CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1)

by Delaney, Clair

  “Coral.” George removes his glasses from the edge of his nose, and comes and sits next to me on the sofa. Taking my hand he squeezes it gently. It’s ok for George to touch me. “Everything you have just described to me is exactly what happens to every person on the planet when they fall in love.” I close my eyes and sigh heavily – Fuck! I can't fall in love!

  “So what am I supposed to do?” I groan.

  “It’s up to you. You have two choices, you can ignore it and continue with your life as it is, or you can go for change and explore it?”

  I sigh heavily and rub my forehead; my headache still hasn’t left me. “I feel sad for Joyce, I miss John.” I tell him.

  “Grief is a slow and natural process, don’t try to tame it. If you feel like crying then do so. As I’ve explained before crying is a release.” I nod knowing he’s right, yet I always fight the tears, I see it as a sign of weakness, a sign of vulnerability. And I can't afford to be vulnerable. It’s just a risk I can't ever take.

  “So, what you’re saying is relax more, go with the flow?”

  “Yes.” He smiles.

  “Well, I think I’ve kind of accepted that work will change, Joyce is definitely going. And as for Tristan…I...I’m not sure about that yet.” I tell him.

  “Coral, there’s no time scale. You don’t need to rush, take your time, do your meditation, listen to your inner guide, it will always know what’s best for you. Your ego will always hold you back, make excuses for you not to risk, to try something new.” I nod knowing he’s right.

  “But what about Gladys, I never told her, but I’m devastated she’s going I...I don’t know how I’ll really cope without her, you know being physically there to hug me when I’m feeling insecure, or a little low or...” I choke off pushing away the tears. Everything feels so fucked up right now.

  “Coral, again it’s a bitter-sweet one. On the one hand you want Gladys to be happy?”

  “Of course,” I mumble.

  “On the other hand you feel what…a little lost?”

  “No, not lost.”

  “Then what Coral, what do you feel?” I close my eyes and go deep down, I recognise the feelings, but I don’t know the words to explain them.

  “I feel like...like when my Mom told me my Dad didn’t love me anymore , that he was never coming back. I feel numb...um, abandoned I guess?” I shake my head, that’s not the word. “Devastated, I think? Gladys means so much to me, without her around, I don’t know if I can...even function properly.” I scowl at the floor.

  “Coral, I strongly urge you to speak to Gladys about this, maybe even do the move with them. Start somewhere fresh, a different job. There certainly wouldn’t be any denying seeing Tristan then.” His eyes sparkle for a fraction of a second, and I momentarily feel like he’s really pushing me to go for it.

  “She doesn’t want that. And I’m not a kid anymore, I may feel like it but...there has to come a point, when you stop running to your momma to make everything better, right?” George doesn’t agree or disagree. “I mean, Debs has always moaned at me that I run to Gladys when the slightest thing happens. She thinks I’m a cry baby.”

  “She may well do Coral, but she doesn’t know your past.”

  “I know.” I sigh inwardly.

  “I will also reiterate telling Gladys what really happened to you when you were a child. She may understand more why you don’t feel as compelled as others naturally do to find a mate.” A shiver runs down my spine.

  “Ok, I’ll think about it.” I sniff loudly then laugh at the sound I made.

  “That’s good Coral, seeing life as a silly funny game, is far more productive than seeing it as a set of scary dramas that you have no control over.” And there’s that word again – Control. I remember asking Tristan if he is a control freak, when in actual fact, it’s probably me.

  “George, am I a control freak?”

  “Well, in the general terms of the saying, yes I would class you as one. You crave control in your life.” I nod feeling stupid that I asked Tristan if he was one when he clearly is not! Stupid-ass Coral!

  “But you’re not a freak Coral,” he admonishes. “So let’s work through it all. Your job is safe, it may change somewhat in the work you are asked to do, but you feel confident in that?” I nod.

