Connected

by A. E. Murphy

  “I’m not dealing with this.” I sigh, this time managing to push past him. “Go away.”

  He clears his throat and announces. “I’m going to London tomorrow.”

  I freeze, only two feet from the safety of the bakery. “And?”

  “My father is signing everything over.”

  “That’s nice.” Gulp. Don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

  “I’d like to know why.” He cocks his head, a curious look on his face.

  “Do you remember when you said to me that you’d protect me from certain things, no matter what?” He nods, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Do you remember when I said I’d do the same?” He nods again, waiting for me to continue. “This is one of those times. You don’t need to know.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Is it?” I snarl. “Is it really unfair?”

  “If this is a way to punish me…”

  “It’s not.” I step into the hallway and turn back towards him. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.”

  He blinks, a look of relief on his face. “You still care about me.”

  “Or maybe I’m just being spiteful.”

  “Which means you care.”

  “Honestly Nathan.” I shake my head slowly, willing my tears away. “I don’t care about anything right now, especially not you or your stupid brother.”

  “Okay.” He bites down on his lip as his fingers wrap around my bicep. He gives it a squeeze and frowns, a pained look on his face. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “I’ve been under a lot of stress. What do you want?”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he says quietly, his thumb stroking the top side of my arm. I wish he’d let me go. I cross my arms and wait for him to continue. “Let me take you to dinner on Friday. We’ll talk. Properly. About my brother, my parents, everything.”

  “Go on.” I prompt, pushing his hand away.

  “And I’d like to take you to the doctor to get a pregnancy test.”

  My eyes bug out of my head at his words. He’s serious. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  “No, Guinevere, I’m not.” His almost chocolate brown eyes bore into me, determination in their depths. “I have a right to know.”

  “You mean like I had a right to know that you were trying to get me pregnant?” I snap, my hands going to my hips.

  His eyes darken and his body tenses. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Well, whatever it was like,” I wave my hand flippantly, not wanting to go over that argument right now, “I got my period two days ago.”

  The disappointment that comes over him is powerful; he doesn’t try to hide it. “Right.”

  “Sorry,” I find myself saying, though I’m not entirely sure why. “What’s this deal you wanted to make?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s over right?”

  What? “Isn’t that the conclusion we already drew?”

  He nods, his tongue tasting his lower lip. “It’s pointless trying.” He holds out the flowers once more. “Take them.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Fine,” he bites out, turning sharply and throwing them onto the road. His hands go to his hair before lacing behind the back of his head. “Nothing I say or do is going to change your mind, is it?”

  My face probably says it all. I know he gets his answer because his eyes glass over and he shakes his head in defeat. “I’m not going to give up, Gwen. Living without you, it’s…” His hands drop to his sides before he takes a step towards me. “I don’t know what to do, Gwen. I’ve never felt this way before.” His hands grip my shoulders and pull me towards him. “I don’t know how to cope; I can’t eat; I can’t sleep.” When his forehead presses against mine, my hands automatically go to his chest to push him away, but his hold on my arms stops that. “Tell me what to do to make this better.”

  “Time’s a great healer,” I breathe, trying to push him away again.

  “Time… you need time?”

  That’s not what I meant! “No. I meant…”

  “Gwen, I know you’re in the middle of a crisis, but we’d really like to lock up now,” Elle calls from the doorway.

  “I have to go.” I finally manage to peel his hands off me. He takes a step back and stares as I walk backwards towards the door. “Just go home, Nathan.”

  “I am home,” he mutters, looking up to the sky as my dying heart lets out a few thuds of pain.

  “Elle can you give me a ride home?” I ask as soon as she closes the door behind me.

  “Sure.” She smiles kindly, glancing at Nathan out of the window. “He’s gone.”

  Fingers crossed he stays gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The train journey was hell. Three hours and three changes. That’s just madness. And I got stuck beside a person who reeked of ageing body odour and urine. I took my chances and stood beside the exit for the rest of the journey.

  By the time I make it to London, I almost cry with relief when I see Jeanine standing with a hot coffee, waiting to drop me off at Nathan’s.

  “What’s in the box?” She asks, patting the lid with her hand as she guides me out of the station and to her car.

  “Just some things for Nathan,” I tell her and decide a change of subject would probably be safer. “Thanks for picking me up. I would have driven, but nobody had a car they could lend me.”

  “And Nathan?”

  “He’s in London signing off on a new contract. I really wanted to surprise him.” I lie, praying she doesn’t see straight through it.

  “That sounds nice.” She grins, sharing my excitement, except my excitement is fake and hers is real.

  We make small talk and catch up with each other as she drives. Even though the last thing I need right now is small talk, I’ve missed her, so it’s nice hearing from her.

  When we finally make it to Nathan’s, she asks me if I need any help. Ten minutes later I manage to persuade her that it’s all good, with the promise that I’ll call her tomorrow.

