by Erin Rickman
“What?” he asked in a short, unpleased tone. He stoped dead in his tracks, not happy with my presence at his vehicle.
“Look, I know you’re not talking to me right now, but I have some information on Maze’s whereabouts,” I declared. “Can you meet me at Coffee Klub tonight?”
“Blaire, I don’t want to talk—” he paused, registering the first thing I had announced, “wait, what did you find out?”
“This doesn’t prove anything,” I said, softening my tone, “but, I was speaking to Van Wick about Maze. He had said her and her husband have moved to New York as that’s the facility she has been transferred to. Though, it doesn’t explain why her husband has painful memories.”
Atlas stared at me, a single eyebrow raising. “Blaire, do you remember what else the real estate man said last week?” Atlas questioned in a manner that suggested I should have made a connection.
I paused, trying to remember what else happened besides the argument on that day, the guy in the suit had said he never saw a woman, so that paired with the fact that her husband found it too painful to stay, only implied one thing.
“Her husband never went with her,” I said, the realisation in my voice.
“Which means something doesn’t add up... Again. There’s a hole in the facilities story,” Atlas concluded. “Thanks for everything, Blaire, but you have to be careful, maybe just leave this down to me?”
“You wanted my help last week,” I stated crossing my arms.
“Well, a lot has happened since then, hasn’t it?” Atlas was referring to the argument. “Besides, you didn’t want to help then.”
“At least I have apologised, you said some hurtful things too, you know? Stop making it out like I’m the bad guy. I want to help you now.” I paused. “I miss you.”
Atlas cleared his throat. “I’ve got to go, Blaire. See you tomorrow.”
I didn’t have it in me to reply. Instead, I pushed past him and walked to my car. My heart was racing, I wasn’t sure if it was anger or sadness, but with my eyes stinging I was not about to cry in front of him. I fumbled for my keys in my bag, but it proved to be a challenge with blurred vision. Soon enough, the car was unlocked, and I sat in it. At that point, when I was alone, I couldn’t stop it, and the tears came.
How could Atlas be so cold? How can his feelings just turn, especially if he was ‘into me’ as Kenji had stated? When Atlas said that I meant a lot to him on the night we went to the pond, was he lying? Surely he must have been, someone can’t just mean so much to you and then a few days later mean nothing. Was it a tactic he had to attempt to ruin my relationship and bed me?
The more I thought, the more I cried. I couldn’t go home just yet as I wasn't willing to explain my puffy eyes. So instead, I sent my mother a text to say I was working late and drove.
✽✽✽
I wasn’t an active reader, but at times like this, and throughout university, I had no issues with picking up a book to escape the world when it got too much. I sat in Coffee Klub reading The City of Bones, getting wrapped up in Jace and Clary’s love drama instead of my own. I suppose it could be worse, (spoiler alert), at least I hadn’t found out Atlas was a long lost brother, and I had to fight the feelings of wanting to rip his clothes off. I was whipping through the book due to being engrossed in it when a cup was placed down next to me. I looked up at the waitress, smiling but confused.
“Thank you, but I didn’t order that,” I explained.
She smiled and gestured behind her. “No, but he did.”
She walked away, and I got a clear view of Atlas. I rolled my eyes before standing to my feet. Quickly, I started to collect my belongings.
“B, look, don’t go. I want to talk.”
At that, I paused packing up, remaining at my table as he had caught me before I could bolt. I stared at him with a book in hand.
“What? Because it’s on your terms now it’s okay?” I asked, annoyed. “I’ve been trying to speak with you for the last week. If you’re not actually as crazy as you seem with this conspiracy about work, then I may have put myself in danger for you today and you still couldn’t stand the sight of me.” I slammed my book down. “If you’re just going to keep being rude and breaking my heart, you know where the door is. How can you be so cold, Atlas? You told me how much I meant to you and if that was true, then you can’t just turn those feelings off, regardless of if they’re romantic or platonic. So either you lied then or you’re lying now. Which one is it?”
“I was never lying, you mean more to me than I could ever show but you hurt—”
“I have apologised to you for it, but you hurt me too. Your jealousy got the better of you, and you commented on something you had no right to do. You’ve hurt me every damn day you walked into that office and pretended like I didn’t exist.” My eyes started to sting, I was going to cry in front of him, so I turned away, resuming to pack.
Atlas stood, staring down at me. “I know.”
“Then why did you do it?” I snapped, frustrated, and I turned to face him. “When I hurt you, it was an accident, but you keep actively choosing to hurt me.” Before I could stop it, a tear rolled down my cheek; quickly, I swiped it away with my hand before I put on my coat and turned my back to him.
