waited for her to move away, but instead she moved closer, lifting my legs to rest on her lap as she sat on the sofa.
In a quiet voice, she began to speak, “I never knew my father. He walked out on my mother when I was around 18 months. I have a few pictures but no memory of him. My mother raised me by herself and it was she and I against the world,”
I opened my eyes to look at her but she was staring down at her hands. “Then, when I was 11, she died. She’d been my constant, she’d been everything but then she was gone - forever. It was brutal, devastating and it destroyed me. I went to live with my grandparents, who tried their best, and that’s when I met Lena. I was 12. By the time I was 16, my grandfather had died and my grandmother had dementia. They were the only people I had in the world apart from Lena. Then, at 18, I had only Lena. I understand grief, Marcus. I know it’s different for everyone, and I’m not saying I understand exactly what you’re going through, but I held onto a lot of anger for a long time, and it only ends up hurting you.”
“I am angry. I can’t just stop being angry. I can’t turn my feelings off – if fucking only! I hate her and I hate them!”
“Then go to her grave and yell at her or climb a mountain and scream at the top of your voice…” her voice trailed off, and I felt her eyes on me. “It’s not just about Lindsay?”
I didn’t answer her. My mouth had gone dry, and I wanted another drink, but at the same time I couldn’t bring myself to move.
“Marcus, who are you angry with?”
I lay there for a few moments in silence before shifting in my seat and reaching for the glass of water. I leaned back in the chair, refusing to make eye contact with her. I felt her move and breathed a sigh of relief that she was going back to bed, but she pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa, and snuggled down beside me. I opened my eyes watching her lay her body half on top of mine as she pressed herself against the back of the chair.
“I take it you’re not going to make the stairs tonight, so we’ll stay here. Lift your head.”
I did as she asked, and she propped the cushion up underneath me to make a pillow. She didn’t say anything else, sighing softly as she made herself comfortable against me. I felt the rise and fall of her chest, but she didn’t speak.
Eventually I had to ask, “Why are you here?”
“Because I care about you. You’re a good guy, you’ve been there for me, and I hate that you’re hurting. You’ve drunk too much for me to sleep, I know you won’t want us sleeping in your double, and mine is just a single. So, here we are. I won’t leave you.”
The pressure increased in my head at her final words, words that I’d heard so many times, words that always turned out to be lies.
My father had told me that he wouldn’t leave me, too – but that’s exactly what he’d done. Lindsay had said the same thing to me, and look how that had turned out.
We lay there in silence, and I listened as her breathing evened out. Once I thought she’d settled, I began to speak, my voice no more than a whisper into the darkness.
My words were hesitant at first, difficult to voice out loud. “My mother destroyed my father. He loved her, and she continually used that as leverage, a way to control and hurt him. She was vindictive and spiteful. She broke his heart and his spirit. When she left him, he gave up completely on life. She took Kelly with her - she didn’t want me - I still remember Kelly crying and screaming my name as she carried her out of the house and away from me. He started drinking more and more. I had to do everything for us; he was just a shell. Every night he’d sit me down with him, pour us both a beer and tell me all about how it had been when they’d met. As he got drunker, he’d tell me how vicious women were and warn me off them. He told me, night after night, that nobody would ever love me; that I couldn’t ever trust anyone; and that I’d be stupid to put my faith in a woman. I begged him to get help. I tried to get him to stop drinking. Then, one day, I came home to find that he’d taken an overdose. I was devastated, obviously, but I also felt some relief that I was free, that I wouldn’t have to live like that anymore. How sick does that make me? I don’t think I’m even capable of love. I moved into this house, and, as soon as Kelly was 18, I tracked her down. She moved in with me, and we’ve been here ever since. Nate knows the basics of this, but he doesn’t know how bad it got. He never came to my house when we were younger; I only ever went to his. Kelly was shielded from how much of a bitch her mother was, at least when she was younger.” I sighed and dragged my hand through my hair, blowing out a long breath before continuing, “Lindsay was my rock. She was my best friend - she was safe - and then she was gone too, so I get being alone: everyone fucking leaves me too. I’m so angry with her, I hate her. I have to hate her because the alternative hurts too much. I hate my mother for everything that she did - for tearing my family apart - for breaking my father and putting herself before everyone, even her children. I hate my father for being so weak when it came to her - for leaving me on my own - for doing what he did, knowing that it would be me who’d find him.” My voice cracked slightly, and I stopped for a minute to compose myself. “I’m just so angry, and I know I’m being selfish. Kelly is moving on with her life. I know she wants to move in with Carl and I know that it’s her concerns about me that are stopping her…but I don’t want to let her go. I’m scared too. And there’s you…”
I squeezed my arm around her, pressing her into me and kissing the top of her head. I’d noticed a change in her lately. Seeing her around here the last few days had shown me exactly how much she’d changed in the last few months. I hadn’t realised before, but now the difference was startling.