  I race up the stairs and straight into Nathan’s room. I’m relieved when I find the DVDs in the cubby hole in the closet. Gathering them in my arms, I carry them back down and place them on the dining table.

  I pull the rest out of my bag, the DVD and the memory stick with the clip of Stephen talking to his father, not long after Nathan suffered his first taste of abuse. Just the memory of it sets my stomach tumbling.

  How could a father not protect his son from that?

  I wonder how Nathan would feel, knowing his father beat his mother to protect the grandfather who molested him. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by not telling him that his father knew and the only reason he was sent to live with his grandfather was so nobody would find out. He beat Mrs Weston so she wouldn’t try to get Nathan back and it was all too easy when Caleb fell ill, because that became their new excuse for Nathan to be pushed away. And he protected their grandfather for money, because the business was failing.

  Mr Weston effectively sold his son for money and beat his wife for the same thing.

  That’s what it all comes down to.

  Money.

  They’re sick, all of them, and I hope they all rot in hell.

  But it’s over now. Nathan has the family businesses and I know he’ll turn them around, I just know it. He deserves this. Even though it’s not much and he deserves so much more, at least it’s a start and at least his father will be out of his life forever.

  It’s sad.

  It’s tragic.

  Once it’s all on the dining table, I grab the box that Nathan had Sasha deliver to me and, with a bottle of water tucked under my arm, I head up the stairs and into his room.

  I said to myself I was going to leave it behind, but… I can’t. Whatever is in here has my curiosity and, even though it won’t change anything, I need to see what it is.

  Placing the box on the bed, I place the pillows up the headboard and lean back against
them. As soon as I’m comfortable, I flip the box open and blink when I see what the contents are.

  Journals… four of them, including the one I bought for him during my stay here.

  I can’t read these. They’re his private thoughts.

  I lay them on the bed, side by side. Each one has a sticky note on the front with Nathan’s handwriting on them.

  My hands grasp the one that says:

  Read this one first.

  I do, and the instant I do I become enthralled. This isn’t like a teenage girl’s diary where she starts it with a name. Mostly there are dates, times, events, random thoughts. There are paragraphs where he writes down something that happened during the day that made him feel angry.

  I realise that this is probably what a professional told him to do to work out his frustrations.

  I skim read the first fifty pages or so, but I stop skimming when I see the words…

  I can’t do this anymore. The dreams, the nightmares, the pain… it won’t leave. I can’t let go. I have nothing.

  How dare he ask for my forgiveness? After everything he did to me. After everything they did to me!

  Tomorrow is the day, I want to say goodbye to Caleb and that’s it.

  There’s nothing holding me back anymore, there’s nothing holding me here. It’s better this way.

  My hand flies to my mouth.

  He was going to kill himself. I turn the page and keep reading.

  I’ve thought of ways I can do this quickly, painlessly. But I don’t want it to be quick and painless. I want them to know that I suffered, in life and before death.

  I purchased rope this morning. The woman behind the counter asked me for my number. Is that how shallow people have become? I’d like to think I’d notice a man or woman, their face set, their determination set, whilst buying a length of rope. It’s obvious isn’t it?

  Tomorrow this will all be over.

  Tomorrow there will be no more nightmares, no more dreams, no more pain. No more writing in this ridiculous journal that does nothing but help me remember why I hate waking up in the morning.

  It’ll be all over.

  I gasp, my fingers trembling as I turn the page again. I know he doesn’t kill himself, I know, but reading about it… it’s unnerving. It’s scary.

  I was going to do it. I stood on the balcony overlooking the beach, trying out the knot of the rope after tying it around the railing. The noose was already tied. That was the first thing I did.

  But I paused, I wish I hadn’t.

  No I don’t.

  I’m not sure what happened. There was this girl on the beach. She had her arms spread wide and was walking backwards. I couldn’t see her face because the wind carried her hair over it. I wanted to, badly.

  I couldn’t look away.

  I grabbed the pair of binoculars from the next room, the ones my mum uses to look at the boats on the horizon.

  She was still on the beach when I returned but this time she was walking normally, her face uncovered. Her smile in place. She’s beautiful.

  I’m not sure what this feeling is. I feel it now.

  She looked so innocent, so carefree, so happy. It made me want to feel that way.

  He’s talking about me. My heart slams against my ribs, almost as if waking itself up after a long sleep. I rub my chest, my breath shallow and my eyes wide as I read on.

  She was on the beach again today. I watched her for a really long time. Then I watched her walk back. I wonder what her name is. I wonder why she’s so happy.

  The next few days are written with similar things, all about me. All of them. Nothing else.

  I have to meet her. I went down there today but the sand… I couldn’t do it. I hate it.

  I waited like a stalker at the pavement near the kids play area. It’s as close to the beach as I’d allow myself to be.

