Reverb

by Lisa Swallow

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  BRYN

  Two weeks later, I unpack my rucksack in Hannah and Connor’s spare bedroom. I doubt my wisdom in doing this, but nights alone in a hotel room worrying about what to do is harder. I’ve missed eight years of my son’s life and he wants me here; I can do this for a few weeks. Hannah needs support. She hides it well but she isn’t coping. A couple of days ago, she almost had a car accident. Hannah didn’t tell me, but Connor informed me of the incident and the accompanying road rage from the guy she almost hit.

  Hannah can’t do this alone. Since I arrived, her mum has kept away if I’m with Hannah and Connor. We met a couple of times and awkward is understatement of the century. Jane looks no different to when I last saw her, the tall, graceful woman holding onto the looks her daughter inherited. What do I say? Thank her for taking care of my son? A part of me holds animosity to Jane, too. She could’ve overridden Hannah and let me know about Connor, but she didn’t. The polite façade between us holds each time we cross paths but we eye each other warily, both frightened of what the other may say.

  Nobody in my family matched so there’s no donor for Connor yet. He’s on the register and I’m helpless, all the money and influence I have yet I can’t help. So, I decide to mend Connor’s unhappiness instead. He’s asked me to stay every day. I’ve stayed later each night and moving makes sense.

  Connor welcomes me into his life. He accepts I never saw or spoke to him until recently, allows me into his world, into his house and doesn’t ask why I was never here before.

  He also doesn’t ask how long I’m staying. Hannah avoids that question too, we both do.

  The domesticity and normality of the world I’m in confuses me. I’m cut off from everybody and everything in my Blue Phoenix life, disconnected from the new life I was building with Avery. I don’t talk to anybody outside of Australia apart from Avery, and those conversations grow increasingly tense.

  The struggle between doing what my heart tells me and my head advises continues, but it’s not as simple as that anymore. I don’t know where I belong.

  ****

  AVERY

  When Bryn moves into Hannah’s house, the last hope I clung onto slips from my grasp.

  This is over.

  Bryn still calls daily but his distance increases, the banter tailing away as he talks about Connor and the life he’s building around the three of them. I want to shout that he’s living in a guilt-induced fantasy. That this isn’t right for him, but I’m the one who lived in a fantasy.

  When Bryn left, he assured me he’d be back in a few weeks. A few days later, he said he’s staying a month. After another week, he informed me he’d come back once Connor’s treatment starts.

  Now he doesn’t give me a time frame at all.

  Bryn has what he always wanted, the girl who held his heart in a vice-like grip. If Hannah can take his heart back this easily, Bryn never gave his heart to me, not really.

  Stupidly, palpitations and excitement start when Bryn calls every day, early in the morning before I go to work. This morning, the call never came and the heavy sickness in my chest follows me around school for the rest of the day.

  I’m a few months into my training now, nearing the end of term and a Christmas that’s bound to remind me of the amazing man I met last Christmas. I’m teaching eight year olds, and I can’t help looking at the boys as constant reminders of Connor. The work is exhausting, physically and mentally; the constant supervision by other teachers undermines my confidence, but I push on. I can do this. Already, the class welcome me with smiles and I’m their Miss Paige. Some share drawings they made for me; and as each day passes, some of the anxiety at coming into work eases as I enjoy the time with my class.

  I don’t have time in the day to worry about Bryn and me; that pleasure is saved for evenings alone in his apartment. Tonight, I debate whether to stay here any longer. I already moved out of our bedroom into the spare room because I can’t stand being reminded of the exhilaration of the time spent in bed with Bryn. If I want to torture myself, I imagine Bryn in Hannah’s bed. One night I dreamed I walked into his bedroom in London and saw them together.

  I can afford to leave because my debts are gone. The day I discovered Bryn had paid them I was furious with him, but he shrugged, saying it was spare change to him. That annoyed me more. I insisted on applying for grants to see me through the unsalaried training year and Bryn didn’t interfere, learning his lesson from last time.

  The fact I live with him and he pays for everything grates, but Bryn claims he’d pay whether I was here or not. Begrudgingly, I accept; but as the days pass, this feels wrong. With my grant money, I could find a place to live or share.

  I settle in front of the TV with a glass of wine and a romance movie. Bad idea, I know, but I want to pretend my tears are over the couple struggling with their love in the movie and not my own. Exhausted after my week, I reject Ben’s offer of a night out with him and some old friends, but agree to catch up with them tomorrow. I need to reintegrate myself into reality, into life with twenty-somethings dipping their toes into adulthood, instead of clinging to my failed relationship with Bryn Hughes.

  A few glasses of wine and a few too many tears later, my phone rings and pulls me out of the movie. I pick it up, expecting the call to be from Ben but Bryn’s name taunts me. Momentarily, I waver. He missed our call this morning, why should I answer?

  Because I’m a grown woman and not a petulant child.

  “It’s late, Bryn.”

  “Sorry I missed calling you earlier.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. You’re pissed off.”

  I sip my wine. “How’s Connor?”

