Meant to Be Me

by Wendy Hudson

  “Are you the person who’s been stalking me?” She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but what other way was there to ask such a question?

  The colour drained from Anja’s face, and she reached out for support. When nothing met her hand, she buckled and Darcy automatically went to her. She pulled a chair out from the dining table and eased her in to it. It took a moment to realise what Anja’s reaction meant, and when that registered, Darcy flinched away as if scorched.

  She felt sick. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back. She had to stay in one piece. Had to stay strong if only to get the answers she needed. She couldn’t run away from this, and she wasn’t going to let Anja run either.

  “I need you to say it, Anja. Answer me. I can’t believe it otherwise.”

  Anja looked up with tears swimming in her eyes. “Not until you hear me out. Not until I get to tell you the rest of the story.”

  Darcy held the gaze of the friend she loved. A woman who had stood by her in the darkest hours, had held her and reassured her. A woman who had brought so much joy and laughter to Darcy’s life, had enhanced and lifted her higher.

  Had that afforded her a chance to explain? To try and make Darcy understand how she had also been the cause of all those dark hours of despair and torment?

  She dragged a chair out of reach of Anja, sat heavily, and clasped her hands tight together, focused on slowing her breathing. Her heartrate. As rage broiled deep in the core of her chest, she took a moment to steady herself before nodding that Anja should begin. Eilidh remained quiet in her peripheral vision, and Darcy knew she would be itching to scream and shout on Darcy’s behalf. “I want everything, Anja. Leave nothing out.”

  She watched Anja take a shuddering breath. She looked toward the heavens for a moment before bringing her attention back to Darcy. When she began, her voice was low, resigned. “My mum liked a simple life.”

  Mention of Anja’s mum threw Darcy. She had never talked about her more than to say that they weren’t close and didn’t really keep in contact.

  “She was happy staying home, making it a place me and my father loved to come back to. We were her world, and she made sure we knew that every day. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him, anyway.”

  Darcy wasn’t sure why this was relevant but gave Anja the time. Allowed her to continue. Although not immediately apparent, Darcy thought it might help give her answers eventually.

  “What happened?”

  Anja smirked then. “Your family happened.”

  Darcy shook her head in confusion. “My family?”

  “Yes. You and your mum.” Anja was on her feet. Eilidh made to get up as well, but Darcy held a calming hand up and she stayed where she was. Darcy watched as Anja paced towards the kitchen and back again. Agitated. No longer able to look at Darcy.

  “Anja, I don’t understand? What do my mum and I have to do with your family?”

  “You stole him away.” Anja’s voice rose, and she pointed an angry finger at Darcy. “Your mum with her looks and her grand ideas of moving abroad, exploring the world. And you, the perfect, ready-made daughter. It was so easy for him to swap one family for another. To leave us behind.”

  Darcy tried to connect the dots. Make sense of what Anja was saying. Had Anja’s dad become Darcy’s stepdad? Cameron? Was Anja his other family? She’d known a little about his past. That he’d been married before, but from what she had gleaned his ex was crazy and manipulative and wouldn’t allow him to see his daughter. She’d turned her against him. So when the opportunity had come up to start again in Australia, they’d taken it.

  “It wasn’t that simple, Anja.”

  She stopped her pacing and turned her glare towards Darcy. “You knew about us?”

  “No. I mean, yes. A little. But it was your mum that stopped him from seeing you. He wanted to, and I remember he would get upset if I asked about you. He wouldn’t even say your name. I thought I might get a stepsister, someone to share things with. But he said it was dangerous for you at home, that your mum was manipulative and had threatened all sorts if he tried to keep in touch. So he had to accept that he might never see you again.”

  “That’s a pathetic excuse and an outright lie. It was him who abandoned her. Us. Before he left, she was loving, and calm, and happy. It was him who manipulated her, destroyed her. He took away everything she held dear, as a mother and as a wife. I think he was actually glad when my mum found out about the affair; it gave the gutless bastard an out. It meant he didn’t have to make a decision for himself.”

