Destined to Feel

by Indigo Bloome

  ‘Thank you for the opportunity. I’ve never allowed myself to experience anything like that before.’

  ‘Relinquishing control?’

  ‘Mmm, letting you dominate. You know it’s not my preference but it was undeniably amazing.’

  ‘So why did you?’

  A pause. ‘I did it because it was important for you and I will never deny you any sexual experience that you want or need. You know I’m all for you exploring and discovering every aspect of your sexual nature, even more so when it’s between us. And this seems to be a pretty important milestone for you, particularly after everything you’ve been through in the last few days.’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘Yeah, you are,’ I admit. ‘It was as if there was a force inside me compelling me to take control. I’ve never had such a strong sexual urge before, so I just went with it.’

  ‘I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to finally hear you acknowledge that sexuality is a major part of who you are, Alexa. It just seems to have been buried and forgotten in recent years,’ he adds with a chuckle.

  ‘Thanks to you, Dr Quinn, I’m beginning to doubt whether I knew myself at all before this weekend.’

  Jeremy snuggles me to him. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘A little light-headed but I feel so full, so content, safe and complete…’

  ‘My life is only just beginning to feel complete now that I know we are together,’ he murmurs.

  Oh, and how wonderful does that make me feel… Our limbs are entwined as he spoons me closer to his chest.

  ‘I love you, Jeremy.’

  ‘And I you, Alexandra, more than I think you’ll ever understand.’

  They are the last words spoken as I drift off into a beautiful sleep in Jeremy’s warm embrace.

  I find myself in tears at the memory and in fear of the situation I’m in right now. My distress reaches hysterical proportions at the thought of what could happen to me, at my disconnectedness from Jeremy and my children. I’m a scared, emotional mess and I lash out at the tray of food that my stomach can’t remotely contemplate, sending it flying into the wall. This is truly a nightmare! What do they want from me? I rise unsteadily from my chair and get a sense of the speed of the train as I step into the tiny bathroom and splash my face with cold water. I would give anything to collapse into a bed and wake up in Jeremy’s arms knowing this was all a bad dream. After attempting to freshen up I make another futile attempt to force the door open, and then the window, but eventually I am left with no alternative but to sit in the secluded silence of this cabin cell with my own frightening thoughts of what might happen next.

  The train eventually slows and I wonder if I will have to endure the humiliation of being tethered to the wheelchair again. I vaguely remember hearing about the burqa being banned in public spaces in France; I wasn’t sure whether this was the case in surrounding European countries. The door opens, startling me, as terror returns to shake my body to the core. God help me. Two large men enter the cabin, seeming to fill the space, not making any eye contact with me. A quivering mess, I can only remain seated in my chair, as one of them walks towards me. I can’t utter a word — I can barely look at him. He motions for me to stand. He doesn’t realise I’m frozen with fear and can’t follow his command. I’m hoisted roughly into a standing position and he hastily cuffs my wrists together. Oh, dear god. Some kind of gas mask is securely placed over my nose and mouth and I attempt to hold my breath, not wanting to lose consciousness again. Realising this logic is futile, I am left with no choice but to inhale, allowing myself short, shallow breaths, not sure what substance is infiltrating my lungs. The first man holds me still as the other attaches a container to my back, which looks like a bit like a fire extinguisher or small oxygen tank. It is carefully secured with straps around my waist and under my arms — my own self-sufficient breathing apparatus. My legs are efficiently taped together at both my ankles and knees and I feel myself becoming a little groggy. A warm softness enters my limbs and I go slightly limp against the man holding me upright. This warmth is actually pretty good and I feel myself relaxing. I remember this feeling from the dentist. Happy gas, nitrous oxide — it dulls sensations such as pain and makes you feel euphoric.

  One of the men leaves the cabin briefly and returns wheeling a larger than average suitcase.

