Two Wolves

by handsinmotion

Summary:

Following a traumatic head injury Eliza is discharged into the care of her husband with two questions. Who really is this man to her, and how did she come to be injured?

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Notes:

I have no medical knowledge so please don't come at me for all and any of the things I get wrong.

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Chapter 1: a man is here

Light, piercingly bright, blinding like the pain in my head.
The sharp smell of cleanliness, and slightly burnt toast.
A hand on mine.

I close my eyes.
Swim away.

 

Rising, drifting up through shadows to the sound of a woman singing.
Notes float through my growing awareness.
Who's singing?
Forcing my eyes to accept the brightness again, flooding in, the whiteness opens up in places to show colours that were hidden within it.
Then shapes, twisting into focus.

The singing is pretty, and far away.

I'm in a bed and a man is here, he sits close by with shoulders hunched and head bowed, dark blonde hair tumbles forwards on his face but I see the hollow of his cheek, the strong lines of his nose and jaw.
He doesn't see me.

I'm so tired.
I feel like I'm tumbling backwards.

 

Awake with eyes closed.
I hear singing again.
A bird, outside the window?
Clean sheets under my fingers, I move them, feeling the fabric.
A man's voice, soft with rough edges, says my name.
Somebody's stroking my hand.

There's brightness again when I open my eyes and I know it's sunlight.
My vision is clearing…
The source of the voice and the hand stroking mine is the man from before.
Sliding my hand from his I quickly retrieve it, pull the covers up and slip it beneath them to hide it away..

"Hi, hey."

Gently.

His smile masks something. He's sad?
No, not sad, something else.

"It's okay, you're in hospital."

I don't understand.

Other people arrive, white coats, blue clothes, bustling efficiency looking into my eyes and squeezing my hands, prodding and poking. I do as I'm told, becoming first irritated then growing steadily more angry.

He's looking at me, holding my gaze.

"What's your problem, fucker?"

My voice is strange to my ears.

The smile twists and fades.

Do I know him?
He looks familiar… Or does he?

His eyes search the doctors' faces. One of them nods and he comes closer, tries to take my hand again, and I pull it away and tell him.

"Fuck off."

Stop looking so hurt, asshole.
Why's he still here… What the fuck? Who..?

"FUCK.
OFF! AND GET.
OUT!"

A woman takes him from the room.
Good.

 

It's dark and I'm warm. A small cat is here. My fingers circle its ears, smooth through the softness of its back and I feel it's purring as much as hear it. It moves ahead of me, paws in line, tail aloft and I see it better now as the darkness recedes and a warm yellow light is shining. It's a small grey cat, like the one I loved as a child.
I'm moving towards it when it swings its head suddenly and looks at me with huge round amber eyes and I open my own.

It's night. The lights are low and it's quiet but for doors opening somewhere and the squeak of wheels on a smooth floor.

He's here again. Bathed in the soft warm glow from a light positioned overhead.
He's on a chair, leaning forward to rest on my bed with his head on his folded arms, close to my legs and he's sleeping, his hair fanned out over his face.

I move my legs carefully away from him and wonder who he is.
Feeling my body, I move it slowly one part at a time.
My knees are grazed and my shoulder hurts, but not badly, and my head is sore, but that's all. There's a cannula in my hand, a catheter…

A young woman walks over quietly, a nurse. Smiling, she whispers hello and checks my temperature and pulse. Noticing my eyes drift again to the man on my bed, she gives me a drink of water then looks at him kindly, almost fondly.

"He's been there the whole time… Shall we let him sleep?
It's the middle of the night, you should sleep too if you can."

I am tired. I close my eyes and make myself comfortable as she pulls the covers up around me.

 

Waking in the morning again I have to remember where I am.
He's still on my bed, sleeping.
Oh God.
I don't want to talk to him, this is so awkward.

I think I know him from somewhere.
I wish I could remember who he is.

When the nurse from last night opens the blinds, daylight spills into the room, cold and harsh. As she comes to take my temperature and pulse again I beckon her closer, point at him and whisper,

"Who is he?"

She stands up straight, suddenly, her eyes a little wider, and places a hand on my arm.

"I'm just going to speak to the doctor, I won't be long."

She shoots a look at the man asleep on my bed and leaves.

He stirs. Fingers stretch open and close again with a sharp intake of breath, his hands are large. He raises his head a little and moves it from side to side, stretching his neck.

His hair is dark blonde and long, reaching the top of his shoulders. Oily tresses fall over his eyes and a short beard covers his lower features.
Straightening further he moves his shoulders in circles, unwinding stiffness as he runs one hand over the planes and angles of his face and rubs his eyes. I can't see his face properly to study him. He pushes his hair back finally and turns his gaze towards me. His eyes are blue.

Surprise and happiness flit for a moment across his expression, so fast I could miss it had I not been searching for anything to recognize.

But almost instantly they're gone, replaced by kindness and concern.

I clear my throat.

"Hi"

His mouth twists into a lopsided smile.

"Hey… how're you feeling? The doctors hoped you'd be more with us today…."

I don't want to offend him.

"Um… Do I know you?
Where's Jonathan?"

I watch pain sweep across his face, and I'm unmoved by it.
His mouth opens.

"I don't mean to be rude.. but my husband will be coming soon, and I'm sorry but I don't know who you are."

"Ellie…"

His eyebrows are expressive, drawn upwards, pained.

His eyes swing to the door.

 

"Ah, Eliza, I'm very glad to see you."

The doctor strides in and approaches my bed as the nurse slips into the room behind him.

"Doctor Amis, I've been in charge of your care."

He's a small, dark haired man with very hairy arms. They're distracting me.

"How are we this morning?"

"We are… Okay… Thank you."

I look at the other man, he's not okay.

He looks unhappy, but he's focused on the doctor.
Nice eyes.
Sad though. His eyes and face are nice but sad.

The doctor comes to stand by the bed.

"That's good.
Now. You won't know this, but you were brought here two days ago following a TBI, that's a traumatic brain injury. You've been unconscious for most of that time, but you've been very lucky indeed.

Do you understand what I'm saying, Eliza?"

I nod. Which hurts.
"Yes."
I'm trying really hard to concentrate.

"Our tests have revealed a linear skull fracture, that means there's a break in the bone, although it hasn't moved, and a very small subdural hematoma, that's a blood clot underneath the skull, but outside of the brain.
These can form from a tear in the veins that lead out from the brain, and are sometimes associated with a skull fracture."

He pauses. I realise he's waiting for some sign that I'm following him and not just looking at his arms.

I have no understanding of what he's just said but I look him in the eyes and nod again, carefully. Nodding too much hurts my head.

"In your case we've been able to avoid surgery, and we've managed your condition with medication whilst keeping you under observation. As I say, you've been very very lucky. The actions taken immediately after your accident have no doubt been critical in your outcome."

At this point the eyes of the doctor move to the other man, before returning to me.

"I've also been informed that you're experiencing some confusion due to problems with your memory, which is to be expected. Several structures within the brain are involved in memory, and injury to any of these parts can impair their performance.

I'm afraid that after a concussion such as yours, some issues are inevitable, but hopefully some or all of your memory function will return in time. However I'm afraid it's something that's impossible to predict."

It's hard, piecing everything together. Some of it makes sense. My brain is damaged…

"We'd like to keep you here for today, to carry on observations but if all is well I see no benefit to you remaining in hospital any longer.
We'll be discharging you into the care of your next of kin this evening, and supporting you both at home from then on as much as is necessary."

The other man is looking apprehensively from me to the doctor and back again. The nurse catches his eye and smiles encouragingly.

I do hope that helps to fill things in for you? But if there's anything else, anything you'd like to talk with me about I'll be happy to help with any information that I can give you.

Okay? Good,"
He pats my hand.
"I'll let you rest now and we'll speak again later."

He turns to go, taking his hairy arms with him.
There is something else.

"Doctor?"

The man sitting by the bed is rising to his feet but looks from me to the doctor, who pauses and turns back.

"Yes?"

"Where's my husband?
When will he be here?"

The doctor looks from me to the man who's standing now, awkwardly. They exchange a look which makes me feel uneasy.

He's so tall, the blonde man.
His arms are wrapped around himself.

The doctor clears his throat, regaining my attention and I watch him as he answers.

"He's already here, Eliza. He's been here the whole time."

My eyes swing to the tall man. One of his hands is covering the lower half of his face. His eyes...

"No…. He's not…"

I hear the doctor's voice.

"It's okay, give it time."

He's leaving with the tall man in pursuit, who's voice fades away with distance.

"How do I... I don't know if I can…"

 

A lot of unpleasant things happen. The catheter and cannula are removed, and I'm helped by a nurse into a wheelchair on unsteady legs and taken to the toilet. She waits while I shower and brush my teeth.

I can do these things. This is good. If it wasn't for the dizziness.
Back in my bed I fight the nausea to eat a little toast.
Everything is working except my stupid head.

I get caught up on little things.

Focusing until they're everything.
Like little details become so important that nothing else goes in.

The bubbles from the shower gel swirling.
The sound of toast when I bite it.
I'm so distractible.

 

The bird is singing again.
A bird.
I don't know if it's the bird, like I have my own fucking bird.

I'm chuckling when he appears in the doorway.
Then I stop.
Tall man.
He's as tall as the door. The persistent one.
What did the doctor call him?
My husband.

He stops, uncertain. Not apprehensive, more wary.

He tilts his head downwards while his eyes look up, meeting mine.

What's different? He's clean, a layer of fatigue washed away with the grime. His hair is clean and he looks softer, somehow. Younger. He's in jeans and an off white sweater.

"Please can I come in?"

"You didn't ask before."

This is strange.
I motion to the chair with the green fake leather seat and armrests.

It's the sort of chair you could sit in for a long time, or sleep in and it wouldn't matter if you spilled stuff on it.

The one he's been sitting on the whole time he was here.
He resumes his position on it.

"I know. But things are…"
He gives his head a small shake and his mouth is taut, a grim, hard little line.
"It's different now."

He briefly passes his hand across his eyes.

"You don't remember me."

Deliberate or otherwise, his voice is devoid of emotion.

He intrigues me.

I try to be honest with him because he deserves that much. I guess I have to mean something to him.

 

"You are familiar, somehow? But I'm sorry, I don't know you."

He has eyes that give him away, betray him constantly, and I feel responsible for what I see there.

"I am sorry."

He leans his elbows on the armrests, pressing his forehead with his palm, fingers buried in his hair, pushing it back.

I'm watching him suffer but there's nothing I can say, he's a stranger to me.

"I'm Robert. You call… You called me Rob, and I'm your husband."

Sitting up, he squares his shoulders and takes a breath, but when he speaks his eyes are focused on the bed in front of me, avoiding mine.

 

"We're not together anymore, but I'm your next of kin, and I've agreed for you to be discharged into my care. You can't be on your own, so when you go home I'm going with you."

 

"Surely there's somebody else?"

I know I no longer have my parents, I've no trouble remembering them, or that they're both gone.
I'm an only child.

He drops his head and stands as he's talking. His eyes are still avoiding mine.

"I know it's difficult, it's difficult for me too, but I hope we can make it work until you're ready.
I've brought some of your clothes and things for you,"

I notice that he's holding a bag which he puts down on the bed.

"Do you have my phone?"

"Umm …. No."

"But I need it. Everything's on it."

"I'm sorry.
I'll give you some privacy."

And he leaves the room.

 

A nurse brings me a coffee and helps me to dress, ensuring I'm not overcome by the giddiness as I pull on comfortable thick pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, and she helps me with my sheepskin slipper boots.

At one point I take hold of her arm and ask her in a rough whisper,

"The guy… Rob. If I don't remember him how do you know.. I mean do you really know he's who he says he is?"

I know I sound paranoid, but suddenly I desperately need reassurance.

She stops, lays her hand over mine, and holds my attention with the sincerity in her face.

"I know this must be confusing and even frightening for you Eliza, it's a really big step you're taking now, but the checks we do in these circumstances are very thorough. He is your husband.
And if it helps you to know, he's been here the whole time, he's barely left your side.
He's really very lovely, even with everything..."

She's got the same look in her eyes that the other nurse had. He's certainly done a number on them.

"We're not together anymore apparently."

She looks away,

"Oh, I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't be, I don't care.
Do you have a mirror I could use?"

I've hit my head in an accident, I can feel where, on my left side, a way back from my temple, but I want to know what it looks like.

 

Sitting in the chair, gazing at my reflection, I'm happy to see that I look pretty normal, and I'm glad I recognize the face looking back at me, my green eyes with arched brows, my fair skin and my freckles. At least I remember myself.

I pull my reddish brown wavy hair back, carefully, and feel the soreness and see the discoloration there. It's not pretty, but at least they didn't have to shave my head, I'm grateful for that. I'm beginning to realise why the doctor said I was lucky. I'm sitting up, talking and my body works. This could have been so much worse.

I pass the mirror back, watching it cast a small rectangular window of late afternoon sunshine, racing along the wall and across the ceiling. It winks daylight at me as she takes it.

"Thank you," I say, "you're holding the sun."

 

The evening meal comes early, way before evening in the hospital and everyone seems very happy that I've eaten, including me. Small amounts of toast wouldn't sustain me for long.

He's still not returned.

Every sound from outside the door, every passing person causes me to look up.
It's followed by a feeling of absence.

It keeps on happening until I realise…
I'm waiting for him.

 

It must be because I'm apprehensive. That's it.

 

When Doctor Amis walks in, he comes in with him, and they both stand while I sit in the green chair, the doctor relaxed and confident, the other… Robert, awkward and uncomfortable.

Have they been discussing me?

 

"Hello Eliza, do you remember us speaking earlier today? About you going home this evening?"

"Yeah. With… him."

His eyes flicker over to me, just for a second, before he drops them, walks over to the window and looks out, his hand clutching the top half of the opposite arm, held across his chest.

 

"I can go home on my own, I'm sure I could cope perfectly well, I don't need a carer or a babysitter."

The doctor looks at me kindly and smiles.

"I'm afraid my experience tells me otherwise, and my advice is that somebody needs to be with you, at least until things improve. In fact it's a condition of your discharge. The full extent of any damage isn't yet known.

You're experiencing concussion, amnesia, disorientation, post traumatic headaches and vertigo.
There's also a chance of you experiencing seizures, so having someone around for the time being is essential.

That all being said, I'm confident that you may be discharged and go home with your husband, who's been thoroughly briefed on all the necessary details of your care. He has the full support of our home care staff where needed and you're being discharged with an immediate readmission policy if we have any concerns.
So this is where you begin the next stage of your recovery."

He smiles.

"It's been very nice to meet you, Eliza."

I look towards the window as the doctor leans forward and shakes my hand. He's making his way back, his left hand outstretched.

"Thank you, Doctor."

And after another handshake, we're alone.

His eyes finally meet mine.

"Okay… Are you ready?"

A lot of answers happen in my head but none make it out of my mouth.

His mouth presses into a tight lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes, but at least they're kind.

"It'll be okay."

 

****

 

Manhattan is bright and spangled with ice in the fading pink of dusk as the orange street lights flicker on, one by one.

Pulling up in the Uber I'm relieved that I recognize the route we've taken. Here on the tree lined street, almost on the corner, the view of the park is familiar. It's good to see the tall brownstone apartment building, solid, wide and welcoming, and huge against the sky.

The journey has been short and mostly silent, the only exchanges between Rob and the driver. I'm too self conscious to turn and study his face, so I've been listening.

Quietly terse but polite, his voice is soft with a rough edge and I heard an accent from north of here as I watched the buildings sliding by.

All those windows, all those people, going about their lives in their usual way. But not me. Not any more. My usual is gone.

The only time I speak is when the driver mentions the holidays and
I touch Rob's arm and ask him quietly.

"Um, what's the date, please? I don't know."

"January third."

"And the year?"

He pauses.

"2023"

"Oh.
Happy New Year then, I guess."

He glances at me darkly, his brows heavy and his eyes in shadow before turning to open the door of the car. Once outside he walks round to open my door and offers me his hand, his mouth set in a thin, strict line.

My expectation is that I can manage without him so I ignore it and attempt to do exactly that. The reality is I'm hit with vertigo the moment I rise from the seat.

As my vision spirals until I think my head is unscrewing and I fight the urge to vomit, I feel a large hand grip my arm and his arm under the other helps to keep me from the ground.

I hear Robert close by.

"You're okay, you're okay, just breathe…"

 

The steps to the main door are awkward.
Giddiness settling for the moment we manage, with his arm bent under mine as I hang onto it. His other hand's holding my bag.

Physical proximity with a stranger isn't something I'm feeling comfortable with, but it's better than a fall down the stone steps because I don't know which way's up.

We cross the foyer and once inside the art deco styled elevator I pull away and hold onto the rail that runs around the sides.

Robert stands opposite, his head slightly bowed but his eyes are serious. Watchful. Waiting in case I need him, presumably.

We're watching each other in a beautiful mirrored box and I almost expect him to have no reflection. Or maybe that should be me. At least one of us doesn't feel real, anyway.

Fuck whatever this is.

 

"You're not using your hand. Did you hurt it?"

I've caught him off guard.

"Oh. Um… yes."

"When?"

His eyes fix on mine and his voice is level.

"Recently."

"How?"

His eyes veer away,

"I.. uh…"

We reach our floor and the doors peel back, blue tiled floor and green walls trimmed with hardwood and gold await, in faded opulence.

"You hold it like it hurts. Let me carry the bag."

"Umm.. Thanks. Okay."

I take it and hold onto him as we head across the small lobby. His body is lean, and firm. I can feel the warmth of him. He smells like amber and neroli.

 

Walking into the apartment everything is familiar, and it's hugely comforting.
I drop my bag and look around the hallway, taking in the hardwood floor, the high ceiling and the art on the blue grey walls. Next to us is a mirror and I catch sight of Rob watching me in it. His unspoken question is clear and I can't help but smile as I nod.

"Yeah. I remember. I remember all of it."

But then the nodding makes my head hurt and he helps me to my room.

It's clean and tidy, the sheets feel fresh as I lower myself carefully to sit on the bed and somehow I doubt that I left it this way.

He's leaving the room, and as he disappears I hear him say

"Hold on."

That's funny. It's literally all I seem to do.

He's back within a minute, carrying my bag under the same arm that's holding a glass of water and I take it from him.

"Can you get to your meds?"

I fish them and my wash bag from underneath a party dress. There are heels too.

"What's a …"

He hands me the water and takes the bag away.

When he returns he's barefoot, and drops to kneel on the floor in front of me.

"Let me do this so you don't have to bend over. It'll only make you dizzy again."

Bowing his head, he begins carefully removing my slipper boots.

His hair is really pretty. Its dark blonde tresses fall in waves and curls.
I feel the strangest urge to touch it. But I don't.

Some drops forward into his face.

"...... If you need me to?"

 

When he pushes it back with his good hand and looks up at me, his eyes are uncertain.

I think I missed something. He's standing up.

He's so tall.

"Sorry?"

"Do you think you can manage in the bathroom? I mean I can come in with you if you need me to."

Oh.

"I think I'll be okay."

I smile, but it's not returned.

"Just shout then, if you need me."

Three long steps and he's almost at the door, but he turns when I speak.

"Um, Rob….
Thank you."

He closes his eyes, nods once and he's gone.

 

From bed to chair back, then door frame to sink, my slow and careful journey is measured by the things that I cling to, trusting my fingers to keep me where my balance can't.

This will pass.

It's not forever, the doctor said, and I cling to his words the same way I cling to the dresser as I head back to my bed.

I can manage. And I will be okay.
Finally I can sink slowly and gratefully into my pillows.

I'm home, and it feels secure, safe and familiar even if nothing else does.
I wonder what he's doing, out there in my home, my home, beyond the concealment of my door.
I don't think it's his home now, but maybe it was, once.

He knows everything.
There's so much I need to learn if I'm to find myself again. My proper self.

Laying still and quiet in the half dark I listen to the sounds outside my window, but as the pain in my head subsides sleep won't enter where it left.

 

Walls are thin here, and as well as the traffic and the distant voices I hear from outside, there's another that's very much closer, and becoming familiar.

Rising slowly, carefully, ignoring the fresh thump in my head I make my way to the door and open it quietly.

I can justify prying, it's the start of my learning.

The door to the second bedroom is almost opposite mine so I cross to lean against its frame and listen as the words become more clear.
He's speaking quietly, but I can hear the controlled anguish in his voice.

 

"I know, it's just…..

No…. No, she doesn't know what happened. She can't remember anything.

I….

I don't know.

She can't….."

His voice suddenly breaks open into raw pain and sobbing.

"She can't even remember me…"

I feel a wash of guilt as he crumbles.

 

"I'm sorry… I didn't want to..

I know Mom, I know.

I'm trying… but it's so hard.

Okay, I will.
I'm going…
I will,

I love you too."

His soft sobs accompany my return to my room.

I feel sad for him, but I've nothing to hang it on and nowhere to put it, so I let it go.

 

Opening my eyes, I check the time.
Four am.
I wonder where the hours went.
I must have been sleeping, but far from sleep now, I rise oh so carefully from the bed and make my way out of the door.

This time his room is thankfully quiet.

 

Padding down the hallway in a long white shirt, my feet careful on the wooden floor and my hands pressed against the walls where nothing else will suffice, I feel like a ghost, haunting my own home, drifting without purpose.

Further down, a small grey cat, tail aloft on silent paws, slips around a doorway, out of sight.

I have an otherworldly feeling, and as I wander through the well of moonlight mixed with streetlight in the open doorway to the living room, I pause.

He's sitting on the window seat, looking out into the night and I wait, unseen, wondering if he's heard me.
He's wearing only sweatpants, the light illuminating and shadowing the shape of his body and the features of his profile as he gazes out quietly without moving.

He's unaware of me so I retreat carefully and leave.

This room's already haunted.

 

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Chapter 2: birds taking flight

Notes:

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Featured in this chapter is Radiohead's "Motion Picture Soundtrack."
Here's a link if that's helpful at all to get a feel for the scene. It comes into play quite a bit in the story, as well as other tracks.
https://open.spotify.com/track/4SrRrB27n7fiRkQcPoKfpk?si=pMhtxYOVSaW_AHNqG567HQ&utm_source=copy-link

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It's a cold morning.
The old heating system makes strange noises as the pipes and radiators rattle into life, vibrations travelling from one room to another in a metallic chain of communication, hissing secrets along the hallway.

 

I'm almost finished dressing, and working out how to pull my socks on without getting so dizzy I'll fall off the bed, when there's a quiet knock at my door and I answer.

Rob edges into the room, wearing the sweatpants from last night with a white tee and slippers. He places the coffee he's carrying in his good hand on the nightstand and tucks his hair behind his ear. His voice is rough.

"Morning."

His hair's a mess, although it's clean, but his face is hollow and there are circles under his eyes as they dart around, assessing the situation.

"Thanks for the coffee, did you sleep well?"

He passes his hand back and forth across his forehead, heavy lidded.

"Yeah, I did, thanks."

Liar.

It stays in my head with the other unsaid things, because he's knelt on the floor again, like an act of worship, and taking the socks from my hand he begins to carefully pull them onto my feet. I hold my breath.
The room is quiet. Even the radiators are silent now, waiting.

 

It's strange how such a mundane thing can suddenly feel so intimate and I feel self conscious, almost shy as I watch his fingers working, mostly his left side but a little with the other now and then.

They're large, strong looking hands, beautifully proportioned with long fingers, graceful and dexterous….

 

I pull my focus from them enough to ask him,

"How's your hand?"

"Um, a little better, thanks."

His voice is quiet, soft.
He doesn't look up but pulls on my slippers while I down my coffee then pushes back his hair as he stands.

"You want some breakfast?"

When he holds his arm out to me and tilts his head, his eyes meet mine for just a second. There's not enough time to make a connection before they veer away again.

I feel frustrated, somehow.

"Yes, please, um, thank you."

I grasp his forearm to pull myself up. His skin is soft but his muscles are firm as they tense to support me, he holds my arm at the elbow with his good hand and helps me to rise.

Standing before me quietly, he waits patiently while I grip him until the world stops spinning.

***

Breakfast is scrambled eggs on toast. He brings the plate to me where I sit waiting at the table like a child, and lays it down without looking at me.

"Thank you, this is my favourite."

He rubs his hand over his mouth and strokes his short beard as he peers at me, his eyes narrowed.

"I know."

Strangely, I can't hold his gaze.

"If you're okay, I'll be in my room."

He's heading for the door -

"Wait.."

One hand on the doorframe, the other tucked against himself, he turns and leans his long body against it, waiting mutely, his eyebrows raised.

"Are you not eating? I wanted to talk to you."

Pulling his mouth into a downward curving frown he shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm working." but then it softens a little.
"We need to talk later though,"

He pushes himself away from the frame and he's gone.

***

Treading slowly along the hallway, I have to stop, pressing my forehead against the wall to anchor it to something unmoving. My fucking head is spinning. And aching. I think I forgot my tablets and the plaster is cold against my skin.
I'm concentrating on how that feels and waiting for the ride to stop when I feel his arms around and under me and I'm lifted.

The movement is disorienting and I hold onto him, using his shoulder as a substitute for the wall by pressing my head into him and concentrating on the warm, yielding firmness of his body and the scent of him, the feel of his hair as I clasp my hands behind his neck and it falls softly on my skin.

 

It's strangely comforting, being enveloped by him and when I feel myself being lowered a part of me doesn't want to let him go.

Like belonging.

My bed is underneath me and I sit up against the pillows. I realise he's speaking as my vision comes back into focus.

"... and you're clearly not okay."

When I look up he's there, concern writ clear on his face and in his eyes.

They really are beautiful, actually, now I look at them properly, grey blue in this light and they slope downwards at the outer corners which makes them look perpetually sad.

Though I think he is sad.

They're piercing. And thoughtful.

 

"Eliza?"

"Huh?"

He tilts his head to one side. Peers at me and asks softly,

"Have you taken your meds?"

I close my eyes.

"I don't think…. no."

They're meant to help with the dizziness, and the headaches.

"I think my head's gonna come off."

I hear noises for a minute then he's squeezing my arm.

"Here, Ell. Have these."

He presses a glass of water into my hand and drops pills into the other.
I take them and the chill of the water helps me focus.

 

"I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry."

He has a kind face when he wants to.

"It's okay… "

I reach out to touch his arm, but he drops his eyes quickly and pulls it away, speaking over his shoulder as he's leaving the room.

"Try to sleep it off. I'll check on you later."

 

***

His eyes are deep as caverns with the firelight reflected in them, and I'm falling into them as we lay here facing each other, so close together and so still.

Apart from the sound of the wind outside and the fire, it's almost completely quiet and there's a peacefulness as I hold his gaze and he holds mine.

There are no words. Only this silent and gentle communion.

He trails his fingers through my hair and his eyes crease as they smile…

 

The hand pressed to my forehead is cool and gentle.

I open my eyes in near darkness as the hand withdraws, and I see his long silhouette as he walks back out of my room into the light, closing the door softly behind him.

 

My mind is working hard to understand. He was here in my room, without permission, as far as he knows without my knowledge. That's not okay and he's crossed a line…

I think I was dreaming about him. I try to reach back for it in my mind, searching, but it's already gone. Snuffed out like a candle.

 

How long have I been sleeping? I make it to the window and open my blinds, letting light stream in. The view down to the park is clear, the sky grey and cold looking. I stand for a few minutes, watching the starlings trade places in the leafless trees lining the street.
The meds have worked, I'm feeling more clear headed and stable than I was, and I'm glad it's still daylight outside, I'm so sick of losing days.

 

It's three o'clock.

 

Bittersweet music drifting from the living room ties a sick knot slowly in my stomach as it turns around me and I drift slowly and carefully to meet it. Motion Picture Soundtrack. Radiohead. I recognize and hate it and it means something..
I finally round the door frame, annoyed, open-mouthed, ready and full of things I want to say about his unwanted visit and irritated by the music, but that changes the moment I see him.

He's almost side on to me in the large chair at the end of the room and my movement and compulsion to speak is brought to a sudden halt by his absolute stillness.

 

With his knees pulled close to his body and his long arms folded on top of them, it's there that he's resting his forehead, his face hidden from view while the music fills the room.
When he does move, it's to use the heel of his palm to hurriedly wipe his eyes and he inhales so sharply I see the jolt of it in the movement of his chest.

 

This isn't for me to see.

He needs to be alone.

 

He looks up without seeing me and runs a hand back over his head, sinking his fingers into his hair as his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh so deep I imagine I can hear it in spite of the music. His eyes focus on the window, their red rims and the grey day making the blue of them pale in the light….

 

Moving backwards slowly, I'm sure I don't make a sound, and yet he's suddenly aware of me, pulling himself together, slow surprise dawning on his face as he grabs a remote and lowers the volume.

 

"Hey.. I…"
He grimaces,
"You should have called me."

 

He uncurls himself and crosses the room in a few strides, his long legs covering the distance easily, a loose limbed movement that manages to be at once effortlessly graceful and potentially clumsy.

 

"I've not been… I just arrived.. Umm.. Oh."

 

I take the arm that he's holding out for me and he brings me to the sofa. I lower myself to sit and as soon as I'm settled he leaves me with an, "I won't be long."

 

He's right, and he isn't, returning with more coffee and tablets after only a minute or two.

"I'm gonna take charge of these, I'm less likely to forget them."

While I take them he sinks onto his haunches in front of the hearth and begins to set a fire. It's getting colder as the day goes on. He's using the activity to move on from what I saw and recover himself, we both know it, but neither of us are about to call him out.

 

I'm watching him.

 

I've been distracted but I'd be lying to myself if I denied that I find him attractive, with his height, his long slender frame....

His face fascinates me. He's different from every angle, his features at once hard and soft, with expressive brows…

He has a strong nose and jaw, and his eyes… they're compelling… I seek them out, I find myself trying to catch them because they're so changeable, and readable. Whatever is hidden in his face he can't hide in his eyes. They hold the truth.

He has a sweet mouth now that it's not tense, and I realise all at once that I've never seen him fully smile.

For a moment I imagine him, his brows drawn together with his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, breathing fast..
A feeling begins to stir inside me.

What the fuck am I thinking. I thrust the thought, and the feeling, away.

 

He drops forward onto one knee, pushes his hair back and applies a lighter to the kindling.
The flame that grows there echoes something else, warm and blossoming in me, unfolding without permission.

He's actually beautiful.

 

STOP it. For fuck's sake stop it.
Yeah, he's pretty. Of course I find him attractive. I married him. I chose him.
I take those thoughts and shove them hard, away in a box inside my head so fast it's a wonder they don't get whiplash.

 

I don't know him. But I do know we were together and now we're not.
There'll be a reason, even if I don't remember it, and a break up means broken. We're done.
Christ, most of the time it seems he can't even look at me.