  “I can only tell you what he said to me, Anja. I know nothing more about it. But why didn’t you tell me all this? When we first met? When you realised who I was? Why hide it from me? I could have helped, talked about it with you.”

  But Anja wasn’t listening. Her anger was palpable. She was immersed in her story and wasn’t coming back until it was told.

  “He made my mum think the life she had with him was worthless. It ruined her, and she was never the same. He took her away from me as well. You all did. You left me with nothing. With no one.”

  There was venom in her words. Darcy had never experienced this side of her. It had clearly been hidden well over the years, and it made her ugly. Darcy couldn’t reconcile the woman before her with the one she’d called her best friend. Her surface beauty no longer masked what clearly rotted inside of her.

  “It wasn’t my fault, Anja. Are you hearing me? I was a child. How could I have changed any of this?”

  “Exactly. We were both children, but he picked you, Darcy. You. He deserted me and became your father instead. Do you have any idea how that feels? To know you’re not enough for someone who is meant to love you unconditionally? To protect you from the world.”

  “Do you know what it was like growing up in that house? My mother became nothing more than a stain on it. Bitter and callous. She looked at me, and I knew she saw him. Saw something she hated. Until she stopped looking at me altogether. She left money on the kitchen table every Monday, for school supplies, food, clothes, but that’s as far as her parenting went. No more exploring in the woods, foraging for dinner, picking flowers, laughing. Nothing. She would ‘go for a walk’ and not come back for days. I knew she was getting trashed in the local tavern and going home with any guy who gave her a second look. I heard how people talked about her. The town whore. If she were a guy, she would be celebrated, but that’s not how the world works, is it? Imagine hearing the kids at school saying those things about your mother.”

  “Anja, I’m sorry.” And Darcy was. She couldn’t imagine such a loveless, lonely childhood. A well of guilt rose knowing she had Anja’s dad there for her whilst Anja had suffered and went without. Still, the anger rose with it. That Anja blamed her. Darcy had been an innocent child in all of this.

  “You’re sorry? Oh, well, that makes it all fucking better. Tell me what was it like for you? Growing up with someone else’s dad, knowing you’d taken him away from another child. Did you think about that? Did I ever cross your mind? Did you ever wonder how I was without my dad?”

  Darcy was afraid to answer honestly but knew it was the only way. “No. I didn’t. I guess after being told not to ask about you, because it upset him, I moved on and forgot.”

  Anja slumped back in the chair and laughed mirthlessly. “But you’d lost your own dad. That’s right, isn’t it? He died when you were young. Didn’t it occur to you that there was another young girl out there feeling how you had then? Didn’t it occur to your fucking tramp of a mother that she was breaking up another family?”

  “Now wait a minute.” Darcy was on her feet then. “You don’t get to talk about my mother in that way. Families fall apart all the time, Anja, you’re not unique. My mother did nothing wrong. She didn’t ask him to fall in love with her. She didn’t ask him to leave.”

  “That’s lies. Don’t be so bloody naïve, Darcy. Of
course she wanted him to pick her. She loved him too and wanted him for herself.”

  “What happened to your mum?” It was the first Eilidh had spoken, and it broke the standoff that Darcy and Anja now found themselves in. They moved apart, back to their respective chairs.

  Anja clutched her head in her hands and when she looked up her eyes were red rimmed with fresh tears. “Drink. Prescription drugs. You name it. Then one day she broke completely. I found her lying in the bath surrounded by her own vomit and empty booze bottles. She was so still. The water had barely a ripple. I remember how wrinkled her hands were, the blue of her lips. But it was her eyes, open and staring straight at me. Asking me why. I was sixteen.”

  She scrubbed at her face and then looked Darcy dead in the eye, dared her to look away. “There was a letter on the floor from his work. Informing her of his death and the benefit payable to her because of it. He hadn’t changed it to your mum’s name. That was the day she gave up, stopped asking herself if he was going to come home to her.”