  As if on cue I get the giggles as my mind wanders and I randomly wonder whether it would be used to cart around outfits for Paris fashion week — that is, until he opens it and I am scooped off my feet and literally folded into the awaiting piece of luggage. It’s lined with some kind of foam padding. I am aware, in a detached way, that this is not good, but as I don’t actually feel too bad, it’s difficult to decipher any of my emotions about the whole situation. I attempt to dislodge the gas mask attached to my face, pushing against the foam material, so I can think more clearly but to no avail. I am tucked into a foetal position. I attempt to scream and struggle, sensing that I should, but don’t have a strong desire to muster the energy required. My body feels warm and rather heavy, but surprisingly comfortable given the position I’m in. Either way, I can’t move and the mask stifles any sound before it can escape. I can’t believe I’m small enough to fit in a suitcase; they’d never be able to do this to Jeremy, it would have to be tailor-made!

  The lid is closed, making my world once again black and if I weren’t so relaxed, I’m sure I’d be shaking violently with fear. I hear the sound of a zip closing and the suitcase is positioned upright. I’m silently thankful for the generous padding that softens my impending ride; I shudder at the thought of the bruises otherwise. The wheels are in motion and I have no idea where I’ll end up. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t talk or taste or smell. What I can feel is an immobile body that is awash with relaxant. All I can do is just keep breathing.

  Jeremy

  I linger at the bar, aimlessly shuffling food around on my plate, ignoring everything else going on around me; my thoughts about Alex are all-consuming and endlessly disturbing. Apart from the terrifying thought that she might be hurt, I can’t stop thinking about missed opportunities, my inability to come to terms with my own feelings for her — and now, shit, I may never have the opportunity to make amends. I can’t even say whether Alexandra was ever aware of the complexity of emotion I feel for her, have always felt for her. It took me a while to admit it to myself and, once I had, I didn’t want to scare her away so I deliberately kept things light and playful between us. Ultimately, I wanted to give her the world and be the focal point of hers. But I was too driven back then, knew the path of my future differed from hers.

  My younger brother suffered from serious depression, and just before my twenty-fifth birthday I found him dead in our garage. He’d gassed himself in our father’s car, which he’d locked from the inside. My world perspective changed from that moment on, my ambition fuelled by pain and the inability to provide him with the help he had so desperately needed. My parents, bless them, handled the devastating loss of their second son more graciously than me…

  at least, I thought so. My grief was so raw, so incredibly confronting and completely overwhelming. I blamed myself. If only I knew more, had studied more, had understood him, spent more time with him…if only the medication he was taking had helped him deal with life more effectively, rather than take it from him. I found it impossible to reconcile the loss of Michael’s life in my mind. There was so much I needed to sort out in my head, to understand why my brother, why not me? Why did this happen to our family? Was it part of our gene pool or something unique to him? God knows, my family and friends tried to support me but I wasn’t ready for their help. I didn’t want their pity or anyone else’s, so I pushed them away, including Alexa, to work it out for myself.

  I had to get away from the pulse and stress of the city and find some perspective. I had an overwhelming urge to bury my pain, needed to be hands-on rather than lumbered with textbooks, theories and lectures. I needed to prove
I was alive, unlike Michael, whose life was lost at the vital age of twenty. The flying doctor organisation and the outback provided me with space, sanctuary and distance from everyone and everything I had known. Thankfully, they were in desperate need of medical staff and accepted my application as soon as I secured my pilot’s licence, as I could provide both medical and flying roles for them. An extra set of strong male hands never went astray when working in the harshness of our great southern land either.

  Everything seemed to fall into place when I met Leo. He too, had lost a cousin to suicide and we spent many hours discussing our theories as to why and how such acute depression happens to some and not others, never being able to decide on whether the contributing factors were psychological, chemical or environmental or how they connected. He provided me the mentorship I needed to get my life back on track.

  I needed that then, just as desperately as I need Alex now. Back then I had to let her go so we could pursue our futures independently. I wasn’t ready to give her the family she longed for and I couldn’t be diverted from my mission to find a cure for depression. I had to prevent other families going through the pain and anguish we had to deal with when we lost Michael. But now I know she is my connection to the earth; my love for her is so great I will not allow her to slip through my fingers again. She is the oxygen that fuels my life.