  “Good. Tristan, well he’s completely up to you. But I would go with letting him in, telling him what happened.” I bite my lip, just thinking about that conversation has me feeling nervous. “Take your time with your decision Coral, there’s no rush.” I nod knowing he’s right. “Gladys, talk to her. Tell her how you really feel or brave it all and let her go.” I nod knowing I’m going to have to do one or the other. The trouble is which one?

  “Ok, so let’s end with a high.” George adds.

  “I had a great night out with Rob last night,” I chuckle remembering our terrible singing. “Did get a little too drunk though,” I add feeling dog tired.

  “Good, having fun with your friends is imperative.” George tells me.

  “I have Lily’s birthday party this weekend, and Gladys and Malcolm are taking me out tomorrow night, to meet under better circumstances, they already have wedding plans.” I roll my eyes at that one. I really hope Gladys doesn’t ask me to be bridesmaid.

  “Good, lots of enjoyable events to look forward to.” George says.

  “Yep,” I sigh heavily.

  George narrows his eyes at me. “Ok, so what’s really on your mind Coral?”

  I feel all the air leave me. “I don’t think I can do it again,” I whisper. “I keep having nightmares, not all the time, just when...” I drift off.

  “Do what again Coral?” George asks softly.

  “Have sex.” I tremble, my hands clenching into fists.

  “Why ever not?” George asks, astonished. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve almost told George so many times, then chickened out. “Because of Justin?” He prompts.

  I shake my head. “Then what Coral?” He questions.

  I open my eyes and stare out of the window, trying to block out the memory, the feelings, but it’s no good - My stomach rolls, and I know I’m going to be sick – Shit!

  I slap my hand to my mouth, dash up out of my seat and run flat out for the bathroom, flinging the door open I run to the toilet and vomit; over and over again, until all I’m left with is dry retching. When it finally ends I flush the toilet and head over to the sink. As I’m washing my mouth out with water, I hear George softly tap the door.

  “Coral?”

  “I’m ok.” I answer and take several gulps off water.

  “Can I come in?” George asks softly.

  “I’m coming.” I answer and head out the door. I turn to the right, to follow George back to his office and lose my balance; my head feels so woozy. George quickly catches me, then puts his arm around my waist and leads me back into his office, sitting me down he hands me a glass of water.

  “Thanks.” I croak my throat feeling burned. Stupid Coral! I’m never drinking again when I have George the next day. Hangover, no food, hot weather, finding Gladys with a man, and Tristan making me feel all funny is not a good combination.

  George sighs heavily and sits down opposite me. “Coral, why do I get the feeling I don’t know everything? That you’re holding something back?”

  I frown deeply, staring at the glass in my hand. “I made a mistake.” I tell him. And it was a mistake, a huge mistake!

  “We all do.” George offers.

  “A stupid one, one that cost me...” I add.

  “And the mistake is?” George asks. I shake my head again. I don't want to talk about it. “Coral, I can’t help you if you don’t’ – “I can't ok!” I shout. George is silent, he knows how to deal with my little outbursts. “I’ve got to go!” I tell him, quickly scrambling up to my feet.

  “Coral,” he admonishes. “You know you shouldn’t’ – “I know.” I stop and stare back at him. Shouldn’t leave a session on a downer, it should always be an up
per. “George.” I whisper.

  “Yes.” He answers softly.

  “One day.” I tell him. George nods silently. I know he knows what I mean, that I’ll tell him when I’m ready.

  “See you next Tuesday then?” He asks.

  “Actually, with everything going on I was going to ask...I feel bad though...” I say, my hands twisting together anxiously.

  George smiles broadly at me. “You want another session?” he says.

  I nod in agreement. “You don’t have to George, you’re retired for goodness sake, you shouldn’t have to....” I sigh heavily. Why oh why do I always feel guilty - about everything?

  “It’s absolutely fine Coral.”

  “Really?” I squeak.

  George looks solemnly at me again. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

  “You want me to tell you.” I guess. “Ready or not?”