“I know something is going on, Mads. I know you’re holding back on me. I’ve seen how people use love to manipulate and control people. I saw my father systematically broken down and lose himself, and I lost him. I’m not going to stand by and watch that happen again, not to you.”
I kissed the top of her head again, refusing to let myself think about anything else anymore. I closed my eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep.
I’d woken curled up on the sofa, the blanket draped over me, but Marcus was nowhere to be seen. I’d heard him talking the previous night even though he’d thought that I’d been sleeping. I’d struggled with whether to respond and take advantage of the fact that he was opening up, but within minutes he’d fallen asleep, and I knew the only reason he’d spoken in the first place was because he’d thought that I wouldn’t hear him.
I was restless. I’d already packed my belongings in readiness to leave, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to go without speaking to him. The way he’d spoken about his parents had made me question my decision to
try again with Christian.
I fiddled with my phone, wondering if I could send him a casual text. Just as I swiped the screen, I heard the front door and breathed a sigh of relief. I waited for a few minutes, smiling as the door opened and in walked…Kelly. Dammit!
“Hey!” She threw her bag down on the sofa next to me and went into the kitchen, speaking to me over her shoulder. “Morning, that your stuff by the door?”
I swallowed down my disappointment and plastered a smile on my face, “Yeah.”
She’d filled a glass with water and walked back in carrying it and a packet of crisps. She placed the drink on the table before plonking herself on the sofa.
“So, you’re going back to Christian?” She raised an eyebrow sceptically.
“He swears he hasn’t cheated on me. I think I might have overreacted: I’d had quite a lot to drink, and I honestly can’t even remember what I read on his phone.”
“If he makes you happy, I’m not going to judge.” She held her hands up and smiled fondly at me. “Relationships aren’t all sunshine and flowers.”
“Exactly!” I felt slightly better at Kelly’s reassurance.
I felt more convinced about my decision. Christian loved me - we’d only lived together a short while – I was sure things would feel better once we were more settled.
I fidgeted on the seat, and my eyes drifted again towards the door. Kelly seemed to notice and cleared her throat, “If you’re waiting to say goodbye to Marcus, he’s not going to be back here today.”
“He’s not? Where’s he gone?” She looked taken aback, and I added quickly, “I didn’t realise he was working today, that’s all.”
“I dunno…he’s not…but he just called me and said that he was going out for the day and wouldn’t be back until late tonight – if he decides to come back tonight!” She rolled her eyes, and I forced another smile.
“Right, well…I’ll go then. I just wanted to say goodbye and thanks to both of you.”
She leaned over and wrapped her arms around me. “Mads, you’re welcome here anytime. By all means try to make your relationship work - that’s admirable. Just remember that you don’t have to be a martyr. Carl drives me crazy a lot of the time, but he makes me happy. If something isn’t working for you, you don’t need to look for justifications or reasons to leave: it’s your life to live as you see fit. Just be happy, Mads.”
She enveloped me in a big hug and we stood holding each other for a few moments. I pulled away reluctantly and thanked her again for letting me stay with them.
It was now over a week since I’d moved back in with Christian. Marcus and I still sent messages back and forth. The first few had been a little strained, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because I’d gone back to Christian or because of the state he’d been in the last time we’d seen each other, but we seemed to be back to normal now.
I was still worried about him. He didn’t know that I’d heard what he said the night before I’d left, and I didn’t know how to broach the subject with him. Marcus was closed-off, I knew there was no way that he would have spoken if he’d thought that I was still awake, but clearly he needed to talk.
I felt guilty that, despite moving back in with Christian, it was Marcus who was occupying my thoughts.
Christian walked into the bedroom just as I was reaching to turn off the lamp. “Leave that on a moment, darling. I’ll just be a moment.”
I leaned back against the headboard as I watched him change. He was a good-looking man. His short, dark hair was cropped close to his head, which gave him a defined, angular face. His body, although much smaller in stature than Nate or Marcus’, was toned from running. He caught me watching him and smiled, forcing me to do the same. I sagged in relief when he went into the bathroom.
What was wrong with me? Why was I comparing Christian to Marcus? Lately I was questioning everything. I still felt lonely, and the apartment still didn’t feel like home. I kept trying to reassure myself, telling myself that change was unsettling and that things would feel differently soon, but the truth was that I hadn’t felt comfortable since I’d moved in with Christian. I needed to try harder; I needed to make more of an effort rather than just expecting everything to slot into place. I knew better - life didn’t work like that. He’d told me numerous times since I’d moved back in that he loved me. I knew he was doing his best to reassure me after I’d doubted his fidelty.