Atlas grabbed my shoulders, turning me. “B, I don’t know why I did it. I was so angry. Maybe it was because, like I’ve told you before, you’re not like other women. I don’t just want to bed you and move on. I want to learn about you, support you, grow with you and knowing I couldn’t have that started to make me bitter and I looked for any reason to lash out. I'm not used to not getting the woman I want. I know I could never have what I want with you because you have those comforts with someone else.” He paused for a minute, his thumb wiped away another tear that had escaped. “I don’t want to see you cry, not now, not in your car.”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks—I hadn’t realised he had clocked on to my earlier breakdown. “I didn’t cry—”
“B, shush,” He mumbled, clearly on an apologetic roll. “It made me realise that I can live with you hurting me, but I cannot stand there while I know I’m hurting you. For that, I’m sorry. I’m scared because I feel something for you, and the stronger those feelings get the more capability you have to hurt me. This last week has been awful and pushing you away has hurt me more than your words did,” he paused, “and that’s on me. Look, I know I’m not really coming across clear, Blaire, but I hurt myself more in this situation than you did by ignoring you. I’m going to get hurt in life, everyone is, but if it’s you hurting me then I can learn to deal with it—you're worth it. I know you’re with Jai, but if you ever decide he’s not the one for you, then I’ll be here, waiting. I’m just so sorry for being a huge asshole.”
I stood there, staring, trying to process what he had said. He was sorry, I hurt him, but him pushing me away hurt more because he has feelings for me, he wants me in his life and maybe even as his wife? I coughed. Too far. I didn’t really care much for the complexity I was about to face in my head now Atlas had laid his emotions out on the table formally. At that moment, I had him back, and that was all that mattered.
“Will you say something? I’ve just poured my heart out to you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say; I was confused. I was so overjoyed to have Atlas back, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about his confessions, but it left me in a complicated place. I had to choose someone. Jai was my best friend; he was normality, comfort. Whereas Atlas was fun, exciting, and made me feel a way Jai hadn’t in a very long time. I couldn’t ignore the feelings I had for Atlas; I had been trying since I met him six months ago, and it wasn’t working out. However, Jai was my best friend, and for many years I thought he was my soulmate. Was I to sit in something warm, comfortable and safe? Or was I to try something new that could be the best decision of my life? I felt like a baby bird, hesitant to leave the nest knowing there was an equal chance of falling instead of flying.
I
didn’t want to say anything to Atlas yet because I didn’t know myself. So instead I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, my head on his chest. I could smell the same aftershave as I had the night we went out. I forgot how much of a comfort that smell had become—it was strong enough that I could smell it every day in the office, but this week I had tried to steer clear. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tight.
“I’m sorry, B.”
I pulled away and stepped back. “Look, stop apologising. We both hurt each other. Please, don’t ever do that to me again because living without you is really hard. I need some time to think about what you’ve said. Of course, I accept your apology, and I want you back as my best friend, but I need time to process if that’s where it stops. Jai means a lot to me, and you know this. Just give me some time and let me process okay?” I requested.
He nodded and drew in a deep breath. I imagine he felt similar to me in that a huge weight had been lifted off of our shoulders. I had Atlas back. The only issue I had now was deciding who to choose.
✽✽✽
The next day rolled around, and I crossed the pavement to travel to the facility. The weather was starting to get a crisp morning chill as we progressed nearer to winter. Atlas was standing outside, leaning against the corner of the building. He was on his phone texting. His black hair was windswept, but somehow it still looked perfect. A light stubble had started to grow on his face. As I approached, he looked up a grin growing. My stomach tingled; he was perfect. As the thought crossed my mind and my stomach fluttered my heart ached. I knew I would have to make a decision, and someone would get hurt.
“Blaire, I called the New York facility last night—”
“—are you crazy?” I asked, disbelief in my tone. I was going to do it, but still, it's ok for me to put myself in danger.
“No, and let me explain why,” he started, “and just listen, please.” I stared up at him, gesturing with my hands for him to continue. “Alright, so, I asked to speak with Maze Wilkrich and guess what?”
“What?” I asked dryly. “You found out you are crazy and paranoid?”
“Did I not just tell you I wasn’t crazy?” he asked rhetorically. “They have no record of a Maze Wilkrich there, so I corrected to her maiden name as, you know, they may have split up.”
“Atlas, get to the point.”
“And nothing, nada, no Maze.”
I paused for a minute. Atlas’ wormhole conspiracy was maybe proving to be something more. Maze’s house was up for sale as it’s 'too painful' for her partner. Assumably, they split up, however, according to Van Wick, they're both in New York, but there is no record of Maze at the facility. Things were not adding up; something was not right.
“What the—” I took a deep breath. “What is going on?”
“I have no idea, B, but I intend to find out,” Atlas said, confidently.
Hector was apparently at Atlas’ according to a text to his own mother but obviously wasn’t. I wonder if Atlas had heard any more on this.
“And what about Hector?”
“His mum has been in contact with the police.”
“Then, shouldn’t we report out concerns for Maze and leave it with them?”
Atlas vigorously shook his head. “No,” he drawled. “If the police were doing something about Hector, don’t you think we would have seen them by now? He’s been missing a week.”
I sighed; he was right. It was odd that his mother had called the police and we, as his closest friends, had not been questioned. Surely a complete drop in all contact is worrying?