  I remember the conversation we had in Santorini that secured our separation for the next decade. It began as an inspired discussion on our paths in life and ended at a fork in the road, like the tongue of a serpent and stung just as badly, for me, anyhow…

  ‘I’m ready for something more meaningful, Jeremy. I’m just not getting the buzz out of work that I used to. It’s becoming routine, monotonous. The business world is all about the money and I need to know I’m helping people, not just making money for money’s sake. Besides, I’m not as driven as you and I know I need more than work in my life to satisfy me…’

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

  We are basking in the sun on a warm rock by the warm waters of the Aegean Sea and I’m doing my duty, rubbing sunscreen on Alexa’s back. It’s a tough life!

  ‘I’m thinking of going back to psychology full-time.’

  ‘Wow. That’s a big move. Are you ready for it?’

  ‘Yeah, I am. But it’s more than that. I think I’m ready to settle down.’ I keep up the sensuous strokes along her smooth back.

  ‘Settle down. What do you mean?’ A small wave of apprehension shudders through me.

  Settle down, shit…not my Alexa!

  ‘You know, start a family, maybe return to Australia. I don’t want to raise a family in central London.’

  ‘You’re serious?’ I inadvertently splat more sunscreen than necessary on her shoulders and quickly start rubbing it in to distract from my shock at her words.

  ‘Of course I’m serious, Jeremy. Why wouldn’t I be? My maternal clock’s ticking, and I’m over the club scene and the frantic pace of London.’

  ‘But you’re not even close to thirty, you have heaps of time.’ God, I need to come up with something, she’s slipping away from me, from beneath my very fingers. I know I’m not ready for a family or to ‘settle down’. I’ve just started to make headway in my career. My research at Harvard is only serving to make me more certain I am on the right path. I’ve never been closer to a significant breakthrough in managing chemical imbalances in the brain. After all these years, I know I’m finally on the right path, on the cusp of finally doing something real and tangible to help prevent families going through the pain and hell we went through with Michael. I can’t stop now and I can’t split my focus between work and a family. My hours of study, my research, it would be a disaster. And there is no way Alexa would tolerate a partner who isn’t around for their kids, there’s just no way.

  ‘I know,’ she replies calmly, while my mind reels, ‘but it’s only just around the corner and you never know how long these things can take. One of my friends who just turned thirty has been trying for two years without success. I don’t know how I’d survive if that happened to me. I can’t ignore it much longer, Jeremy. Every baby I pass in the street is…well, it’s as if my heart spasms and contracts. The yearning to nurture my own biological child is like nothing I’ve felt.

  Each time I see a pregnant belly I smile at the mother and then tears well up in my eyes. And I can’t deny it, the feeling gets stronger each day. It’s as if everything else has faded into insignificance for me.’

  I drag my brain back from morbid thoughts on how depression can devastate the happiest of families to concentrate fully on Alexa’s words. My lover…my best friend…clock ticking…

  Jeez, does she expect me to be the father? What if she’s already pregnant? Bloody hell. I’m so not ready for this. She sits up from her lying position and looks directly into my eyes, as if sensing my fear, my rising anxiety as to where this discussion is leading.

  ‘It’s okay, Jeremy.’ She laughs her delightful laugh. ‘You don’t need to look so scared! I know your career is everything to you, it always has been — and it’s not like we have ever had a monogamous relationship. We just have incredibly great sex when we’re together. You’ve made your views on marriage very clear over the years.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sure, I suppose I have.’ She looks at me with a gorgeous twinkle in her eye and her dimple appears next to her smile. I breathe a sigh of relief and relax but surely she must know she means more to me than incredibly great sex…doesn’t she? And as for my anti-marriage views…well, we’ve been on opposite sides of the world for the past few years and I haven’t had the chance to explain to her that such views only ever pertained to every other woman in the world until I was ready for her.