 

Two logs are on the fire and he draws himself upright, returning to curl up on the chair he was sitting in before.
One leg folds underneath him and the other bends with his thigh against his body in a fluid movement. I notice the ease of it, the familiarity of the way he fits in the space and I realise…

That's "his" chair…

"Rob, did you live here?"

"Hm?"

"Is this.. was this your home? Did we live here together?"

He pulls his lips between his teeth and furrows his brow, thinking solemnly as the logs crack and split in the grate.
I wait.

As the seconds go by I realise that he's not about to answer my question. Instead he takes a breath and begins, levely.

"We need to talk, if you're up to it. There's things you need to know."

I sigh and nod.

"Okay."

I have to know what happened to me. I need to.

Birds taking flight outside the window attract my attention for a moment as he shifts to sit cross legged in the chair and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
The starlings whirl into the air, and just like that, they're free…

 

"Your doctor advised me not to give you any information about the things you can't remember. If I tell you things you've forgotten, it could cause you to create false memories, instead of recovering your genuine ones…"

 

I'm trying to listen, but his words grow hazy. He's massaging his right hand with his left, gently, very carefully, opening and closing his long fingers. I'm lost in the movement of them, their sensuality and grace.

Then they stop.

 

"Ell?"

He's noticed me staring.

"I'm sor.. I.. I zone out, only I zone in….
Is that painful? Are you doing physio?"

He fixes me with his eyes, I try not to fall into them, and when he answers his voice is guarded.

"That's not important right now."

Lowering his gaze again, I watch him as he turns his hand and looks at it with total dispassion and detachment.

"What did you do to it? I asked you before.."

He looks up from under his brows, between the lengths of hair that have fallen into his face and immediately something's different. I see the change in his eyes as they grow suddenly dark and hear it in his voice, as it turns menacing and cold.

"What d'you want, the diagnosis or the prognosis?"

And then I know I've trespassed, innocently stumbled into something that's clearly off limits. I hear the warning in his voice.

My own sounds small and timid when I reply,

"No… I don't mean…
I'm sorry, I was only wondering how it happened."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes while he reigns whatever that was back in, and after a few seconds of measured breathing, it's gone.
He sighs.

"Look, can we just… focus on what I'm trying to tell you, Eliza, Please?"

I sit back and cross my arms.

"Fine."

I want to put what just happened behind us.

After a long breath and a moment, he continues.

"So the neurologist told me not to supply answers, you need to wait for them to come. I know there's probably a lot of things you want to ask me but I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

 

For a few seconds I allow it to sink in, turning his words in my mind until they settle into comprehension.

He's not going to help me.

I've been cut adrift, left to flounder in my ignorance when he could have thrown me a line. I'd assumed he'd sit me down and tell me everything.

I need to know.

But if the neurologist has given that advice I have to trust him. I can see the argument.

"I'm not going to be around much anyway. I'll be here if you need me, but I have to work."

His eyes meet mine but they can't stay either, sliding away as soon as they make contact.

"I think maybe it's for the best."

"Oh. Okay."

 

Almost detachedly I notice a small ache of disappointment burrow its way into my chest.

"Speaking of which…."

 

There's only the sound of the fire as he stands and walks towards the sideboard. The light outside is beginning to fade, making it seem to burn brighter.

"My work.. I'm kind of in the public eye, so there's information out there that you might see, and you don't want that, believe me.
So there's no internet here now, and it's not a good idea for you to have your phone or your laptop either."

 

He opens a couple of the drawers and looks around inside them.

He can't tell me anything and I'm not allowed my phone.
I'm treading water now. Holding my head above the surface.

Everything is slipping away…

 

"But what about my work? Don't assume I've forgotten everything.
What am I supposed to do?"

He stops his rummaging to purse his lips and frown before he answers.

"Take a break. Eliza, you've had a serious head injury. You don't need the pressure."

"But, I'm a writer, I need to write.."

Crossing the room he hands me a small battered phone and a beautifully bound book

"The phone's not a smartphone, but if you need me when I'm not close by you can call me on it. Keep it with you. My number's in it."

I'm turning the book over in my hands. Its cover is a deep blue, soft and pliable like leather, and embossed with a group of birds taking flight from a border of branches in leaf. It's beautiful, and thoughtful.

He's watching me quietly.

"I got you a journal, so you can write, and it might help your memory and your focus.
The need to do it, I get it. Truly."

We share a brief moment of genuine understanding.

He could have given me anything to write in but this….
I don't understand why I suddenly feel emotional.

"I…
Thank you, it's lovely."

He's pleased that I like it. There's a little flash of light in his eyes, and I catch it.
Then it's gone again and he moves away. I get the feeling that for him the conversation is over, and he's leaving..
I don't want him to go…

 

There's something else I want to talk about and I suddenly remember.

"Wait…"

He returns to perch on the edge of the sofa, waiting, listening, his head down and tilted.

"I don't know what you mean to me. I mean I don't know where… Where we were …. And I don't feel anything. You're a complete stranger."

I've caught him off guard and before he can marshall himself enough to control his reactions, he winces. The hurt is there, risen to the surface.

"And I know that may be hard on you but the truth is, when you're overly familiar it makes me uncomfortable. Please don't come into my room without my permission again. You crossed a line."

He pulls his lips between his teeth and nods with narrowed eyes as the look of hurt changes to anger. When he speaks it's quietly clipped, biting, and sarcastic.

 

"Sure, sure, you'd been asleep for a long time, the doctor mentioned the threat of seizures and I was worried. I had to check you were okay, but yeah, good chat. Thanks."

His mouth is tightly downturned as he gets up and starts to walk away.

I'm left with the overwhelming feeling that I really fucked that up. I can't end our conversation like this,

 

"Rob?"

 

He turns, eyebrows raised a little, his face back to the usual mask of indifference.

"Where's the cat?"

There's that frown again..

"Ohh… you don't have a cat."

 

Wednesday January 4

This journal is beautiful, and thoughtful. It's everything I love, all of the things that move me and mean something and he knew it.
It's a strange feeling to have someone know you so well when you don't know them at all.

So this is my first entry.

It's 4am

There's music playing quietly in the living room.
This guy never sleeps, apparently, or eats.
He gave me an evening meal and went back to his room.
I know I upset him. I feel like I should speak to him, try to make it better… but something is stopping me.

He's sad, and I see him, gathering himself up to respond when he's needed, briefly rising to the surface, but only when he has to. Then his face falls, and I see him slide back down again as soon as he's done.

But that's not all he is. There's the threat of something else that guards him, easily provoked and quick to anger. That's the reason I'm staying here and he's out there alone.

 

***

It's with fresh determination that I meet the morning, pulling myself upright and assessing the stability inside my head.
Time for a little more independence.

 

Running the bath is easy, I watch as the bubbles spiral in ever growing numbers under the tap like a flash mob or a carnival parade, more and more joining in a dance that only they understand, in shining iridescent spheres, compromising their shape immediately for each new joinee as their numbers grow until the dance becomes a crush. Each one of them is diminished, none will get out of there alive.

 

Climbing into the bath is another matter, but I manage, sinking gratefully beneath the hot water and allowing it to envelope me as my body begins to relax.

 

When the time comes to step out, however, the combination of movement and the change from heat to cool air is my undoing.
I make a small sound of surprise as the vertigo claims me and there's a louder sound as my body hits the floor. As I begin to pull myself upright I'm so angry with myself for failing, again. I'm so fucking sick of this.

I'm distracted by the sound of Rob, panicked, in the room outside,

"ELLIE?"

To my horror the door begins to open and eyes wide with alarm appear in the space.
Grabbing a towel I scream

"Get OUT!"

He's immediately appalled, reeling with the realisation of what he's just done even while trying to reverse his momentum.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

His hand's up to cover his face as the door is closing. I'm mortified, furious..

"What the FUCK are you DOING?
Who the hell do you think you are? You're NOBODY TO ME!"

Grabbing the closest thing to me as I huddle on the tiles, I hurl it at the door. A roll of toilet paper, how fucking ineffective.
It's almost funny. Almost.

A quiet voice from the other side, anxious, apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I just….are you okay?
I was bringing your meds and I heard and I thought…"

I don't know if I'm more angry at him or at myself.

"For fuck's sake leave me alone!"

I'm trying to gather my dignity and wondering how I'm ever going to face him when I hear the apartment door slam.

 

My meds are waiting for me in my bedroom, he's left them there together with a coffee and some toast.

 

***

Once I'm dressed I wander slowly through the empty apartment like a lost child. There's a hollow anxiety in my chest, and strange feelings of abandonment and apprehension follow me wherever I go. I wonder why I feel this way.

 

He's gone for the rest of the morning.

 

***

I'm sitting on the box seat by the windows, watching the heavy sky pour lead into the earth as droplets travel slowly down the glass, when I hear the door.

Relief…why relief?

His wet jacket's hanging in the hallway, there's water on the floor and I find him in the kitchen.

He glances briefly at me as I stand in the doorway before returning to whatever he was doing. His hair is wet. He speaks without looking up

 

"Figured I'd give you space.
I bought you cheesecake."

 

It's my favourite, but of course he knows that and he's doing it again, showing me that although I don't know him, he knows me very well.

I'm reminded that he doesn't share the barriers of unfamiliarity that I feel. His earlier intrusion was a gut reaction and I know that its origins were authentic and well meaning.

 

He sits at the small table having laid a slice on a plate for me and another opposite him but he doesn't eat it. Instead he touches his face distractedly and pushes back his rain soaked hair.
I sit. Almost immediately he begins to ramble, his hand in the air between us like a white flag.

"This morning, I thought maybe you'd had a…. a seizure, and I didn't think. I was really…"

He pulls his hand down his face, over his mouth, halting the flow of words and after a breath, reaching for different ones.

"Anyway I'm sorry."

In my mind they fall to the table and I see them, lying there beside the cheesecake, redundant. I don't think they came easily though and he stares at the table as if he can see them too.

"Okay fine, I'd rather just forget about it."

I don't mean to dismiss him but my uneasiness at his absence is still on my mind..

"You… you're not nobody. You're not. I know you're not."

Finally his eyes reach mine, questioning, wary, as if he's expecting to be hurt.

"But I don't know you..
And you're not letting me.
Sometimes I think you're angry with me, somehow, and I…"

They fall away again, and his voice is quiet, almost defeated.

"It's not as simple as that."

He's shifting in his seat. His emotional discomfort with this conversation translated into the physical.

"I thought I'd lost you. You can't know what that meant…."

"No, no I suppose I can't."

His brows furrow and he presses his palms to his forehead, his fingers in his hair.

"A lot has happened, Ell. There's so much I'm dealing with, and I'm trying, I'm really really trying.
You're just gonna have to trust me."

Something he's said makes him catch himself, I see it in his eyes before he lays his hands on the table, ready to leave…

I feel like I'm jumping from a cliff.

"Rob, I don't want to say the wrong thing, or upset you, but you seem sad, really sad. I just want you to know that if you want to talk, I'm here…"

His eyes fill before he looks away.

"You know that I can't."

He's fighting with something.
I see his eyes moving unseeing as his thoughts take him one direction then another. He's clearly struggling and I want to help.

Instinctively I reach out to touch his hands, make contact…
and he flips.

He's instantly hard faced, angry and defensive, there's that flash of a different side again as he pulls them away before I'm even close, and he almost snarls at me.

"Don't. Don't do that. Don't touch me."

His chair scrapes backwards on the tiled floor and my apologies do nothing to prevent his leaving.

 

Thursday January 5

I've lost him again. Why do I chase him, search him, why am I becoming obsessed with what lies beneath his surface, and why do I feel like I'm on the edge of something dangerous?

Because that's where the answers are.

He's so highly strung.
He's unpredictable.

And I've noticed a little voice inside me, repeating the same words…

"Watch him. Just watch him."

 

***

The day passed. He stayed away, wrapped in the privacy and solitude of his room, only emerging to make sure I had enough to eat, and give me tablets.
Kind and helpful and strangely distant, with no mention of anything that happened before.

I can wait.
And I'll watch him.

 

.

Chapter 3: fight or flight

Notes:

.

Featured in this chapter is Radiohead's "Ful Stop."
Here's a link if that's helpful at all to get a feel for the scene.
https://open.spotify.com/track/6nOsTV3cMjLh3k6Wpk468L?si=eAbX_GOHTDOEibRcASs_Sg&utm_source=copy-link

.

I walk the hallway, existing in the space between rooms, the space between, not the destination, looking through doorways into the spaces where I used to live in the time before. It feels like I was another person then, in another life.
Now I'm not living my life so much as drifting around in it, the ghost of my previous self.

 

When Rob's mother visits I am exiled. It's my apartment but this is where he is, and so this is the place that she comes to.

"She's my mom and.. well she's going to be hostile, since we broke up it's pretty much her job. You're better off out of the way, I'm sorry."

It's said matter of factly, without resentment or guile.

 

But later I hover unseen in the doorway, and in a soft, quiet moment as she talks to him, I watch her take his hand in hers to trace his open palm gently with her finger tips, and he lets her.

He lets her..

And when he bows his head and she lays her forehead against his, stroking his hair and speaking to him until he sighs as his shoulders drop and he relaxes ….
There's a tugging in my chest while my heart sinks inside it.

I need to go away now, lie down and separate myself from this. I slip back down the hallway.

I realise that although I've been thrown into a different life, he's still living in the time before, and like a ghost, I can't reach him there.

I think that I might really want to reach him.

 

***

I sit alone with the TV on in the dark, watching the walls around me glow and grow dim, echoing the colours appearing on the screen until I'm tired.

I've not seen Rob since his mother left and I assume he's busy with whatever it is that he does, but when I dawdle slowly to my room with my fingers trailing along the walls and pass the shower room door, I can hear him crying through the hiss of the water.

 

Friday January 6

How can I help him if he won't let me near?

(How can I feel rejected when I don't even know him?)

He's not my problem.
His Mom can deal with him. At least he'll let her. She's allowed.
Fuck him for making me care while he's shutting me out.
He pulls on my heartstrings with one hand while pushing me away with the other, and it's not fucking fair.

But this is all in my head and he doesn't know. It's not his fault, he's done nothing wrong.

I'm going to have to watch myself. The danger of developing feelings for him is clearly close and real.

And although I could probably argue with myself all night, I'm afraid that maybe there's nothing I can do to help him anyway.

 

***

Tuesday morning begins with the sound of an ambulance wailing in the street outside. It's loud as it passes below, and still half asleep, I'm suddenly inside it, swaying with its movement as it races at speed through the night time streets, lights from outside breaking through, flashing past. My heart's pounding in my ears, my breathing fast and I'm afraid…
More than afraid…

 

But there's a brand new day waiting when I open my eyes, and a wintery sun is shining around the edges of the blinds, filling the morning with possibilities..

 

When the quiet knock arrives at my door I'm sitting on my bed, mostly dressed and ready and he gives me a fleeting half smile but doesn't speak.

There's a brief pause in his movement as he sweeps over me with his eyes and places the coffee and tablets on the side, and I venture my thoughts.

"I think… I think I remember being in an ambulance."

His brows furrow, his mouth a downward facing curve.

"Nono, you were unconscious.."

As he looks at me his eyes widen briefly before he turns away.

"What?"

"Nothing."
He reaches for my slippers, his face averted from me.

"No, what is it?
Rob, let me do that, I need to do more for myself.."

He waves my hands away, apparently preferring to struggle with his, instead.

"Nonono, it's fine. I don't mind."

As he pulls them on he looks troubled,

"Is there anything else you need? Can I open the blinds?
Ell, take your tablets now so you remember.
You want me to grab anything else for you?"

 

So many questions, he moves quickly around the room, to the blinds, to fetch my hairbrush, flicking his eyes in my direction every so often as he does, until he seems satisfied that he's done enough, standing tall and loose, one hand resting on his hip.

I'm brushing my hair when he leaves me, confused by his sudden flurry of activity. I know we talked about something when he first came in but now I can't remember what it was.

***

I find him in the kitchen later in a black t-shirt and jeans, busy and distracted.
He's on his phone, pacing, thrusting his fingers into his hair before gesturing in the space around him..

"... else should I be doing?
No, Doug, I'm not gonna confirm or deny anything, and my statement is they can all go fuck themselves, does that answer your question? We've been through this already and nothing's changed.
It's a massive fucking snowball and I'm not gonna push it down another hill."

He turns and pulls himself up when he sees me watching.

"Yeah look I gotta go. Speak soon."

He hangs up and grimaces.

"Don't ask."

Taking his coffee he points to the worktop as he leaves.

"I made you one."

 

***

After a morning of tv I'm bored. The endless pointless babble at times melds into one incessant noise that only serves to confuse or irritate me. Was it always this bad or am I only noticing it now?

Silencing it is a relief, actually. The peaceful quiet of the room without it is a balm to my senses. Inhaling, I pull myself from the chair and focus my mind as much as I'm able to. I've had enough. I've had enough of everything.
I'm so shit at this convalescing business, so done with it already. I need to feel useful and productive even if it's in the smallest way. I was never a person for sitting around, and I want my life back.

 

The kitchen seems a good place to start, as I occupy myself by making food. It's nothing fancy, pasta baked with tuna from a can, and vegetables, mostly from other cans, but it feels like a small victory. I make enough for two. I don't know what he likes. It's frustrating, like we're playing a game and only he knows the rules. But I'm trying, I'm trying..

The dizziness is improving, thank God, and the headache is no longer constant, but I lose myself in watching the rising steam from the boiling water, pouring upwards like a superheated reverse waterfall into the air and forming a low hanging cloud against the ceiling. It billows and spreads, like marsh gas or sea fog, and I watch until almost every part of it is filled. That's before I realise what I'm doing and remember to turn on the fan.
There's condensation on the window, dulling the afternoon sunshine.

 

Rob discovers me here when he comes in for water, then stays for a while, leaning against the wall and watching me quietly, his legs crossed and one arm wrapped around his body as he drinks and keeps his distance. I feel his eyes on me all of the time, which is disconcerting when I have no idea what's going through his mind.

"Hey, it's almost ready, take a seat, I'll bring you some."

Jerking his head up as if startled from his thoughts, he lowers the glass and begins to move away.

"Uhh, thanks, but I need to.."

His response is exactly what I expected, and I'm ready for him. Despite the difference in size between us, I head him off and pull out a chair, bossy in my need to feel like a viable person again, to feel like I'm capable of making a positive impact somewhere, somehow.

"No, you need to eat. Come on, please."

I wrap my hand around his arm to guide him, but immediately he tenses beneath my touch and jerks it away. The sharp warning in the angry look he throws me is clear.

Oh.. okay..
I shrink away from him, retreating to allow us both some space and watch as he closes his eyes for a second, rubbing his hand across his mouth and pulling himself back into line. He's certainly on edge today. The tension pouring off of him crackles in the air like static.

After exhaling heavily, he lowers himself to sit at the table, his long legs out to the side, rubbing and stretching his injured hand as I've seen him do before.

The truth is, although he draws me in and I can't seem to help caring about him, he makes me feel uneasy. He's a strong presence and I'm aware of it now as I turn my back on him and walk away.

 

However, when I return from the kitchen area to hand him his food he's calmed down again, and as his eyes meet mine, the unexpected warmth and sweetness of the small apologetic smile he gives me literally stops me in my tracks.

"Thank you.
I'm sorry, I'll make us a coffee afterwards."

God he confuses me.
Seems he's planning to stay and I'm irrationally excited.
I guess it must be my newfound loneliness that's suddenly making my heart beat faster.

 

It's not long though before I realise that although music is playing, as it usually is in the kitchen, it's too quiet. He's too quiet, almost completely detached, and almost all of the time his eyes and focus are turned deliberately away. We may be here together but we both are still alone. I try to put myself in his place and imagine how he might be feeling, until I can't deal with the silence between us any more.

"You know it's not fair.."

He looks at me quickly, and I'm surprised that for once he seems open and engaged.

"I can tell you anything, well, I could, if I wanted, I could go on and on about my thoughts and feelings, but it's not fair, because you can't."

He frowns, already looking more uncomfortable and wary by the second, as if this could be some kind of trap.

"You know what the doctor said. It's safer if I don't."

Safer?

"But you can't tell me anything..
About yourself, your feelings, your work, or your life..
You can't just not tell me anything, it's too unfair on you.
And everyone needs someone they can talk to. Keeping things bottled up will only do you harm, you know."

 

He huffs a dark laugh, then, quietly to himself as if I've told a joke only he understands, but in an ironic and sad way, it's not funny.
Then his eyes close as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his brows are drawn and I begin to feel fainthearted as I watch his demeanour slowly change in front of me.

 

With his heel tapping on the floor and making his knee bounce rapidly under the table, he glares at me with anger and reproach before looking away and I don't understand what I've said that's so wrong.

I'm getting ready to backtrack or leave or whatever, intimidated, but when he wraps his arms around himself and his eyes reach mine again, I don't think I've ever seen anyone look more desperately in need of a hug.

"No, it's… Look, I told you.
I'm trying to process a lot, right now."

He jabs the table with the fingers of his good hand.

"And I mean right now. It's happening now and I can't…
I can't talk to you about it.
I can't talk to anyone…"

 

He trails away, turning his head as he hugs himself again and the bouncing continues. I can see it in the way his body's shaking..

 

"Including the press, huh."

I'm hoping I sound sympathetic as his eyes swing back to mine and I hold his gaze and watch as the light in them changes.

"It's complicated…"

He rises from his seat.

"I said I'd make coffee."

There's that little voice again.
Watch him ….

 

And I do, as he stands while it's being made, stretching then exhaling as he rubs the back of his neck.

I study the line of his body, tilted back slightly with his pelvis forward, his arm raised. I notice the pale soft skin on the inside of his upper arm and the muscle tone there, before he drops it to carry on with the coffee making.
His body is lean, and long. There's a flow to his proportions that's attractive to me in a way that I can't process, but I know what I'm feeling.

Yeah I know exactly how I feel about that. I just can't fathom anything about the rest of him. I can't seem to get close enough for long enough before I trigger him to either leave again, or become aggressively defensive.

And then it hits HARD, like it's just slapped me in the face even though it's been there in front of me all along.
Fight or flight.
When he's not shielded by being detached and distant, he's almost perpetually in fight or flight mode.

If he's a puzzle, a jigsaw puzzle, then I think I've just found all the edge pieces and put them together.
These are what make up the barriers around him..

So if the edges are the barrier, then what's behind the wall? What's he hiding?

When he sits down with the coffees, calmer now again, curling himself into the chair with a leg underneath him I thank him and try changing tack, directing the focus away from him to something else I need answers to,

"I've been wondering, how do I keep in contact with my friends?"

But when he shifts in his seat and averts his gaze a slightly sick feeling slides into my stomach.

"It's compl.."

"Complicated. Why am I not surprised?"

"Ell…"

I stand my ground. Calmly.

"No, look. You've taken away my phone, the internet, you can't stop me from seeing my friends."

"I'm not."

 

I don't trust the way that he looks up at me sideways.

I throw him a look which makes him raise his hands in his defence.

"I'm not stopping anyone. I can put their numbers in your phone, you can call them, or text. Just…
Just don't talk about us or what happened."

There's a dull throb in my head that I've been trying to ignore but it's becoming more insistent.

He holds out his hand.

"Give me the phone."

I don't have it. It's in my room and I tell him so. He's exasperated and annoyed.

"You're meant to keep it with you."

I roll my eyes, my turn for exasperation.
I just want my life back.
My frustration makes me brave.

"For God's sake I'm fine. I'm stuck here in my own home, you're here, isn't that enough? What's going to happen?
You can't tell me what to do."

"You could have a seiz.."

I'm nodding, my tone acidic and almost mocking his concern, or his excuse, I don't know which.

"A seizure, right. Course. Tell me, if I do, how am I supposed to use my fucking phone?"

His mouth closes as he lowers his eyes.
I think I hurt him, he looks hurt and I'm instantly sorry. I know that I'm not being kind but he's so utterly frustrating.

I just wanted a coffee with him and the chance to talk. How are we here again?
My head hurts. I don't apologise.

"Wait there while I get it. Please. Just try for once to stay in one place."

***

Making my way to my room is a challenge, with my head pounding and getting worse with every step, the hallway seems to go on forever and every step is slower than the last.

By the time I've found the phone I have to give in and call out to him to come get it as I stand in the doorway and lean against the frame. As I hear his footsteps approach I can't even look up anymore, all I can do is hold out the phone, but before he can take it, it slides from my fingers to the floor, and I hear him say my name in a gentle voice, as soothing as a sigh.

My head feels like it's tearing apart. He takes hold of me and guides me to sit on my bed, which is nice because apart from the comforting feeling of his arm around me, my eyes don't want to open at all. I hear myself say "this is really bad" almost conversationally in a far away voice as he presses water and my forgotten tablets into my hands.

His hand is on my shoulder as I swallow them and mumble,

"See, you touch me.. that's not fair…"

He exhales quickly through his nose as he takes the glass away and as he lays me down I think,

'Huh, I made him laugh'.

The mattress dips with his weight as he sits close beside me on the edge of the bed, his hand still on me, reassuring. He makes me feel calm and safe.

I'm drifting, far away, swimming through the pain and waiting for the meds to work when I sigh and ask him,

"Stay?"

And then his fingers are sliding through my hair, his touch calming and gentle as he strokes it back from my forehead again and again.

 

***

The blinds are drawn when I wake later, alone.
It's very quiet, except for the distant sounds from the street below. The pain in my head is reduced almost to a shadow.
I have a vague impression that Rob was with me, and my recall isn't clear, but I think I feel the echoes of his kindness, of the way he made me feel.

I've no idea how much time has passed. It's still light outside but the quality of it is fading, it must be evening already. Pulling myself together I head carefully into the hallway, and hear him in the kitchen.

 

He glances over as I walk slowly to the table and his brows meet with concern. I smile weakly.

"I'm okay."

It's a reversal of the afternoon, with him preparing food this time, as I lower myself gingerly onto a seat.

On the table is the same scruffy phone, but when I check it my friends' names and numbers are all there now and I feel a wave of relief.

Only now do I fully comprehend the truth of my situation, that I've been here alone with a man who's a complete stranger to me, with no way of contacting anyone I know in the outside world.
But he's my husband, right? So of course it's okay… isn't it? And he can be kind… sometimes.
I squash my uneasy feelings before they get the better of me.

 

I want to thank him but he's preoccupied, moving around the space, busy. He's managing more with his hand now, I've noticed, though it obviously still pains him. Sometimes he adapts what he's doing, and sometimes he forgets… those are the times I catch him pulling himself up sharply and taking a moment to regret his actions.

His head is lowered, focusing on whatever he's doing, his eyes hidden below his sloping brows as he concentrates, his mouth relaxed, lips slightly parted. He's pausing frequently to push the hair back that persists in falling forwards in long, dark blonde, soft looking tendrils…

Dragging my attention from him, I try all the numbers. Nothing. Not one person picks up. Not one answer.
As I'm leaving the last message I look up and see him watching quietly. I see it in his eyes.

He knows.

 

There's a sinking feeling and an anxious knot in my stomach as he gives me food, but doesn't sit.

"I'm sorry I've a lot to do.."

He's taking his food with him, leaving me to eat my meal alone and lonely again.

 

The kitchen feels empty once he's gone. He's a large presence and I know it seems strange but in spite of the fact that most of the time we argue or at least exist in a state of mutual distrust, I miss him almost immediately.

 

***

 

Sitting on the window seat in the living room I watch the world outside, my forehead pressed against the glass. Night has fallen, cars and people are moving under the lights on the street below, either hurrying home at the end of the day or heading out for the evening…
Normal life, carrying on outside as if nothing's changed, but for me so much has happened and changed that I've almost forgotten what normal felt like.

My gaze travels further down the street towards the park. It's a clear night, there's visibility for a good distance, but the light pollution has hidden all the stars, overwhelmed and diminished them, other than the occasional few that are bright and determined enough to shine through in spite of it.
How many must there be that I can't see, giving their all but somehow falling short..

Knowing something's there isn't the same as seeing it.

 

***

It's dark as I hurry from a building and head outside into the night. It's freezing. A hundred million stars shining in a cloudless sky greet me as I charge across a gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way.
For some reason I've forgotten my coat..

 

The sound of a door closing down the hallway attracts my attention. It's probably Rob walking back to the kitchen for something, so I head that way in the hope of seeing him again.

 

When I get there however, he's gone.
I'm disconcerted by how disappointed I am to have missed him. I'm so tired of being alone. I decide to go to bed and read, but once in my room I slide open the bedside drawer to retrieve my pen and the beautiful blue journal instead. My fingers trace the rise and fall of the birds and the branches embossed onto the cover before I open it.

 

Saturday January 7

I think I remembered something tonight. It was so vivid, I'm sure it was a memory. Maybe, in time, I'll claim back everything I've lost. There's hope now, at least.

Something's telling me not to mention it to Rob. I need to really know him before I give away my secrets, and he's making that very hard to do.

Fight or flight. The more I think about it the more certain I am that I'm right about him. Any time I hit a nerve he's evasive, walks away or the other side of him surfaces. Truthfully, it scares me. I have no doubt that if cornered, it's more than ready to fight.
But what's he guarding and protecting? What's behind the wall?
Whatever it is, the truth of what happened to me is in there as well.

***

The little cat is here again. It slides silkenly beneath my touch as I'm lying beneath the covers, nudging my hand with its head and arching its back against my fingers.
Jumping down from the bed it steps with little padded paws to stand by my door, and waits patiently there while I make my way over and allow it to slip from the room. Standing in the hallway, it turns to look at me with round and staring amber eyes.

 

A voice cries out, sharply, ripping me from my dream world to reality in an instant, and I stand frozen at the threshold, throwing my senses out into the darkness of the hallway. My heart pounds in my ears when it happens again. It's fraught, urgent, and loud in spite of being muffled by sheets and space and the wood of his door.
My name.

I step across to tap on it quietly and after hesitating for a few seconds I ask in the same way,

"Rob?
Are you okay?"

There's a few seconds pause in return.

"I'm fine."

He sounds breathless, and absolutely not fine.

"You're sure? Only I…"

The answer is strained, but quietly determined.

"I said I'm fine. Go back to bed."

 

Once I've returned to being surrounded by the warmth of my blankets, I hear footsteps in the hallway followed by the dull sounds of music, Radiohead again, in the living room.

 

Sighing, I slip from the covers to walk barefoot and silent as the dream cat down the hall.
I was right about the music, Ful Stop is playing louder and louder, loudly enough for me to not have to worry about being stealthy, and worry more about the neighbours. There's something about Radiohead's music that I find deeply unsettling.
I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm here. He's not going to let me get close enough to help him, even if I knew how to.
I just need to check on him…

 

Slowly I peer around the door, hoping I won't be seen until I at least have some idea of….

He's pacing.

In only sweatpants, dishevelled hair resting on his bare shoulders and covering his face like a storm, he's pacing the floor in long strides. Head down, back and forth, back and forth he treads, without stopping or slowing or seeing me in the half darkness as the music is blasting and I watch him, paralyzed by intimidation and my indecision.

