“It sounds to me more like you were raped.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” I say out loud, while inside I think to myself, if only you knew, Dean. If only you knew. No one knows about the events of that night at college. Not even Chris. The shame enslaving me into an eternal continued silence. It’s because of this horror in my past that I sadly know the difference, which makes my mistake even more shameful.
“No I wasn’t raped. Taken advantage of, perhaps. But there was a point I should have stopped it and I didn’t. I kept it a secret - obviously. I would have loved to have talked to Melanie about it, but I couldn’t risk her telling your brother. Anyway, the rookie mistake I made was pouring out my guilt and writing my confession into my diary and then Chris read it.”
Dean turns to look at my profile, taking in all that I’m saying, clearly taken aback at what he’s hearing. The spider web of secrets unravelling as I pour my heart out in the hope that he will be able to help his brother after I’m gone.
“I came home from work as normal, only 24 hours after Chris had arrived back and instead of his warm open arms waiting for me, which is what I was expecting, he’d spent the entire day working himself up into a right tizz. I’d left my journal out on my bedside table and although he once promised me he would never read it, I suspect curiosity got the better of him. I guess he was expecting to read pages and pages of my love and devotion for him, when instead he came face to face to a secret confession. He was absolutely distraught that I’d gone and broken his trust and done something so horrific. Think about it. He’s just flown halfway back around the world to the woman he loves only to discover by reading in my journal that I’d been unfaithful. I pleaded with him to forgive me, which he did eventually. Partly because he could also read how remorseful I was, even before he’d uncovered my secret. He read how much I knew instantly it was a terrible mistake, something that I would never do again and how I never wanted him to find out in case it broke us up.
“It physically pains me knowing how much I hurt him. It was only that night when there was a real possibility he was going to leave me that I realised how much I really did love him. I was absolutely petrified he would leave me. I was prepared to do anything to stop him leaving. I love him. I just made a stupid mistake. A momentarily lapse in concentration fuelled ironically not by sexual desire, but by loneliness and by missing him so god- damn much. Looking back, on some level I suppose feeling wanted, even if it was by someone else and for all the wrong reasons, made the pain of being parted from Chris just a tiny bit less. In that moment at least. That doesn’t justify any of it mind you … but at least now, looking back I can understand how I let it happen. Sorry Dean. I don’t expect you to understand. It was such a stupid mistake.”
I drop my head in my hands, the raw wretched feelings washing over me again as vividly as they did the day I came home from work to discover Chris sitting on the edge of the bed holding my journal in his hands.
I remember the cold realisation hitting me like someone throwing a bucket of ice cold water in my face when I locked eyes with him. Eyes that were puffy, red and swollen clearly from hours and hours of crying tears of disbelief, confusion and incredulity. I couldn’t go to him in that moment, instead I’d had to run to the bathroom and physically vomit. The guilt and remorse in my gut overwhelming me so much that I had to rid my body of the acid. Eventually, once empty, I’d stood up, turned around and walked back into the bedroom to face Chris and take responsibility for my mistake.
Dean reaches over and gives me a supportive rub in the centre of my back.
“He must have really loved you to forgive you, and you him. To forgive him for breaking your trust as well.”
“Humm. I’d never really thought about that. I was just so desperate for him to stay that I never really thought about how he’d broken my trust by reading my diary. But yes, I believe he does love me.”
“However, I can trace all of our problems back to that pivotal moment. He instantly became more possessive and jealous, especially of any male friendships I had. He started to become more and more controlling. Dictating who I could see, who I couldn’t. I’ve had to let go of so many friends to keep him happy. He can be so insanely jealous. Even though he says he trusts me, it’s like he needs to isolate me from any other potential temptation. To possess me, in every sense of the word, in order to feel safe and loved.”
“That day everything shifted in our relationship. The power balance changed, and it’s never regained its equilibrium. Because I begged him to stay, and obviously he did, and even though he said he forgave me there’s always been this underlying threat in our relationship that he might leave me at any time, and that uncertainty has kept me on a knife edge ever since, but over time it has also made him become inattentive. Sometimes, even unintentionally cruel. He stopped having to try so hard. To really take my needs into account. It allowed him to take me for granted. Like, for example, when he just decided without even consulting me that we would change our plans to go to America and postpone it a year. Not a second thought of how that would affect me. Our relationship is littered with examples like that. Some of them fairly major. And each time I keep forgiving him, starting afresh, hoping that this next time we’ll regain that elusive equilibrium. But it’s a cycle that just keeps continuing. It’s simply not healthy, Dean.”
“I agree,” he says quietly.
“I’ve tried so hard to make it right.” I’m properly crying now, my shoulders shaking as tears roll down my cheeks. “It’s so hard when I know that we both love each other. But I just can’t make it right. Make it healthy. I know that this is going to be impossibly hard on him …” I wipe away heavy wet tears from my cheeks with the pads of my fingers, “but do you see now, why I have to leave? I have to go in order to save us both.”