  ‘I’ve met someone.’ Fuck. That’s a bombshell. My thoughts come to an abrupt halt. My heart pounds deeply within my chest at her words. ‘And it’s getting serious, I think.’

  My breathing temporarily stops before I realise she is waiting for me to respond.

  ‘Really, what’s his name?’ I have to pretend I’m coughing as I choke out the words.

  ‘Robert. He’s English but seems quite keen on moving to Australia with me and he just loves kids. I met him a few months ago at a friend’s christening and….’ I see her lips forming words but I don’t hear her voice thanks to the loud thrumming in my ears and the pumping pain in my chest. This is it. I’m losing my Alexa. Doesn’t she realise she is mine, has been since we first met? Now she wants to settle down, have babies, move back to Australia. All three things are impossible for me at this juncture of my life. I love her, surely she must know that. If she doesn’t, how can I possibly tell her now? She looks so happy and animated talking about ‘Robert’ and their potential new life together. Fuck! How did this conversation end up like this? I shake my head as her voice cuts through my daze.

  ‘Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, because if Robert and I move in together, like we’re planning, you know, as a couple, well, I won’t be able to have any more weekends away with you, like this. It just…wouldn’t be right, would it?’

  She looks up at me, both resignation and longing in her puppy dog eyes. This is it. My playful, experimental Alexa is closing herself off from me because I can’t give her what she wants at this point in time. And she’s right. I can’t — or won’t. I don’t know which it is, but it’s too soon, we’re still too young. And besides, it really sounds like she loves him so how can I, in all fairness, deny her this happiness just because I’m not ready to commit? Shit, I feel sick to the pit of my gut. Too much for me to dwell on right now. I force my voice to sound calm.

  ‘No, sweetheart, it wouldn’t. I’m pleased you’re happy and thanks for letting me know. But know this, if he hurts you, upsets you, lays a finger on you that you’re not happy with, or doesn’t treat you like the goddess you are, he’ll have me to contend with and you know what I’m like.’

  She smiles her gorgeous smile and I can’t help but try to gri
n back. ‘Very theatrical Jeremy but yeah, I do know what you’re like.’ She gives me a fun, playful, loving thump on my upper arm. ‘Always my protector.’

  ‘I will always be there for you, Alexandra. It’s very important to me that you know that.’ I seem to be drowning in solemnity which I’m sure must be freaking her out, particularly if she loves him and not me. I must try to get my head around supporting the choice she’s making and I need to lighten things up — urgently. ‘In the meantime, he doesn’t have you this weekend, I do, so if this is our last weekend together before you “settle down”’ — I can’t keep the bitter undertone from catching in my voice — ‘then rest assured, we will be making the most of it.’

  I can’t bear to look at her face as I experience the unusual sensation of hot tears pooling in the corners my eyes so I pick her up instead and she squeals as I carry her to the edge of the rock shelf and leisurely throw her into the warm, aquamarine water. I wait till she rises to the surface, then promptly jump in to retrieve what’s mine, at least for now. I desperately need the diversion of the water against my skin, which helps to wash away my turbulent emotions and lighten my heavy heart.

  I will not let her slip through my fingers again! I slam my fist hard on the wooden bench of the bar, my skin burning with determination.

  ‘Jeremy, are you okay?’

  ‘Oh, Sam, hi, I didn’t see you come in.’

  His usually jovial face is lined with worry and concern. I quickly wipe any sign of moisture away from the corner of my eye; he shouldn’t have to see me like this. Fuck it, we shouldn’t be in this situation at all.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been a million miles away. Any update?’ I raise my hand to the barman to indicate we need service and order more whisky which momentarily takes the edge off my pain but it will be the last one. I can’t afford to be playing anything but my A game when it comes to Alexa.

  ‘Actually, I do have some news. The signal from Alexandra’s bracelet has been traced to St Pancras station, they believe she boarded a train to Paris. The tracking device on the bracelet is not as effective on high-speed trains but we have been able to correlate the timing of the train departures and the bracelet and we are 90% sure. Unless —’