“The police may well have decided there were no leads to follow, or they might not have the man power to dedicate to the case,” I reasoned.
“Or, the company has its hand in the police force and can make things disappear?”
I was shocked, much like the rest of this conspiracy, it was utterly ridiculous, but not impossible. Our company was rich and highly influential, they had limitless funds to offer someone with the wrong morals.
“Do you believe me now?” Atlas questioned, desperation in his tone.
“I still think the idea that the company is behind this is far-fetched, but I do agree that something weird is going on. You don’t think they would have run off together, do you?” I asked.
Atlas laughed with frustration. “I love Hector, but Maze would never go for it. Now, that is far-fetched.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Right, okay, so they’re missing, that we can agree on,” I concluded.
I was having a hard time trying to wrap my head around Atlas’ conspiracy. It was far-fetched, and this sort of thing only ever happened in movies, which we were not in. It was highly unlikely the company was behind our friends’ disappearance, but it was becoming increasingly hard to create an alternative excuse.
“B, you have to believe me,” Atlas begged. “I need your help.”
“I just need more evidence Atlas, you’re asking someone to believe something crazy. You’re a scientist; you should understand that we need facts to establish a theory.”
“The facts are staring you right in the face, what more evidence could you possibly want?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, “but I need more.”
“Well, lucky enough for you, I have an idea,” he emphasised, “and I’m going to need your help.”
Chapter Eight
October 6th 2024
It was the early hours of Sunday morning, and my inner turmoil of ‘Atlas or Jai?’ was causing sleepless nights. I’ve heard the saying that if you were truly in love with the first person, you would never fall for the second, but surely if you truly loved the second person you wouldn’t still like the first? My head was spinning. Atlas and Jai were two completely different people, comparing the two were useless. I wouldn’t compare a lizard and a plate, so I shouldn’t compare them.
My over-thinking had led me to question if I loved Jai. I wasn’t sure, was I just comfortable with him? He didn’t give me the same feelings Atlas did. I looked at Jai, and he was home, a reliable source with an intimate connection, and I unquestionably couldn’t imagine my life without him. I had always pictured him in my life, the person I would build a home, career and family with but now when I try to imagine my future it’s not his face I see. Now I pictured Jai as someone who would be in my future but as nothing more as a platonic comfort.
Jai was once the one wiggling the keys to our new home, arguing with me over where the forks should go in the cutlery draw or deciding the name of our first child. Now I wasn’t sure who stood in that fantasy, but it wasn’t him. My feelings had very much decided on their course long ago; even if I wasn't ready to think about it and admit it. Regardless, my brain wasn’t ready to break the connection. What if Jai didn’t want to be in my life anymore, was I willing to let that happen?
My ringtone sounded, making me jump. I rolled over to grab the phone from the bedside table. Atlas’ name stretched across the screen, and I answered.
“Atlas, it is quarter to three in the morning, what on Earth do you want?”
“B, I need to get out of my house. I’m sorry to ask, and you know I wouldn’t if I didn’t—”
“Shut up, get your things to last you for as long as you’ll need. Do you remember my address?”
“I think so, I don't know,” he stammered, clearly panicked
“I’ll text you my address.”
Just like that, the phone call ended. I rapidly typed in house number and street. My heart was racing, was Atlas ok? I assumed his mum was drinking and getting too rowdy, but he had never called for help before. I quickly got dressed, throwing on some leggings and a large baggy top. I watched out of my window, waiting to see headlights pull up. Around twenty minutes later, they did. I observed as a tall, dark figure got out of the car, walking to the boot and grabbing a backpack.
Quickly but quietly, I tip-toed down the stairs, careful not to disturb my household. Having four floors proved difficult
to climb down promptly. I reached the front door, leant over to the stag key holder mounted on the wall—another one of my mother’s great antique finds—and grabbed the key to unlock the door. When I opened the door, I was met with a tired looking Atlas. He wore a black t-shirt, grey jogging bottoms and some Nike trainers. I watched his face in the porch light; his eyes had bags, his stubble growing fairly long now. Upon a second gaze, I noticed his cheekbone.
I pulled him inside, into the living room and flicked on a light to get a better look. “What the hell happened to you?” I yelped, reaching up to brush my fingers over the darkening bruise on his face. “Did she hit you?”
Atlas shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice wavered as he sat down on the sofa.
“Oh, Atlas,” I sighed, walking towards him.
I stood between his legs, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he leant his head on my stomach, his body started to shake as he let out a small sob. I placed one hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and the other I ran through his hair. Whatever happened had hit him hard. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t need to. He knew I was here for him.
After a couple of moments, Atlas sniffed, his sobs quieting down. His arms dropped from around my waist. My eyes scanned the living room, falling on a box of tissues near the TV. I grabbed some and handed them to him. I sat on the sofa beside him while he cleaned himself up. I had never seen Atlas cry, I had seen him in many emotional states but not this one. His actions had made me deeply concerned; something significant must have happened for him to call on me at half three in the morning with a bruised cheekbone.
“I’m sorry,” he announced, clearing his throat.