At first glance the speed he's moving at makes it appear that he's driven by aggression, with his hand stretching back over his head and gripping his hair, but then his body language changes. First one then both his arms wrap tightly around his middle to hold himself as he keeps moving, and maybe it's not anger but something else that he's feeling.

An overwhelming urge to go to him seems to well up out of nowhere, but as damaged as my brain might be, I'm not that stupid.

He's still pacing.
I don't believe for a second that he'd welcome my intrusion. In fact I'm suddenly a little afraid of what his reaction might be, were he to see me hiding here, especially in his heightened emotional state.

When he hits the wall, rolls until his back's against it and covers his face as he slides to the floor, I guiltily slip away.

 

I think he may be more fucked up than me.
And that's scary.

 

***

 

The next morning, sitting opposite him in the kitchen he looks drained and tired, with deeper shadows beneath his eyes.
He's leaning with his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hand.
I ask him if he's okay and he looks at me vacantly, blinking slowly.

"Yeah I'm fine, just need to get more coffee in me."

I'm not sure if coffee's going to fix him.

 

In the car on the way to the hospital Rob seems really on edge to begin with, jumpy and strung out. I blame the amount of coffee flooding his system, and say so, but when he turns to me I can tell that he's not really with me at all.

"Hey,"
I even venture my hand on his arm and he hardly seems to notice,
"Are you okay?"

He's distracted for a second, but then focuses again.

"Uh huh, sure."

I'm not convinced.

But then after a while a discussion begins on the radio about the effects of social media on the publics' perception of major political issues. He's drawn into it, and suddenly although he's clearly extremely tired he's giving me his views on the subject, insightfully and articulately, and he's clearly incredibly intelligent. He speaks knowledgeably and gives well formed opinions that are obviously heartfelt. He's one smart cookie, and mentally strong as well, because I know for a fact that he's exhausted.
I suspect that his vulnerabilities lie elsewhere.

 

I'm watching him speak passionately with his hands almost as much as his voice as they take turns on the wheel, listening to and marvelling at this beautiful clever man that I married then somehow lost, when he glances over, notices and stalls entirely,

"Wh…" he's suddenly self conscious and retreating under my gaze.

"Please go on," I say, but we're just pulling onto the hospital grounds, the moment's passed and he's quiet again, back behind the wall.

 

I realise that in my efforts to find out what's happening in his head I've overlooked simply getting to know him, which was stupid.
Things will be different from now on.

 

***

Rob stays with me throughout my appointment. I have tests and scans and I'm glad he's with me. I try several times to joke with him to lighten the mood but he remains quietly thoughtful, watchful and just beyond my reach despite my best efforts.

He's with me too for the conversation with the neurologist, which is advised due to the likelihood of my not understanding everything or forgetting all of it, and after all, he's officially in charge of my care.

Dr Amis is happy with the test results, it seems everything is going as well as could be hoped for.
He reiterates the benefits of not discussing events that I can't remember yet, and I notice when he says so that Rob seems relieved, but I don't know what to read into that.

He also explains that the reason for my lack of recall could be psychological instead of physical, that maybe it's my subconscious that's preventing me from remembering, but I still have to remember for myself.
He says if I can't remember then the likely reason is my mind is protecting me and it means that for some reason I'm just not ready yet.

"But what if I'm not ever ready?"
I ask, dissatisfied with the hazy wait-and-see attitude everyone seems to have towards my condition.
I don't mention my memory from last night.

He suggests that if there's no improvement and things don't begin to resurface within the next few weeks or months then therapy may be the answer.

 

When we're all done and ready to leave the doctor shakes my hand and wishes me well, and then Rob's, more carefully, leaning in to ask Rob how he's coping, almost out of my earshot, but only almost. There's an awkward moment between them before the doctor says he'd like to speak with Rob alone.

He turns to me sheepishly,
"You go on, I'll just be a minute."

I try to read his eyes but he's far too evasive.

 

***

For a short while I sit on one of the chairs outside, waiting for him patiently like I'm back at school, outside the principal's office, and I wonder what they could need to discuss without me.

 

I'm watching a small spider. It's spinning a web across the corner of a picture frame close to where I'm sitting.
It's a small and beautiful thing to see, the diligence of this tiny creature as it lays its silken strands, spiralling ever wider creating this intricate, sinister means of survival.
It's a whole big canvas, a picture of ripples on a lake. I guess it's supposed to be calming and yet there in the frame where no one would notice there's a battle going on to live.

 

As the doctor's door opens and Rob emerges I think better than to point it out to him. He wouldn't appreciate it, he doesn't even like spiders.

A little burst of happiness sparks inside my brain, because I remembered something about him.
I know it's a silly tiny detail but I'm absolutely sure that it's a thing I know about him from before. It's just there, in my brain. Knowledge from the past.

I'm so busy thinking about it, I hardly notice that he can barely look me in the eyes, and I don't dwell on it when I do.

***

We're in the car, it's a beautiful sunny day and we're heading through the city with the radio on. I'm bouncing and swaying to the music that's playing loudly and Rob's driving, drumming on the steering wheel happily with his head moving to the music. He's wearing sunglasses with round lenses and the sun's in his hair as it's blown around by the air rushing in through the open window.

After an especially flamboyant piece of air drumming an oncoming driver misinterprets him, gesticulating angrily in return. We look at each other for a second before we both dissolve into laughter, Rob's slapping the steering wheel as he tilts his head back and loses it, and his laugh is a bright, high wheezy giggle… it's so unexpected, and for me as I am it's the first time I've heard it.
It's like magic.
It lights me up.

 

"Looks like it's just a waiting game then, for your memory.."

I turn and his eyes leave the road to glance at me briefly. He must notice something in my expression because he turns back again to ask me,

"What's up?"

I remembered him, and we were happy.

I don't tell him. Even though I'm screaming with excitement inside, once again something prevents me and I lie.

"Mmm, nothing,"

And I try to align the person I can see beside me with the one I just remembered.

 

.

Chapter 4: watch him

Notes:

.

Another song for Rob in this chapter... Creep by Radiohead.

https://open.spotify.com/track/70LcF31zb1H0PyJoS1Sx1r?si=nz0DiSGsS6ytxFE0faBoqw&utm_source=copy-link

.

While we're travelling back from the hospital, Rob pulls into a gas station.
He's about to leave for the building and I'm undoing my seatbelt when he ducks his head low into the car to speak to me, resting his arm on the roof above.

"Can you wait in the car… please"

"Actually I just want to get…"

His brow furrows angrily, eyes suddenly sharp.

"Wait in the car."

He snaps, suddenly on edge but pulls himself back just as quickly, rubbing his face as he gets control of himself. When he speaks he sounds calmer although his eyes haven't lost that sharp, tense look.

"I'm sorry. What do you want?"

I feel like a child with an angry exasperated parent, subdued and demeaned, stupid for asking and resentful for being made to feel this way.

"Mini donuts.
But it doesn't mat…"

"I'll get them."

And he's gone.

I wait, feeling small, belittled and angry. All the happy feelings from the memory of us laughing in the car are ruined.

Why is he being like this?

On his way back I watch him as a couple leave their car and head straight towards him.
Visibility isn't great, there's a leafless shrub partially obscuring them but I can see enough to recognize them as Megan and Greg, they're friends of mine. My first impulse is to leave the car and go say hi, but something about the way Rob was towards me prevents me. I watch instead as he slows his steps and they draw closer.

Megan hugs him immediately and before she's broken contact Greg lays his hand on Rob's back as they greet each other.
I can see the love and warmth coming from them, and although Rob seems at moments a little shy and self conscious, stepping back and looking down with one hand half in his pocket, he both accepts and returns it, smiling and talking to them in a way he's never done to me. At least not that I can remember. I feel like an outsider watching this play out, the guy I hardly know with my friends,
our friends.

As the guys are speaking Megan glances over in my direction and when I think I've caught her eye I smile and wave.

Her eyes settle on mine for a second before sweeping past coldly with not a shred of acknowledgement. Turning back to the others, she's carrying on as if I don't exist and I wither a little inside.

What? What's happening?

Maybe she didn't see me because of a reflection on the glass or the shrubs in the way but I'm really not sure. In any case I'm shaken, and slide down in my seat, too embarrassed to try again.

Rob's saying goodbye, there's affectionate physical contact before he heads back to the car and by the time he reaches me his expression is set to neutral.
Handing me the tub of donuts without looking at me or saying a word he climbs in and starts the car, and as he pulls away I throw them onto the back seat. I don't want them anymore.

I guess he thinks I missed that little interaction…
I want to call him out right now, say I saw everything…ask what the hell is going on but something keeps me quiet.
He knew they were there and didn't want me to see them. Or maybe he didn't want them to see me.
Maybe it's better that he doesn't know everything I know.

I need time to think about this.

The rest of the journey is both short and silent, as the sky grows darker and rain begins to fall.

***

Our footsteps echo lightly on the floor tiles in the foyer on our return to the apartment building. There's something comforting about the smell of the old place. There's mail waiting and Rob picks it up.
With a small flick of his eyes towards me that he thinks I've missed, he turns his body and slides two letters into his back pocket before offering me his arm again as if nothing has happened.

His expression is weary but gives nothing away in the elevator as he focuses on looking ahead, his mouth a small straight line, seemingly in his own thoughts and an anxiousness creeps inside of me.
Why so secretive?
He thinks I haven't seen him.
He must think I'm stupid.

 

When we reach my apartment he lays the rest of the mail down on the side, next to the keys and heads straight to his room for a second before going into the kitchen.

 

Sitting uneasily at the table, I go through what's been rejected and consider the implications of what I just saw while Rob's making the coffee.
There's nothing here of any interest, some fliers, a couple of bills…

I slide a glance towards him. He's standing there, grinding the heels of his palms into his tired eyes and I'm conscious of my raised heart rate as I ask him, trying to sound more assertive and brave than I really am,

"What did you do with the other letters, Rob? I saw you take them."

He stills where he is for a moment before his arms fall, but the way he shifts his body and tilts his head betray the strain he's feeling as he exhales heavily and his eyes shift sideways towards me.

"They were mine."

There's that look, again, the warning clear in his eyes. Leave it.

I take a breath and ignore it.

"Yours? You're sure?"

He shakes his head, instantly defensive, shoulders raised with his hands out, brows drawn.

"YES I'm sure. What are you trying.."

He's turned towards me now, glaring. He's already charged up, ready to fight me, but I'm ahead of him,

"So you did live here, and not that long ago."

His face falls immediately, his eyes dart around briefly as he tries to find an answer, but I've already found it. There's nothing more to say, so he defaults to closing his mouth and shutting off, flashing me one troubled glance before he hands me my coffee, skirting around the table and I watch as he leaves the door half open behind him.

***

In my mind's eye I see a room in darkness with Rob standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light outside.

Then it's gone.

It was definitely him, his height, his frame, even the outline of his hair.

 

I decide on a sandwich for lunch, and as I make it I mull over what just happened with him.

 

It would seem that my assumptions are correct and mail for him is still being delivered here.
Unless the letters really weren't for him and he lied… He said I have to trust him, but how would I know? Trusting is easier said than done.

While I'm eating alone in the empty kitchen I check my phone.
It's the same as every other time I've looked, no return messages, or missed calls.
Grimly I pocket it before cleaning up and leaving a note for Rob to say I've eaten, before wandering through to the living room.

 

Outside the tall windows it's cold and grey, starlings wheel through the winter sky, but the fire burning in the hearth makes the room feel warm, peaceful, and far removed from the world out there.

I'm surprised to find Rob here already, thin silver framed glasses perched on his nose, quietly reading.

He's squidged side on at the end of the sofa with his feet on the seat, legs up with the book resting against them. His head's in his hand, his fingers buried in his hair, supported by his elbow propped against the back cushions.

He raises his eyes warily. I can see how tired he is, under his glasses the dark shadows are still visible. After a sleepless night then a stressful morning, I hope he doesn't mind my intrusion.

 

"Hey," I smile, cautiously.

He pulls his mouth into a shape that isn't really a smile and the uncertainty and fear of rejection almost drive me back out of the room, until he asks softly,

"You okay?"

He's holding my gaze, and his eyes soften and grow kind, even if they're tired. I feel behind me for the other seat and lower myself into it carefully, curling my legs up beside me as I sigh,

"Yeah. I get bored of being here alone though, don't you?"

Kindness and sadness mingle in his expression until I can't tell which is which, and he evades my question.

"You'll be better soon, you can get on with your life, and I'll be gone.
We'll be free."

I'm startled by his unexpected frankness, but far from feeling buoyed up by his words they lie like rocks on my chest. I didn't mean…

"Is that how you'll feel…? Free?"

Looking out into the room he sounds resigned but unemotional.

"It was always going to happen.
We're not together anymore Ell, you know this is temporary. I'll be going before long."

We sit in silence while he reads again and sadness gradually fills my lungs.
It should fill my heart, I know, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. The weight of it presses me into the chair.

 

"How long were we together?"

"Ell…."

He's looking up from the book again and shaking his head as it rests on his hand, cautioning, disapproving.

I suddenly need to know.

"Come on, how much would it hurt?
Please?"

He puts the book down and takes off his glasses. Sighs. There are frown lines between his brows as he stretches out his fingers palm down and moves his hand through the air.

"A long time. Long."

"How many years?"

I hold my breath as he takes one in and looks at me intensely, his blue eyes boring into me as he answers.

"Ten."

It's a small word that punches hard.
I blow air out between my lips, allowing room for that to sink in. Ten.
Ten years together, all forgotten. It feels unbelievable.

Robert nods as his focus drifts,

"Yeah… a while."

 

Then I think about the letters addressed to him, here.

"How long ago did we break up?"

He regards me again, warily, and this time he shifts uncomfortably as his eyes search mine. He's resistant, antagonistic.

"We agreed not to do this."

"I didn't agree,"
I protest,
"And I'm not asking you to prompt a memory here, it's just an idea of time..it's an abstract concept."

I'm feeling desperate.

"Please Rob, just give me something, I'm… This is horrible..
How long ago did we finish it?"

"Okay!"
Then quieter,
"okay. "

His back and shoulders are tense, both hands are palms towards me in surrender and I watch as he consciously forces himself to relax again, breathing out steadily.
On the first attempt the words won't come, and he closes his mouth tightly and looks into my eyes before trying again. I can tell, he doesn't want me to have this.

"It's been four weeks, almost."

 

Oh shit…. Oh SHIT.

He's watching my reaction but I don't know what to say. I never considered the possibility that our break up would be so recent. I'd just assumed it had been over and done for a while...

Four weeks?
Oh my God.
So wait..
Just before Christmas..

 

I'm getting some idea now of the drama that's been unfolding right under my nose, that I'm involved in without even knowing. This is my life…
And his… My accident happened just as our lives had upended and everything was changing. The implications are huge.

He's had a lot to cope with.

 

He's rubbing his hand back and forth across his forehead. It must be hard for him.
Whoever ended it, this is a mess, and it's ours.. this is something we're so intimately tied into together, but only he can feel it.

 

"Who ended it?"

Once again he looks up, brows drawn together.

"No, no more. I already said too much."

"But Rob, I…."

"I said no. That's enough."

The ever present undercurrent with him has been growing steadily more restless, and after running his hand back to push his hair from his forehead, he picks up his glasses and his book.

"I can't tell you any more, I need to finish this."

I'm numb.
Before l leave I sit for a minute, picking at the hem of my sweater, my thoughts scattered.

He begins to read. He's detaching himself again, breathing evenly, deliberately, composing himself as if he hasn't just dropped a bomb into my assumptions about who and where we are in relation to each other. I can see how hard he's gripping the book in his hand, but once again his wall is secure.

 

***

Sunday January 8

After ten years together, we split less than a month ago.
I've been so oblivious.
I didn't see it, I didn't get it, but now I do.

Whoever ended it, the end of a marriage can feel like a death. And he's grieving whilst dealing with me and whatever happened.

How lonely must it feel to be forgotten?
Just forgotten.

He said he's trying to process things right now, and I can see now, how that's true.

 

I'm sure he ended it.
He's waiting to be free, and it explains why he's detached and irritated, he doesn't want to be here.

I could have ended it, it's possible..
But I know how hard he pulls me… Did I have that man, that man out there and reject him?
Fuck no. I don't think so. He's kind, at least sometimes, and he's intelligent..
I'm not too modest to say I'm attractive, but he's beautiful.

I'm writing it because it's true, but the feelings I have as I do are unnerving. I can't afford to have feelings for him. Especially now.

I remembered him today, and it was lovely… He was lovely..

But later he kept me from my friends, I've no doubt it was deliberate. He must have seen them before he made me stay in the car, and I can't trust him.

So much is going on with him, inside him, so much I don't understand, and I can't help him either.

Scratch the surface and the part of him that scares me is there, ready to fight.
Maybe it's there to protect him, but it hurts him too, because it isolates him and I can't get past it.

When he's hurt, or like he was last night, something happens to me and I need to do something, the pull to him is so strong…
I think maybe he had a nightmare, but there's more to it I'm sure.
Seeing him like that… I so wanted to comfort him.

It's hard to see anyone that way, whoever it was I would want to do something, and yet I couldn't, I couldn't do anything to help.

It's a mess.
He's a mess.
I'm sure if it weren't for my not remembering then I'd be just as bad.
Oh fuck. Maybe my subconscious has the right idea after all.

 

***

 

Later that afternoon I return to the living room and find him sleeping peacefully, curled up where he was with his head fallen to the side against the back cushions with his glasses in his hand, still holding the book against his thighs.

Walking slowly to the windows in the stillness, I close the blinds quietly against the cold hard day, so the room is dark and cosy in the warmth of the firelight. He needs to sleep.

On my way back past the sofa I pause, unable to resist the chance to properly take him in, unseen.

There's a beguiling grace to his features, soft as they are now that he's sleeping. He has the sweetest, almost delicate mouth and his eyelashes appear darker fanned out as they are against his skin.

Seeing him undefended is dismantling my own protective detachment.
Feelings are fluttering around wildly inside my chest, colliding with each other as they struggle to understand what they are, but I'm not supposed to have feelings.

 

I recall the way his mother stroked his hair, how she soothed and calmed him, and although it's hard to admit it to myself, I was jealous of her for being able to.
Hesitantly, my fingertips reach out to mimic her movements, but sudden guilt hits after only the lightest touch and I pull my hand away.

We're over, and if he doesn't want me then he wouldn't want that.
With a last look back I leave to go find a blanket to keep him warm.

 

In my room I rummage in the large cupboard where the extra bed clothes are stored, running my fingers over all of the blankets until I find him the softest one there. It's an icy pale blue colour and I test it against my cheek.

He didn't have to stay here to care for me. But he still did.

When I go back to lay it over him, however, he's gone.

 

The blanket comes in handy for keeping me warm as the fire dies down to embers and I huddle under it to watch tv alone until it's late, before heading slowly for my bed.

 

***

For the following two days Rob all but disappears.

 

There's frost on Monday, the first morning. I'm woken by the sound of the radiators and pad barefoot in my nightshirt to take a look outside.

In the street and in the park, crystalline white highlights the trees, contrasting sharply with the dark brown bark of the branches and twigs, where birds huddle side by side, puffing out their feathers to keep warm. The freezing foggy air mingles with smoke that drifts above the rooftops.

 

He's heavy-lidded when he comes with my usual coffee and tablets, huddled in a hoodie, more distant than ever and more distracted even than me, like a walking, waking dream.

He fumbles the tablet container and almost spills the coffee to which he only huffs a sigh and rakes back his unruly hair.
Inside I'm dying to reach out to him but all I can do is ask if he's okay.

Giving the tablets to me he tells me I'd better be in charge of them from now on.

"You're going to have to begin dealing with things alone, I can't stay here.
As soon as you're well enough I need to leave."

His voice is flat and brooks no argument, and I watch his retreating back with sadness and more than a little trepidation. He wants to leave...

Something happened. Something is definitely wrong. Did I get too close yesterday, or stir up feelings? Did he feel me touch him?

Is this the ultimate in flight?

Whatever, he's not okay, and I slept so heavily, I think maybe I missed that he hasn't slept again.

 

***

After a slow start when I bathe and unhurriedly dress, slipping on jeans and a khaki coloured sweater with my slipper boots, I put my hair up and busy myself with some light chores around the apartment. I need the distraction, because he's true to his words and somehow manages to avoid me for the rest of the day.

With music playing while I keep busy, the day passes pleasantly enough. If I take things carefully I'm not so dizzy and my head isn't so bad, but by late evening I'm anxious.
I knock and ask if I can make him some food but he declines.

I hear Radiohead drifting from his room, mostly Creep, and other than that I wouldn't even know he's here..

But in the middle of the night, when I'm awake and worrying about him, I hear him calling my name again.

 

***

The following day his door is an impenetrable barrier and behind it is only silence.
On more than one occasion I feel the need to knock on it and try to make contact only to be answered with the minimum words necessary and mostly of only one syllable.

Yeah
I'm fine
No thanks
I'm sure

I'm worried, but it's the quietly detached and distant tone of his voice that concerns me the most.

 

Finally I've had enough. Knocking on his door again I wait for his reply.
It's quiet and muffled.
I try to make myself sound confident, impossible to argue with.

"Rob. I made you food. I'm gonna keep bothering you until you come and eat it."

 

I'm in the kitchen when he arrives, his long slender frame passes through the gap in the doorway and comes to sit heavily at the table, eyes cast downwards.

He doesn't look at me, and once he's sitting I can't see his eyes anyway, his hair's a dishevelled mess, falling into his face and curling around itself as it brushes his shoulders.

 

I pass him a bowl and a fork before retreating. A glass of water is waiting on the table.

"Thank you."

His voice is low and quiet.

I've eaten already, and prefer to stand nearby, leaning against the end of the kitchen cupboards to give him some space.

He keeps his head down, but pushes his hair back then rests his forehead on his palm, fingers buried in it with his elbow on the table.
He eats in silence as if I'm not even here, and I begin to wonder if I really am, as I see the little grey cat wander past the open door.

 

"Can you tell me?"
I venture softly.

"No."

He doesn't look up. His voice is quietly expressionless. Defeated.

 

"Is there anything I can do?"

The smallest sigh,

"No."

 

Silence settles between us again. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the first few small flakes of snow, dancing downwards into the street outside the window, visible against the dark grey building opposite.

 

"Is it something that I've said or done?"

He stops to drink some water.

"There's no point questioning me. You know that, don't you."

For the first time he slowly raises his eyes to meet mine, and I'm silenced by what I see in them.

I'm out of my depth. I can see that now.

 

"Thanks for the meal, I appreciate it."

He pushes his chair back, slowly levers himself upright with his palms on the table, and I control the urge to physically prevent him from leaving, or at least attempt to.

There's a hollow feeling inside me but I don't know what I need to fill it.

 

***

 

Tuesday January 10

3.40am.
So it's actually Wednesday but never mind.

Rob's quiet now, finished with the nightmares and the pacing for another night, hopefully, and I can sleep too.

He worries me.
He's frequently moody, detached or even physically absent, and I hardly even know him, but I still care.
It's not the same as having feelings, okay? It's not feelings,
I just care..

After all, in the absence of my friends after my accident, he's been all I've got. I still haven't heard from anyone, and nobody's picking up.

Has he spoken to my friends and warned them off?

I still have no answers for what happened at the gas station, and I only have his word on why he took those letters.

I can't trust him.

But in spite of that, I can't stop worrying about him.

Fight him, run from him, hold him.

Watch him …

I don't know what I want to do or how I'm feeling anymore.

 

***

It's Wednesday, the third day of whatever's going on with Rob. I heard him in the kitchen early this morning but I missed him, and there's been no sign of him again.
Something has to be done.

I think he's been struggling since my accident, at least, but the last two days he's been worse. The utterly desolate and empty look in his eyes yesterday scared me. A lot.

I briefly considered calling a doctor, but I don't know how much good it would do.
I've abandoned that idea, but Rob doesn't know that.

If I can only break his self isolation and talk to him, having him shut in there with no idea of how he is or what's going on is making me a little crazy.
Every attempt to engage him has failed and so I may need to threaten him a little, in the gentlest way possible.

Knocking quietly on his door I listen and wait nervously while a sick feeling in my stomach grows. But there's no sound.
Determined, I try again, louder this time. When his reply finally comes it's quiet and muffled.

"Rob?
I'm really sorry to disturb you, but I'm worried …"

"Um okay. What d'you… what's up?"

 

I'm losing my nerve. This is too difficult with a lump of wood between us so I have no idea of his reactions.

"Can you open the door?"

"Can you just say what it is you wanna say?"

He's impatient, and there's no attempt to cover his irritation at being disturbed. I don't know what I want to say, not exactly, and this is making things much harder. I begin rambling.

Look, I think.. I'm not sure, but I think you may not be okay… I'm worried that staying in there, alone, isn't helping, you're not eating properly either, and I'm worried that you may not be very well ...."

I hear a dark laugh, it's definitely not funny. I feel uncomfortable, but I'm going to do what I planned to do.

"You've been locked away in there for days, and if you carry on like this I'm going to have to call someone. Like a doctor, or your mother. You need to come out. I'm worried about you."

There's a few seconds silence as I strain to listen, before I catch a very quiet and breathy

"Fuuuck's sake.. Jesus."

Followed by some thumping and bumping about.
He's angry, but I think I prefer that to despondent.

"Okay…I'll… I'll leave you to it."

 

***

It's late afternoon when I hear banging sounds from the kitchen and go to investigate.

Rob's standing in grey sweats and a darker grey hoodie, struggling to open a jar with one hand.
Losing his patience he slams it down suddenly and violently on the worktop, and the loud noise makes me jump as he hisses,

"So fucking useless."

I move towards him slightly,

"Hey… let me help.."

I try to sound calm and placating, but on hearing me he throws his head upwards to meet my gaze and I'm shocked by the wild, angry look in his eyes. He's already infuriated and I take a step back.

"I don't want your FUCKING HELP.

FUCK you."

He dashes the jar to the ground where it smashes into a mess of glass and contents, followed by three more things that he snatches up impulsively in rapid succession that go the same way, hurled and smashed violently into pieces on the floor.

For the space of a few heartbeats I'm frozen and intimidated by the unexpected aggression of his outburst.

He's visibly shaking, the fight to get himself back under control is played out starkly as he lowers his head and measures his breathing.

"I'm sorry… I'm…

Fuck..

I didn't mean fuck you.
It's just…"

Although my heart's thumping in my chest I just want to make everything alright, edging slowly towards him.

"It's okay, it's not important.."

"No. That's where you're wrong, it's really fucking important, you have no idea."

 

He's breathing heavily, trembling still, with his head down, his hands on the worktop.
I hate seeing him in pain like this, everything in me wants to reach out and touch him, soothe him…
And so recklessly, this time, I do it.
Or at least I try.

"It's okay… come on.."

 

The second I touch him he spins to face me.

Most of the time he controls it. I've seen it, burning and turning behind his eyes, but this is the moment I finally meet his monster.

Just as the
switch
trips.

He explodes with rage and I feel the full blast.

"Don't you FUCKING DO THAT!
You can't be kind to me now."

I recoil from him in fear, my voice small..

"Please Rob, I just want…."

 

But he's over and above me, furious.

"NO! You think you can do this? NOW?
YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING DO THIS!
Jesus fucking Christ.
Please, just LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

My heart is pounding and for just a moment I'm frozen to the spot. He's huge, towering over me, in my face with his hand raised. He's lost it and I'm afraid. When I regain the ability to move I scramble back from him, shrinking away.

 

Instantly the understanding of what it is that he's done registers, his expression breaking into shock, shame and pain before he wrenches himself away. Grabbing a chair that's lying in his path with his good hand, he violently yanks it out of his way, sending it flying to land on its side across the floor as he leaves.

 

I'm left behind, frightened, weak in my knees and shaking, as a sob breaks from my throat and I clutch at my mouth, clamping it shut to prevent any more.

 

***

 

I've swept up the broken glass and china, the remnants of scattered frustration and fury and cleaned up most of the mess from the jar. I wish I could deal with the mess that was the cause of it so easily.
I'm on my knees, finishing wiping the hard floor with a cloth when I hear his footsteps and wonder what's coming next.

I hear my name, reproachful but soft, and as I raise my eyes I'm more surprised than wary when he comes to sit cross legged on the floor in front of me.

He's chewing at his lips in shame and discomfort and I see his anxiety in the shifting of his shoulders and the small sudden movements of his head before he grips his knees as he speaks.

"I'm so sorry.."

It's true. It's shouting from his eyes. I should be angry, or at least a little afraid of him but I'm puzzled to find that I'm not.

"It's okay…
Look, firstly I think you're really desperately tired."

 

He takes in a breath like a sob as he nods in reply, and my heart melts.

"I… I really am, I've not been sleeping… much."

"I know."

"I really am sorry, truly."

"It's okay,"

 

The tension between us is subsiding, I feel it. But I'm still hesitant when I say,

"Maybe.. I think maybe you should see a doctor, get a prescription? Something for how low you seem to be."

He nods again, his eyebrows raised, but this time his eyes fall away.

"Mmm hmm, done and done."

Oh..

His candidness has thrown me slightly.. and I don't know how to respond.
I look away while I try to gather my thoughts.

"And I really didn't mean fuck you…
I meant the jar."

I don't know why my shoulders choose to begin shaking, but they do, as I try not to laugh, and looking up I see the corners of his mouth are twisting into an almost smile, as mine do the same.

"Yeah.. fuck that jar."

The almost smile spreads across his face slowly and though he's undoubtedly still sad, his shoulders also shake with a little silent laughter as his eyes meet mine, and there's a fondness there, as his brows furrow and he holds my gaze, that I've never seen before.

"I can't believe you threatened me with my mother.."

"Yeah. Whatever works. I got the feeling it might."

He nods for a moment, his eyebrows raised and nothing more needs to be said.

"What happened between us, Rob?

He stands, and giving me his good hand, he helps me slowly to my feet and holds me until I'm steady.
His skin is soft, his hoodie's soft, I imagine how it would feel if he were to take me into his arms, into a soft embrace and hold me close. I gaze upwards into those blue eyes.

"It's so hard, not knowing what happened.
And I don't mean my accident, I mean with us."

He opens his mouth to speak but I keep talking

"I don't know when I'm going to hurt you, or make you angry…"

I think maybe they're both the same thing.

When he grabs the upturned chair, rights it for me and sits down on the other I realise this is really happening, now.

We're opposite each other, arms on the table, leaning in. I know how important this is, how carefully I have to tread if I'm not to lose him but there's so much I need to know.

"Before the accident, did I love you?"

He's watching his fingers as they feel the opposite wrist and he purses his lips.

"We were over."

"But did I love you?"

Blue eyes lift to mine, I see the shadows in them.

"No."

I let my breath leave me, slowly, steadily. I hesitate.

"Did you love me?"

I search his face as his eyes fall away..