  “Still waiting. He’s going okay though, had a hospital appointment today and he can stay home.”

  “How’s Hannah?” I fail at keeping the frostiness from my tone.

  “She’s okay too.”

  “Right.”

  I watch the couple on TV, kissing in the rain and pick up the remote, switch the TV off. I can’t watch this.

  “Avery?” he asks cautiously.

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  Tears well, the wine blurring my rationality. “Why aren’t you here, then?”

  “I need to be with Connor.”

  “And Hannah.”

  “No! This is only about him.”

  I slurp more wine. Fuck it. “You’re living in her house. The girl you told me you’d love forever. In her house, Bryn.”

  “Because it’s easier than being an hour away in a city hotel!”

  “Yeah, I bet it’s easier,” I mutter.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  The distance between us isn’t the thousands of miles across the world. A gulf has opened that physically closing the distance wouldn’t change.

  “I thought you understood,” Bryn says quietly.

  “I’m trying but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m jealous. I understand about Connor and what a horrible, horrible situation this is; but I don’t understand why you’re living with your ex.”

  “I’m not with her, Avery.”

  Sure. “How long for?”

  “What?”

  “How long are you staying with your son and his mother? You won’t say when you’re coming back.”

  “Because I don’t know.”

  The alcohol opens the floodgates in the wall of fear and upset of the last few weeks. Everything I’ve pulled back on saying, the selfish desire for Bryn to come home that colours my world is released. “Because you don’t know if you will. You want to be with her, not me.”

  “What the fuck? Avery, are you drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we shouldn’t talk.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  A sound of derision heads down the line. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Okay. Tell me when you’re coming
home.”

  “Soon.”

  I snort. “Soon.”

  “You’re being selfish,” he says in a low voice

  “I’m being selfish? You’ve been in Australia six weeks. Understandable. Your son is sick. Totally understand you want to be there. But, you’re vague about us, about how long you’re staying, and now you’ve moved in with your ex!”

  “I have moved into her house and I just told you why! Fuck, Avery, I’m not in her bed!”

  “Yet,” I mutter.

  Bryn’s tone changes from tired to angry. “Right! Stop there. You’re drunk and misreading this.”

  “What? Like the pictures I’ve seen of Bryn Hughes, his son, and the beautiful mother; the Blue Phoenix good guy making amends after all these years. Happy fucking families!”

  There’s a long pause. “I’m going to call you tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

  “Fine! When you have some of your precious time for me, call back!”

  “I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Bryn hangs up and I stare at the phone, pain and frustration coursing through my body, until it spills out with my tears. Uselessly, I bury my head in a cushion on the sofa and sob. I’m holding onto something that no longer exists and the longer I do, the harder it hurts.

  If he doesn’t call tomorrow, I’ll start planning my future without him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  BRYN

  Why doesn’t Avery understand?

  Since the argument last week, I’ve attempted to have a rational conversation with Avery, but the distrust in her voice grows each time I call. Now she’s unleashed her insecurity, the unwarranted accusations fly about me and Hannah every time we talk and push me away.

  Six months. I haven’t had a relationship last that long for years. I’d convinced myself me and Avery were right for each other; that we could take on the world. No, not that we could take on the world, but that we’d created our own. Yeah, Hannah dropped a nuclear bomb in the middle of our peaceful existence, but I’m shocked that me and Avery aren’t working through this.

  Avery doesn’t trust me and what is a relationship without trust?

  I end the latest, short and hostile call, and look out across the tidy pavers in Hannah’s garden, beneath the orange streaked evening sky. Frangipanis border the ordered space, the fragrance cloying the air, and the scent reminds me of my house in the States.

  Avery’s withdrawing. We have little to say to each other. If I talk about Hannah and Connor, she gets defensive and I’m angry she doesn’t trust me. Tonight she accused me of having nothing left for her and when I told her right now, I have little outside of what I have for Connor, she couldn’t accept it.

  Each conversation we have, the creeping feeling we’re over grows.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  BRYN

  Connor and Hannah had a hospital appointment today and a visit to her mum’s place on the way back. Occasionally, I go to the hospital too and sit in the waiting area while they speak to the specialist. My need to avoid Jane left me alone with my jumbled thoughts today.

  The front door clicks open and closed, Hannah and Connor’s voices travelling down the hallway. Connor appears, pale faced with dark circles beneath his eyes. He sleeps more than when I first arrived and despite Hannah’s denials, I know he’s getting worse. If he doesn’t get a donor, he’ll need to go back to hospital. All the more reason for me to spend time with my son.

  “Hey,” I say with a smile, but when I see Hannah’s expression, I have to force the smile to stay. She hasn’t looked this haunted since the day of her confession in London.

  Connor walks over and sits on the chair opposite me, putting his iPad on the table.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I’m okay.”

  Hannah walks past, not looking at me.

  “We still going to the movies this weekend?” I ask. “What did you want to see?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Perfect! I heard there’s a new Disney princess movie.”

  He meets my grin with pursed lips. “Very funny.”

  “Well, I like princesses.”