  Darcy felt her own tears slip free as Anja buried her head in her arms and sobbed. She needed time to think. Everything she had known about Anja had been a lie, but she still loved her. She had seen the other side of her. Or had that been a pretence? Was this the real Anja? Bitter and twisted and filled with hatred. Anja wasn’t even her real name: Cameron had called her Annika. Olsen must be fake as well, or else it was her mother’s name.

  Anja’s story was shocking and tore at her heart, but it hadn’t all been roses for Darcy and she refused to be blamed for Cameron’s choices. For Anja’s mum’s choices. They weren’t her doing, and Anja’s blame was beyond misguided.

  “How the fuck do you think my mum and I felt when he died?”

  Anja’s head rose. She seemed wary and didn’t reply.

  “We were left alone too. Along with a sister destined to depend on us forever. Your half-sister.” It was the first time Darcy had ever mentioned her sister to Anja, but she showed no sign of surprise. “Did you know about her?”

  Anja glanced towards Eilidh, then back at Darcy. “Bridget told me. She assumed I knew about her.”

  “So you know about her condition? What it takes to look after her? He left us on the other side of the world with barely a penny. I worked from when I was fourteen and Mum took every evening job going because that was when the carers came in and I could help them get Olivia to bed.”

  “Olivia,” Anja murmured the name under her breath. “I never knew her name.”

  “Yes, Olivia. Our sister. Who relies on my mum for everything and is the reason they’re still in Australia. The reason I came back here alone to study for free so I could send money back once I graduated.”

  “Oh, how noble. It changes nothing. Your mum getting knocked up with her was probably half the reason why my dad left.”

  Darcy shot out of her chair and unleashed a stinging slap across Anja’s face. “How fucking dare you? She did nothing to cause this, and neither did I. The only people you should be blaming is your parents and yourself. You’re the one that’s twisted all of this, Anja. You’re the one that’s brought us to this point. What kind of sick game have you been playing?” She shoved both Anja’s shoulders, pushed her upright, and forced her to look up. “I want my answer. I’ve heard enough of your bullshit. Are you my fucking stalker?”

  Anja held a palm to her scorched cheek. Darcy saw her jaw muscles work as she clenched her teeth, but the slap seemed to have knocked the spite from her. Now only remorse swam in her eyes, and her expression was one Darcy recognised. One she would normally be doing anything to take away. Sorrow and pain.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Chapter 52

  Eilidh watched Darcy crumple to the floor as Anja finally admitted it. Until that moment, she had watched on patiently and quiet as promised.

  She got to her feet. “Leave. Now.”

  Anja reached for Darcy, but Eilidh was between them before she had a chance to lay a hand on her.

  “I said leave.”

  “It’s not up to you.” Anja was defiant. She tried to push past Eilidh to where Darcy sobbed on the floor, but Eilidh stood firm.

  “Either you get out now, or I get the police to come and take you away for me.”

  That stopped her.

  “You wouldn’t. Darcy, tell her. Tell her I can stay. I want to figure this out with you. I need you to understand.”

  “Try me.” Eilidh took a step in to her space. “The only reason I haven’t already is because I care about Darcy and it should be on her terms. But I will if you push me.”

  “Care about her? I love her.” Anja stood her ground. “You’ve been around five minutes. You don’t know her. You don’t know us.”

  “I know enough to laugh at what you call love. You think terrifying her was love? Tormenting her all this time? And now what? You tell her you love her, and she’s meant to forgive all that?”

  “Get out of my way, Eilidh. You don’t speak for her.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Darcy slowly rose to her feet. It was obvious to Eilidh she was in pain, physically and mentally. Eilidh watched her drag her injured leg, hold on to it as she attempted to stand tall. “But she’s right. You need to get out of here before I do something I might regret.”