"That isn't fair, and this doesn't help anything.
It doesn't matter anymore. I told you already, that it's done, it's all over."

Decided and final.

There's a pain, pulling in my chest and tightening my throat.
Tears are threatening and I don't know why. I'm fighting with them, I can't allow them. Not now.
He's speaking again.

"But you… You could have left me to it today, in the place that I was, but you came in after me. That's... And now… after I just… you've been kind, and I'm so sorry."

I want to touch him but I don't. I feel like I mustn't, not now.

"You don't seem to get that I care about you Rob. You've been taking care of me, and whatever happened between us in the past, this isn't a one way situation any more, okay?"

My own victory over my tears is threatened when I see his eyes fill. I swallow a lump in my throat to ask,

"Okay?"

His answer is almost a whisper, but low and rough.

"Okay…
I gotta go now."

Of course he does.
All I can offer is a small smile,

"That's okay."

 

***

 

It's an hour later when I knock once again on his door.

This time it opens straight away, and I take in the sight of him holding the top of the door with one hand and leaning against the frame, his hair pushed messily back.
My heart does a little thing of its own accord which is alarming, and I try to ignore it.

"Hi... me again… surprise.."

I grin, sheepishly, and there's that slow smile again..

"I ordered pizza, you wanna watch a movie? You can choose which one."

 

***

He chooses Bridge To Terabithia.
It's one of my favourites.

We eat pizza and watch together, each of us with our own end of the sofa and I'm lost in the film. I know he chose it for me.
When the movie's finished I turn to him, emotional.

"It's so sad …
If he told her the truth and let her in, things could have been so different. It's the finality of the decision he made. He can't ever go back and change it."

He doesn't answer me. The firelight is reflected in his eyes.
After all, it is a sad film.
He's very quiet.

Gathering up the pizza leftovers and boxes he takes them to the kitchen.
I watch him go, I can't stop looking at him, watching him.

Then he stands in the doorway.

 

"Thanks, for the pizza, and…
You know...."

"Sure, thank you for spending time with me."

He lowers his head
And then he's gone.

***

Suddenly I have the same flash of memory again. The dark room, with Rob standing silhouetted in the doorway….
It's a memory of something important. There's an emotion attached to it that I'm trying to remember and understand.

 

Wednesday January 11

I've met the monster. Fuck he's frightening when he's angry. At least, he is when I've nothing to measure it against, or give it context, but that might just be changing.
I've felt closer to him today than I can remember, and in spite of what happened earlier, I want more. I want to know him, understand him.

There's something I want to try, and it means telling a little white lie. I don't know if it will help, but whenever I've needed him he's always been there, in spite of his apparent feelings. Time to give back, if I can, to see if I can help with his nightmares.
I mean it's me he calls for, right?
This time I want to be there.

 

***

 

I'm cold, standing barefoot in the dark hallway in only a nightshirt. My hair's in a long plait over my shoulder to keep it out of my way.
I've already knocked once.

My hand is raised, ready for attempt number two when the door begins to open and I wait, as Rob appears in the gap wearing a t-shirt and boxer briefs, squinting and rubbing his eyes.

"Ellie? Wh.."

"I had a bad dream… Can I please sleep in there with you?"

He's wide eyed suddenly, surprised, and he scratches his head and pulls his hair back, casting his eyes around,

"Yeah, I mean yes, I guess so… if..
Okay."

He shrugs, still not properly awake and a little confused.

"You wanna come in?"

Pushing the door wider, he steps back as I cross the threshold.

It's dark inside, with only the street lights shining through the edges of the blinds to illuminate the room, but I can still make out enough to know that it's untidy. There's clothes and cups (that's where they've all gone) and a desk with a PC that's disappearing under piles of paperwork.

I make my way over to sit on the edge of his bed. It feels strange being here, but I know what I want to do.

"You sure this is okay? I'll keep to the edge. I won't take up much space, I promise, you'll hardly know I'm here."

"Jesus Ell …"

His hand raises to stop me, it's probably too much in the middle of the night and he's half asleep…

"Just get in."

 

As I climb onto the bed, the sheets smell of him, and it's so comforting and familiar in a way that I hadn't expected. I pull the duvet over myself and I lay on my back near the edge.

I watch Rob as he crosses the room and as he slides into bed next to me I catch a glimpse of his face, brows drawn, his eyes wary and unsure of what's happening.
He pushes his hair back and settles down.

Turning to face the other way, I close my eyes.

 

***

Rising up through layers of sleep I wake and become aware that he's moving, murmuring things I can't understand, his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

He's dreaming.

I'm fully awake when he suddenly jumps sharply, his hands flying upwards and he calls my name, not loudly but urgently, and being this close, for the first time I hear an edge of real fear.

"Ellie!"

Moving closer, I answer quickly, soothingly,

"I'm here, I'm here it's okay…. you're okay."

I don't touch him, I don't want to do anything to trigger or wake him but my heart goes out to him.

"It's okay…"

I'm more relieved than I expected when he exhales steadily and his face and body relax as he sinks back into the bed. I listen for a while as his rapid breathing gradually returns to normal, and as I lay here in the darkness beside him I wonder what happens in his dream.

 

.

Chapter 5: like broken glass

Notes:

.

Another song for this chapter..

True Love Waits - Radiohead.

https://open.spotify.com/track/07XaOyTS5hyaWiUK1Bc3bR?si=cChdLVTPTWeF4LBZJ_6Hyw&utm_source=copy-link

.

Pale thin fingers of morning light find their way around the edges of the blinds, feeling their way into the room to wake me, prompting me to turn over and it's then, looking at the place on Rob's spine directly between his shoulder blades that I remember where I am.

At some point in the night he's removed his t-shirt, and I battle against the urge to lose myself in counting the small light brown freckles scattered like stars across his back and looking for patterns amongst them, because I couldn't do that without tracing them with my fingertips, and I want to. Very much.

Listening to him breathing in the stillness of the room, watching the rise and fall of him is relaxing, and satisfaction nestles in my chest to have halted his dream. Finally, I've been able to make a difference for him.
Guessing what it's most likely about is easy and the trauma is obvious, I just don't know what happens in it.

Slipping my legs from the bed I carefully rise and leave quietly to let him sleep.

 

The tall window in my room frames the large dark building opposite, but above that the sky is a mixture of the beginnings of hopeful sunshine and clouds that look like rain, or maybe hail could be on the way, but so far it's dry.

 

Once I'm washed and dressed in blue jeans and a soft grey sweater I take my tablets and make coffees and toast in the cool quiet kitchen before heading down the hall with them.
After Rob's replied to my knock on his door I slowly push it open and let myself in. He's always done the same with me and so it's my turn now.

 

He's sitting cross legged on the bed, initially cautious, covering his chest with the sheet and tucking it under his arms. A small, wry "I see what you're doing here" smile pulls at the corners of his mouth though as he takes the coffee and thanks me, his voice rough but gentle.

He looks brighter, a lot less tired, a little less haunted.

"Coffee and breakfast to say thanks for last night."

He shakes his head, brushes my thanks off and pushes his hair out of his eyes as he reaches for the toast. I'm watching the way it twists into soft curls at the back, almost reaching his shoulders.

"It's fine. Like it's not a problem, you were right, I hardly knew you were here."

He doesn't remember.
I should be happy.
Taking my coffee I turn for the door.

 

"Ell.."

Looking back, his brows are pulled together as if something difficult is happening and he shrugs one pale shoulder and lets it drop.

"Stay, have some toast."

***

Settled on the end of his bed in his room, sharing breakfast feels like new territory. But then this was our home, where we lived together and maybe for him it's not so strange.
Looking around me at the clutter, coffee and toast in hand, I notice him watching me.

"So this is where the old cups go to die."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Actually they're on leave, returning to active duty as soon as I get round to it.
Give them a break, they've earned it. This is their safe space."

 

That reminds me. As he finishes eating, I hesitate, waiting for the best moment to voice my next thought.

"I was wondering, maybe we could go out this morning, get out of here, even if it's just for a walk to the park. We've been cooped up too long."

His answer comes hurriedly, as he puts down the coffee.

"I'm fine, I don't need to go out."

Pulling his knees up he rests his arms on them and lays his head back against the wall behind the bed.

"Maybe the fresh air will help you sleep, and it's good for…."

"No.
I'm staying here."

There's that fierce look in his eyes again as he straightens up. His back's literally against the wall and he's building up the barricade. I can see it in the way he holds his body and the warning flashed to me through narrowed eyes before he gazes past me and withdraws.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't think it would be easy. I try using the same psychology I used on him to get into his bed.

"Rob please, I need to get out. I'm going crazy stuck in here.. Will you take me?"

He doesn't move, but looks at me again from the corners of his eyes and sighs.

 

****

An hour later we're in the elevator heading down, me in a grey coat with red gloves and hat, Rob has a navy puffer jacket over his hoodie with a grey baseball hat, his blonde hair looks lighter in contrast as it curls out from beneath it.

 

I'm watching him in the mirrors as his eyes shift around, never settling on anything. Slipping my arm under his I lean on his forearm and squeeze it before the doors slide open to the sight of the small grey cat.

It's walking across our path but turns its head suddenly to stare at me with huge amber eyes. A swift glance at Rob tells me he hasn't noticed it, and when I look back it's gone.

 

***

 

It feels so good to be outside. The fresh air, the smells, the sound of the traffic and the people on the sidewalk.
Life.

As we approach the plane tree that's nearest to our windows I remove one glove and pause, reaching out to touch its trunk and feel the smooth undulations of the flaking bark in silent greeting.
I pull on Rob's arm and he pauses, steps back to wait for me as I look up and smile.

"This one feels like a friend."

I gaze up through the branches opening out above and imagine I can feel the power of its life force, old and deep, rumbling upwards just beneath my fingers. It's calming, grounding in a way I can't explain.

Rob's watching me as I turn back to him, with an indecipherable look that throws me into confusion, before he raises an eyebrow and almost smiles.

"That's what you always do, and say, every time."

I laugh,

"Do I?"

"Sure, with your mystical "Ohh, trees have like a life force, it's so powerful, it's so old and deep."

He's mimicking me, changing his voice and he's funny, and right.
I'm so surprised and delighted to see the shield slip even a little, even for a moment that when he gives me a sideways look and a small smile, I'm gaping at him happily.

"That's so rude! And unfair!"

He's biting his lip, eyes shining. He's pleased with himself, and my heart leaps. Everything feels so different out here, like anything's possible.

"You know it's true.. I know you, Ell. I've got years of material."
Then a shadow crosses his face and he falters.
"I guess that's an unfair advantage."

Unsure of how to answer, I rest my head against his arm as he falls quiet and we walk. He has my sympathy, but I still feel excited that however briefly, he showed me who he is underneath.

***

The morning's still bright as we enter the park, the weather not yet succumbing to the areas of sky where the clouds are darker, though the air is very cold. I'm aware that he's keeping the pace slow for me, and although I've not been as dizzy lately I still keep myself close and hold on to him.

 

"Okay then, tell me a habit of mine that drives you crazy, from now or before."

After a few footsteps the answer comes back to me in a serious tone,

"Two.
You stroke trees and criticise my cup collection."

As I look up at him with narrowed eyes and a smile, he defends himself, shrugging his shoulders and holding out his hands,

"I collect cups, man. Gimme a break. Everybody's gotta have a thing."

I laugh as we come to a bench beside the path and he waits while I sit down and reply.

"I sound awful."

"Oh you absolutely are. Totally awful. I mean I could lie because of the whole bump on the head thing, but why pretend? Why treat you differently?"

He side-eyes me with a smile that falls gently again into sadness as he sits beside me. I turn towards him and open my mouth to speak, but with a flurry of wings, a flock of birds takes off from bare branches behind him, and my eyes follow their flight as they rise and fall in unison, wing tip to wing tip at full speed across the park until I've turned away from him and lost my train of thought.
His voice brings me back again, rough around the edges.

"No one wants to be treated like broken glass, like they're somehow untouchable, like suddenly just being close to them is dangerous."

 

His head's inclined to the side towards me, but his gaze is lowered to his hands, resting for once in his lap. I turn to face him.

"Broken glass is dangerous Rob. If you're not careful when you handle it, you're going to get hurt."

 

As his eyes swing upwards and past me in thought, it's as if they're reflecting the sky.
They're the same shade of slate grey-blue that precedes a fall of rain, and there's depths to them that I can't fathom.

He's so beautiful to me right now that he almost takes my breath away, and frustrates me in a way that makes me want to do something.

And then I realise suddenly, overwhelmingly... that I want to kiss him.

Immediately I shy away from it.
I don't know what to do with it.

He leans back on the bench, resting his elbows on the backrest, and closing his eyes he tilts his head back to face the winter sun with a sigh.

But from then on that realisation is all that I can think about.

After looking at his profile for a minute or two I touch his arm and though he's startled from his thoughts, he doesn't pull away but turns his head to me.

"I want to remember you Rob, I want all of it back."

He shrugs,

"Why? It doesn't matter. It's better for both of us if you don't.
When you feel better I can go and you can get on with your life as if I was never in it."

 

I don't know how to answer, the finality of his words have taken all of mine away, leaving only a sense of futility and sorrow behind.

 

A small black dog runs towards us, skittering over grass and path with a determined look and a ball in its mouth. On reaching us it drops the ball at Rob's feet and regards him hopefully with dark shining eyes and a wagging tail.

Chuckling quietly Rob bends to grab the ball, says to me he'll just be a minute before rising and walking away onto the grass with the dog at his heels, raising his hand to a man in the distance that looks to be the dog's owner.

Watching him as he goes, the swing of his shoulders, his narrow hips and the loose, long limbed way that he moves is so attractive to me. He's mesmerising and completely holds my attention until he eventually disappears out of sight.

 

***

The rich colours of the trees in the fall sunshine match the colours in the scarf Rob's wearing as he walks towards me, across the grass holding two coffees. We're younger, brighter, and the world feels fresher somehow. We're in our mid twenties and his short hair is just visible under a rust coloured beanie. He's clean shaven, leaving the angles of his face and jaw sharp and clear, and he's smiling broadly. I see the dimple on his right cheek that I've noticed before.

 

When I take a coffee I fumble, clumsy in my gloves and it falls to the ground, hot brown liquid spilling out and soaking away into the grass.

Raising my face to his, dismayed to have spilled it I watch as his smile twists, wry and teasing and his eyes shine.

"Oh alright, okay, you wanted that one, that one's yours,"

My indignation grows but I smile in spite of myself and his smile bursts into a full grin, warm like sunshine as he holds his coffee up and taunts me.

"Haha, you chose, bitch, and this one's mine."

I gasp with feigned outrage and swipe the cup from his hand, sending it flying, the coffee spraying outwards with the force and he's genuinely stunned, eyes wide as he laughs,

"I was going to give you that! I was!
You fucker.."

And I squeal and dodge him as he tries to grab me before I run away, laughing. I turn to look behind me for him and

"Ell…"

He's returned, holding out two coffees, his expression open and engaged and all at once I know that I don't want him to go.

I can't let him go.

 

***

 

The coffee is good, warming from the inside. We're sitting on the bench together, enjoying it and people watching when a young couple approaches us. They're still a few strides away when the guy says,

"Bo? Please, excuse us, but… would it be okay, to.."

Rob passes me his coffee before standing and walking to them and I watch, mystified as they talk, shake hands and he hugs the girl before having his photo taken with them.

He said he was in the public eye..
He returns looking sheepish and a little unsettled, pulling the hood of his hoodie up over his hat.

"Bo?"

Taking his coffee back, he sits again, one hand in his pocket, folded more into the seat.

"Yeah, that's my other name. You've always called me Rob.
And sometimes that happens.
It's okay.
But I can't tell you..."

"You can't tell me about it. I figured."

And I'm watching him with renewed curiosity as he faces forward and drinks from the cup.

 

"Thank you for coming out with me," I say eventually "I can tell it isn't easy for you."

"It's okay,
I don't know how any interactions like that are going to go right now. But they were cool."

He turns to me,

"You were right, I needed to get out of my cave and out of my head, I think."

When I shiver, he slides closer and wraps an arm around me, pulling me against himself and rubbing my back.

"And I told you it was too cold for the park. Come on, let's go."

***

Walking home with my arm through his, I'm excited about the memory that returned and I feel closer to him for the time we've spent together, so much more than I did when we left the building just over an hour ago.

Waiting for the elevator he takes off his hat, pushes back his hair and opens his jacket, shoving his hat in a pocket. Looking around, shifting his weight and fidgeting, he's never still, and I'm looking at him, I can't stop looking at him. He holds my fascination like no one I've ever known, and almost every thought I have seems to be somehow tangled around him.

 

When we enter the elevator there's a shout, "Hold the doors!" and I do so automatically, while a group of young guys all pile into the lift with us, animated and loud.

It's at capacity, and without a word from him I feel Rob's hand around my arm as he firmly moves me to stand against the mirrored wall before laying his forearm and his hand against it, above and to the side of me. Watching me fixedly from under lowered brows he braces himself over me, effectively shielding me from them.

They're loud, boisterous, but they fade into insignificance compared to the strength of his physical presence, his body so close and hemming me in, surrounding me with the heat and the scent of him. His chest rises and falls in front of me as he breathes, and as my eyes rise to meet his, he's still watching me with a dark and pointed intensity that thickly charges the air between us and makes my breath catch in my throat.
I look away, strangely shy under his piercing gaze as my heart begins beating wildly and a hot, prickling sensation runs down my spine.
I want to reach out and touch him, slide my fingers up under his clothes and feel them glide over his skin, pull his hips until he's pressed hard against me and kiss him...

 

The elevator stops and the doors slide open. Looking up to him, his eyes break from mine as he stands back, making room for me and guiding me safely from the noisy crush to the quiet empty space outside, and as the doors close behind us we're alone.

Outside my apartment door he stands quietly watching me, waiting expectantly, and I'm so beyond flustered it takes me a moment to realise that I have the keys.

 

***

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I brush my hair and think about this morning.

Once inside the apartment he met my eyes with the briefest, smallest smile before he slid away to his room, leaving me to recover myself.

What was that? That thing between us, did I imagine that?
The truth is he's never given me any cause to believe he feels that way, and so I have to believe that I did.

Shit. I'm in trouble. It's no good denying how I feel anymore. It's not exactly taken me by surprise, but I'm afraid now of what comes next.

The brush slides through my hair in long, even strokes. The deep chestnut brown waves are burnished by the action and shine in the light.

I guess what comes next is heartache. So be it. There's nothing I can do about it anyway. There's no protecting myself now.

 

When I look up to the mirror opposite, I see Rob, sitting behind me on the bed, his own hair unruly, smiling slightly lopsidedly at my reflection with his hand outstretched.

"Can I do that?"

I lay the brush in his palm and I feel a deep sense of contentment as he begins brushing my hair back from my forehead, slowly but firmly, and murmurs,

"I love your hair."

 

After a quiet knock Rob walks in.

"You okay? I made lunch."

"Yeah, thanks," I reply,
but I feel a little sad.

 

Thursday January 12

We had a moment this morning, in the elevator. He looked at me the way a cat watches a bird, made me feel like I was about to be devoured, and I'm afraid to say I wanted it so badly I lost all reason.

Nothing's changed between us since, though, so whatever happened was either my imagination, or maybe wishful thinking.

He's a mystery to me.

Sometimes he seems okay, like he'll be in the moment and focusing on what we're saying or doing, and I can see him, standing on the edge, almost open, in touching distance, then the next moment I lose him. I mean I actually see it in the fall of his shoulders and his face as his eyes turn away and he's gone.

As if he's nearly with me, and then he remembers…
I wish I knew what he remembers.

I'm remembering things, precious gifts from before, but I can't share them. If he knows I'm afraid that he'll go, and I don't want him to go.

If he does I'll be fully alone. I have no family and I don't know what's happened with my friends. In fact he holds all of the answers, knows all of the things that I'm desperate to know.
But most importantly...

I care about him deeply and I want to help him with whatever's hurting him, if he'll let me. For some reason anything else would feel like I abandoned him.

I want to help with his nightmare, even if he doesn't specifically let me. He still won't let me get close, but I'm not giving up.

Oh shit, it's happening again…

 

His nightmare has been followed by silence, then the sound of his door being roughly flung open and his fast heavy footsteps heading along the hallway.

Ful Stop is playing again from the living room and I wonder, is he pacing? Is he angry or despairing.. is he safe to be around?
Even as I'm wondering I'm slipping on pyjama pants and a loose hoodie, and as I head down the hallway after him I'm thinking to myself, that for somebody not that into Radiohead, it's weird that I know their music so well. I guess that's his legacy.

 

My heart beats a little faster as I reach the doorway. Though the music isn't as loud as before, I still feel some trepidation as I peer through the gloom.
No lights are on, only the overspill from the streetlights outside illuminating the window and though I'm scanning the darkness for him I'm surprised to see him sitting on the back of the window seat, his feet on the base.
He's wearing sweatpants, naked from the waist up, the light shining on his pale skin and through his messy bed hair, and as he leans back a little to drag his fingers through it the lighting makes him look like a painting.
Inhaling, I pause for a moment, taking him in, and I'm almost lost in the sight of him.

He's smoking a joint, and unless it's one he's had on the go before, he's already smoked most of it.

Ful Stop ends and True Love Waits begins. It's quieter, more gentle.

I'm not going to mention his dream.
Instead I walk over to him and stop him as he begins to move to offer me the seat.

"Stay, Rob, you stay there, I'm just fine standing."

I step beside him and slip the joint from his fingers.

"Hey, you shouldn't be smoking tha...."

I smile.

"I'll do what I fucking well want."

I'm surprised when he chuckles.

"There she is, there's the Eliza I know."

His naked shoulders distract me as he leans forward to stare out of the window and up to the sky, but I pass the joint back to him and he asks me,

"Does the night sky terrify you, just a little bit?
All of that nothing and darkness above us, going on forever?"

Stepping a little closer, I look out as well. It's a particularly dark sky, no moon or stars, no clouds.

"It's still the same in the daytime.."

"Yes but when it's daytime we can pretend it isn't there.."

 

When I feel his hand under my hoodie behind me, his fingers pulling along my skin, stroking gently, I can't help but shiver as I turn to him and see his eyes widen suddenly.

"I hate Radiohead."

It's the first thing that comes to my mind in an attempt to short circuit the panic that's clearly breaking out in his head.

"Shit I'm so.. I'm sorry I don't know what I.."

"It's okay…"

I hold his eyes and won't let go,

"...you probably don't like some of my music either."

I lay my hand against his jaw, sweeping his cheek with my thumb as I whisper,

"It's okay."

And he inhales.

Without taking his eyes from mine he wraps his hand around my wrist, taking my hand away, and in doing so pulls me closer to stand against him, face to face.
There's a deepening of his breathing that matches my own as he holds it and rises to meet me, inches away.

The darkness turns in his eyes as they flick down to my mouth and back and he hesitates, his lips parted. His grip on me tightens and I'm unsure if the thrumming pulse I feel is mine or his. His voice is low and rough.

"This isn't a good idea."

I didn't imagine it.

The intensity, or the barely contained hunger in his eyes that drop to my mouth again. He licks his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth and I can hear his fast and shallow breathing. We're so close we're almost touching and my insides turn to liquid in expectation.

"No?" My voice sounds small.

He shakes his head a little, lowers it slightly and raises his half lidded eyes to mine. They're incredibly dark, deeply ominous and exciting. The blood is pounding in my head.

"Fuck no."

It's quiet but strained, and for a few suspended seconds that feel so much longer he's still fighting with himself and I'm holding my breath, willing so hard for him to do it.

But he swings his head away, closing his eyes briefly with a pained expression.

The joint is pressed between my fingers and with one more deeply complicated and confusing look back into my eyes he pushes me away, drops my wrist and leaves without another word.

 

I'm left standing alone, breathless and spellbound.

 

Oh, my God.

 

And the small voice inside me says

Watch him….

 

I can't go to bed straight away. Sinking to the seat I gather myself together while my hammering heart calms, finishing the joint and looking out at the night sky.

***

It's dark, peaceful. The sky's full of stars. His chin is resting on my head as he stands behind me and his fingertips glide softly down the outside of my arms. I shiver, and he opens his coat to wrap it around me and kisses the top of my head.

 

It's cold here in the living room without the fire at night. I need to get back to the warmth of my bed.

On my way past Rob's room I hear something.

 

At first I think he's having another nightmare but that seems unlikely. Fast, panting breaths reach me through the closed door and I lay a hand and my forehead on it, fighting with the impulse to do something to help, although I don't know what I can do…
Then a sudden gasp and a strained moan flip my stomach and cause a warm rush between my legs as I realise what's happening.

More follow, fevered moans and whimpers, quietly desperate, growing more strained and a little louder until my stomach swoops and I'm fluttering and clenching inside while I listen till the very end. With his last sigh I stumble to my room, the sounds that he made filling my head, and there in the darkness my fingers work to resolve my frustration.

 

.

Chapter 6: two wolves

In the morning there's no knock at my door, no Rob and no coffee. After waking, the first small while is spent lying in my bed, staring at a crack in the ceiling.
I'm in limbo, paralyzed by conflicted thoughts of the night before as I try to get my head around them, while distant sounds of the city find their way through the closed window and rain falls gently against it.

 

Friday January 13

Rob almost kissed me and I don't know what happens from here.

I've been attracted to him from almost the beginning. I had it under control, but now it's escalating, and I don't know what to do.
Just thinking about him, how he was and then, later in his room, the aching hunger stirs low down inside me, wanting him, but then I'm lost because I don't know how he feels or what he wants, if anything.

I wasn't prepared for this.
When I woke up in hospital with that man beside my bed I had no idea of the hold he would have on me.

 

Once I'm bathed and my hair's dry I pull on tights and a soft bottle green jumper dress with a wide neckline that shows off my collarbones and peer at my face in the mirror.

My green eyes stare back at me under arched brows, my pale skin has a scattering of freckles, even in winter.

Does he want to kiss me? I felt like he really wanted to, but as with everything else about him, it's complicated.

There's still no sign of Rob. He said it was time for me to do more for myself and that's fair enough, but after what happened last night I have an uncomfortable feeling that it's more to do with that.
Still, I better go get breakfast.

 

There's music coming from the kitchen. He's standing holding the refrigerator door open when I walk into the room.
In snug black jeans and a wine coloured sweater with the sleeves pushed up he looks so good, but he takes out the milk without a glance in my direction, and that hurts. For a few breaths I flounder, beginning to wonder if he's going to acknowledge me at all.
He does, finally, when I'm standing next to him, so close we almost touch.

"Morning."

There's still no eye contact, only that, quiet and measured, distant.

"You okay?"

I ask, which really means where do I stand here?

"Uh huh, fine."

He's being deliberately vague and we're in a whole new vale of avoidance. I don't know if I'm exasperated, irritated or just weary with it all. The one thing I'm not is surprised.

He walks away to sit at the table alone with his cereal and orange juice and I've decided, we're not doing this. Something happened between us yesterday and we can't pretend that it didn't.
Taking my cereal I sit opposite him on the other side of the wall and prepare to begin the assault on his defenses.

Blue eyes raise to meet mine and I hold my nerve in the face of them.

"Are we gonna talk about what happened last night?"

He shifts on his seat as his eyes flit away. When his body begins shaking from the bouncing of his knee I get a sinking feeling.

"Nothing happened, can we just…."

"No, we can't. Something almost did, and you can't deny it."

All my fears and apprehensions are validated when he rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and he tries to talk to me as if I'm a child, motioning with his hands in the space between us.

"But it didn't, and it's not going to, okay? So it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.
Let it go."

"No, Rob, we're not doing this your way, I need to.."

All the while he's narrowing his eyes, more and more defiant until scooping the bowl from the table he's suddenly up and moving away in one swift movement and I swear to God he's the most infuriating man I've ever known.

He's throwing the bowl into the sink as his ringtone pierces the atmosphere. Dragging his phone from his pocket he leans against the kitchen unit in the dull light from the window and answers it there with one hand in his hair.

"Doug."

Okay, so what's that to do with…

No.
No, I'm not attending.

I don't give a shit, I'm not attending."

Pushing himself away from the counter he's pacing now, up and down the kitchen area, his fingers still rammed into his hair and holding on.

"I don't fucking care, tell them what you like. Tell them I died, they'll love that.
I'm on a break, I don't have to do anything.

Well no I don't mean anything, I know that there's…"

He pulls his hand from his hair and throws it out, looking to the ceiling in exasperation,

"I'm aware there are deadlines, but there's only so much I can do, with.."

Clutching his forehead, he rubs his eyes with his smallest finger and with what looks like a huge effort, becomes more civil again.

"Yeah…I know you know the situation, it is what it is. I mean do you think you could explain, and..

Yeah thanks Doug, truly, I know it's a lot, it's a lot for me... It's more than I can…

Okay, okay, later."

Lowering the phone he comes to a halt by the counter and leans over it until his head's resting in his hands.

"Jesus fuck."

"Rob…"

Without looking up or raising his head from one hand, the other is held up to stop me,

"NO..
Not now Ell, please.
Will you just let it go."

 

I'm sick of my feelings being sidelined, and it's frustrating, but I can see now isn't the time.

 

***

For the rest of the morning what was light rain has become heavy and persistent, a constant drumming on the windows while I pass the time and eat lunch, and the whole time he stays in his room.

I often hear the low level rumbling sound of communication, stopping and starting with the rhythm of conversation which occasionally grows pointed and sharp. I assume it's work related and leave him undisturbed, though I have no idea what he does.

I'm lonely again.

 

****

We're young, early twenties, Rob's hair is shorter and fluffy as we're sitting opposite each other on the subway. It's busy, there's no seats together, and so we're looking at each other across the gap.

Rob smiles a goofy smile and widens his eyes at me behind his glasses.
I do the same back.
But then after a moment's thought I poke my tongue out, just a little.

I know he's caught on when he glances around before copying me, the smile, the eyes, the tongue, but raises the stakes by adding a peace sign. There's evident mirth in his eyes as he dares me.

I'm not backing down.

I do everything, but when I raise my fingers in a peace sign, I suggestively tongue the space where they meet as I lock eyes with him.

He rolls his eyes, glancing quickly around us and shifts in his seat as he gazes at me intently and bites his lip. I raise my eyebrows and smirk triumphantly. I think that actually turned him on.

Glancing around the car to see if anyone has noticed what we're up to, he does the same to me. However, his eyes drift from mine just as he's really getting into it and he freezes. Someone is watching him and with an embarrassed grimace he pulls his hoodie up over his head and squashes himself down into his seat.

I make things worse by pretending I don't know him.
We both know I've won.

 

The unexpected sound of the old upright piano in the dining room can be heard throughout the apartment. It takes a few seconds initially for me to realise what it is, I can't remember having heard it before but I know that it's there, stood against the wall. I'd thought of it more as an attractive piece of furniture with it's solid wooden charm.
As far as I can remember the dining room is almost never used, except for entertaining guests, special occasions and collecting clutter, including a mass of books and vinyl, piled into shelves on the end wall and stacked into piles. But I know I can't trust my memory now.

