Lost Days (Four Days Book 4)

by A. S. Kelly

  Patrick’s words go straight to my heart, which magically starts beating faster again, reminding me how much I love that man. I miss him so much I can’t breathe, but I’m frightened, I’m terrified at being close to him.

  Not because I think he could hurt me or that I wouldn’t be able to stand his touch, but because I’m afraid I’ve lost that part of me that he was attracted to. That light that drew him to me.

  “Okay,” Patrick encourages. “Are we gonna do this?”

  I lift my eyes and the smile plastered on his face lets me know he’s not expecting an audible reply.

  —

  AARON

  “Patrick just called. He’ll be here in a minute.”

  “It’s not like we need him here,” I say to Liam, who is standing next to me at the bar counter.

  “He also said to be careful about how you move,” he says with a little smirk on his face.

  Is she…

  I leave the bar immediately and head to the back room. I begin pacing nervously, wiping my palms on my jeans. I feel that old panic rising in my throat trying to choke me, but I have to resist. I have to make a monumental effort because she’s coming here and the chance of seeing her, even if it’s just for a few seconds, will carry me through.

  I gather my courage, do some breathing exercises and go back into the bar just as she is walking in alongside Patrick.

  And what I see in her eyes dashes all of my hopes.

  There is no light, there are no colors and there’s no trace of that strong, confident woman I held to me just a few days ago.

  My heart stops and with it my entire world because I know this is my fault. My stupid fear of loving her and having her in my life.

  I approach and stop a few paces in front of them. Patrick feeds her courage through a hand solidly placed on her shoulder, before giving her a kiss on the cheek and backing away discreetly.

  “Hi,” I tell her, unable to think of anything better.

  She smiles but keeps her eyes downwards.

  “Do you feel like going coming over here with me?” I say, indicating the back room.

  “I prefer being here,” she says, biting her lip.

  She’s afraid of me, of being alone with me.

  The pain is something abstract, something I shouldn’t lend credence to. I’m used to pain being a regular companion but I almost believed I was going numb to it after having experienced every nuance of this agony numerous times.

  And yet, there he is again, stronger than ever, running through my body, penetrating right down to the bones. It’s not something that can be repressed or managed. It’s something I can’t get rid of.

  Something that has no solution.

  The pain I feel right now as her eyes give me the confirmation that I’ve really lost her is without precedent. It grabs me and devours me, leaving me with the familiar sensation of solitude, where I was very much at home before she tried to free me from it.

  That solitude that I am free..

  “I can’t do this,” she says suddenly. “I can’t stay here. Sorry.”

  I sigh in resignation.

  “It’s just too hard.”

  “Ciara—”

  “I’m going back to my family. I need to go back to my life, my things, my work and my studies. I need to get back to my routine. By myself.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I agree, even if it’s the furthest thing form my mind, I won’t offer her any resistance.

  “I hope things will be resolved for the best. I regret so much having caused you all of these troubles. I feel terrible about it.”

  “No, don’t think that way.” I impulsively move towards her but she takes a few steps back.

  “I can’t love you,” she says in tears. “Not the way I am now. I’d have nothing to give you.”

  What should I tell her? That I’d accept anything just as long as she allows me to be by her side? That I’m desperate, finished, in ashes without her?

  “Let me be by your side.”

  She shakes her head. No.

  The silence between us is oppressive. Despite the noises of the pub around us, the glasses that clink, the laughter of the customers, the only thing I’m able to distinguish is the deafening silence between our two souls.

  I already feel her absence, even if she is in front of me, I feel it. My Ciara has gone, leaving me defeated like I have never been before.

  Because this is also what love means. I always knew it.

  And yet, I’m not able to turn my back on it, to curse the heavens, wishing to forget every shiver. I wouldn’t ever give it up, not even knowing beforehand how things would end.

  Despite the fact that this pain is taking away all that I have left, I regret nothing except not having been man enough to admit to myself that I am in love with this woman.

  And I always will be.

  I could never go back now to my life without her even if she is no longer a part of me.

  “Can’t do it,” she says, before turning her back on me and walking out of the pub, out of my life and out my world.

  But not from my heart.

  That’s her place and no one else will ever take it.

  30

  CIARA

  “Good morning, Mom.”

  “Good morning, dear. I’m off to work, but there’s some hot tea ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, have you got a tour today?”

  “Yes. I start at 2:00 p.m.”

  “And what are your plans this morning?”

  “You don’t have to worry about leaving me alone.”

  “I was wondering if you felt like doing a bit of painting…” she tries cautiously.

  I know why she’s doing it. I’ve been back home a month and I’m slowly trying to take up my old habits. Last week I went back to school and today I’ll be going to work. Not that I really feel like my old self, but if I don’t take action, I’ll just go on mooching around the house in my pyjamas, with swollen eyes, stewing in my own juices.