  She doesn’t leave the beach, I watched her stop about forty yards from the pavement where I stood, turn and walk back. I tried to follow her path but the route she goes takes her behind a row of houses and no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find the place where she exited and went home.

  I felt disappointment.

  I felt determination.

  Oh my god. He wasn’t lying… about any of it.

  I saw them kiss. I saw them as I waited. I trusted him.

  I never trust anybody but I trusted him.

  He led her right by me yesterday, yet I still trusted him.

  I confronted him about it, asked him why. He just shrugged… SHRUGGED!

  You snooze you lose. You snooze you lose. You snooze you lose. You snooze you lose.

  Caleb… how could you?

  He’s moving here. It should be me.

  The next twenty or so pages are all about us. I daren’t read on. It’s painful to see this side of Caleb and to see Nathan’s hurt.

  I pick up the next book, once I make it through the first, and the first page grips my heart in a steel hand of hurt and squeezes.

  She’s pregnant. He did what he promised he wouldn’t do. He didn’t get bored.

  I hit him.

  I saw the way she looked at me. I thought she’d be horrified that I hit Caleb. She only seemed shocked and curious.

  I know I shouldn’t think this, but she’s still beautiful. Even more so than she was two years ago. I should be disgusted that she’s been with Caleb. I should be revolted.

  Yet I only want to take her away.

  I felt lost.

  I felt alone.

  I felt defeated.

  Pages turn and my eyes blur. There’s a picture of me taken with a Polaroid. I’m curled up into a ball on the couch, my eyes closed and my hair fanning out above my head.

  I came home and she was asleep on the couch. I should have woken her.

  I couldn’t. She looked too peaceful. It’s the first time since his death that she’s looked peaceful.

  I carried her to bed, she smelled divine. Like honey and almonds. The way she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her forehead to my neck.

  It’s wrong, but I’ve never walked so slow in my life. I didn’t want it to end.

  Why does she make me feel like this?

  I felt confused.

  I felt happy.

  I felt protective.

  I felt aroused?!?!

  Day after day, after day, after day… I read and read and read. My eyes burn, my nose tingles, my chest aches…there’s just so much. Too much. I don’t know how much more I can take.

  I threw her suitcase today. I wouldn’t let her go.

  I’m in love with her.

  I remember that day well. I can’t believe he was in love with me already.

  She’ll never accept me. I don’t care about her reservations. I understood why she wouldn’t marry me but I know she loves me. I just know it.

  I should leave her alone but I can’t.

  ……..

  She knows. She knows everything about me. I can’t handle the pity in her eyes. What if she thinks I’ll become a monster too? What if she takes Dillan from me?

  Dillan… he should be mine.

  I pushed her away and now she’s gone.

  I never want to see her again.

  I can’t handle never seeing her again.

  Why couldn’t she stay out of my room?

  Why did she have to see?

  What if she tells someone?

  I feel scared.

  I feel scared… his words echo through my mind like I’m hearing him read this to me, like I’m hearing him tell me his story.

  All of the others he ended with ‘I felt…’ never ‘I feel….’ It breaks my heart.

  I place the journal down on the bed and rub my eyes.

  Only one more to go and then I have to leave. It’s almost four.

  My eyes start drifting as I read. My head is hurting, but I can’t stop.

  I had Dillan today. Does he see me as his father?

  I hope he does.

  I was g
oing to talk to Gwen about it. I thought about telling her through the bathroom door a while ago. Mostly so I couldn’t see her reaction and then take the rejection with pride.

  I remember worrying constantly that I’d resent him because of my brother.

  I’ve never felt love so unconditionally for another person before. Not including Gwen. But this is different.

  I remember that. I remember him calling to me when I was in the bathroom. I never did find out what he wanted to say. I guess now I know.

  We had sex without a condom.

  It was.

  Words can’t describe it. Amazing, powerful, intense.

  Love.

  Freedom.

  I should tell her about the pills. I should tell her they’re fakes.

  But I see Dillan and I see everything I didn’t know I wanted.

  Would it be so bad if she got pregnant?

  I imagine her swollen with my child. Perhaps a girl.

  I feel happy.

  I feel carefree.

  I feel fixed.

  That’s something we decide together!

  She knows everything. Everything.

  I wouldn’t let her leave, I couldn’t.

  She could be pregnant.

  I want her to be, because then I might not lose her. Maybe she’ll marry me.

  I need to show her that I care.

  I need to show her that I’m sorry. I’ll make her breakfast. I have to do something. She wouldn’t let me touch her through the night. Even whilst she was sleeping.

  I can’t lose her.

  I feel fear.

  Only one more page left. I daren’t read it. But I do.

  She’s gone.

  I haven’t cried since I was nine and now I can’t stop.

  She knows about the pills. She knows.

  She’ll terminate it. If she is.