It's faltering, the notes in short snatched sequences and longer phrases which are lovely but always stumble to a halt in the same place. He can obviously play, and well. I assume he's working something out.
My mood lifts at the thought of his company.

Rounding the door and wandering into the room I see him, sitting on the stool with a straight back, pausing for a few seconds ahead of each time he plays, only to stop again, and pause.

So he's a musician.
An image comes to mind of two keyboards I'd seen, stood on end amidst the clutter of his room, almost obscured from view.
I hadn't consciously registered them at the time.

"So you can play, that's really cool.
I'd love to hear you."

But the straight back and shoulders are held, rigid, and the wait for his answer feels just a little too long. He pulls his head to the side, rubs at his face and I know I've made a mistake. My sometimes muddled thinking has let me down again.

"I really can't, and it's not "cool."
You know what, maybe you'd be better off just leaving me alone right now."

That stings. I only wanted to spend time with him.

"Well you know what? Maybe I'm sick to death of being alone."

Right now he's all I've got, this is who I'm relying on, and it's no wonder I never know where I am. Gripping the back of a dining chair I can feel the hurt and frustration build until it flows out of me.

"Why haven't I heard from my friends, Rob?"
Are they your friends too?
Are you stopping them from seeing me?
WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?"

His words when they come are somehow thick, and forced, pushed out of him with his back still stiff as he faces away from me.

"It's not that simple, you don't understand…."

Maybe I don't, there's a lot I don't understand anymore.

But I understand what it means when his breathing changes and the way he's gone totally still, other than the rise and fall of his shoulders, but I'm still far too stupid or stubborn to stop myself.

"I have a right to know, if you're hiding anything you should tell me…"

"I wish I had as much control over things as you give me credit for."

He's angry, I can hear it, but I'm determined to have my say.

"But what does that even mean? You haven't told me anything.
I'm so tired of never knowing what the fuck is going on. This is my life, Rob, do you ever think about that?"

 

Turning on the stool his eyes catch mine and I tighten my hold on the chair, glad now that the table lies between us as my breath catches and my stomach flips.
Anger, frustration and a bitter resentment burn there that I haven't seen, or heard before in the tone of his voice as he spits out the words,

"Just leave it, okay? Fuck you, Ell, FUCK YOU.
I'm doing my fucking BEST here, and you have NO IDEA what I'm dealing with, NONE!"

Hurt overrides fear, and my hurt has made me angry. I won't back down.

"Okay.. Okay fine. If that's really how you feel, if it's so fucking awful living here with me then why stay, Rob?"

He throws his hands out, palms up, open and questioning,

"Do you know what? I DON'T KNOW…. I…."

Then, more quietly, as he wraps his arms around himself and bows his head,

"I don't know Ell. I think it's time I left."

He sounds desolate, defeated, and regret hits me immediately. I need to take it back, make it okay and keep him here with me. The very last thing I wanted was to drive him away.

Letting go of the chair I begin to walk towards him as he drops his shoulders and tries to play the refrain again, and then again, but he can't do it, stumbling to a stop each time at the same point as before.

I've almost reached him when a raw, wordless cry of hollow rage tears from him, shocking me and stopping me in my tracks as the stool flies across the floor towards me. It almost hits me as I jump backwards fast to avoid it and look up to watch, my hands to my face as he sweeps everything from the top of the piano violently to travel various distances across the room to the floor.

I can feel myself shaking.

Then he stands, with his elbows on top of the piano and his head down, his hands linked behind his neck. From his breathing I can see him battling with his emotions, and my stomach drops as I realise his shoulders are jerking because he's crying..
I'm already making my way back towards him as he pushes away from the piano and tries to pick the stool up but drops it immediately,

"Fuck… Shit .."

He's cradling his hand, obviously hurt, and kicks it hard instead.
I don't know if or where or how to touch him..

"Rob, it's okay, please, let me… "

But it's as if I'm not even here.

With a large gasp that's also a sob, he blunders out of the room.

 

***

I'm in the dark room, Rob is here, backlit by the glow from the room outside coming through the partly open door. Staggering backwards he shies away, turns and leaves, colliding with the door frame as he goes.

 

I pick up the stool, and right it, back in its place.
The various papers and objects that are strewn across the floor I leave where they've fallen, and follow him.

 

Unsure of what I'm about to find or what I'm up against I cautiously enter the hallway, listening carefully for signs of where he is but I find him immediately, sitting against the wall on the floor, staring straight ahead and hugging his knees.
He doesn't look up.

Sliding slowly down the wall and hoping I won't be dizzy, I land beside him.

He doesn't speak and so neither do I.
We sit for a minute while I gaze mostly ahead, but when I do slide my eyes left to him I get such a wrench in my chest, the feelings clamouring for my acknowledgement and with the need for me to do something, anything to reach out to him.

I can only see his mouth, pulled into a strict line, his hair's falling forward so I can't see his eyes, but tears are on his face.

When he speaks his voice is tight with emotion.

"You're a writer, you need to write, and music… music is part of me.
This is me, this is who I am.
And I… I need to, but…"

He wipes his face quickly and begins rubbing his hand in the habitual way that he does,

"I can't.. "

I can hear in his voice how hard he's battling with himself, and my heart drops into my stomach as he takes me with him.

"It's this, and it's everything else…
It's everything else and this."

 

It's too much, he has too much on him and I see it now, I really see it. How important his hand really is, how it's even more important than I'd first realised and how much pressure he's under from both inside and outside himself to be okay and hold everything together in spite of everything that's happened.

Rising to kneel beside him, facing him I ask, warily,

"Can I hug you…? I really, really want to hug you."

He doesn't move, in fact if anything I notice him tense up even more.

"Whatever it is you're fighting with, Rob, can't you just stop? Just stop fighting and let me in? All I want is to help… please.."

His brows pull upwards and his head rolls against the wall as he turns away from me, biting his lip, his eyes closed.

He's exhausted and hurt and struggling. He needs me even if he thinks he doesn't and my heart feels as if it's being wrung out inside my chest.

Tentatively my fingers reach for his hand and in them is my whole being.

He pulls away.
He may need me but he doesn't want me.

"So it's just me then. It's just me that's not allowed to touch you."

He looks awkward, and it hurts.

"No, d'you know what? Don't worry about it."

There's nothing I can do for him and the helplessness and rejection are more than I can deal with. I'm leaving, pushing myself upright, being careful to not make myself dizzy when I hear him say my name and he's already beside me, pushing himself against me.

Taking hold of my wrists he pins me hard against the wall, the firmness of his thigh pressed between my legs, and before I can process what's happening his mouth is on mine, kissing me urgently and almost violently. As I gasp in surprise his tongue is inside me and there's an instant pull in response between my legs. I make a low sound in my throat and my body surrenders to him as he explores my mouth deeply, passionately and unchallenged. I'm almost afraid to breathe for fear that he might stop as I become pliant and willing, pushing my body out towards him.
All thoughts leave my mind other than how much I want him as I move myself against his thigh and kiss him in return, searching him, so hot for him, wanting so badly to get my hands on him if only he'd let them go, as I twist my wrists in his grip....

And then he does, suddenly letting go with a gasp, pulling away, and I'm without him.

His eyes are almost unrecognisable, dark, fathomless, wild and unfocused. I can see how hard he's shaking as he holds one hand in the other.

His mouth remains partly open, closing slightly to the rhythm of his panting breath, as he passes the back of his hand over it and visibly shudders as he reigns himself in.

"Fuck… FUCK... I'm so…
JESUS, fuck."

 

Stumbling back away from me with his hand still over his mouth he shakes his head, his eyes full of horror.

 

I'm weak and breathless, trembling slightly as my heart beats so hard in my chest I can hear it, and I reach out to him,

"It's okay, Rob, please, it's okay...."

He stands apart from me for a few breaths, not seeming to know what to do with his body or his hands. His eyes flick repeatedly to mine but he can't look at me.

Turning, he covers his mouth with his hand and flees down the hallway.

 

I'm left so dizzy that the world's spinning and as I slide back down the wall I hear the apartment door slam.

 

Holy shit.

 

****

Friday January 13

I've been looking at this page for ten whole minutes and still don't know what to write.

Tempers frayed this afternoon and things were said.
I think he's going to leave soon.

I pushed him and he snapped but I think it would have happened anyway, it seems like there's more going on for him than he can bear.
Maybe leaving would be better for him, I don't know. But it goes against my instincts. I feel like he needs me, actually. Maybe even more than I need him.

He kissed me today and it was so hot I can't even begin to describe it..
But I'm also aware that for a while there, he was out of control, truly out of control. I should have been afraid, but if I'm honest I was turned on in a way that I can't remember ever having been before ...

It's Rob that was scared by it.
He left and he's still gone.
It's raining hard out there, I hope he's somewhere warm and dry.

It's as if there's two of him.
Two wolves inside him, like the story, one good, one… well.
And he's fighting with himself.

 

***

Having made myself a meal and left a share for Rob I set the fire in the living room, as an antidote to the cold grey evening and the relentless sound of rain on glass.
He's still out there, somewhere.

My mind won't let me concentrate on reading, or watching tv, so I settle for sitting in front of the fire with a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and a glass of it in my hand as I watch the flames, and wait for him.

It's so easy to get lost, staring into flames. After an hour that feels like half that time it's getting dark. Other than the fire, the room's lit only by a single lamp and I lay on the floor instead, watching the changing patterns of the firelight on the ceiling and letting my mind wander.

 

***

Laying beside him, face to face in the night, I can see his eyes shining in the darkness. They're framed by his expressive brows and his hair that's only just beginning to grow out as I trace the line of his jaw through the long stubble on his face.

"I love you,"

I whisper.
And I really do. My love for him feels like a body of water that fills me until I can't hold any more, until it's overflowing.
I'm afraid that I might drown in it.
He takes my hand in his to kiss my fingertips and whispers his reply.

"I love you too."

 

A tear slips from my eye and travels to the side of my face.

 

When I hear the familiar sound of the apartment door and the hallway light turns on, a strange mixture of excitement and relief runs through my body to know that he's home.

Home.
I don't think it feels like home to him anymore.

Rolling onto my stomach before rising very carefully, I've reached a sitting position before I call his name.

Within a minute he's there in the doorway, his long slender silhouette almost as tall as the top with a hand on each side of the frame.

"Ell?"

He sounds concerned so I keep my voice light.

"Hey, I made food, there's some in the kitchen for you."

"Oh… Oh okay, thanks.. Thank you, that's really kind of you."

His voice is soft, a little surprised and he disappears from view.
I'm glad I've only sipped the whiskey when it's almost another half hour before he returns, padding into the room in sweatpants, socks and the soft grey hoodie.

I can see he's rubbed his hair with a towel, but it's still wet from the rain, falling in stray tendrils over his face. He must have been soaked. I don't ask where he's been, I know he won't answer.

He comes to sit on the very edge of the chair, chewing on his bottom lip and clearly apprehensive.

"Tell me to go and I will, first thing in the morning. I understand if you just want me gone and I'll stay away from you until then, I promise.
I don't know what the fuck happened…
No that's not true, I do.. but..
I'm sorry Ell.
I'm really sorry and there's no excuse.
I just… I just really …
I can't..
I'm sorry."

His eyes are downcast as he resumes the assault on his lips but they flit up repeatedly to me without actually meeting mine at all.
His knee is bouncing so rapidly it's shaking.

Pouring myself another whiskey I raise the bottle to him.

"Why don't you get yourself a glass, Rob, then come and get warm. You must be so cold from the rain."

For a few seconds he just sits there, blinking at me in confusion, before leaving to do just that.

On his return he sinks to the floor close by, folding his legs one under and one against himself with his back to the sofa and holds out the glass. When I've poured him a large measure his eyes meet mine with softness, sorrow and gratitude.

"Thanks, Ellie… Thank you."

He called me Ellie.
He calls me Ellie in his dream.

For a while he joins me in the quiet contemplation of the fire and occasionally I watch the light from it playing on his face.
I can't seem to look at him without that feeling in my chest.

I drop my eyes quickly before looking up again when he begins speaking to me,

"You know I have to point out that you shouldn't be drinking."

He turns and cocks one eyebrow, peering over the top of his glass.
I smile triumphantly,

"Then I'm gonna point out that I'm not the only one taking meds."

He side-eyes me as the corners of his mouth twitch upwards and he raises his glass to me.

"Touché"

As he takes another mouthful a sweep of rain against the window sounds louder than the rest and his eyes swing up towards it.

"I'm glad I'm here.."

Thinking about what he said before, I answer,

"I'm glad you're here too. You did nothing wrong, Rob, I wanted it. You don't have to go, there's no hurry."

But although his brows furrow and he's chewing his lip again, he doesn't answer, choosing instead to gaze back into the fire.

Only hours ago his tongue was in my mouth and I was pressing myself onto his thigh, desperate for him.
I can still see the look that he had in his eyes, wild, dangerous and a little unhinged, and I feel a dark satisfaction in a way, to have had that part of him, however briefly.

It's a very different Rob that's with me now.

 

The silence is in danger of becoming oppressive, so I break it.

"We could play a game of something,
like, I don't know, scrabble, or..."

"Thumb wars."
A wry smile,
"No, maybe not that,
Arm wrestling..
Orrr… or maybe not that either."

I'm smiling back at him in the same way, happy to see him more relaxed.

"How about a jigsaw puzzle?.. I know there's one …"

"Fucking…Kill me now."
He's rolling his eyes.
"A jigsaw puzzle? You wanna do a jigsaw puzzle?"

"Okay, cleverdick, you think of something. Go on."

He laughs,

"Thinking of something.. okay so entertaining game ideas, I mean…
No. I can't. They don't exist."

I can tell the whiskey is taking effect, he's letting his guard down and he's at least talked about his hand, joked even, like it's no longer an off limits subject…
I top him up again.

In the end we argue over which music to listen to, and talk. I'm surprised and relieved to find out that once he gets going he's a talker, and I really mean a stream of seemingly unfiltered consciousness falling unedited out of his face kind of a talker. We talk about life and media in particular, and he talks with a huge amount of passion and insight.. and movement.

He's never still, gesturing in the air around him to communicate with his hands, beautifully and eloquently, like silent poetry and he's so expressive in both his face and body language that I can't take my eyes from him.

There's a fair amount of silliness coming to the fore too, with mischievous eyes pushing back the sadness for a while.
He's absolutely delightful, filling my heart and making me laugh at the same time in a haphazard and slightly inebriated way.

So this is Rob without any cares, without whatever's hurting him. Maybe he's not as unfiltered or as unedited as he seems, though, because he doesn't talk about himself, or his feelings, and not about us.
It feels almost cruel but I need to at least try, because it's been eating away at me..
After a pause I say quietly,

"I think my friends hate me…"

He shakes his head widely, a little wobbly, and looks at me with huge sincere eyes and slurs ever so slightly,

"No, no don't think that, maybe they're just trying to protect you,"

He looks away and blinks, really slowly. He's hammered.

"Protect me from what, Rob?"

He swings his head back and from the way he screws his face up I can tell it was too fast.

"From whatever it is you don't want to remember.."

Nice. Nicely avoided.
Apparently being drunk doesn't cancel out his intelligence.

I don't want him to be ill. When he goes for another, I stop him.

"I think you've had enough."

He flashes me a stern look, which is still completely different to the look he gets in his eyes when he feels threatened, and it melts into a lopsided smile straight away.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

He leans back and rubs his eyes,

"Uhh, fuck, you're definitely right. I'm gonna trust you on this one."

"You can trust me with anything, you do know that?"

But when he opens his eyes and they look into mine there's no smile anymore. He's deathly serious.

"I really can't."

"But I…"

"I can't trust you and you can't trust me."

That stops me. For just long enough to take that in and put it to one side, for now.

I hold his gaze, try to show him how much I mean what I'm about to say.

"I don't know what happened in the past between us, but I've seen enough to know you're carrying way too much now, and there's so much in your head. I see it, and I see you. There's a wall around you and I know it's hurting you to hold everything in there.
Please let me help.
Whatever it is, I'm strong, believe me I can take it."

His eyes fill suddenly, unexpectedly, as he laughs an empty, hollow laugh.

"You may think you can, now, but I'm telling you.. you really, truly can't.
You don't want it, you don't want any of it."

His eyes are full of tears, but I keep pushing. I have to, I could be almost there..

"Try me.. just talk to me, please."

"No, Ell. I can't do this."

He wipes his eyes and pushes himself up to leave.
Or at least tries to, and falls back down..

 

"Oh.. shit.
Hold on…"

He manages to pull himself upright using the chair, but I can see he's struggling, swaying slightly where he stands.

"I… I can't…"

He's surprised, caught off guard by how difficult it is, and laughs quietly to himself, his sadness from before already forgotten.

"Okay," I say, "wait there."

I check the fire and turn off the light before standing beside him.

"Come on, lean on me.
My turn."

He points a finger at me and jabs it back and forth,

"Ha ha haaaa. Funny."

Seems the alcohol hadn't reached it's full effect.
With his left arm around my shoulders I hold his wrist and wrap my right arm around his waist. He's tall, but he's not too heavy, and like that we make the journey slightly haphazardly to his room, bumping into the walls of the hallway as he stumbles but doesn't fall.

On the way he's telling me, earnestly,

"You know, it's okay… you can't trust me either.
Don't trust me, Ellie… don't."

Finally we're at the door to his room, and I help him inside and ask him.

"Can I sleep here with you again tonight?"

I'd decided on asking much earlier.
I guess he doesn't know why, not that it would make much difference to him now.
He looks at me in confusion.

"Okay… I guess…"

Lowering him onto his bed I leave to use the bathroom, and when I return he's curled on his side, facing into the centre of the mattress. His hair is almost dry now, a blonde halo around him.
At first I think he's asleep but when I turn off the light and climb in beside him I see his eyes flicker open, dark in the half light from the street, and gaze up at me. Smiling gently I ask him,

"Why shouldn't I trust you, Rob?"

I'm not really expecting an answer, he'll be too guarded. But he's more out of it than I thought,
and so he tells me, mumbling sleepily as he closes his eyes.

"I'm a bomb, Ell.
I exploded.
I blew it…. all…. to pieces."

 

Then he's asleep, peaceful and serene, as a cold feeling creeps up my spine.
It's all I can think about as I lie in his bed, waiting for sleep to come.
That and wondering if he'll still have the nightmare, while he's this drunk.

 

The answer's yes, I find out an hour or two later.. and it's worse. This time when he calls my name and I answer him, he reaches out for me blindly and grabs my arm with his good hand so tightly, hyperventilating so wildly I can only imagine..

I hush him, trying to calm him while he's still sleeping, whispering close to his ear,

"Ssshhh … It's okay sweetheart, it's all okay, you're okay..."

It takes a while, and he moves closer to press his forehead against my shoulder, clutching my arm against himself. The emotions rush up so fast that they sting my eyes as I'm finally able to turn and run my fingers through his hair over and over again to comfort and hush him.

"You're okay… You're okay.."

 

He can't be a bomb, not this Rob.
But I know he has two wolves inside him, and I've seen the other Rob explode.

 

.

Chapter 7: and you never could

Opening my eyes on a new day, several things go through my head almost simultaneously, in spite of my thinking being a little fuzzy round the edges.
I'm still in my clothes from yesterday and jumper dresses aren't great for sleeping in for starters, I'm hot and uncomfortable, I need a shower and a coffee.
It's only two weeks after my accident, and here I am, waking with Rob beside me, in his bed.
It feels more like two months, trapped together in this apartment with nothing else to think about and although time has moved so slowly, everything's been intense. He's intense, it must be exhausting to be him.

Even with everything considered though, I would never have imagined when I first saw him as a stranger in the hospital that within two weeks I'd be here…
In spite of everything, the connection we have must be strong.

Raising myself on one arm I turn to see him properly.
He's a big guy and he takes up a lot of space but there's a sweetness about him, curled up on his side and fast asleep with his hands tucked under his chin.
He's still in the defensive position he'd taken after pressing himself against me while he was dreaming. He must have slept deeply afterwards, to not have moved at all.
Probably all the alcohol. He's going to feel it today.

Sitting up I stretch and close my eyes, just for a few more seconds of peace, staring at the darkness inside of my eyelids.

***

I'm in a bedroom, there are white sheets, I don't know where but it's very warm.
It's morning, thick golden light fills the room, spilling through the thin white fabric blinds like honey. I'm in panties and a white tank top, my tanned legs astride him with my palms flat on his chest, pushing him down as my fingers dig between his ribs.

We're being silly, goofing around.
His skin is warm as he twists beneath me, his arms drawn in close to himself with his open hands held up to me in defence and surrender and he laughs, high and bright and I lean forward over him, grinning aggressively.
I'm winning.
His hair is fairer, sun bleached around his face and longer even than it is now.

He looks at me and his lips move as he begins to speak but then I flex my fingers and he's lost it again, giggling helplessly in a higher pitch that lifts my heart.

When he's calm again and looks up at me with large eyes, bright with happiness and his smile like sunshine, I'm lost in him.
He's so beautiful..

I'm caught completely by surprise when without warning he flips me over and then he's astride me, pushing his hair back and grinning, mischievous and triumphant. There's a glint in his eyes as he flashes them at me and bites his lip.

"Ohh now you're in trouble. Now you're in fucking trouble.."

But he holds my hands above my head and kisses me lazily and deeply, sighing across my lips before pulling back to gaze at me with the hint of a smile.
His eyes are hazy with contentment and soft with love as the sunlight turns them blue green like the ocean.

 

I open my own with a quiet gasp.

Seeing him curled beside me in his hoodie in the soft cool light of his room I'm smiling but my eyes are full.
The bittersweet of it is almost suffocating, overwhelming.
Is it possible that I'm actually jealous of past me?
I could never be that close to him. I'm barely able to touch him, unless he's fast asleep.

I've never even seen him like that.

But I have.
I have really,

And I know these must be his memories too.

I watch him as he sleeps, lifting his hair back from his face, letting the softness of it run through my fingers. How must it feel for him to have shared these memories only to be forgotten by me.
He's so beautiful, just looking at him makes me feel things I know I shouldn't, and I ache for us both because I've already felt the gentle love there was between us. I know we really had something, once.

But there was nothing gentle about the way he kissed me yesterday. Urgent, demanding, driven by his darkness. He was a different person.

Tongues of arousal lick like small flames inside me at the thought of his body pressed against me, his mouth on mine. It was fire, the feeling of danger, of being a little out of control. He was almost certainly out of control and maybe I should have been a little more afraid of him, but he was so hot it was incredible, and the thought of it makes me crave more.

Seems he's craving something too. He may not want me, but there's something he wants from me.
Will he guard himself more closely now? Hopefully there's still a chance it'll happen again.

 

I'm staring out almost vacantly across his room while I'm thinking, but when I focus my vision it's on a stack of papers and letters lying amongst the clutter on his desk.
And then on one letter in particular.
I recognize the heading, visible as it's sticking out from the pile.
It's from the hospital.

Glancing quickly at Rob to check he's still asleep and not disturbing, I make my way quietly to the desk and begin to slip it carefully from the pile.

I know I'm tuned into him, but I find out how much so when I realise he's coming round just from the change in the rhythm of his breathing behind me.

Quickly I pull the paper free, fold it twice then once again and slide it into my bra as my heart rate picks up speed at the thought that he might see me and know what I've done.

I'm almost afraid to turn around, imagining him already watching me, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

Seems I am a little afraid of him, after all.

"Rob?"

I'm answered with a hoarse groan and turn to find him pushing himself onto his hands and knees, only to lay his head back on the mattress with his arms over his head.

"Fuck."

"You okay?"

"Dying.

I'm dying. Do something."

Walking over to stand by the bed I stroke my hand up and down his back over his hoodie. Fuck it, he's going to have to deal with physical contact, it's not as if he can do anything about it right now. It's time we moved past this no touching shit that only goes one way.

"You feel sick? You need a bowl or something?"

His answer is a quietly dramatic whine.

"Just kill me….

Uwh my head …."

 

Getting the water and tablets is easy. It's not so easy getting them into Robert when he doesn't want to raise his head from the mattress but I try to show him the patience and kindness he showed me and we get there in the end. Then he lays back down straight away, eyes closed, brows drawn and pained. I even sit beside him for a while, stroking his hair back from his brow until he relaxes enough to fall asleep again and he doesn't even try to argue.

***

Back in my room with a coffee I bathe and change my clothes, but not before locking the bathroom door to sit fully clothed on the toilet seat and take a proper look at the letter from the hospital.

It's a discharge letter, and it's not for me.

It's Rob's, for his hand, dated January 1st.
I skim through the information.

Right hand impact trauma.

There's details of immediate action, mostly scans and x-rays,

Pain medication to be managed appropriately.
Next steps to recovery - hand therapy, to be arranged by the patient.
Prognosis - possible long term effects - full use may not be regained.
Numbers to call for a hand therapist.

I read it twice.

Impact trauma, from the same time as my accident.
To my knowledge there's been no hand therapy.

May not be regained…

 

What the hell happened to him, or maybe, what did he do?
He said he blew it all to pieces.
It's from the same time as my accident.
How does that fit with what happened to me?
I've been so focused on him, on what's happening with him and our history, that I've given little thought to the real question, the one I should be asking..
How did I get like this?
What happened to me?
With everything I'm apparently blocking out, maybe it's no surprise that I've been using him as a distraction.

Still, once I'm ready, I pick up my phone and make some calls.

 

Saturday January 14

I know it's there inside him, and it's not gone away, the dark part of him, the monster, the bad wolf. He's trying so hard to keep it under control, I'd be a fool to provoke it...
But people sometimes do foolish things, don't they?

Like letting their feelings get the better of them when they know that they shouldn't, for instance.

I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt him, or make his life harder, but maybe what he really needs is to stop fighting and let the bad wolf out. Stop suppressing it and let whatever he's afraid of happen.
The thought of it both scares and excites me, but in the meantime I'm going to bide my time, listen to my instincts, and watch him.

***

Although it's only been two weeks I'm bored, hemmed in by the confines of this apartment, this capsule where time means nothing and life has lost its purpose and it's driving me crazy.

My mind is a mixture of super focus, where I'm distracted by minutiae for periods of time and everything else ceases to exist, and often only a vague grasp on most things that are important.
My short journal entries are as far as my abilities with writing go and the thought of writing anything on a professional level is almost incomprehensible.

But then I remember that I'm lucky.
That's what the neurologist said, and I must remember to bear that in mind. Two weeks in from a serious accident with a concussion, the headaches are under control now, I'm not so dizzy and it could have been so much worse. I should be grateful to be here at all.

I'm sitting watching the world go by through the living room windows again. As people trail up and down the street below, a small grey cat in a window opposite watches the birds in the tree until it turns its amber eyes to look at me...

There's only shit on tv and besides, I've had enough of tv, I don't want to write and I don't want to read.
I've already checked on the patient and made him drink more water, unappreciated as that was.
He's become my focus for now.
He's a little better but he's sleeping and he doesn't want to eat, so I ate alone.

Looking isn't enough. The sharp brightness of the early afternoon sun seems blunted by the glass and the freshness of the air outside is dead and stale here. Sounds are muffled.

Pulling boots over my jeans and a coat over my long sweater I grab my hat and the keys before slipping out of the apartment.

***

By the time I'm sitting on our park bench from the last visit I'm more than happy to rest. I'm fine, it's just amazing how tiring simple things can still be, after my injury.
It's worth it though, just to get away from the apartment, and even though he's come to mean so much to me, it's nice to have a break from Rob as well.

In two weeks I've hardly spent any time without him.
I know, on the occasions that he left the apartment I felt uneasy at his absence, but somehow knowing where he is right now and that other than the hangover from hell he's fine makes this okay. More than okay, I feel free.

Tilting my head back to the sky I feel the sunshine on my face and if I shield my eyes I can watch birds and airplanes overhead. The airplanes make tracks across the sky, their altitude causing them to appear slow and clumsy, but the birds fly tracks free, fleet and fast as they zip from tree to tree and up and away over roofs and chimneys.

Having rested for a while, I follow my feet to walk aimlessly along the pathways, hoping to see squirrels but it seems it's the wrong time of year or maybe I'm just unlucky, as my search is fruitless.
Still, I enjoy the search, it's something to focus on until I find another bench where I can sit.

Parents are out with their children, getting fresh air and allowing them to run around and let off steam.

I wonder why Rob and I don't have children.
I can't remember ever feeling an urge, or a yearning, or whatever.
I wonder if Rob wanted them?
Maybe we never had the choice, it's not something to be taken for granted.

Rob should be here.
Though the break from him is a good thing and I'm loving the feeling of independence right now, between looking after me, the pressures that he's under and having the press after him for whatever reason, I think he's a prisoner in that building as much as I am. No wonder he's wound so tightly.

People walk and talk around me, and dogs run on the grass where in some places the first green shoots indicate the areas where purple crocuses will be flowering in a few weeks.
I close my eyes.

****

I'm walking with Max along a footpath lined with spring flowers, close to the college near my home. Late purple crocuses clothe the feet of golden daffodils in the green swathe of grass that lines the way.

It's early evening, the sun's not yet set but it's glowing low in the sky.
Max, off leash, runs ahead just out of sight but that's not unusual, Jack Russells are smart and his recall is very good.
As I round the corner I see him, his tail's wagging furiously and he's found some company there.

A skinny lanky guy in a striped green hoodie and jeans is crouched down on the path, one arm around his knees and one reaching out in order to stroke Max as he runs around in circles.

He's in his late teens or early twenties, with a kind of pointy face that's all sharp angles under a mop of unruly dirty blonde hair.
I smile inside. It's Rob.

When he looks up and sees me approaching he swaps his attention to me immediately, standing awkwardly and putting one hand in his hoodie pocket.
I'm amazed at once by how tall he is, and notice his blue eyes and the way his face softens and is warmed by his broad and open smile before he scratches in his hair and looks back to Max shyly.

"Max."

I call him to heel. He ignores me completely but Rob's blue eyes look back into mine as Max continues to sniff around his feet and I apologize.

"I'm sorry.."

His smile lights his face though his eyes fall away before they return to mine again. He is shy, and his eyes are so pretty.

"No, honestly, it's fine, Max is doing his thing, I like dogs."

His voice is still boyish, and sharper in places. It's like it softened, rounded and mellowed as he grew into it like everything else about him has. He looks down again and as he does, Max really excels himself by lifting his leg and pissing over Rob's jeans and sneakers…

 

Opening my eyes it's impossible not to sit grinning to myself and even chuckle a little.
Well I'll be…
Of course Rob knew Max. Of course.

He was so young, and shy…
we were both so young..

***

I'm still smiling to myself as I open the apartment door and slip back inside, laying my keys on the table in the hallway and taking off my hat, coat and boots.