  “Yes,” he answers sternly. “That’s my condition.” I actually think twice about it for a second, then I think about the amount of things going on and how much better I feel having someone to talk it all through with, someone that doesn’t think I’m a lunatic.

  “Ok.” I sigh.

  “Good.” I look up at George again, he looks mad. Great! “I have to say Coral, I’m not very pleased that there’s something you’ve kept from me.” He says, spookily answering my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry.” I whisper.

  “Well, I suppose, whatever it is I’ll soon hear about it.” I frown again and feel my lips clamp together. “Right then, this week or next?” He asks sharply.

  Oh which lonely evening shall I pick?

  “Can you...this Friday?” I ask my voice barely audible. “I finish early at 4pm.”

  “I’ll see you here 4.15 sharp.” He tells me.

  I tremble inside. “Ok, thank you George.” I whisper and turn to walk out of his office.

  “Coral.” I look back at him, he sighs heavily, pinches his nose for a moment, then puts his glasses back on. “I want you to forget about what you’re going to tell me, and focus Coral, focus on what we have talked about today. Think about talking to Gladys and Tristan, concentrate on that.” He softly says.

  “Sure doc.” I answer numbly, my mind already elsewhere…

  AS I HEAD SOUTH DOWN WILSON AVENUE, in the direction of the Marina, I feel like I’m in someone else’s body. Like someone else is making my feet take step after step. I feel better after talking to George, but if I’m completely honest with myself, I still feel a little shell shocked. I can't quite get my head around the fact that Gladys is re-marrying.

  And as for her moving away…As much as I know she isn’t purposely doing it, I feel as though she’s abandoning me, which is completely ridiculous; I am a thirty year old grown woman. I should be able to deal with life’s ups and downs by myself now, and I should be living a life of my own, as most people do, away from their parents.

  Most people at my age have husbands and wives and children...but all that just seems so impossible for me to even attempt to do. I have nothing to offer anyone, nothing but fears, insecurities and zero self-esteem…

  Without realising it, I find myself standing outside Pizza-Express staring blankly ahead. Then I hear my stomach rumble and I realise I have been subconsciously heading here for comfort food. I think back to what I’ve actually eaten today? Muffin for breakfast, I didn’t really eat much salad at lunch...Hmm.

  Deep down I know I really shouldn’t, its naughty food, but I have nothing in the house that I fancy. I turn and face the Restaurant, and as I do I see it’s packed outside, I hadn’t even heard the low rumble of people talking, laughing, knives and forks clicking against plates. I sigh heavily and make my way inside…

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER I am back at my studio. I go straight to the oven switch it on low, and place my pizza inside to keep warm while I change, then I turn the air-conditioning unit on to cool the studio down. As I stand in front of it thinking about Tristan, tears pool in my eyes, making my vision blurry – Holy crap! For the first time in twenty five years, I am crying?

  I really don’t understand it, why I’m feeling so emotional. I’m never like this? Shaking my head at myself and dashing the tears away, I slowly make my way up the stairs, one foot in front of the other; my legs feel like they have lead weights attached to them.

  I head for my closet, pull out a pair of sweats and change into them. Then I make my way back down the stairs and go straight into the bathroom. In a daze, I wash my face and clean my teeth as my mouth still feels rancid from being sick.

  When I’m done I stare at myself in the mirror, I can see it right there behind my eyes – the fear. I can feel it building within me. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to push it away. I shiver slightly, I don’t think I can take any nightmares tonight. Maybe I should have a glass of wine before I eat, it might help me relax and sleep better, no nightmares?

  AN HOUR LATER I have had two glasses of cold chardonnay and half the pizza. I am lying on the sofa watching the movie Taken – I love that Liam Neeson is a kick-ass Dad who’ll do anything to protect and save his baby girl – Why couldn’t I have got a Dad like that?

  I quickly push that thought away. Normally if I watch a movie, it’s a romance. Crazy right, fucked up girl who can't stand men, can't have a relationship, yet she’s a born romantic? – I’m so fucked!