“I do.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “I think the best thing you can do for him now, is to leave and never look back. Don’t keep him hanging on. We’ll catch him and look after him. Make sure he’s OK. He’ll come through this with his family around him. But you need to do what’s right for you, Vicky. Nobody will blame you.”
I turn and hug Dean tightly. I’m so very grateful to him for not judging me, and for giving me the reassurance that he will support his brother after I’ve gone. It’s the first platonic physical contact I’ve had from another male in a very long while and I suddenly realise how much I’ve missed the support of my friends and family from home.
“God if I had a brother, Dean, I’d want him to be just like you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that now,” he laughs, rubbing my back fondly as we continue to embrace. “It would be a very different story if you’d actually grown up with me. I’d have pulled your pigtails and given you so many wedgies, you’d have hated me really.”
“Come on, let’s go,” he says holding out his hand for me, to help me up. “We’d better get back. You’ve got a plane to catch.”
Chapter 27
Chris
It took me less than ten minutes to throw some clothes into a holdall, together with the precious black velvet box, and jump into the passenger seat of Dad’s car which he’d already turned around on the drive, the engine purring quietly waiting for me to run out of the house. The next flight to Auckland leaves at 5pm tonight and it’s already 4pm. So I’ve basically got 30 minutes to get to the airport, buy a ticket and get to the gate.
“Come on, Dad. Drive faster!” I slam my fists on the dashboard in frustration.
“Better to arrive alive and late, than dead and on time for your own funeral.”
I have no idea what I will say to her when I get to Auckland, assuming she’s there of course. I don’t know if anything I could ever say will make her change her mind. If I were to pull out a ring now and propose, would she even accept? But I have to try. THIS IS NOT OVER!
I just have to get there, to stop her before she boards a plane that will take her away from me and back to her own homeland. She has t
o know how sorry I am for all the mistakes I’ve made. She has to give me one more chance. I promise that this time I’ll be better, I’ll step up and be the man she needs me to be. I know I have my faults, my own insecurities that make me do and say stupid things. But I’ll do anything to win her back. I have to find a way to beg her to give me one last chance.
Dad follows the signs to ‘Departures’, screeching his tyres as he pulls into a no-parking zone. Opening the door before he’s even stopped, I leap out and run at full pelt in the direction of the terminal doors.
“Go get her, son,” he shouts after me out of his car window as I disappear through the automatic doors, running straight towards the Air New Zealand counter. It hasn’t escaped my memory that it was two years ago that Dad originally drove me to the airport when I boarded that first plane to England. The beginning of the journey which first led me to Vicky. I hope that his help today is another good omen.
“One ticket for the 5pm to Auckland please.”
“Do you have any luggage?” the flight service rep asks.
“No, just hand baggage.”
“Good, because the flight is closing in exactly 12 minutes. You’d better run. Gate 19.” She smiles warmly, sliding the paper ticket and my ID back across the counter.
“OK, thanks,” I reply, before bolting through the terminal towards security and Gate 19. It’s going to be unbelievably tight, but there’s still a chance and while there’s a chance I have to try.
Strapped into my seat I wait impatiently for take-off. My knees bob incessantly as I fiddle with the information card in the seat pocket in front of me. This is going to be the longest hour and 20 minutes of my life and there is nothing I can do to make us get there any faster.
Once airborne, I gratefully accept a cool beer from the flight attendant when it is offered, hoping that it will calm the never-ending twisting and rolling in my gut.
Finally, I hear the familiar bing, as the seatbelt sign illuminates, signifying our imminent arrival in the North Island.
The head steward announces over the tannoy that we’ve begun our descent into Auckland and that we’ll be landing in ten minutes. I check my watch. Ten past six. Outside the window I can see the familiar Auckland skyline as we pass over the north of the city. Soon we will bank right, fly over the harbour and the hundreds of boats moored in the marina - there’s a reason Auckland is known as ‘The City of Sails’ - before completing a wide sweeping curve and landing at the airport which lies to the south west of the city. However, the plane holds its altitude and instead we hear the captain make another announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” his voice filling the cabin. “Just to let you know, the tower have informed us there is a little bit of traffic at Auckland this evening, so we’ve be put in a holding pattern for approximately 15 minutes. I know this is only a short delay and I would like to apologise. So please, sit back, relax and we’ll have you on the ground as soon as possible.”
My mind whirrs incessantly with a tirade of unanswered questions. What if she’s already left? What if I’m too late? What if right now at this very moment she’s boarding a plane to leave these shores forever and this delay is the difference between me catching her and missing her? If I don’t get there in time, it could change the course of my life forever.
My head hits the headrest behind me with a heavy thump. I knew my chances were slim when I boarded the plane at Christchurch and I still have no way of knowing whether she’s already left, whether she’s still hiding out at Dean’s, or whether she was ever there to begin with, but still, I refuse to give up. I can’t stop until I know for sure that she’s gone for good.
“Please God, let me be in time to stop her,” I pray.