Rob comes straight out of the kitchen in the hoodie and sweatpants from yesterday, his hair hanging in limp and greasy looking waves. He's angry.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

He's belligerent, he's too close and I can feel my smile and my happiness die as I step back away from him, already defensive.

"Out. I was bored and lonely so I went out. What the hell's wrong with you? Talk about a bear with a sore head…"

It was so nice in the park and the memory of him as that shy, sweet boy was lovely. A beautiful precious gift from the past.
The contrast is like a slap in the face and I don't want to deal with him like this.

I try to walk around him but he leans his hand against the wall and blocks me. It feels like he's filling the hallway and the atmosphere is rapidly becoming more charged.

"You can't just leave the apartment without telling me first! And where was your phone?"

Feeling like a child about to be punished, my eyes slide to my little phone, still lying on the table where I left it. He must follow my gaze.

"Yeah. I rang it.
If you'd had a seizure, or something happened, how would I know? My number's in there for emergencies."

He's angry, I get it. Maybe I should be more cautious but instead I'm angry too now. Who the hell does he think he is?

"Will you please stop fixating on seizures? I'm not going to have a fucking seizure, I mean, what the fuck? You are NOT in charge of me!"

I push my way past him into the kitchen. It feels more open and light here. I can breathe again, but he's close behind me, worked up enough at this point to begin pacing, pushing his hair back as he stalks up and down the room, over and over again. I don't know if it helps him or if he's making himself worse but I can hear him breathing harshly.

He's shredding my nerves, and my growing apprehension makes it harder to concentrate on what I'm saying, but I try to talk him through it.

"Please, Rob, try to calm down. Why d'you have a problem with where I go? If you're not going to be around for long then what d'you think I'm gonna do? It shouldn't matter this much to you."

I've reached a position where I have a clear exit from the kitchen, which is good because I'm backing up as I watch him carefully, learning how to read him as his pacing is slowing, but becoming more erratic. I think he may be approaching a flashpoint, I can see it building right in front of me, and if my rising adrenaline is anything like his I need to be ready.

He's hugging himself, the fingertips of his other hand slamming into his chest where his heart is as he speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

"You don't understand, I almost... I almost lost you, and now I KNOW…I know how that feels…"

How can he sound so angry and so fragile at the same time?

"You really scared me, Ell, and it's fucking horrible.. being that helpless is fucking horrible and.. and it's what I... fuck, I can't even.."

He breaks off, breathing more heavily, his hands balled into fists. I don't think it's all anger but whatever it is it's still building, and I can see it in him now, the monster, the bad wolf. He's trying to hold it, he's really fighting it.

I suddenly realise this is serious, I need to get some distance from him.. now. While he's not looking I turn so I can move a few steps away, and my eyes only leave him for seconds..

"You…Fucking...."

His voice is a low bitter growl that chills my blood and as I hear him the hairs on my neck stand up, sensing the rush of movement behind me before he grabs me by my arm, stopping me in my tracks and swinging me roughly around to face him..

"I'm trying to talk to you… I have FEELINGS you fucking bitch!"

His grip on my arm's like a vice as he pulls me sharply round to look at him, dragging me close to his face. There's pain behind the dark malevolence in his eyes as they bore into mine but his voice is suddenly quietly menacing and fear trickles through me..

"But you.. can't.. handle them.

And you never could."

 

I'm frozen, frightened and trembling, but I'm still furious with myself when I crumble into tears and start to cry.

With a shocked gasp he begins to look like my Rob, yes I said my
Rob again as he realises what he's done.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck I'm sorry, Ellie, I'm sorry."

He's trying to pull me into his arms but I don't want that. I won't let him do that now because that's not fair, it's not fair and I'm fighting him...

***

Crying in the ambulance, my whole body shaking, I'm fighting the paramedic as he tries to keep me calm.

I try to shake him off as for a moment, memory and reality collide

"Let. Me. Go.
NOW!"

As soon as the pressure on my arm is gone I'm out of there, in flight down the hallway to my room and with trembling fingers I somehow manage to lock the door.

 

3.20 pm Saturday

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck what am I even doing?
I don't think I can handle this, I thought I was strong enough but I don't know if I am.

He really really scared me.

I thought I could handle him, deal with whatever it is that's just beneath his surface, but maybe he's right, he said I couldn't, he said I wouldn't want it.

I'm broken and damaged, there's something in my head just below the surface, but it's explainable and I know that it'll disappear in time. It doesn't scare me.

He's broken and damaged too, but I don't understand what's in his head. It really frightens me sometimes and makes me afraid for both of us.

4.00pm Saturday

I've been thinking about what happened, and what he was saying.
He didn't hurt me.
He was angry that I left without telling him, and I was angry that he was..
But..
What he was really telling me was how much almost losing me frightened him, how helpless he felt and how it still affects him,

And I walked away.

All the time I've been telling him to let down his defences and talk to me and when he actually did, when he was raw and open and feeling.. I rejected him.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I can't take his feelings.
He said I never could.

***

It's early evening when there's a sound at my door and a piece of paper slips underneath it.
Pulling myself from the bed where I've been laying I go to collect it and unfold the note.

 

Eliza.
I don't have the words to describe how sorry I am and I'm not going to attempt excuses.
I want you to know that I'm calm and you're safe to come out whenever you want to.
Please can we pretend it never happened and I'm making sure it never will again. I promise.

Yours,
Rob.

 

Leaving my room I head towards the light and music coming from the kitchen. I'm hungry and I need to eat, but when I get there all thoughts of food fly away, like birds.

Rob's sitting near the table hunched over with his arms resting on his knees, still unwashed in the grey hoodie and sweatpants from before.
He's listening to Radiohead again, True Love Waits is playing quietly.

As I walk into the room he raises his eyes to mine through hanging oily tresses and lets them drop again quickly, but not so quickly I don't notice how empty they look, how subdued he is.
His knee is bouncing.

Waving vacantly in the direction of the kitchen he indicates several boxes of groceries.

"I got some things delivered, you'll have everything you need.
It's time, Ell, I have to go now. It's not safe for me to stay."

His voice sounds quiet, flat and devoid of expression as his head drops and his hand begins stroking up and down the length of his opposite arm in a soothing motion.

"Of course you can always call to ask me anything, and I can come if you need me, just let me know.
But I'm leaving tomorrow."

Although there's a sad sinking feeling in my stomach, right now I'm wondering if maybe it's for the best, when I look at him and see what being here has done to him.

 

The shrill sound of his phone breaks through the atmosphere and he takes it slowly from his pocket as he stands, his sad eyes darting once more back to mine and he leaves while he's answering it, not allowing me to hear the conversation.

I'm alone.

So this is how it's going to be from now on. I begin to put the groceries away and make myself something to eat.

***

It's dark, peaceful. The sky's full of stars. His chin is resting on my head as he stands behind me and I feel his fingertips glide softly down the outside of my arms. I shiver, and he opens his coat to wrap it around me before kissing the top of my head.

Turning around within his arms and the coat, I tuck mine around his waist and press myself against the warmth of his body…

 

I'm broken from my thoughts by Rob as he faces whatever's in his nightmare alone again. Guilt curls within me for not being with him though I know my hands are tied. All I can do is listen, there's nothing I can do to help him anymore.

 

Twice.
He calls my name twice. I've always managed to stop him before the second time, but when I'm not with him the second time's the worst, always, and it tears at my heart.

The sound of his door bursting open jolts me from my thoughts and I hear heavy footsteps moving quickly down the hallway.
After a minute or two there's no music though, no Radiohead.

There's only darkness outside my door as I walk quickly down the hallway on bare and silent feet, my fingers tracing their way along the walls to help guide me. Why no lights?
Did he walk this in his sleep, or else what was he thinking? Was he even thinking?
Thoughts on the state of his mind since the afternoon go through mine as I approach the doorway.

The living room is in darkness except for the streetlight again. This time he's not anywhere to be seen but my heart lurches as somewhere low down by the wall in the shadows I can hear him sobbing uncontrollably.

"Rob?"

His breath catches in his throat at the realisation that I'm here.

"Don't… just don't… come in here… Leave me… alone, Eliza."

The anguish in his voice is turning me inside out.. he's speaking through the hiccuping sobs of a person who's tried to stop but can't.

"I can't leave you like this… I can't turn my back on you when I know you're feeling this way…"

But the little sobbing laugh to himself I hear is bitter, and now his voice is too,

"…Oh you can, Ell, I know you can.

I KNOW you can.

So just do it."

His voice is quietly strained and then he's crying again and I hesitate, holding the door frame, my stomach in knots.

"Fuck it, Eliza, do it.
DO IT!"

He's still crying softly when I turn and walk away.

***

 

The morning passes too quickly.
It's time for him to go..

He's really leaving.
He's been pacing, not knowing what to do with himself whenever he's not getting his things together.

He's uncommunicative, head down and his eyes averted whenever I'm nearby, so I'm trying to keep those instances to a minimum in an attempt to make life easier for him as he does whatever he needs to do.

There's a growing atmosphere throughout the day. We eat lunch separately, both of us deliberately avoiding each other.

Eventually though, he has to speak to me, in the dining room where a few bags and boxes have accumulated on the large table and he's standing beside it, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Um.. I'm getting these into the car, then I'll be going. These will do for now and I'll take the other stuff later."

It's the first time I've been able to see him properly, and now I can't help but notice how tired he looks, how drained.

"Rob… I.."

He forces a smile, and breaks my heart.

"You'll be okay Ell, truly. You'll be fine."

Looking at the bags and things there's the feeling I'm missing something, I'm missing something really important, and then I remember.

Four weeks, all the things in "his" room, his piano, the keyboards, the mail addressed to here...

"Rob, you never moved out before, did you?
This is you, actually moving out, right now."

He looks at me with disconnected and empty eyes, and something inside me kicks into motion.

Do something. Do something now.

I take a couple of steps towards him.

"What if you don't go..
Because I really don't want you to.
How about we just wait and see what happens?
Can you just wait?"

He's looking at me now in bewilderment.
I take hold of his arm, he tenses but doesn't move.

"What for?"

"I don't know, I don't know, please, just wait? Just wait. Please.."

Taking his arm away and stepping back he shakes his head, his hair falling into eyes that look almost fearful.

"I'm sorry, I need to get away, I can't do this anymore, I..
We'll tear each other apart, Ell. We'll destroy each other."

He's going. He's going and I don't know how to stop him…

"I had a memory of you."

He stops and drops down onto a chair like a puppet with its strings cut,

"Really?"

and looks up at me with suddenly wide eyes while I pull out a chair to sit close by, and tell him what I remember about our encounter with Max.

When I've finished he laughs, a short, breathy outrush of feeling, his elbow resting on the table and his fingers in his hair. I can see he's emotional, in fact he's the one that seems a little giddy for a change, and there's a light back in his eyes.

"That was the first time we met.."

I'd thought that it might have been.

He tells me about it, fills in the details, that we were both twenty one, he was on his way to a gig and I gave him my number, saying I'd pay for cleaning or for a new pair of sneakers.

He didn't want new sneakers, but he did ask for a date.

"So Max introduced us.."

"He did, if it wasn't for him…."

He sighs, and the smallest smile haunts his face as his eyes grow soft and distant.

"I still miss him."

I nod and smile sadly, fighting tears.

"Me too.
I'm surprised you weren't angry about the jeans and sneakers, just before a show.."

Rob huffs.

"How could I be? Max was great…
…And you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen…."

His smile is lopsided and broken, and his eyes are so sad....
I reach out and lay my hand on his arm.

"Stay, Rob, please,
I don't want you to go.
You said we'll tear each other apart, but I'd never do that to you."

I don't ever want to hurt him, how can he not know that?
His knee's bouncing. Raising his eyebrows he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head and sighs, like there's no argument to be had.

"It's done Ell.
You don't understand. It already happened and the damage is done.
We're the survivors. There's no going back."

It feels so unfair that I'm being held accountable for something I can't even remember, though I guess that doesn't stop me being guilty for whatever part I played.
But I'm talking about now, and what happens next.

I cut him off.

"No.
I see you.
There may be no going back, and I don't even know what's there..
But I see you, now, and no way is it done."

There's a lot in his eyes. More than I understand but they're focused on mine now, they're guarded but he's listening.

"I know things are really hard for you right now, and I know you want to cut and run because you're afraid of what might happen, but I think you need something, and I think you know that."

He pulls back sharply with his whole body, inhales as he tilts his head back but he doesn't look away.

"What if you don't go, what if you just stay with me, and let it happen?"

He's shaking his head and I don't know if he's telling me no, or himself.

"This is crazy, you're fucking crazy, you don't know what you're saying…"

But he's not shut down or detatched himself and as I hold his gaze I try so hard to make him see that I really do.

"I'll take you however you are. All you have to do is trust me."

"You don't understand. I don't, I can't.."

He's becoming agitated. I think he knows what I'm saying and he's afraid of it.
This is it, it's now or never and I'm going to fight like hell for him.

"Fine. I'm not gonna pressure you. If you say we're done then we're done.

But if you're leaving because you're afraid of what you might do, I'm telling you now, I'm not afraid. Do your worst and I'll take you on. I don't know about the past but I want to see where this might go, so please stay.

I want to know you, Rob, so stop fighting it and let it happen. I've got you. I promise."

All of the time I've been talking he's been studying my face intently, looking for what, honesty? Sincerity? I don't know, with such a complicated mixture of expressions on his own. I've seen sadness, curiosity, a lot of fear and even a little hope, but there's nothing complicated about his answer.

"Okay..
I'll try.
But you can't promise anything, and neither can I."

I squeeze his arm and smile with relief but I think I might also cry and so I close my eyes for a few seconds while I fight it, and a fragment of memory comes.

It is a memory, I'm sure of it, it's the sensation of falling, tumbling over, out of control and it's terrifying, fear rises up like a firework inside me and explodes into panic.

"Ell?
You okay?"

I can't help breathing faster as I open my eyes and my fingers grip his arm as I try to get a hold of myself. That was intense.

But Rob's leaning forward with his hand on mine and the concern is clear in his expression.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just..
It's been a lot."

I manage a smile.

"I'm glad you're staying."

Rob stands, grabs one of his bags from the table and looks uncertain again.

"I think you're crazy. I think we both are. But I'm going to unpack."

And he's gone.

 

Sunday January 15

Looking in the mirror
I don't recognize myself.

I would tie myself into knots trying to please him, living my life around his needs at the expense of my own, turning myself inside out with the effort of discerning whether he feels anything for me.

He feels, deeply, that much I know, he feels far too much, but is it for me? Or about me?

It makes no sense for me to walk blind into this potentially dangerous situation with a man I don't know.
I've known him for two weeks.…
TWO WEEKS….

It's utterly crazy and I know that.
But I do know him, deep down somewhere in my subconscious, and it's telling me that it's going to be okay.

How else has he done this to me?
How else has he possessed me in such a short time that I would do anything for him?

 

For all the things about him that drive me insane, or scare me, or frustrate me, he's a beautiful puzzle that I want to unlock.

He holds the answers to all of my questions, and more than that I believe that although it may be dangerous, he really needs me to do it.

 

.

Chapter 8: a loose thread

I slept in my own room last night, alone.
With everything that happened yesterday I couldn't find a way to suggest to Rob that I sleep with him, or explain to him why, so for another night he battled his demons alone while I listened, my heart clamouring to be with him. This time his door remained closed and he coped within the confines of his room.

 

The atmosphere was muted after he agreed to stay. He unpacked his things that evening with the same quiet tense focus that he packed them with, and after everything that had happened, neither of us had the resilience to cope with talking about anything any more.

However when I sat in the living room that night, watching something dull on tv, by the light of the fire, he padded in quietly and slipped into the chair that's his, one long leg tucked under and one pulled up as he does, and we exchanged our memories of Max with fondness, laughter and misty eyes.

Finally we had something we could share, and so even though it's been years since we lost him, for a while our love for him brought us back together again.

 

The hour's still early, so I decide to go grab a coffee quickly and bring it back to the haven of my bed where I can huddle in its warmth with the hot drink in my hands, until the radiators have stopped their gossiping, creaking and hissing down the hallway, and the apartment's a comfortable temperature again.
Grabbing a blanket to wrap around my nightshirt I walk barefoot quietly to the kitchen in the cool early morning light so as not to disturb Rob in his room opposite mine.

But as I get nearer, it seems like he beat me to it when I hear the sound of his voice as he's talking on his phone.
This early?
He's placatory, smoothing things over quietly and gently, but with a hint of exasperation.

"I know Mom, I know, and I'm still staying. My life, my decision.

 

I am, I am and I have been.
I'm okay… please don't,
no…
…no don't worry.."

A note of anxiety in the tone of his voice grabs my attention.

"No, she still doesn't remember…
Mom, I'm scared… if she does it's gonna change everything…

 

I know, I know, I'm sorry…
I guess I'll have to deal with it, if it happens.

I will, I promise.

Mom…"
His voice is strained, but still hushed,

"...I promise.

Okay, I love you too.
Bye."

 

An uneasy feeling crawls like insects across my skin, and I can't help feeling that I shouldn't have heard those things.

A wave of anxiety washes from the kitchen and into me, and a sudden fear of discovery sends me quickly and quietly back to the sanctuary of my room.

Closing the door, I lay my forehead against the cool texture of the wood, and breathe to calm myself as his words play in my mind.

"No, she still doesn't remember…
Mom, I'm scared… if she does it's gonna change everything… "

"I guess I'll have to deal with it, if it happens."

 

There's a quiet knock on the door, the other side to where my head is resting and I startle, crossing the room and throwing myself quickly into bed as it begins to open slowly.

He mustn't know I overheard him.
I'm breathless and I've made myself dizzy, but thankfully I make it in time and he's oblivious. I don't want him to think I've been spying on him.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you, I just realised what time it is."

Rob's in sweatpants and a soft grey sweater, with a coffee for me in his hand.
His hair is pushed back from his face and his eyes are searching mine, unsure of himself. I watch as he places it on the nightstand and my eyes follow the movements of his body, long, sinuous and so compelling.
Even now I'm affected by his presence, and I know it's because I want him. The pull I feel towards him is ridiculous now, and no matter how I try it's always there, like an itch I can't scratch or a word on the tip of my tongue.

 

"Thanks, no, you really didn't.
Why are you up so early?"

Reassured he exhales heavily and the tension leaves his shoulders as he sits down on the bed, tucking his hands between his legs.

"My Mom.
I messaged her late last night to say I'm not going to be moving out yet..
Seems she couldn't wait until a reasonable hour to share her opinion.
She's a little, uh... overprotective."

He shakes his head and tilts it to look at the ceiling before rubbing his face and drawing his fingers back through his hair, and as I watch him I'm so grateful he's still here.

 

"Rob, I'm sorry if I've caused any trouble between you and your Mom."

He stops for a moment, studying my face before smiling wryly,

"It's okay, I can make my own decisions. She can keep her opinions to herself, and I'll return the favour by not telling her how to live her life.…"

 

Glancing over to me quickly, he captures his lips between his teeth and shifts his weight nervously on the bed, his eyes narrowed.

"Y'know, I've thought a lot.. about what happened yesterday.
And some of the things you said went all the way, all the way down, and I, I think you're right, I need… something."

He's looking towards me and yet his eyes never quite meet mine, getting close but always skirting past them.
For a moment he chews his lip, his eyebrows drawn, and I wait.

"But what it is and what you think it is may not be the same. I don't know.
And I don't trust you and I don't trust myself, at all... That's really scary, and when you say let it happen you don't know what "it" is… you don't know what you're asking of me…."

His knee is bouncing in such small rapid movements that it's just shaking, the bed's shaking under me. He's been speaking with his hands but now he's shoved them between his legs again and he's tying himself into knots even as he's opening his heart.

"Rob.."

I run my hand down his arm. Something passes across his face as he becomes concentrated and still while he lets me do it.

"We don't need the answers to anything right now."

He bites his lip as he nods, with dark eyes hooded by his brow that suddenly pierce mine directly as he looks at me sideways.

"If you try to push… I know how strong willed you can be.
If you push me…"

Shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed he shrugs his shoulders, his hands still buried between his legs and as he speaks he's shaking his head, anxiously disclaiming everything.

"I don't know what you want… and I can't help it… I'll fight you… and I don't want to fight you or hurt you I'm afrai.. I don't…
What do you want?"

Although it hurts me to see him so anxious, so uncomfortable, I feel the need to push him, just a little more.
When I move to sit beside him and lay my palm on his back, I can feel from the way he startles how tightly wound he really is, and speak softly.

"I know… and you don't need to be afraid. I've got you, it'll be okay."

I lean closer towards him, and drag my finger nails up and down his spine.

"All I want is you."

His eyes close as he inhales, and for what feels like the longest time, he holds his breath.

When he exhales and opens them again they hit mine, only for a second but his pupils are larger and his eyes are dark. Threatening.

"Be careful Ellie."

There he is, the other side. I'm learning where the line is.

Then standing, he moves on figuratively and literally, changing the subject and the atmosphere entirely.

"Okay, I'm going to leave and get some breakfast, let you get dressed. I'll see you in a while."

 

There was a struggle there. He might be afraid of it, but he still wants it. I know he wants it and just then, he let himself be vulnerable and kept his dark side at bay, just.

 

The room feels particularly quiet and still since he's gone, and peace falls softly around me.
I'm ready to go for breakfast but I'm not going yet.
For some time I lay here, eyes open, studying the crack in the ceiling, the shape it makes with its crumbly edges is like a coastline with a bay where boats could safely moor. There are glow in the dark stars glued up there as well, floating in the sea around my island, left by a previous tenant and we decided to keep them.
Rob said they were part of the layers formed from lives lived here before us and that made them "kinda beautiful, in a way."

 

Leaving my bedroom and closing the door behind me I try to move my thoughts on to what I'd like to eat.

But then I stop, because Rob's singing.

I can hear him in the kitchen. I don't think I've heard him sing before, not that I can remember.

His voice is clear, soft yet resonant and rich in tone. He's just singing absentmindedly to himself, but I can tell that if he really let loose he'd be amazing.

I wait out of sight for a while, just listening to him sing. His voice is captivating, it holds me. Another thing about him to pull me in. Every time I think I've got the measure of him he does something else and I'm in just a little bit deeper.
God help me.

 

As soon as I enter the kitchen, he falls silent, and the emptiness left behind leaves a strange sort of longing inside me.

"Please don't stop, that was lovely, I've never heard you sing, well, that's to say.."

I don't need to finish.
As my hand lands softly on his back I feel his muscles flinch beneath the fabric of his sweater, but that's all.
Maybe he's slowly getting used to my touch.

"Toast." he says, waving a slice at me before taking a bite and brushing stray crumbs from his beard.
"You want me to put some in for you?"

After slipping two slices into the toaster he moves aside, plate in hand, leaning back against the worktop.
Gradually I become aware of him watching me while I gather the things I need.
And when I say watching me..
The dress I chose to wear over my tights today is short, barely covering the tops of my thighs. Glancing over briefly I catch him, head tilted, biting his lip and studying them with a darkly ardent look that surprises and excites me in a way I'm not prepared for, and I don't want him to stop. It's not just his eyes I want on me.

Hoping to encourage him I find a reason to stand on my tiptoes to reach the highest shelves, lifting my arms above me. When he doesn't offer to help immediately as he usually would I steal a look at him to find him quietly concentrating as his intense eyes roam slowly over my body, his pupils dilated. A heat rushes over my skin and there's a warmth between my legs which makes me want to squeeze them together at the sight of him. He's so hot, that fucking look is so hot.
Whatever's going through his mind right now, I want it.

When his eyes move up to mine he's thrown from his thoughts and blinks rapidly to find me already gazing back at him with a look that has to be as heated as his.
It only lasts a heartbeat or two, before he pushes himself from where he's been leaning, suddenly self aware, and as he wheels around to go I call after his retreating back as he disappears out of the door.

"You wanna watch a movie later? Get some takeout?"

After a few seconds that feel like much longer his head appears around the doorframe. There's an unexpected shyness in his restless eyes and in the way his mouth twists into the small smile that I recognize from long ago.

"Sure. Later."

 

***

 

Monday January 16

"All I want is you."

That's what I said to him, but I'm a liar.
He's not all I want.
I want him, yes, fuck yes, and I want to help him with whatever is hurting him but I also want to know what happened between us, what happened to me..
And what he's hiding.

But all those things lie within him, so,
I want all of him.

Sometimes he frightens me, but there is something that scares me more.
That's the fear I have of getting lost in him, swept away in his feelings at the expense of my own, and every day I'm more afraid that I'm going to fall in love with him.

I've been sitting with this journal in my hands, tracing my fingers over the birds on the cover.

With the branches that make up the border they remind me so much of the starlings that I love, taking flight from the trees near our home.
He knew that and chose it for me.
He's capable of such thoughtfulness.

I'm learning there's two sides to him, that together make this person that I…
That I married and lived my life with and then forgot.

Two wolves.

The only way I can think of him and understand him is that my Rob is the good wolf, the person who's cared for me and been kind to me. He's the one who bought me this journal and the one I've remembered, laughing and smiling and being my best friend. I'm not afraid to say that he owns a piece of my heart, and yet he's always strangely distant and closed off from me somehow.

The other Rob is the bad wolf. He's who I see when he's threatened, he's the guardian of the wall and the one with the temper, he's the dark threat just below the surface, he's immediate and present. He's in the moment.

I've been thinking about the way he looked at me, the way his heated gaze slid over my body, and I felt exposed, every nerve ending aware that he already knows and has touched every last inch of me.

A thrill of nervous excitement runs through me when I finally accept that the Rob who wants me, who kissed me and was looking at me that way....

Is the bad wolf.

***

It's been difficult to keep myself occupied today, writing in my journal and finding jobs to do around the house.
I made a sandwich for each of us for lunch and took Rob's to him in his room.
When I entered he closed his laptop. I didn't stay.
I think I'm going to ask him for mine, as soon as I feel ready to write again, I can do that offline and it would be good to work on something meaningful.
It's strange how much I'm already used to being cut off from the world. It's even comforting somehow, safe.

He guards himself against me, and guards me against the world.

Dusk is falling and the temperature is falling with it once again.
Everything's falling.
Am I?

 

Sitting on my bed I rest my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands and the sounds of the city are muted enough to feel far away, as I allow my mind to drift.

 

***

I'm with Rob, astride his hips as he leans back on the sofa. I'm pressed against him and kissing my way slowly down his neck, tasting his skin and savouring every moment surrounded by the scent of him and his soft hair as it brushes against my face. My lips glide lower to bite him gently where his shoulder begins and his breath hisses as he shudders against me.

"Fuuuck that's..
You know, what that does.. to me..."

His voice is quiet but strained as I suck his flesh between my teeth and bite down on it slowly but firmly, bruising his skin.
His thigh muscles tense and a small thrill runs through me as he groans softly and tilts his head to expose his neck, wanting more.
I do it to him again and again, travelling around the base of his neck and even as he flinches away he still presses against me, his hands sliding down to grip my hips and push me firmly down onto the hardness beneath me. Moving myself back and forth, grinding on him, feeling the friction in the most delicious way, he gasps at the motion and I lay my hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as it rapidly accelerates with the thrumming of his heart.

 

There's a soft knock on my door, and Rob's voice travels quietly from the other side.

"Ell?
I finished working, you wanna get some food?"

I call back, slightly breathless.

"On my way,
I'm really hungry."

I really, really am.
More than he could ever know.

 

***

 

He's in the kitchen, leaning on what's meant to be a breakfast bar across the space but instead has been demoted to the place where clutter collects, downgraded because of our preference for the table.
A portion of the clutter is made up of junk mail and takeaway menus and it's those that he's rifling through now.
With my new memory fresh in my mind I allow myself a moment to sweep my eyes over his tall, slender frame.

He's standing with his long legs crossed at the ankles, leaning over the counter with his hips against the edge, one elbow on the surface.
His fingers are buried in his hair as the other hand flicks through leaflets.
He's utterly gorgeous and I know he's aware that I've walked in and been watching him when he calls back to me, without looking up.

"What d'you wanna eat? Any preference? There's so many of these things, aren't some of them like, really old? Do all of these places even exist still?"

As I reach his side I slip my fingers under the edge of his sweater and lightly stroke the soft skin above his hip. He stiffens but I ignore it, choosing instead to keep speaking to distract him and hope he'll settle and relax.

"I dunno, some of them have been there forever.. try online."

He winds his body just slightly to one side. It's not much but it's enough to break contact and let me know, that's too much right now.

Okay okay so I'm getting it, and beginning to feel resentful. He's the only one who's allowed to do anything, and I'm still waiting for him to touch me, other than when he's having to in order to help me in some way, or when his passion is inflamed and I'm not sure whether it's a conscious choice then, either.

I'm subdued and distant while we go through the options, finally choose Korean and decide what we want before Rob orders.

Leaving him to it with a

"Call me when it's here."

I disappear into my room.
I know I'm behaving like a sulking child and he's got to have picked up on it, but frustration and rejection can do that to me.

 

***

"Rob, food's here!"

I'm standing outside the ill fitting door of a small, white, wood panelled building, next to a modest pool.

It's evening, the sun's almost set, and the sky is burning with brilliant oranges and pinks, colouring the surface of the building and contrasting with the shadows which are growing all around.

Rob's voice comes from inside, distant and distracted. He doesn't even open the door.

"Ummm… D'you think you could bring mine out here? I'm kinda in the middle of something…"

I'm immediately frustrated and not afraid to let him know.

"Again? Come on, please, I want to spend some time with you! You've been in there all day, it's time for a break.
Give yourself a break?"

He sounds resolute.

"I'm sorry, I can't right now. Would you mind? Please?"

"Fine."

I'm abrupt, disappointed.
Rolling my eyes I stomp back over to the house, so frustrated to be eating alone again.

Crickets are singing in the long grass at the edges of the lawn, and the air's still warm.
I remember that house, though I haven't thought about it since my accident.

 

"Ell, food's here."

It's Rob, outside my door, warm and present and engaged. He's brought me back to him and a soft feeling fills my heart.

"Okay, just a minute.."

That's my husband.
It's starting to not feel so strange.

"I'm sorting it out, just go sit down, you wanna beer? I'm having a beer."

"Y'okay.. sure."

 

***

The living room is cosy, the fire is lit and the lighting low as I take a seat on the sofa and make myself comfortable. It'll be nice just to spend some time with him and relax, I have no expectations.

 

When Rob drifts in with some beers looking warm and huggable in his sweatpants and sweater with his clean soft hair I notice, not for the first time, that whenever he walks into a room, something lifts inside me.

Standing them on the coffee table he straightens up, his hair covering most of his face and just resting on his shoulders in waves and curls.
He pushes it behind his ears, then without as much as glancing at me and fully absorbed in his task, he heads back towards the kitchen.

"You need a hand? Rob?"

But he's gone again, returning shortly with a tray of food which also goes on the coffee table before he takes a seat not in his usual chair but on the sofa with me before handing me a bowl.