  I don’t want this to become a new lifestyle. A continual way of thinking that doesn’t let me move forward.

  What happened with Mark is terrible, impossible to forget, but he can’t touch me now, thanks to Aaron. And that’s what feels the worst about all of this. The thought of him and what we won’t have again.

  I told him that I can’t love him and the moment the words left my mouth I knew I had broken him permanently, because he had just begun to start trusting me, being sure of my feelings for him and allowing himself to let go, and then I slammed the door in his face.

  Despite the fact that I feel a need to have him here beside me, to smell him and caress his lips against mine, I know I’m not able to let myself go now and to give him all of the love he needs.

  Because only God knows how badly that man needs to be loved. He’s got a desperate need. And I can’t be that person, the one who helps him keep out of the dark because now I’m the one in the darkness and I don’t want to drag him down with me.

  And yet, I miss him, like I’ve never missed anyone in my life. Something that makes you feel empty and arid as if there were no liquids running in my veins and all that remains is muscle and bones.

  It hurts. More than anything. To love and not live that love out.

  “Don’t wear yourself out,” my mother calls before kissing my forehead and walking out the front door.

  I smile at her from behind my cup of tea, then I decide to take a shower and get dressed and maybe have a walk, so as to take advantage of this mild weather.

  I’m not afraid of leaving the house or running into people or being alone. I’m not afraid that something could happen to me at any moment. The only thing that scares me is what I feel: nothing. I don’t feel the colors, the music, the sun on my face. The desire to want to surround myself with all of these things. I just want to be alone without having to show everyone what I no longer am.

  I leave the house wearing black leggings and a dark
colored T-shirt that reaches down to my knees. I put on a sporty hat to protect me from the wind and a light jacket in case of rain. I’ve got my usual gym shoes and a fake smile ready to go. Not a trace of make-up on my face to hide the sleepless nights and rivers of tears I have cried.

  I take a long walk in St. Stephen Green, and find a spot in the green where I can enjoy my only company: a sandwich and a drink. I sit on the grass next to a small lake and share my lunch with the resident ducks. I sit in silence, just listening to their squawking and begin to feel a little lighter when my cell phone rings.

  I dig around in my huge bag and almost miss the call searching for it.

  “Oh, hi Patrick,” I tell him when I answer.

  “Hi. I was about to hang up.”

  “Couldn’t find the phone in my bag.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Out.”

  “Alone?” I hear the worry in his tone.

  “I’m fine, Patrick.”

  “I know, sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I smile even though he can’t see me. “What’s going on?”

  He exhales deeply before speaking.

  “I’m at the Courthouse. With Aaron.”

  I close my eyes and catch my breath.

  “Six months is the minimum penalty. The judge has allowed him to convert jail time into community service. You know, as an example to the community, a devoted brother, a trusted friend…”

  Silence.

  “I thought you’d want to know,” he adds.

  “Thanks for telling me,” I say, feeling guilty.

  “You should be here with him,” he says harshly. “This isn’t right.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sighs in frustration.

  “I have to go now. The others are all standing on pins and needles. We’ll all be at the pub tonight in case you wanted to—”

  “I can’t.”

  “Ciara…”

  “I can’t do it. I can’t see him.”

  “Give him a chance and give yourself a chance.”

  “Bye Patrick.” I hang up before he can say anything else.

  I sigh in relief that Aaron won’t be going to jail because of me. Last week I found out that Mark was sentenced to eighteen months. It turned out that I was not the first girl he’s followed and tried to hurt.

  On the one hand, it makes me feel a little better, because it would suggest that it’s not my fault, that I didn’t inadvertently lead him on. On the other hand we know that perverts like this live with us and around us and that no one is ever really safe.

  I’ve always thought of life as if it’s a bright pallet of colors, warm tones, intense and inviting. I never thought of black as a primary color, at least not in my little daydreams. Dreams that I no longer have.

  I get up off the grass and head off to work a little lighter in the head than I was before. But I have a ten-ton boulder on my heart.

  —

  AARON

  Having come back from the Courthouse, everyone is there waiting at the pub, ready to hug me, happy that this story is behind us now. It’s true, I’m going to have to do community service for six months but it’ll be a cakewalk in comparison with doing time in jail.

  The point is, without her in my life, it matters very little to me where I am. The only thing that keeps me moving is these guys, my friends, my family who are celebrating my freedom with me.

  I seriously would not have a reason to go on without them. And the thought that they all still put their faith and trust in me, that they need me here, helps keep me on my feet and not to get sucked into a vortex since she told me that she could not love me.

  So I get right to work because I need to keep my mind busy, not to dwell on her and her dead eyes, her voice reduced to little more than a mumble and the fear of being two steps away from me.

  It’s my own fault that I have ruined everything. I pushed love away when I had it in my hand and now I’ve lost it forever. Because she’s not coming back and every day that passes without hearing her laughter confirms that depressing fact.