Images flash through my mind. I imagine arriving at Dean’s in under an hour from now, dropping my bag at the door, walking through their house and into their back garden where I’ll find Lisa, Dean and Vicky sitting in the early evening sun, sharing a relaxed bottle of wine, Emma and Matthew playing in the background. The perfect idyllic scenario. On seeing me, I imagine Vicky initially shocked, but then smiling widely as she registers my arrival. Leaping up she’ll rush towards me throwing her arms around my neck, delighted to see me and I’ll embrace her warmly in return.
After a brief but passionate kiss she will say, “Oh Chris, I’m so pleased you came. I know I left without explanation. I just had to put some space between us, for both our sakes, but I’m so glad you found me. I know now how much you really do love me and that I’m worth fighting for.”
“Of course, I would fight for you, Vicky. You’re the love of my life,” I would reply.
“Now I’ve had time to think I want us to give it one last shot. No more pissing about, Chris. No more taking each other for granted. I need you to be there for me from now on and I promise I’ll never let you down ever again.”
“I agree, Vicky. No more pissing about. This past week has been absolute hell. I thought I’d lost you and my world collapsed. I never want to lose you again - ever.”
And then I would fall down on one knee, pull out the ring box from the pocket of my shorts, open it showing her the sparkling contents and ask her that fateful question.
“Vicky, I needed you to leave, for me to truly appreciate how much I love you. I promise I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to making you happy. Will you give me that chance? Vicky, will you marry me?”
I imagine her first with her hands clamped over her mouth in shock when it dawns on her that this is a proposal. Finally a declaration of my true feelings and commitment. Then she will lean down and clasp her hands tenderly around my face, leaning down to kiss me, saying, “Yes, Chris. Yes, I’ll marry you,” before we both finally embrace and give in to our tears of joy.
Eventually, the plane starts its final descent, lining up with the runway and a few moments after touchdown I feel the familiar reverse thrust that throws me forward in my seat as the plane decelerates.
I check my watch again. 18.38. I reckon I’ll be through arrivals within the next ten minutes where I’ll call Dean and ask him to pick me up or call a taxi if he can’t come and get me.
Our plane turns at the end of the runway to taxi towards the terminal and further down the airport I spot the familiar red, white and blue livery of a large British Airways jumbo preparing to take off.
The instant jarring inside my chest feels like my heart has just been slashed in two with a sledgehammer and I have to resist the urge to vomit, feeling the bile rising up in my throat, my stomach tightening like a vice, as instinctively I know in my heart of hearts that Vicky’s on that plane and I’ve lost her. The image in my head from moments earlier a dream that will never become reality.
I knew that if I couldn’t catch her before she left, have an opportunity to try to explain myself face to face, to see her before she returns to England and goes back home to the north, therefore putting more and more distance between us, that my chances of her ever changing her mind and coming back to me, become more and more unlikely.
I listen to the jumbo’s engines roar into life and watch as it accelerates down the runway beside us. Its nose tilts upwards as it struggles to lift its lumbering weight off the tarmac, mirroring the heaviness I feel in my own body. I watch it ascend into the sky continuing its steep climb up into the clouds and silent wet tears that I have no desire to wipe away, roll off the bottom of my chin.
Just before the British Airways flight disappears completely I place the flat of my hand against the oval plane window, knowing that it’s impossible for her to see it.
“I’m sorry, Vicky. I’m so very very sorry,” I whisper, desperate that on some level she’ll be able to telepathically sense my remorse and be able to forgive me, in the same way that I’ve completely forgiven her. I just wished I’d done it sooner.
Ten minutes later after we’ve arrived at our gate, I methodically gather my things and disembark from the plane, no longer in a rush as I know instinctively
she’s already left.
Now I’m here in Auckland maybe I’ll hang out with Dean, Lisa and the kids for a couple of days. Take the opportunity to lean on them, before returning to Christchurch to start rebuilding my life. I still have a heap load of shit to deal with from this current shipment. Once this stock is sold I need to decide what to do with my life after that. I don’t think I could face returning to the UK for some time.
I will go back, just not yet. Too many painful memories.
As I walk out into arrivals, I look up and spot a familiar face in the crowd. My heart flips over as I see them smiling widely and waving frantically trying to catch my attention. I pick up my pace and rush towards them.
Sadly, it’s not the person I would want to be standing there, but nonetheless it’s comforting to see Dean waiting for me. A sympathetic smile on his face. I quicken my pace to reach him.
“Is she with you?” my eyes pleading for positive news, even though in my heart I already believe I’ve lost her.
Dean shakes his head slowly. A deep sadness and sympathy flowing out from his eyes.
I’m so distraught I can’t even speak. Suddenly all of the pain and grief at losing Vicky rises up and overwhelms me and I fall heavily into my brother’s arms as my legs almost give way.
“Hey there, Chris. I’ve got you now. Come on, bro, let’s get you home. Lisa and the kids are waiting for you.”
I’m so unbelievably grateful that he’s here to catch me. I never really appreciated how important my family is to me, until now. The invisible support network that is always there. Ready and willing to catch you when you fall.
Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1) Page 39