Grabbing his bowl and the TV remote he settles back with me and while we eat he flicks through channels trying to find something we both want to watch.

He's quiet, not the chatty person I know he can be when everything's fine and so I ask him,

"You okay?"

Closing his eyes he scrunches his nose as he nods, his mouth a downward curve.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm okay."

Maybe he picked up on my mood earlier.

"Hey, look what's on, it's Eternal Sunshine….
Looks like it's meant to be…"

He's definitely humouring me, it's subtle but in some small way I think he may be trying to win me over.

A corner of his mouth quirks up as he looks at me sideways, gently mocking my belief that everything happens for a reason.
I must admit that's been pretty tested lately.

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.
My favourite movie.
Rob's put it on and okay, looks like we're watching this.
And while I don't exactly agree, I don't argue either.

 

It's strangely apt.

The characters are so devastated by the ending of their relationship that they opt to have their memories of each other removed to save themselves the heartache, but even knowing their relationship ended badly, Joel regrets his decision and wants to remember Clementine and be with her all over again, in spite of everything.

 

Almost as soon as we're into the movie I realise the similarities to us. I know it's cutting too close for Rob when he slowly pulls his legs up on the sofa as he's watching and wraps his arms around his chest.
It's time I intervene.

"This was a bad idea, I think. Maybe we should watch something else."

"No, Ell it's your favourite, and we haven't seen it in ages…"

But as Joel fights to keep his memories and hold onto the girl that he loves, even though she's forgotten him and everything they shared, I look across and see Rob staring ahead at the screen without seeing it. His eyes are full of lights, reflected in the tears that are yet to fall and my own heart can't take it.

"No, I'm stopping this. I'm sorry, this isn't fair and it was really thoughtless of me not to do it sooner."

I take the remote and turn it off.
He looks surprised and protests,

"But you were watching it."

I shake my head and lay my hand on his thigh.

"It doesn't matter, nothing matters more than how you feel."

He tilts his head away from me as his watery eyes look back, half disbelieving, half hopeful and I want to pull him to me and kiss him so hard right now.

 

***

The food is finished, the tv is off.
Norah Jones' album Come Away With Me is playing and Rob and I are on our second beer, each curled up on our sides of the sofa, facing towards each other with our arms leaning on the back.
This could possibly be the most open and relaxed I've ever known him to be.

"If you could, would you have your memories removed?"

Rob huffs a quiet laugh, briefly closes his eyes as he shakes his head.

"You don't want to know about that."

I scrunch my face up in sympathy and gentle frustration.

"I do though Rob, I really do. Why do you always shut yourself down and minimise your feelings like this?
Just tell me."

"Okay…"

His eyes focus up and away from me as he falteringly finds his words, and for a few seconds, I almost hold my breath as he lets me in.

"You were…everything… and… and then our relationship fell apart and then you forgot me.
I mean… that's a fucking lonely place.
I am Joel."

I was everything…

Then he looks me in the eyes and points his finger at me whilst still holding his beer.

"But do you feel better knowing that?
Does that even help a single thing?
Sometimes it's better… not to give these things a voice."

I'm so distracted by those eyes..

To love someone and lose them even while they're still there in front of you must be heartbreaking.

I lost him too, but I can't feel it like he does.

"I'm sorry I lost you and hurt you and I swear I'm trying to remember and get you back again… I will make it right again, I will.
The pieces are in here…"
I point to my head.
"But, they're also here…"

I touch his chest, feeling his heartbeat briefly beneath my fingertips and he looks at me as if I said something to hurt him.

"And I don't think I can do it unless you let me in.."

He's hiding so much behind those defences but the wolf won't let me..
He looks at me through guarded eyes and simply shakes his head.

"No."

I sigh loudly.

"Maybe if you did then you wouldn't feel so lonely."

He exhales as if something hit him.

 

"Do you think you might want to do it all again?"

Once I've asked and my breath has rushed inside me, I hold it captive in suspense and wait…
I think if my heart could stop beating at this moment it actually would.

A soft laugh escapes him, and the humour's only intended for himself as his eyes are cast down.

"Would I do it all again if I knew how it would end? Could I?"

With his hand covering his eyes he shakes his head.

"No.
The answer's no.
I would have to believe that something was different. That you were different."

That hurts, that really hurts more than I'm prepared for and I don't know where to put all of my feelings.

What did I do?
More than that..
Why? What did he do for me to be the way that I was?

I've not forgotten what he said -

"I'm a bomb, Ell."

He played his part, undoubtedly, but he's not telling me about that.

There's so much that he's hiding.

"Are you different, Rob?
From how you were, back then?"

It's an innocent enough question.

He looks at me with the saddest eyes, fathoms deep, and nods a little as he bites his lip.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm different."

I think about the memories, laughing in the car, pinning him down in bed, walking in the park.

Then turn to the sad and closed off, frequently angry and guarded man in front of me.

Yeah, I think he's different too.

 

I think of the phone call I overheard this morning.

It's like a loose thread I can't stop pulling at, a broken glass edge I can't stop touching, I can't leave it alone.

"Rob, do you even want me to remember what happened between us at the end?"

***

Suddenly I see the dark room again, with Rob silhouetted in the doorway, his height, his frame, even the outline of his hair….
Staggering backwards he shies away, turns and leaves the room, colliding with the door frame as he goes.

It's that memory again
But I still can't remember the emotions connected to it, only that they're important. It's important.

 

"What? What d'you mean? Of course I do… I want you to remember.."

"But what if I remember what you did?
"I'm a bomb, Ell.
I exploded.
I blew it all to pieces."
That's what you said to me."

He draws himself up suddenly, pulling away to perch anxiously on the edge of the seat, eyes wide, and… I see it.
He can't remember saying it to me.

He starts talking. Fast.

"I never really said that, you did."

Then nervously, defensively,

"I didn't say that… I didn't say that, you did, your words, they were your words."

Sometimes, if you pull a loose thread too much, everything unravels.

"Why would I say that? Why are you really here, Rob? What d'you want?"

 

His body's shaking with the relayed force of his bouncing leg and then he stands unexpectedly, his hand restlessly covering and pulling at his lower face as he fights with the words that are leaving his mouth and he's trying to hide and protect himself from the truth.

"I'm staying because I don't want to leave, I.. I need… when you said I need something….
I don't know..
Fuck… I don't know..
You said this isn't done, and I felt that, deeply. I really did.

This isn't done yet and I need…
something. But I don't know what.
I… I think…"

His voice is wavering,

"I think I need you, Ell..
I need you to help me..
Please… help me…?"

 

He's crumbling in on himself and in a moment I've reached him and stopped him in his tracks because my arms are around him.
For a few heart stopping seconds I get to hold him..

Pressing myself against him, I speak softly,

"I don't know what it is either… but I see how much you're hurting…"

Suddenly his hands are against my shoulders and he shoves me roughly away, making me fall back into the seat and his eyes are dark.

"God, FUCK, don't do that, you don't do that."

He's pulled away and he's gone,
leaving me sitting here, defeated and rejected and fuck him, I can't keep doing this.

But then the apartment door opens and closes, and I'm galvanised into action.

Hurrying down the hallway I pull on boots and grab my keys as I'm out of the door…

I feel like we're finally getting somewhere and I can't let it end like this, with us both alone and his isolation deepened by a wall built stronger than ever..

 

The elevator is on the ground floor so I need to wait, my nerves thrumming impatiently until it returns before I can be there too..
Running out into the street I see him, a rapidly diminishing figure stalking his way along the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets, heading away from the park and I go after him as quickly as I'm able. It's freezing cold.

"ROB!"

I call after him, but my voice sounds hoarse and I have to try again, my breath billowing white vapour in the icy air before he stops and turns back for me.

 

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He's confused, incredulous and annoyed. So I'm doing well.
I'm still breathless from having to hurry after him so quickly, panting out fog while the goosebumps rise up on my exposed skin.

"If you have to do this, I mean walk it out like this then I'm coming with you, I'm not letting you down, though you can't run from this. Sooner or later you're going to have to face it.
Also.. I'm fucking freezing."

As his eyes meet mine I slip my hand into his.

"I'm not letting you go."

And he holds it.

"Eliza.."

His voice sounds brittle.

"Please, Rob, let's just go home?"

I'm glad I came after him. When he turns, with me, and walks back to the apartment he lets me keep hold of his hand.

 

***

"You warm enough?"

I'm laughing quietly.

"Honestly I'm fine, please stop fussing. I got a little cold, I'm not some frail Bronte character, about to slip into the grip of consumption."

But when I glance up at him I'm swept away by the sadness in his eyes and I'm not laughing any more.

"Rob, why? Why so sad?"

I ask without thinking, as soon as I see his face the words are leaving my mouth.

We're sitting on my bed. I'm in my pyjamas, propped up against the pillows and wrapped warmly in a blanket at Rob's insistence after becoming so cold outside.

Rob looks at me and smiles a soft smile, but that's the only answer he's giving. I touch his arm.

"I'm sorry I pushed you, but I can't promise it won't happen again."

"Yeah, no shit Eliza, you forget, I know you."

He's looking at me openly, even fondly maybe. His guard is down.

"Can we talk about your nightmare?"

I can't think of a better time to bring it up.
Large eyes turn to mine and I know he's not ready as he takes a deep breath, so I go gently.

"Look, we both know you have to let go if I'm going to help, even if it's just a little."

But he's not moved and doesn't speak and his eyes are still on mine.
His breathing is shallow and I'm glad at this moment for my ability to hyperfocus.

"It's okay, I don't need you to tell me what happens, not if you can't or you don't want to."

"I…"

He stares forward through half lidded eyes which glaze over and as he blinks rapidly there are horrors behind them. I wonder if he ever lets himself think about it in his waking hours. There's tension in every line of his body and my instincts tell me not to touch him.

"It's just, I can make the nightmare stop."

He swings to look at me,

"I've done it already, twice. I've stopped it while you were asleep."

He's embarrassed and awkward and upset all at once,

"Well that's very nice of you.. I mean.. it's my busi.. "

"Thanks Eliza," "oh don't mention it.."
I say, sarcastically.

He looks at me apprehensively.

"How? I mean… What did you do?"

"It's okay. I just talked to you. That's all..
You okay with that?"

He's subdued, caught off guard and he nods faintly as his eyes return to mine.

"Good. Then I think maybe from now on it might be a good idea for you to sleep in here, with me, so I can do that, if you'll let me?
Please?
Let me help, I only want to help you."

 

He drops his eyes and answers softly.

"Okay, we can try.."

I don't understand him. Suddenly he's become compliant and almost meek as he agrees.
Maybe in spite of all his defences and his fear of me getting too close, his fear of the nightmares is greater. My heart goes out to him.

 

***

When we settle down to sleep he's the same. We're both going to be in my room from now on, hopefully. This would have been the room that was ours, before.

This isn't the first time since my accident that we've slept together, but it's the first time with him knowing why, and he seems pensive, almost apprehensive as he comes to lay beside me in his boxer briefs and a white t-shirt, and he curls on his side, facing away from me with only a quiet goodnight.

 

Before I go to sleep I wonder about something that's been scratching at the back of my mind all day.

"No, she still doesn't remember…
Mom, I'm scared… if she does it's gonna change everything… "

***

I'm running in a house, upstairs at night. I'm anxious, afraid of something and that's why I'm running. There are people downstairs, I can hear them. Lots of them, counting slowly..

But upstairs on the landing there's only me and Rob, all alone.
As I reach the top of the stairs he swings towards me, blazing fury, his face in mine.

"You fucking BITCH."

 

Throwing myself upright, a swoosh of dizziness encircles my head but I'm out. I'm out, as my breathing starts to slow.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Rob's hand is on my back, steadying me as he sits up next to me, rubbing his eyes.

"I just had a dream. I'm fine. It was just a dream…"

He huffs a soft laugh.

"I thought I was the one with the dreams.."

I lie down again, try to relax in spite of my hammering heart as he settles down beside me.

"Yeah, me too."

***

I'm walking through the hospital corridors in my pyjamas, my bare feet cold and silent on the clean smooth floor. Darkness waits at either end but where I tread the lighting panel immediately above me winks alight and the panels and I travel together through the night, two points of movement in synchrony.

Crossing my path ahead is the little grey cat. Padding along with its tail aloft and a gentle bounce to its step, it stops and turns to look at me with its large amber eyes before moving to a set of doors ahead of me on my left.

It's sitting there waiting for me to open the doors as I approach, and when I push them it slips inside with me following curiously.

It's the entrance to a ward. I walk softly through the low lights of night time, lamps positioned over beds where people are only visible as shapes beneath the blankets, and the quiet regular beeping of monitors synchronize with small red and green lights that flicker on and off.

I follow the cat, grey like the floors and the shadows in the corners until it reaches a side door and stops, sitting down to gaze at me with those eyes.

I hesitate. Then move forward into the room.
I'm close to the head of the bed and I realise what I think I knew all along.

Rob is sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed, but his head is laid on the blankets, his hair pushed back behind him. He's fast asleep….
And the person in the bed is me.

 

He begins moving, murmuring words urgently that I can't decipher no matter how hard I try, as his breathing gets faster and his hands open and close to grip the hospital blanket restlessly.
Suddenly and without lifting his head, his eyes fly open, wide with fear to stare unseeing straight into mine, and...

"Ellie!"

It's frantic, frightened and as I jump, I wake.

He's panting next to me, breathing way too fast with his eyes closed and his face pained. I can see the perspiration on his brow in the faint light of the room and I push his damp hair back from it to keep him cool. First call, there's still time to stop it.

"Hey, shhh it's alright sweetheart, I'm here. I'm here, it's okay.."

He doesn't wake or call again and I shush him and stroke his hair gently until he's calm.

 

.

Notes:

Okay this was the quiet before the storm. Next time... 😏

Chapter 9: the bad wolf

I wake to the sensation of being surrounded by warmth, safe and.. loved.
Almost.
Rob's pressed against me, his body held close along the length of mine with his arm clasped around my waist. It takes only a moment or two of happiness before I realise - he's completely unaware.

I can hear him breathing steadily, close to my ear and I hold myself still, not even daring to breathe heavily for fear of disturbing him. Instead I relish the feeling of his legs against mine, the soft rise and fall of his chest against my back and his arm holding me close.

Somewhere deep in my memory I recognize this tranquillity and calmness. It feels as if I've come home, to a place I've been missing from for so long.

However when the pattern of his breathing changes to signal his waking I hold myself completely quiet and still, feigning sleep.
I can sense the very moment when he wakes by his small inhalation and the way he extricates his arm immediately to pull away, turn over and then sit on the edge of the bed.

I lay quietly, listening as he traipses to the bathroom before I raise myself up to sit against the pillows, closing my eyes against the light.

***

Loud music thumps from a room downstairs, dense and insistent.
He's moving inside me in time to the bass, here in the close darkness. Kissing, caressing, his mouth on my breasts, his hands are on my hips, gripping my flesh and I'm almost… I'm almost…

*

"Ell, you okay?"

*
I'm almost…

"Eliza…"

His voice is forced, I feel the heat of his breath against my skin.

 

Opening my eyes, I find Rob sitting on the end of the bed, looking back at me with concern.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."

I need a moment.

"Did it happen?"

He's picking at the bedsheets, anxiously awaiting an answer.

"What..?"

As my eyes drift to his, I'm bringing my focus back to the present moment.

"Did you do it? The dream."

He's not quite looking at me and I can tell he's still feeling awkward about the whole situation. It's probably a good thing that he thinks I was asleep when he woke.

"Yes. Yeah I stopped the dream."

He exhales, his shoulders lower as he nods to himself.
It's like he needed the confirmation and when he answers he sounds reassured.

"I thought so.
Thank you."

 

***

 

He's been very quiet all morning, brooding and intense, wrapped up in his own thoughts as he often can be, and as I've been lately too.

All I can think about are the most recent memories to surface and the way that he kissed me in the hallway, and although I hadn't thought it possible I think I crave him more now than ever. I wish even more fervently that I knew what was going on in his head.

 

***

It's late morning and I'm running behind, cleaning up after breakfast when I hear Rob walk slowly into the kitchen. I'm still in my pyjamas as I'd planned on eating breakfast and then showering before I dress.

 

When I turn around he's sitting cross legged on the table in a loose dark red t-shirt with dark grey sweatpants and socks. His head is bent forward as if he's looking at the phone in his lap, but he isn't. He's looking up from beneath his heavy brows, through the lengths of his hair that have fallen forward.

On the table.

He's watching me as I move like a cat watches a bird, as if he wants to capture and devour me. I know who's looking out through those eyes, and a wave of chills travels over my skin, lifting the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck.
I'm sure he feels the same way I do.

 

Consciously I turn all my focus onto him.
Walking towards him without taking my eyes from his I ask,

"Have you always abused the furniture like that?"

The smallest shrug.

"Sure."

He sounds okay, lighthearted even, but his countenance is entirely different - there's an intensity in his eyes, dark as the clouds of an incoming storm.

Reaching out, I run the finger nails of one hand slowly over his shoulder and down his back.

He shudders. His voice is low.

"You're not being fair."

I move closer to him and speak quietly,

"Don't pretend that you don't want it."

I know he does, in the quickening of his breath, the slight flaring of his nostrils and the darkness in his eyes. A note of apprehension enters his voice.

"That's.. that's not it, that's not the.."

I run my hand up his inner thigh and he reacts, pulling himself up straight, inhaling sharply and grabbing my wrist, pulling me close again but then he rests his forehead against mine, his voice tense and strained.

"Please, Ell, you don't understand.."

 

His brows are drawn together painfully and I can see the desperate battle going on inside him.
I know what to do, I know which wolf to feed.
And I remember how.

 

His grip on my wrist tightens and he breathes my name quietly as I kiss my way down his neck, reaching the place where his shoulder begins. As he tilts his head away and I feel a second shudder run through his body he's turning me on more than I'd even imagined he could as his breathing becomes more noticeable.

Moving his t-shirt aside, sucking the flesh there between my teeth I bite down on it slowly but firmly, nipping his skin, tasting it. The sound of his small rapid inhalation, a gasp through his open mouth followed by a long and shaky sigh leave me clamouring for him on the inside, all want and need as I feel his other hand flex on the edge of the table, under mine.

 

"Don't…. "

He's breathless…

"You don't know what you're doing…"

Oh I do though, I know exactly what I'm doing.

His hand leaves mine to grip my shoulder and pushes me back so that I look at him. Beneath his lowered brows his eyes are dark and unmistakably dangerous.

"You wanna fuck with me?"

His voice is low, threatening. I get both meanings and my body feels weak, melting to pool between my legs.

I don't look away, I hold his gaze and I'm not backing down.

"I told you, I've got you.
Do it. Do your worst, Rob, I can take it."

Moving closer I touch him, fleetingly, and speak quietly, next to his ear,

"Stop fighting it and let it happen."

 

We're close to the central breakfast island in the kitchen, between the dining and food prep area and when his eyes move towards it and narrow, something tightens in my stomach.

Then he's up, taking me with him and in a single motion he spins and lifts me onto it, sweeping everything from it with his other arm so I'm face down and he's pushing me onto the counter, the cold surface against my cheek as my toes try to find purchase on the rail around the bottom.

His other hand's busily working my pyjama pants down before two fingers find their way smoothly and surely to press the place between my legs, causing me to gasp and grip the edges of the surface as he slides them rhythmically back and forth. His mouth is against my ear, his voice thick with want but also contempt and for a moment I question my decision through the pleasure haze.

"Fuck, you're so wet, this is what you wanted, isn't it. You wanted me to screw you.. pushing my buttons, provoking me.. I know what you are... Look at you.
So you want me now.."

Fireworks are going off in my head. I can't believe he's actually doing this, or how turned on I am, I'm weak with want, throbbing and pulsating beneath his touch as his fingers glide over me in a perfect rhythm.

The truth is I've been wanting him for long enough and I'm already so turned on by him, he could say or do just about anything to me now and I'd probably come.

With his weight on top of me I'm pinned as the two fingers slide deep inside me and begin thrusting and twisting, making me clench around them, captive as the sensations spread through my body, unable to resist, but even as I moan they're gone, withdrawn to rub against my clit again in the most perfect way and I cry out, biting my arm as the pleasure soars and for a moment I think I'm going to come already, I'm so close…
Then his fingers are inside me again, twisting and curling and he's alternating to slow me down and hold me back as I groan and grip the surface helplessly.

"Rob, please…"

I try to reach back for him but I'm unable to, I want to touch him, feel him… but he's out of my reach as he withdraws, and as he grabs hold of my hair and moves my head to one side I'm pushed down by the weight of him on my back as he leans forward to hiss harshly into my ear,

"You wanted this, you fucking pushed for it..…"

I feel him then, hard against my wet sopping hole, and I think I may pass out with how much I want him inside me.

"Fuck.. Rob.. please.. just.."

I hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Just, what?"

His grip tightens in my hair and I swallow my embarrassment.

"...Fuck me."

I'm overwhelmed by the feeling as he holds my hip and plunges into me fully with one hard thrust..
I gasp and cry out,

His voice is strained with raw and open spite..

"You wanted it, now fucking take it."

Oh god, oh fuck he's big..

My body's reduced to the part of it that sheaths him, stretched tightly and quivering around him, and he's as deep inside me as anything could possibly be.
I'm shifting my position in an attempt to take him more comfortably when he begins to move, withdrawing whilst pressing me down with his hand against my hip… then taking my breath away as he slams roughly into me again, and again…
The rhythm's slow but he's in so deep…
then faster, harder and faster, over and over, my body rammed against the counter and the pressure builds until I think I may be losing my mind, it feels so good.

I'm crying out before I realise that I am and then I hear him, too... I don't know if he's close but if he can't last much longer I don't care because I'm almost there with him, hurtling towards the edge...

His breath is ragged as he gradually slows.
I can feel one arm pressing my hips down, skin on slick skin, but the way I'm bent against the worktop with his pelvis pushed so hard and flush against me I couldn't move if I tried.

Then he's rocking himself tightly against me, filling me and reaching places inside me that make him groan and send me spiralling out of my head as the pleasure and tension in me build and build.

His hand's wrapped in my hair and gripping hard, he's crying out on each exhale. It's so hot, hearing him like that, but he falls silent, holding his breath as he suddenly accelerates, fucking me hard again and I'm coming, calling his name through the explosion in my head and my body as I shake and pulse around him.

The sounds he's making grow frantic, breathier, higher and faster, until he's crying out, his rhythm's broken and the weight of him is heavier on my body as he fucks me through his orgasm, gripping my shoulder hard and I feel the rush inside me as his breathing heaves and he stutters to a halt.

 

My head's spinning...
Fuck I'm so dizzy, my body feels boneless, depleted, and I'm not sure if I was ready for that after all.

I feel Rob withdraw and carefully rearrange my clothes before I'm turned and lifted into his arms like a rag doll and carried down the hallway.
I wish I could see his face, I need to see him.

With my head against his chest, I can feel his breathing, and I know that something's wrong. It's faltering, uneven, and when he lays me down I reach for him.

"Rob?"

Beside the hand that's covering half of his face, I can still see the anguish there, and he's fighting himself again,

"I'm a fuck. I'm so sorry."

The pacing begins immediately before I can speak or even think.

"It's okay.. I'm okay..
That was incredible..
Please, come here…?"

I'm still holding out one arm.

"It's not, it's not okay, it's fucking.."

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

I see him.
He doesn't want to be here and he feels like he can't leave, like a captured animal. Trapped.

"Rob. Go. I'm okay. Honestly, if you have to, just go."

We can deal with this later but right now he needs to get out, to burn it off, and somehow I understand.

He throws me one anguished look then he's out within seconds. The apartment door slams and I sink back onto the bed to recover.

 

***

He's gone a while. Long enough for me to recover and shower. As I stand in the hot water my body feels battered, satiated and alive in equal measures, but my mind's still reeling over what just happened.
Never had I expected that, I almost took on more than I could cope with.
Physically it was incredible. He was incredible, but I'm under no illusion about the place that all came from….

He has a lot to work through, and fuck, I'm ready to do it with him, if that's what he needs.

I hear the apartment door.

The shower is connected to Rob's room as well as the hallway and so I hear when he comes in.

After drying myself quickly and pulling on jeans and a sweater I knock and open the door into his room, before he can answer.
My heart sinks.

 

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, bent forward with his hands covering his face.

He's obviously aware I'm here, but doesn't react, so I lower myself slowly to sit near to him whilst still giving him space. We sit together for a little while, neither of us speaking or moving, until I venture, gently,

"What's hurting you so much?"

His answer is quiet, and simple.

"Everything."

He wraps his arms around his body tightly and I can see how hard he's clinging to himself as he rocks himself almost imperceptibly.

"I'm so sorry Ellie."

He's trying to comfort himself but it isn't enough and my heart is breaking for him.
What have I done?

"Please, talk to me, let me help?"

His answer is blunt and full of blame but also very distant, disconnected.

"You did enough already.
I'm going to sleep now."

Turning away he lays on his side and despite his height he curls himself into a ball.
I stand, hover and wait, unsure of what to do or say for the best and I think he understands, because he continues more gently,

"Leave me? Please."

 

As I close his door behind me I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of moving through the air, falling backwards, turning…
It's so all consuming and powerful that I need to sit on the floor for a moment while I find my balance and catch my breath.

 

***

He's lost again, in his room, gone inside himself, and the rooms that I occupy while he's there are full of silence and guilt.

 

Tuesday January 17

I didn't mean to hurt him, but
I have to take responsibility for what happened.

I need to clarify.
What happened was the most intense and exciting sex that I think I've ever had, and I want more.
Rob is wild, like something unleashed, but it's come at a cost to him.
I pushed him, like I told him I would when he asked me not to.

Sex is definitely a trigger for things that he needs to work through. I don't know if he lost control but I know it shocked him deeply that he went so hard…
It's not his fault though, none of it is, because I.
Pushed.
Him.

And I'm going to need to do it again.

 

***

The door to Rob's room opens slowly to reveal him standing in the opening, warily. His eyes look pinched and red rimmed and I think maybe he was crying before, but not for a while. I think I woke him.

It's late evening.

"Hey, I brought you these."

I hand him a plate of food and a drink.
He's not left his room all day and I've been worried.

"Oh. Thank you."

 

He takes them from me but doesn't move to let me in, just stands awkwardly, looking anywhere but into my eyes and I can't read him.

"Rob I…"

He interrupts me.

"I'm so sorry.
Are you okay?"

"Rob." I wait until his eyes meet mine, though it's in fleeting glances, I can't hold them.
"I'm okay. I promise you.
Please let me in, we really need to talk."

Stepping back he lays the things down on the side and sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at me and watching as I come to sit beside him.

For a while I can't find the words. I've so many conflicting emotions over what I did. But first I need to allay his guilt.

"I instigated it, I wanted it, and you did nothing wrong. Nothing that you did or said has hurt or upset me. Nothing.

It was incredible, it was fire and I have no regrets other than the ones I feel for you..
I'm sorry I pushed you, and that it hurt you and I caused you this much distress.."

His head is down. He's rubbing the side of his nose with his finger and then rubs his eye. His voice is calm.

"You didn't… at least..
Uhhhh,"
he lets out a large breath.
"It's...
I think maybe it helped? To let it out, I mean... I don't know. But it's fucked up, it's really fucked up..."

I run my fingers down his arm, and he lets me, he doesn't pull away, or react. But he doesn't touch me either, and I'm a little sad to realise that he's still behind his wall. I hope my words can reach him there,

"I told you.
I'll take you however you are.
Bring it on. I mean it."

Maybe it is fucked up, but I think what's really fucked up is that I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for him right now.

 

He looks at me sideways, out of the corners of his eyes and I'm not ready.

"You came in after me again, didn't you? Like you did before. You came in after me and got me out.

You didn't abandon me."

His words shake me.
Why does my heart hurt so much?
Standing, I hold my hand out to him.

"Come on. Come back to our room?
You can bring the food and drink with you."

His hair falls forward as he shakes his head and lowers it again.

 

"I don't think that's a good idea Ell, not now."

I step to the doorway and pause there, reluctant to leave him.

Watch him.

 

"Okay. Okay that's fine, I understand.

But if that changes then please know my feelings won't have done."

 

***

I'm charging across a gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way as a hundred million stars shine in a cloudless sky.
I forgot my coat..

 

There's a knock at my door. It's late. When I call to answer, Rob opens it and he's standing in my doorway.

***

I see the dark room again, with Rob silhouetted in the doorway, his height, his frame, even the outline of his hair….

 

"Hey Rob. You okay?"

Not for the first time his demeanour seems at odds with his stature, he seems uncertain as he hovers there, hesitating and nervously pushing the hair from his eyes. His voice is low and soft.

"I … I don't think I can face… Uhm… I need you to stop it….
please."

 

I can't name the feeling I have as I look at him and move the blankets aside for him.

 

****

 

The following day we go for a walk in the park again.

The air is cold and fresh, bringing a crisp sharpness to the afternoon, although the sun is shining through the branches of the trees and already green shoots herald the beginnings of spring.

Rob's teasing me gently over how excited I get seeing the tiniest glimpse of a daffodil leaf and I shove him playfully in his padded jacket as he laughs.

I love to hear him laugh, and I tell him.

He's looking at me sideways, smiling ruefully and I've caught him off guard.

"You too Ell. It's good to hear you laugh and we do not do it nearly enough.
I'm sorry, man, I know, I know I'm hard to live with. I'm moody and I'm difficult and I'm frequently a fuck up and I'm sorry.
Can I just…

Oh, fuck.."

 

"What is it?"

He's staring ahead and just to our left and I'm trying to see what he's seen as I touch his arm.
His voice is quiet, and tense.

"Don't do anything, just look ahead and we're turning to the right, okay?"

He's making me apprehensive.

"Okay..."

Before I do though I catch sight of a man training a camera with a large lense on us.

"Rob, is that…?"

"Don't look, just keep walking.
Fuck."

Rob adjusts his baseball hat in an attempt to shadow more of his face. He's breathing out more heavily and I'm concerned though not sure how much I should be worried, but as we turn the guy with the camera breaks cover to run over and walk alongside us, blatantly taking photos.

It's the strangest feeling, I feel awkward and vulnerable and attacked and exposed and it's horrible. It's horrible.

I don't see it coming.
I know Rob's been giving the guy the evil eye out the corner of his vision but suddenly,

"Mother fucker, YOU… FUCK YOU,"

Suddenly as the camera gets too close he lunges away from me towards the guy on our left and he's lost it, his temper's gone and he's too fast for me to try to stop him. I go after him as the guy takes one last burst of photos before Rob's almost on him and immediately he lowers the camera and backs up fast.

"Rob!"

Without thinking I grab his right arm to pull him back, and as my glove slides down his sleeve I don't react quickly enough to stop myself from pulling on his hurt hand. As I see and feel his body jolt, his reaction is instant.