  I stare back at the screen, not wanting to go down that line and try to clear my head. I get a flash image of Tristan, standing in the car park with me, telling me he’ll protect me, no matter what. I grit my teeth and try to blank him out – I don’t want to be reminded of Tristan. I don’t want to think about anything, I just want all my thoughts to disappear, to go away....

  I AM DREAMING I’M IN A HOTEL. Someone is with me, I turn around to see who it is and I’m instantly filled with dread and fear – It’s not a dream but a memory, reliving itself. Coral get out, wake up! I try to run but my legs don’t make a move. No! Not him!

  He is smiling at me, a look of approval stretched across his face; he is leading me into his hotel room, just for a drink he said. He is kissing me and getting forceful, aggressive, my worst nightmare come true…I don’t understand? Why is he doing this, he likes me, we have something special going on? He told me so. We’ve spent hours together, no sign of this ever happening!

  “No!” I tell him as he tries to squeeze my breasts, grab my ass.

  “Yes!” He growls. And this is my warning; this is my cue that it’s all going horribly wrong.

  “I said No!” I bawl totally incensed. I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. He grabs my hands and pins them behind me, in an instant he has picked me up and thrown me onto the bed, covering me with the weight of his body. He rips my t-shirt as he pulls it up and yanks my breasts free from my bra.

  “No!” I shout - I am now in full scale panic mode - I try to get my hands free as I kick at him and frantically buck my body up and down in an attempt to get him off me. It doesn’t work - he raises his arm, his fist clenched and brings it down, hard, slamming it into my right cheek. I see stars; my eyes are trying to roll into the back of my head. I feel like I’m going to pass out...

  I WAKE UP GASPING FOR AIR – Fuck! – I can’t breathe. I fall from the sofa onto the floor trying to get some air into my lungs, my head is banging, my body shivering, my heart is hammering so fast and heavy against my chest, I think I’m having a heart attack – Get out of my head! – I scream internally.

  My stomach rolls, the memory is still reliving itself, he’s ripping my clothes off – Oh fuck not again! – I run to the bathroom and vomit, violently – Oh God! Please help me, make it go away please I’ll do anything…

  The dry heaves eventually stop. I curl up next to the toilet shivering, I’m so cold. My muscles are still in spasm, my fists clenched tight and in that moment all I want to do is call Tristan and have him come sit with me, hold me tight, warm me up and make it go away, make me feel safe. But it’s impossible, I know it is – Why the hell
would he want this?

  As the fear starts to ebb away, the anger starts to take over which quickly turns to tears, like my anger is directly attached to my tear ducts, I fight back at it. Then I think about what George has said over and over again, to let it all out, to cry if I need to, so I do.

  Heavy, wreaking sobs burst out of me. I let my body go limp, my torso hitting the bathroom floor, my cheek against the cold tiling. I’ve never allowed myself to cry about it before; I’ve never let it out - I cry and cry and cry; I don’t seem to be able to stop. Oh when will this end?...

  I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’m there for, but as the tears die down, I slowly become aware of the movie that’s still playing; I hear gunshots, shouting, Liam Neeson no doubt kicking the shit out of someone. The pain starts to wash away as well as the anger and the fear, but now I feel really cold and dirty – I need a shower.

  I sit up, and pull my legs up to my torso, wrapping my arms around my knees to try and generate some heat, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Why am I so cold? I wonder for a moment if I’m actually becoming hypothermic? Not good!

  I quickly stand, my muscles protesting and turn on the shower, my teeth are chattering like crazy, my body is actually starting to feel painful. Why? Why am I so cold?

  It suddenly dawns on me, air-conditioner! – I run into the living room, which is so cold you can see my breath and switch it off. Jesus! It’s like the god damn Arctic Circle in here, Christ! At least I know it works! – I roll my eyes at my own stupidity and head back into the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, fully clothed, I crouch down onto the floor, letting the hot water cascade all over me. I grip my arms around my legs and pull in tighter.