He came out of the bathroom and joined me in the bed, reaching across me to switch the light off before pulling me in close to him. He nuzzled my neck as his fingers swirled over my nipple, teasing it to a point. I rubbed my hand down the back of his head, enjoying the feel of his short hair across my palm.
He sighed contentedly. “Before I get distracted…I’ve taken on board what you said, darling. I think we should talk about the future and our plans. You know what I want. I don’t want you to doubt it. I want you to be my wife and the mother of our children.”
My heart began to thump erratically at his words. I stilled in his arms, trying to force my lungs to expel the air that had frozen solid like a block of concrete in my chest. I could feel the pressure building, in my chest, in my head, behind my eyes - I couldn’t react - I didn’t know how to react. This is what I thought I wanted - a family of my own, a chance to belong, to be a part of something again, a chance to feel whole instead of broken-up, a chance to finally break free from the suffocating isolation and loneliness that had been a constant in my life for so long - but instead of the joy I’d always expected to feel, my overriding emotion was panic.
Christian was oblivious. “I want you to marry me, Madilyn. I want to make you my wife. I’m offering you everything you’ve wanted. You won’t be alone anymore; you won’t be unloved anymore; You can belong, with me.” He pulled away so that he could look at me just as a single tear escaped and ran down my cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl. I knew you’d be overcome. I’ll take that for my answer. You don’t need to do anything, I’ll get a planner in to sort the whole thing out so there’s no stress on you. I know you couldn’t handle something like this.” He pulled me tightly into his chest. “You’ve made me so happy already. Let’s get some sleep now. I don’t want to risk getting you knocked-up before I get you down the aisle.” He laughed to himself as my stomach continued to turn somersaults.
Why hadn’t I said anything? He gave me one last squeeze before releasing me and turning over to go to sleep.
I lay there in the semi-darkness, wondering what the hell had just happened. Did I just get engaged? That’s not how I ever imagined it would happen. I needed to say something to Christian, but what? Did I even want to marry him?
I listened to his breathing evening out and knew that he was sleeping, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
I’d been lonely for so long, I should be thrilled and overjoyed at the thought of getting married. That’s the way everyone should feel when they get engaged, right? But I didn’t. I still felt numb and empty. I couldn’t even contemplate the thought of having children with Christian. What was wrong with me? I’d fancied him; I’d wanted to be with him; and I’d been so happy when he’d asked me to move in after only a few weeks - so what was wrong with me now? How could things have changed so much? I turned to look at his sleeping form and sighed.
The truth was, just as Marcus had said, I still felt lonely. I still felt empty inside. I thought that being with someone would stop the suffocating loneliness that had been my companion for so long, but it just seemed to compound it. I was lying in bed next to Christian now, but it made no difference. I was still alone.
I think I’d been so desperate to feel loved that I’d made myself believe that’s what this was…but now, I wasn’t sure that I did love Christian; maybe I wasn’t even capable of love anymore; maybe my heart was too fractured; I’d spent so many years blocking out my emotions that maybe I’d never be able to feel anything again.
“Well, well! Come to see the invalid, have you, boys?”
> Nate’s grandfather welcomed us into his room with a sullen expression. I loved this crazy old man almost as much as Nate did. All the time I’d spent with Nate and his family meant that I thought of them as my own, all except his brother, who I thought could happily burn in hell for all I cared, but since Nate no longer had a relationship with him, he wasn’t someone that I needed to give any thought to.
“Come, join me. I’m glad you’re here, Marcus. This one,”- he indicated at Nate with a wave of his hand, -“has become as bland as that old bat next door. Come and fill me in on your escapades! Let me live a little through you whilst this blasted contraption holds me hostage!”
I laughed at his scowl as he thumped his chest. He was wearing a monitor which recorded his blood pressure, and he wasn’t happy about it in the slightest.
“How long do you have to wear it?” I asked as I walked over to sit opposite him on one of the armchairs.
I caught Nate’s pained expression as I moved past him, as Gramps boomed out a reply, I understood why.
“Too bloody long! It’s a joke, a bleedin’ wind-up, I’m sure of it! Last time it was for 48 hours. Now – now they want me to wear it for a week!” he shook his head in exasperation. “A whole week! It’s to try and stop Betty’s visits. I bet that’s what the damn warden…”
Nate’s quiet laughter made us both look in his direction. He was obviously both amused and frustrated with his Gramps. “He’s not a warden, Gramps! Not in the way that you mean, anyway. And it’s for your own good. We’re not all out to stop you getting your leg over, old man!”
“Well, you’re not anyway!” Gramps bit back, making me turn away so Nate wouldn’t see me laughing.
I sat down opposite him as Nate fussed about in his kitchenette area.
“So, what news do you have for me?”
I shook my head, “Nothing. Sorry, Gramps, you’re out of luck. I’ve not been out much lately.”