  “No, you don’t!”

  I laugh and take a drink from my beer.

  “Don’t tease, Bryn,” says Hannah, coming back into the room with a glass of milk.

  “He knows I’m kidding, right?” I wink at Connor.

  Connor takes his milk and drinks. “I want to see your rock band.”

  His words push in a painful reminder of the Bryn I left behind. “Sure, one day. The guys are in England and America now, so we aren’t playing for a while.”

  “Can I go to England?”

  “I’ll take you there sometime. I have a house in the States too; you can come and stay.”

  Hannah inhales sharply and when I look up at her, the look she gives me is dark. Subject change obviously needed. I glance at the clock on the wall. “Time for a game of FIFA before bed? You kicked my backside yesterday.”

  Connor giggles and looks to his mum.

  “Sure, go get ready for bed first though,” she says.

  My relationship with Connor is easier than I imagined it would be, the awkwardness blown away within days. The more involved I get in his everyday life, the happier he is. When he’s facing pain and unhappiness in the next few months, I’m prepared to make up for the lost years and do anything that helps keep the smile on his brave face. If that’s being here, I’ll do that.

  “Have you eaten?” asks Hannah.

  “Liquid meal.” I hold up the bottle.

  She shakes her head with a small smile, and as Hannah walks away, I slump back in the chair, frightened by how easily I’ve slipped into their family life. Connor mentioned my Blue Phoenix world and I can’t picture it currently. England is more than thousands of miles away; it’s a lifetime away. Which life is reality?

  A week since we last spoke, and I suspect Avery has made my decision for me. I thought this would end with the mother of all arguments, a bigger version than the night she was drunk, but it doesn’t. We miss calls, don’t return messages, and when we do speak, the calls become shorter and more distant. Now Avery doesn’t answer at all. I’m not giving her the answers she needs.

  Hannah appears ten minutes later with another cold beer and glass of wine, and then joins me without speaking.

  The glass chinks against the table as Hannah sets her glass down and passes me the beer.

  “Where’s Connor?” I ask.

  “He fell asleep.”

  Frowning, I finish the beer and pick up a second bottle. “Is he okay?” Hannah looks at me as if I’m crazy. “Okay, stupid question.”

  Pointing at my phone, Hannah asks, “Was she not home again when you called? Normally you’re outside talking to her at this time.”

  “Avery?” I don’t want to talk to Hannah about this. “It’s complicated.”

  “See things from her point of view, Bryn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard some of your conversations recently. I wasn’t eavesdropping, you were loud.”

  I look away and drink my beer. “I’ll be quieter next time.” If she ever speaks to me again.

  “You need to tell everybody what you intend to do. Connor thinks you’re here permanently.”

  My chest tightens at the conversation I didn’t want to face. “I know. I can be here now and then later we can decide?”

  “You’re being unfair to Avery.” She pauses. “And me.”

  “To you?”

  Hannah twists the wine glass on the table. “I’m as confused as you are about everything. I’m in a weird dream. Sometimes I feel as if the last eight years have been a weird dream.”

  I shift around to face her. In my eyes, she’s the Hannah from years ago but carrying the weight of the Hannah who exists today.

  “Why did you hide Connor from me for so long?”

  “I told you, I hid him from myself too, Bryn.” She sip
s her wine. “I wasn’t very mature, even for a sixteen-year-old, and I was terrified. When Mum took over, it was easier to switch off and pretend he was my brother.” She gulps her wine then twists the glass in her hands. “Even when I met you again, I had the same denial. In my head, the two of you weren’t connected. You were the Bryn I left in Wales, not the father of a baby I didn’t want. I told you this before; please don’t make me go through this again.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t…” I can’t say the words. “You know.”

  She shakes her head. “It was too late even if I’d wanted to have a termination. I denied it was happening, and it was six months before my parents found out. Even then I denied it was happening, locked in my lies that the baby wasn’t real.” Her voice is low, and she stares at the floor. “I’m a bad person, Bryn,” she whispers. “I didn’t love him. I didn’t want him.”

  “But now, look at you and him now. You obviously do. You’re doing everything you can. The love you have for Connor is unmistakable.” A tear escapes Hannah’s eye and I shift closer in alarm. “It’s the past, Hannah. People will understand why you felt like that.”

  “Sometimes I think his illness is somebody punishing me, taking him away now I love him.”

  “You know that’s not true,” I say softly and place my hand over hers.

  She jerks at my touch and I curl my fingers around Hannah’s hand, wishing I could rewind and help her through everything she’s struggled with in the last eight years. Would I have made a difference?

  “I’m sorry,” she says, looking up, eyes shining with tears. “I denied you each other.”

  “We found each other now.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m lying if I say I understand or I’m okay with the decisions you made, but we need to focus on Connor now.”

  Hannah pulls her hand away and wipes her face with the back of her hands as she looks away. Her honey blonde hair shines in the light coming from the spotlights above, and as I look at her, I fight the words inside. I almost said focus on us. I could make this better by giving Connor and Hannah what they need.