  Anja looked between them both, and Eilidh’s stare never wavered. She braced herself for any sudden movements, any inkling that Anja wasn’t going to go quietly. Instead, she kept her focus on Darcy, their gaze never breaking. “I know this started out all wrong. I know what I’ve done might be unforgiveable. But you have to believe me when I tell you how sorry I am. How much I regret every moment of pain I’ve caused you.”

  Darcy didn’t respond. Eilidh held back the rage that wanted her to shove Anja to the door. That wanted to slap her as well and worse. She took a step, and Anja held up her hands.

  “I’m going.”

  Quiet drifted over them once the sound of Anja’s retreating car had disappeared. Eilidh turned to Darcy and shook her head. She was dumbfounded, unable to form anything coherent that might help.

  “Fuck.”

  She watched Darcy slowly move to the sofa and joined her. She began to cry again and allowed Eilidh to hold her close. Great, wracking sobs tore through her, and she shook in Eilidh’s arms. “How could she blame me? I was a kid. It wasn’t my fault.”

  Eilidh knew she didn’t want answers; she was simply trying to make sense of it.

  “We should call the police, Darcy. They need to deal with this.”

  “No.” She shook her head against Eilidh’s chest. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

  “Are you serious?” Eilidh pulled away and held her by the shoulders. “After everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve your compassion. Don’t be fooled by her anymore.”

  “I’m exhausted. I need time to think about it all. She’s not going anywhere.”

  Eilidh couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After everything Anja had put her through, she still had a hold over Darcy. She still clouded her judgement and demanded understanding and kindness, and all the other things Darcy offered in the name of friendship.

  “Are you sure about that? She could already be packing her bags.”

  “Well, at least then she’ll be out of my life. She’s been through so much; is sending her to prison really going to help?”

  She was asking for Eilidh’s support. For her to confirm that offering Anja some kind of leniency in the name of empathy was all right. That she wasn’t being weak, unable to do the hard thing. Eilidh wanted to accept it, but a voice screamed that Anja should pay for all the hurt she had caused. No matter her motivation.

  “What about what you’ve been through? After everything, are you really going to let her walk away? She needs help, Darcy. Who knows what she might do next? For both our safety, she needs to be handed over to the autho
rities. They’ll get her the help she needs.”

  “And what if they don’t? What if they lock her up and all she’s left with is another thing to blame me for? Another way in which I’ve destroyed her life. Despite it all, I can’t switch off how I feel about her. Don’t you get that?”

  “How you feel about her? Don’t tell me… Darcy, do you love her? In that way?”

  “No. I realised earlier that I never have, but I didn’t know how to tell her.” She reached to smooth the lines on Eilidh’s brow and traced a finger down her cheek. “Tell her that I couldn’t feel that way about her, because it’s how I feel about you.”

  They were words Eilidh had longed to hear, and she hated that Anja had tinged them with sorrow and regret, but Darcy had still kept them only for her. That fact overrode the negativity and brought a sheepish smile to her face.

  “You don’t half-pick your moments.”

  Darcy returned her smile and leaned in to her again. Looping her arms around Eilidh’s waist, she pulled her closer. “Is there ever a right time for these things? It seems the world isn’t as perfect as I wished for.”

  Eilidh lay back on the sofa, shuffling Darcy with her so they lay intertwined, Darcy’s head on her chest. However unrealistic Darcy’s expectations of the world were, Eilidh loved her for her optimism. Her unwavering faith that it could all be wonderful if you tried hard enough and believed in it.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered into Darcy’s hair. “Rest a while and then we’ll make a plan to make it perfect again.”

  Chapter 53

  Anja’s tears had turned into something else. Fury burned in her throat as she watched Eilidh and Darcy embrace on the sofa. Watched that interfering bitch comfort Darcy. Who the hell did she think she was? Sat there in judgement of Anja, putting words into Darcy’s mouth and forcing her to leave.