  •••

  The night passes in the usual manner. The same customers, the same chatter and jokes. I smile kindly, I chat to all the people who come to the bar counter and I let myself be comforted by my friends who are happy, in love and together.

  “Hey, it’s Thursday, don’t forget it,” Jay reminds me. Yeah, sure. Playing music will help me unload a bit of this weight I’m carrying.

  Liam and Patrick are setting up the cables, Rain and Alex are behind the counter to lend a hand so that I can step away. I join them on stage, ready to start one of our musical nights here.

  Playing music has always been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. It’s helped keep me out of trouble and has been the means of creating this tight relationship I have with the boys. Music has always been there for me like a neighbor, a friend, a confidant, like that thing that gives you hope even when it seems like everything has gone to the dogs.

  I sit at the drums and take up my sticks, give ’em a spin and start the first number.

  I’ve been down and… I’m wondering why… These little black clouds… Keep walking around… With me.

  Okay guys, right music. I didn’t even pick this one out.

  So maybe tomorrow… I’ll find my way home.

  And as I take out all my pain on the drum skins, I think how much I wish it could be like that, that I might find my path, that I might see a future for myself.

  But then I realize she’s not here and that she’s gone, taking my dreams with her, the ones I’ll never be able to fulfil, and I tell myself that tomorrow won’t bring me anything new or promising, and that my future is of zero importance because she was my future, my hope and now all I’ve got is the present and myself.

  Me, myself and I.

  We take a three-minute break, just long enough to discuss what the next song should be and to drink something, when Patrick, who has his shoulders towards me, turns around suddenly, scratching his disgustingly perfect head.

  “Maybe we should change the playlist,” he says.

  Then I look up.

  And I can’t believe it.

  Ciara walks into the pub, looking around, seeming a bit out of sorts. Rain goes towards her with an affectionate embrace, even if Ciara stays there without hugging her back. She seems so small and defenceless that the impulse to run to her is primeval and before I know it, I’ve already jumped off the stage.

  I approach with shaking legs and with anxiety coming back to me, faithful old bastard that he is.

  Ciara looks at me as Rain slowly lets her go and steps backwards.

  “I don’t know why I’m here,” she says.

  “That’s okay.”

  “I just needed to be here.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you.”

  How idiotic and impersonal. I could have done better.

  Damn incompetent vocabulary.

  “How are you?” I ask, pulling myself back painfully.

  “Better.” She forces a smile.

  That’s already an improvement.

  “Want to stay a bit and listen to some music?” I ask, imploring her with my heart to stay.

  “Maybe one song.” She smiles again and I could swear I saw a little spark in her eyes.

  And hope slams back into me like a head-on collision with a freight train. I smile too and make my way back to the stage as she sits down next to Rain.

  That’s alright, just like that, I tell myself. It’s all just fine. As long as she’s here.

  The guys look at me, worried. I make a gesture with my head that everything’s fine, that I’m fine and it doesn’t feel like I’m lying. Because even just seeing her here, to see her smile and know that there’s still something inside of her is a lot better that fine.

  And for now, that’s good enough.

  31

  CIARA

  Carl parks in front of the pub and is about to get out of the
car when I block him with my arm.

  “No, I have to do this by myself.”

  He nods in understanding.

  “Want me to wait here for you?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t know how long I’m going to be,” I confess, because to tell the truth I don’t even know why I’m here.

  Today was a good day and I haven’t had one of those in a long time. A morning spent outdoors in solitary peace, a pleasant shift at work that put me back in contact with people. A day like any other, apart from the fact that I could have done without Patrick chastising me.

  You should be here with him.

  So, when I got home I asked Carl to give me a ride here and I came to this place I love where there are the people who love me.

  To him.

  I say goodbye to Carl and tell him there’s no need to wait for me, that I can ask Patrick to give me a ride when I’m ready to go home. He smiles and nods, kisses my cheek and lets me go.

  I take a deep breath and open the door. Rain is the first person to notice me and leaves the bar counter to come and greet me. She hugs me tightly and says she’s happy to see me, and even though I remain immobile in her arms, she doesn’t make me feel bad about it.

  I turn my head and I see him coming. His face is tired, his eyes are underscored by dark circles and there is fear evident in his movements as he approaches.

  Rain lets me go and I find the courage to look him in the face and tell him: “I don’t know why I’m here.”

  And that’s how I feel. I should talk to him, tell him what I’m going through, try to explain what I’m feeling right now but the words die on my lips.

  He is understanding, timid and attentive.

  He’s damned wonderful.

  He asks me to stay and I accept. Just for one song. No big deal, right? A little effort on my part, I can resist three minutes.

  I sit at the bar and Rain offers me something to drink. I accept it and take a sip with my eyes on the counter until the music begins.