He spins around, his other hand raised to slap me or hit me, and we both freeze and stare at each other in complete shock.
But I recover fastest.

His eyes are still huge and fearful as I grab his raised wrist.

"Put that down!"

I can't bear the look on his face and I pull him into a hug before he can think, let alone protest.

"Okay? Now, move."

I guide him quickly away from the pap who continues to follow us.

When I dare let Rob go and tell him we're being followed he stops and rubs his forehead, calmer again and thinking.

"Okay, we can't go home."

"What?"

"If we go home now they'll know where we live and that can't happen.
Wait a moment."

He takes out his phone, and after a few seconds,

"May? Hi,
look, uhm, I kinda need a favour.....

Really? Okay. Okay I really appreciate it, thank you so much. Okay bye… bye."

Putting his phone away he turns to me.

"We're going to a friend's. It's not far, we can walk."

It takes a moment to register.
I'd almost forgotten I used to have people in my life other than Rob. Crazy. I feel a little excited and nervous at once.

"Who? Who are we going to visit?"

He looks at me then looks quickly away.

"You don't know them."

Oh.

 

***

May was clearly surprised to see me when she let us into her small apartment. A very attractive dark haired woman I'd guess to be in her late forties, she greeted Rob warmly with a hug that he comfortably returned and they were obviously very familiar with and happy to see each other, but when he introduced me she merely forced a polite smile and said hello, before Rob asked to speak to her in private.

So now I'm alone, looking around me at the comfortable cluttered living room, full of books, plants and a large ginger cat that largely ignores me.
I finally have the chance to think about what happened in the park.

He really does have a temper.
I know, I know I already knew it but I guess I just pushed it to one side in my mind and made excuses for him because… well because...

I didn't want to have to be afraid of him.
By the time I saw it I didn't want to have to lose him because of it. I still don't.
I know he's lost control in other ways, but what happened between us during sex and what's happened in the moments he's truly lost his temper with me are very different and I can't ignore that.

Maybe I need to find a way to channel it...

I can hear voices from the next room. I'm assuming it's a kitchen and I take it upon myself to find out when I get up to go to Rob.

May has a beaded curtain. Jesus, It's like I've travelled back to the seventies but while I'm still marvelling at that, I stop moving as I glimpse the scene that's unfolding behind it.

Rob's standing with his back to the counter and May is in front of him, very close, closer than necessary, I think, even though the kitchen is tiny and Rob looks larger than ever standing inside it.
She's running her hand up and down his arm as they're talking, and he's smiling. Then she says something and he drops his head and nods, before tilting it to one side and she...

Smiling, she strokes the back of her hand down the side of his face, before running a finger quickly down his nose and I feel…
I don't want her to do that.

I stumble back into the living room.

"May? May!"

May comes into the room, followed by Rob. She looks at me as if she forgot I was here. Maybe she did.

"False alarm, I thought your cat was about to vomit."

Rob's eyebrows are up so high as he's grinning that it was worth it just for that, but I stopped her.
Still the seeds have been sown. I'm pissed.

When they head back into the kitchen I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to be the next one of us to lose their temper but they very quickly return with three coffees and one is given to me.

Small talk commences. No doubt the chat in the kitchen was to fill May in on the situation because there's no mention of anything about Rob and I, or the past, it's all very light and trivial.
As I sit back quietly and drink my coffee, I observe Rob being bright and chatty and charming after all of the tension and drama and shit that we've been through.. and she's lapping it up.
He's turning it all on for May, oh yeah,
And to me it just looks like flirting.

I can feel myself getting hotter, my pulse going faster. She keeps touching him.
A taxi's called and by the time it's waiting outside and we're ready to leave I'm silently fuming.

At the door she strokes his arm again and holds him so long I want to peel her off of him and I blurt,

"Have you two been having an affair? Just say it. I can take it."

May's looking from me to Rob and back in open surprise, and Rob..
He hugs May, again.

"May, thank you, and I'm so sorry. I'll be in touch."
Then he practically shoves me out of the door before walking ahead of me to the taxi.

As he reaches it he stops, turns on his heels and shouts,

"What the fuck was that?"

"Oh really? Really?
Like you don't know.."

I'm squaring up to him when he obviously remembers where we are and what happened in the park, his eyes scanning around us before returning to mine.

"Get in the fucking car, Eliza."

***

It's a cold night. Freezing. The sky is full of stars and I don't have my coat.

 

He catches himself briefly but I swear he's ready to drag me.

"Eliza!"

I get in the fucking car.

 

***

The taxi ride was silent. The walk up the steps and into the building was silent.
As soon as the door closes behind us, we're at each other.

He's walking backwards in front of me, his arms flung out,

"What the fuck were you thinking? What was that? If you think that came off as even mildly sane, then you are crazy."

And I go after him.

"What? You think that was okay? She was all over you!"

"She's a friend of my mother's, she's a nurse, and a friend… so what because she's kind? That's an issue? Believe me, there's been times when I've needed someone kind.
Some people manage friendship without it turning into SEX."

This last word is spat at me as the elevator doors open and we step in without breaking momentum in our fight before they close.

"You never let me do the things she did.. and you've never paid me that much attention!"

He steps up towards me, close, really close, leaning over me and in the last heartbeat.. I know. I know what I'm going to do.

"Maybe there's a reason for that. Don't you GET IT YET? BITCH?"

Taking a deep breath I move a step forward until I'm pressed against him, and run my nails over his jeans, up the inside of his thigh, scraping over the surface to the very top between his legs.

His eyes meet mine as he inhales. They're dark. I say to him, quietly,

"Come on then. Bring it."

 

He shoves me back hard against the side of the lift, immobilising me against the mirror, pressing his body against me so I can feel his heat. He's panting hot little breaths whilst his fingers press upwards between my legs firmly enough to make me get up on my tiptoes, making me gasp.
They move against the fabric of my jeans, pushing and rubbing rhythmically at my centre, and to my shame the feeling of that friction against my clit makes me moan out loud.

His voice is soft and taunting, I feel his breath against my ear,

"Oh you like that?"

When I try to touch him again he takes his hand away to grab my wrist and slam it against the mirror, his eyes on mine, blazing...

Then the doors begin to open.

Throwing himself back from me, panting, he looks around in sudden fearfulness, his eyes huge while I pulse and rail physically at his sudden absence.

He's agitated, breathing heavily, his hands opening and closing as he tries to pace with no room to do it.

The doors close again to continue our journey upwards and we've missed our floor.

So I knew, I knew it. The thing that drives him is anger. This is rage sex.

"I can't…
I can't fucking do this Ellie I can't."

His voice is pleading, desperate.

He called me Ellie.

"Yes love, you can, I can.
Trust me."

"No, you don't understand.
It's too hard, and I don't fucking trust me."

When we get to our floor and the doors open his hand is around the top of my arm and he pushes me out of the elevator.

"Get out. Go home"

"Rob, don't.."

"I'll see you later."

The doors pull together again like the closing of the curtains after a play, and he's gone.

 

***

 

I'm sitting at the table in the kitchen.
Numb.
So much has happened already today, I don't know how to process it all.

Rob's still gone.
Maybe when he leaves he goes to visit May, how's that for a thought.

It's one I wish I hadn't had, right now.
Just the thought of him with someone else, together with everything I'm feeling now, about the sex yesterday and his temper in the park and how he just was in the elevator…
The things he said..

With my elbows on the table I hold my face in my hands, and close my eyes.

***

It's dark, peaceful, and the sky's full of stars. His chin is resting on my head as he stands behind me and I feel his fingertips glide softly down the outside of my arms. I shiver, and he opens his coat to wrap it around me before kissing the top of my head.

Turning around within his arms and inside the coat, I tuck mine around his waist and press myself against the warmth of his body…
I feel safe, understood and loved..

I gaze up into his kind face, his soft brown eyes, framed by his dark hair….

He's not Rob.

 

.

Chapter 10: I'm here

Wednesday January 18

Disbelief mingles with the sinking feeling in my stomach, I couldn't have, I couldn't…

I think I may have hurt Rob badly… but I don't want to believe that it's true. I'm gripped by apprehension and pray that I'm wrong.

What did I do?

My heart is pounding far more violently now at the thought of what I could have done than it ever has when Rob's lost his temper. Because unlike his temper I can't manage, or handle or avoid it. If I did this thing, if I cheated on him, betrayed him, it's something I've already done, even if I can't remember doing it.

 

So many things make sense if it's true.

Like the fact that he doesn't touch me, not lovingly, or affectionately, and he barely lets me do the same to him, he's still so locked behind his wall. Even during sex or when things have gotten heated, he won't let me touch him, it's been fast and angry.. it's been channelled rage…

And that's been something I've had no illusion about.
I don't think that for him it's ever been about love. I don't know, maybe he cares for me, but that's not love. No, it's been about pain and anger, and his trying to find a way to endure it. I knew that, I always knew that, it's the reason I've guarded my heart so fiercely, though not always successfully.

In the beginning I wanted to find out the truth from him. That was all I wanted. To me he was the key to all the questions I needed answering and I never thought further than that, never really considered him.
But he got under my skin and something subconscious compelled me to care for him and to want to help him, in the same way that a part of me not connected with memory still recognised him as being familiar, even in the hospital.
And.. yes, my feelings for him grew.

I care about him so very deeply, more deeply than I was ever prepared for. And I still want him physically, more than I thought was possible.

But here's the thing that hurts. The sex was incredibly hot and I'd go there with him again in a heartbeat, but if I cheated on him and hurt him then I guess it's never going to be about love, and I think maybe I hoped that eventually it could be.

I think I broke his heart.
And if that's true then knowing what I did will break mine.

 

***

It was almost an hour ago now that Rob pushed me out of the elevator and left. I wonder where he's gone, and what he's doing. I know he probably won't tell me even if I ask him.

 

There's a moth in the kitchen. Rob turned up the heating early today and maybe it's been woken from its winter slumber too soon by the extra warmth.
It drags itself along the window frame and clumsily buffets the glass, unaware of the mistake that it's made.
I wonder what to do with it. There's nothing for it here. Do I leave it to helplessly seek something that it's never going to find, or let it out into the cold, knowing that will likely kill it?
I opt for the latter. Maybe it'll find a place to hibernate again, but if not, better to die quickly than to suffer a slow and hopeless decline.

 

I'm hungry but I'm not. There are microwave fries in the freezer. They'll do I guess.
After putting them in and setting the dial I wait. At first I'm drawn to watching the little cardboard box go round and round, until I lean against the counter and close my eyes.
This can't be happening, I can't have betrayed him.
But then I remember.

***

Loud music thumping from a room downstairs, dense and insistent.
He's moving inside me in time to the bass, here in the close darkness, hiding where we really shouldn't be.
Kissing, caressing, his mouth is on my breasts, dark hair against the pale. His hands are on my hips, gripping my flesh as the rhythm goes on and I'm almost… I'm almost…

"Eliza…"

His voice is forced, I feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

"Jonathan… I'm…"

 

The dull beep of the microwave brings me back, and the sound is a ridiculous punctuation mark to end the devastating truth of my memory.

Jonathan.
His name was Jonathan and I betrayed Rob with him.
And just as suddenly I remember Rob's words,

"Would I do it all again if I knew how it would end? Could I?
No.
The answer's no."

"It's done Ell.
You don't understand. It already happened and the damage is done.
We're the survivors. There's no going back.."

I'd ruined everything already.

And then the fries in the microwave are forgotten and I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, because I don't have the energy to stand and sob my heart out.

 

***

 

I'm sitting by the windows in the living room when Rob returns, watching the starlings fly. They're already gathering, ready to begin their sky dance at dusk. Jostling, squabbling, their busy lives a fight for survival, markedly different to the quiet battle taking place within my heart, though right now it feels as important.

For all of the thinking I've done, I've no idea what to say to him.

In spite of everything my heart lifts as it always does whenever he walks into the room. He appears defeated but resolute, and comes to stand in the middle of the space, his hands held unusually still at his sides.

"I can go, if you want me to. We said no promises, it's okay. If you want me to, I understand."

My rising heartache has robbed me of my voice. All I can do right now is shake my head and look at him like I mean it.

"Ellie, have you been crying? I'm…
I'm sorry.."

His open look of anguish isn't doing anything to help my guilty feelings.
His voice is gentle and reasoning.

"I can go, I really can go. I'll go quietly and I… You don't have to worry about how I'll react if you tell me to, I'll just go."

"No… Rob no, it's not because of anything you've done, I promise. I'd hate for you to leave."

He's come to sit on the edge of the seat close to mine and I can feel and smell the cold of the outdoors around him.

"Is there anything I can do? I want to help."

But he can't help, because the damage is already done, and I did it.

"Please, would you give me a hug?"

I've no right to ask him, but his eyes are softly lit with compassion and kindness, and maybe I can pretend that it's love I see there, just to feel better for a while.
But when he moves to sit closer beside me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to him so I'm pressed against him it's almost more than I can bear.
I can't bring myself to tell him. He doesn't need to know that I've remembered what I did.

His chin finds a comfortable resting place on the top of my head and it's from there that his voice drifts down to me falteringly, earnestly reaching for words, mellow and soft with the hint of an edge.

"All I keep doing is saying sorry. I lose my temper, I lose my cool and I know I'm…
My feelings rush up and I can't…
But my being self aware doesn't absolve me of anything, neither does it mean you should have to tolerate it."

When I can see his free hand it's gesturing to emphasise his words as he speaks, or rubbing up and down his thigh and gripping his knee. When I can't, I imagine him touching his face distractedly.

Maybe the fact that his face is hidden from my view is helping him to be more open, and if doing things this way allows him to feel more comfortable in talking about his feelings, then I'm going to take the opportunity to tell him how I feel as well. But not about what I remembered. Not that.
Staying where I am I reply,

"I'm not gonna lie, your temper can be scary sometimes… but the other side.. when you're physical with me, and the sex?
I don't want you to hold back for me if you need to let go. It's exciting and it's so fucking hot, I mean, damn."

I feel his stomach contract as he huffs a soft sound of humour and surprise.

"I want you to be able to let go, do you hear what I'm saying?"

There's a quiet "Uh huh," from above me.

"I understand, I know, there's some things you need to work through…"

I take a breath and slip my arm behind him around his waist.

"And if you can do that, through me, and let me be a conduit for your feelings then that's what I want to do for you. Believe me though, I'm not doing anything I wouldn't want to do regardless.
Just bring it on and do your worst, because I want you, you angry, moody, difficult man. Do you understand?"

I wait for him to say anything, do anything, but neither of us move and the silence is suspended between us.

Then he gives me a gentle squeeze and I feel a small pressure as he kisses me on the top of my head, I'm sure that's what he does, and withdrawing his arm from around me, he moves away.
Halfway across the room he calls back,

"I bought pizza. You want me to heat it up?"

 

I feel sad and happy and guilty and just plain confused.

 

***

When Rob's nightmare comes again that night I notice, not for the first time but with far more certainty, that when he calls my name both hands fly upwards. Sometimes it's barely more than a flinch, but sometimes they jump upwards with a jolt and it's almost as if he's suffered an electric shock, it's so startling.

This time when he does it I gently take hold of one of them. His long fingers slowly wind their way around mine to grip them as I comfort him, and after both hands have drifted back down again to rest against his chest, he doesn't let go.

***

 

Pressed against the glass I watch the leaden skies overshadow the buildings in our street.
Snow is forecast. The clouds seem heavy with it, hovering ominously above the cold dry ground, lending a sense of impending doom to the atmosphere.

I feel it here, inside.

I don't know where we're headed.
I stand by what I said to Rob yesterday, I meant every word, but I've been doing nothing but thinking since then.

For all that I've remembered and come to learn about him, he's still shrouded in mystery to me.
I don't know what drives him, what he's afraid of, what he's hiding or what he needs.

I still don't know what causes him to call out for me every night in a cold sweat, his breathing fast and shallow, or why his temper snaps as easily as a dry and brittle stick.
Or why, when I caught him without his defences and asked why he called himself a bomb, he unravelled and pleaded for my help.

In spite of these things and also because of them, I'm willing to do just about anything for him, even though he's said he doesn't want to be with me and in spite of his angry and potentially violent outbursts.

That's actually insane and I don't recognize myself. I don't know how he makes me feel this way and it predates my recent feelings of guilt.
He makes me crazy like no one else can.

Outside the window the first few snowflakes wind their individual paths downwards, drifting on the breeze, tumbling over each other in their descent...

***

And I'm falling. Sudden fright hurtling up inside me at the sensation of turning over, moving through air and I gasp…

 

***

It's late in the evening.
The room is softly lit and so's the fire, while the light from the TV flickers and changes the colour of the walls.

Rob and I are side by side, with our legs pressed together on the sofa and our feet lined up in slipper socks on the surface of the coffee table.
We're watching a quiz show and eating mini donuts.

At the end of the round, the contestant leaves the podium to muted applause.
Rob waves a mini donut at him.

"Fucked it up. That's harsh."

I nod without looking at him.

"Yeah, fucked it."

He passes me the tub of donuts without taking his eyes from the screen and I take one.

"I knew all the answers to those…"

He takes back the tub and from the corner of my eye I see him take another before answering.

"Liar..."

I don't look at him. Just grin.

"Yeah."

 

Rob puts his head around the door. He's wearing his baseball hat and his padded jacket, his brows drawn into a frown as he rubs his eyes.

"Ell?
I have to go out for a while, are you going to be okay?"

"Of course," I smile, "I'll be fine. What, you're still worrying about seizures?"

I cock one eyebrow at him. It's meant to be a silly dig, a joke, but the look that he gives me wipes the smile off of my face as something flickers in his eyes that makes me want to hold him.

"I'll be fine, Rob. Honestly. I've got my phone.
You be okay, out there."

With a wan smile that doesn't reach his sad eyes he nods once before disappearing.
As soon as the apartment door closes I feel his absence acutely.

 

***

Standing in Rob's room I search through the messy pile of paperwork on his desk while my laptop comes to life.
I don't know how much time I have.
It's taken me way too long to wonder what I would find out if I googled Rob's name, and then I still had to find my laptop. I couldn't use anything of Rob's because even if I could unlock them he would know what I'd done.

The answer to what I would find out is not a lot actually. Robert Burnham doesn't bring up anything, really. But when I remember the couple in the park that called him Bo… I type in that name..
And boom, the search results light up and I don't know where to look first.

There's a recent photo of Rob, I click on it and my eyes scan quickly…

"… artist who has directed several of his contemporaries' stage shows and specials, recently split from his wife Eliza in the wake of his rumoured ….

"ELIZA!"

Shock runs like a lightning bolt through my body at the sound of his voice. It's so full of outrage and near fury that I slam the laptop shut and spin to face him, almost afraid to see.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"
He's looking around wildly,
"What did you read? I told you NOT TO!"

He's already partway out of control and suddenly I'm super aware that he's a big guy, a really big, strong guy and for a moment I almost fold, but I hold my nerve.

"It's okay! Will you please calm down…"

I move towards him. I don't know what I'm doing, I just want to try to slow his rapid escalation into what appears to be a fit of combined temper and panic.
Seeing my approach he whirls with his teeth barred to shove me away, too roughly. The impact jolts my body and I stumble, landing on the bed.

"I trusted you, Eliza!
Get out! Get the FUCK out!"

As he lunges towards me I scramble my way across the mattress from under him.

"I'm sorry! I'm SORRY! For fuck's sake BACK OFF…
What do you think I'm going to see?"

He seems to have lost possession of himself, and in desperation I half shout, half scream at him as loudly as I can,

"…ROBERT!"

I make it to the door, spinning so I can keep an eye on him as I reverse out of the room.

The last thing I see as I'm closing it is Rob as he's shocked into self awareness again, his eyes wide and fearful. Both hands shoot upwards to shoulder height in a gesture of surrender, or to stop himself from doing something now that he'll regret.

The same as he does in his nightmare.

On the other side of the door I hold it and wait until the sudden feeling of falling which crashes over me has diminished, and my vision clears.

Then with my heart still thumping and with trembling fingers I unfold a letter that I'd hidden in my clothes.

It's a letter from the hospital. It contains no new information, but it does have the contact number and my reference details.

 

When my hands stop shaking I sit in the bathroom with the door locked, and use the details on the letter to request my medical records be sent to me.

I've been passive and blind for too long.

***

By the time I'm in my bed with the lights turned out, I've long given up any expectations for seeing Rob before tomorrow.
He's been locked in his room and not ventured out at all again, not even to attempt an apology.

All day I've put up with Radiohead…Ful Stop and Motion Picture Soundtrack mostly, and the creeping uneasy feeling of apprehension they always give me as the music flows from across the hallway.

But now it's quiet, so when the small hesitant knock sounds on my door, I hear it easily in spite of its reluctance.

I answer softly, wondering why my first reaction is relief.

When the door opens, he's a silhouette….
and I see the dark room again, with Rob silhouetted in the doorway, his height, his frame, even the outline of his hair….
What is the feeling that comes with this memory? It's important, yet it slips away from me like the fading fragments of a dream.

His voice is barely more than a broken whisper,

"Ell? I…."

There's long pause, before I hear him sigh,

"I….
Please..?
I'm sorry."

He sounds defeated and lost, and the ache in my heart answers before I can.

"Come on. Close the door."

How does he do this to me?
I feel him crawl into the bed and as my eyes adjust to the darkness again I see the shape of him, curled on his side fully clothed, facing away from me and as far away as he could be.
He clearly expected rejection.

 

***

When the nightmare came I stopped it before he called.

He was about to fall into the part of the dream where the fear takes him, and I caught him, just in time.
He was mumbling, unsettled, moving his body and I soothed him then, propping myself up on my elbow. I curled my body around him as much as I could without waking him, and I talked to him softly and gently and I felt… too much. I could have cried from the weight of everything in my heart.

 

Laying here with him in the darkness now that he's settled again, twisting a lock of his hair around my finger, I wonder what's to become of me.

 

***

I'm running in the house, upstairs at night again. I'm anxious, afraid of something. The people are downstairs, the same as the last time and I can hear them, counting slowly..

But again, there's only me and Rob upstairs on the landing, all alone.
As I reach the top of the stairs he swings towards me, blazing fury, his face in mine.

"You fucking BITCH."

But this time his face is above my face, close, so close we're almost touching and he's fighting with himself as much as he's fighting with me, holding himself just those inches away as if in that moment he wants to invade me, destroy me, his huge hand raised and open as he towers over me, wanting to..

"Ellie?
You okay?"

Rob's turned towards me, onto his back and he's peering at me sleepily through the darkness, concerned.

Had I fallen asleep?

His voice is rough and scratchy.

"You sounded… I don't know. You okay?"

I don't think I am. But I whisper

"Yes, go back to sleep,"

I want to curl up behind him and hold him so badly, to keep him close and ward off the thoughts that are coming for me, but I can't.

 

*****

 

Friday January 20

I've been thinking about my dream, or memory, from the night before.

The one where I'm fighting with Rob on the landing, and he goes to hit me.
Without knowing what happens next, or even if it's a memory at all, rather than a fabrication of my damaged brain, I don't know whether to act on it.

I know he has a temper, and that when he's lost it he's come close. But he's never hurt me, to my knowledge.

I can handle him, I'm sure of it, and I don't want to have to lose him because he has a temper…

But if I ever find out that he's hurt me ….
Then he'll have to go.

I'm willing to do just about anything to help him, but as much as I care about him there has to be a line, and that's where I'm drawing it, no matter how hard it might be.

 

***

He's still sorting the mail.
I see him in the afternoon, head down, shuffling the paper in his hands as he heads into the dining room and I follow him.

The sky's still heavy with unfallen snow, the few flakes of yesterday were all that came down and now the room feels dark with the lack of daylight because of it.
I turn a couple of lamps on before closing the heavy curtains in this room to help keep out the cold, there are no blinds in here.

"Rob, I think I should do that, I'd rather do it."

He passes them to me without argument.

"Hmm, sure, if you'd be happier that way."

"Yes. I think I would be, thank you."

He's set one of his keyboards up in here, and through the morning there's been the sound of faltering broken music.
So many times the notes would become a jumble and then the music would become slower, or stop altogether to be replaced by either silence, sounds of frustration or cursing.

When I took him lunch he ate so broodingly and silently that I wondered why I bothered.
I know how hard it is for him, but I know that any attempt at kindness with either words or touch would lead to the same response and so I kept my distance, choosing to spend my time afterwards elsewhere.

I still feel the need to follow my instincts though, and keep an eye on him. Just watch him, though I don't know why. Just watch him.

Sitting at the dining table now, he's opening his mail when there's a notification from his phone and I watch as he looks at the screen and the hand holding the mail drops it slowly to the table, forgotten. His face is ashen, and his eyebrows meet in consternation.

"Owh… shit, oh.. fuck… FUCK."

"What is it?"

He's scaring me, and I'm even more worried when he limply passes me his phone before burying his face in his hands.

"From Doug."

There's a series of photos. Credit where it's due they're remarkably clear and professional looking considering the situation as I remember it.
Rob and I walking in the park, Rob lunging towards the camera, obviously furious, but the photo they're leading with is one with Rob, clearly angry as he's swung around with his hand raised and ready to strike me as I look up at him, surprised. My hand is ready to grab his and pull it down but in the photo it just looks like a poor attempt to defend myself.

"Shit."

 

The phone begins to ring, vibrating in my hand and I see Doug's name as I pass it back to Rob so he can answer.
The eyes that look up at me from his hands are desolate, and bleak, and when he takes the phone he leans on the table with one hand actually wrapped over his head as he huddles within himself, the other hand holding the phone to his ear.

There's a long period where Doug obviously has a lot to say, and Rob slowly sinks ever lower, caving in on himself like a collapsed inflatable.

Eventually he speaks and he sounds small and lost in a way I haven't heard until now.

"I didn't, Doug, I didn't, nobody got hurt…"

He sounds so utterly crushed that on impulse I take the phone from him.

"Doug? It's Eliza, I want to help.."

Rob snatches the phone from my grasp and he's instantly animated again, but by anger, appalled.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

And then into the phone,

"No, I don't think they got an address, okay, okay…"

"Doug, you believe I didn't…?"

He puts down the phone, wraps his arms around himself and stares at the surface of the table, as if he doesn't really know what's just happened and it's the only place that's safe.

 

Something about this whole situation is making me very uneasy, and for the first time I need his reassurance.
Also, I'm done with being passive.

"Rob, you wouldn't ever hurt me, would you? Like, you've never hurt me before, physically?"

His eyes lift slowly to mine, dazed and lost and I'm already questioning myself on the fairness of my timing.

"What.. you mean, like, by accident?"

"No, Rob. Not by accident."

His eyebrows are knitted together and drawn with hurt and disbelief but his mouth is almost a sneer.

"What..? Why are you asking that?
No.. No, I've never hurt you that way. Never."

He's angry and offended, he's been doubly accused. Maybe because I feel so guilty I attempt to justify myself, but I think more likely it's my intention to channel his rising emotions.

"You said you were a bomb, you said you exploded and blew everything to pieces… "

He's getting angrier now, drawing all of his negative feelings from the injustice of what's just happened into one place, and I'm watching as his eyes become darker as his pupils dilate.

"I didn't, I didn't, I told you, that's what you said!
That's not what it MEANS."

And there's that thread I can't help pulling…

"I know you did something, Rob, so what was it?
What did you do?"

***

We're in a car, at night. When I turn to look at him, his face lit by the lights from outside and the dashboard, I'm met by raw and naked anger in return, his eyes blazing hurt and fury as he turns to me.

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..
I just needed you to love me, not punish me…"

 

My attention is drawn back to Rob, right here with me now… and that's what I'm trying to do, if he'd just let me...

I need to focus.

He's going back to sit at the keyboard. Maybe he does it automatically, heading for the only immediate distraction available, but I see his shallow breathing, the tightly wound way that he moves, and it seems like a bad idea. I know what's coming as he tries and fails and tries and fails to play as he wants to.

I count the heartbeats while he sits there frozen in place and I hold my breath as his body tenses and he tries to fight his rising anger and frustration. I see the bad wolf in him as he draws himself up to his full height, and I can see his temper coming in every line as his breathing flattens, faster, more shallow and he's wound more and more tightly until he screams,

"FUUUCK!"

Even though I'm ready for it I still jump as he flips the keyboard from its stand, sending it flying through the air in spite of its weight and he's up and pacing, pacing…

"It's not FUCKING FAIR!
NONE OF IT!
I can't… I CAN'T…"

"Rob…"

He doesn't hear, he's raging, raking back his hair as he paces back and forth twice more in fury before his fists clench, his rigid arms are held by his sides, his shoulders tense, raised.
He doesn't know what to do with it, how to discharge it. I can see the rise and fall of his breathing and any second, any second now he's going to explode again…

"ROB!"

I hold my arm out, my hand reaching for him.

His eyes swing to me, unseeing through the haze of his temper but when he focuses on me and I fix his eyes with mine, I take a breath to steady myself and try to let him know...

I'm here…
I'm here.

And the flash of comprehension in his eyes is wild.

He understands.

 

Slamming into me with his mouth on mine, holding me and lifting me up with his hand under my thigh, he carries me backwards to land with force on the dining room table, kicking the chairs aside to crash between my parted legs..

Oh god fuck…

I'm perched on the edge and he's on me, on my neck, biting and sucking his way messily down, making me gasp and squirm as he throws my arms up around his neck so he can reach behind me to unfasten my bra and pull it off together with my top in one swift movement over my head.

When only my hands are encased in the fabric he twists it, holding them in it tightly and stares at my nakedness for a moment, biting his lip with his pupils huge and black, before taking mouthfuls of my neck and shoulders, sucking and biting my skin more roughly and urgently in a way that makes me moan and turns my limbs to jelly but in between he has the presence of mind to be asking,

"Is this okay? Is this okay?"

And I'm answering "Yes," breathlessly, every time as he goes lower, taking my breasts into his mouth and doing the same but more gently as I gasp and feel myself clenching below, hot and slippery for him, wanting more..

He pushes me to lay down.

"Lift yourself up."

It's a short, low command,
and as I lift my hips my lower garments are pulled roughly down and off before he does the same with his own shirt. His body is so beautiful to me, I try to raise myself up to reach him, I want to touch his skin and feel him with my hands but I can't, as he opens his jeans and pulls them down just enough.

His forearms are slim but strong and firm as they wrap around my thighs from beneath and pull me sharply up and towards himself, the movement causing his hair to fall forward over his face and making me fall back against the table until his pelvis is almost flush against me, but not quite.

He rakes his fingers back through his hair, his mouth a hard, set line as he looks down at me with eyes that burn darkly and seem to see right into my mind. Taking two fingers he strokes me between my legs in a long looping motion that shoots sensation through my body, making me arch my back and whimper involuntarily as he hisses,

"Listen to you, you're so fucking horny, how much do you want this?"

I'm looking at him pleadingly, I don't know what he wants until I see his long thick shaft in his hand. He's stroking it as he leans towards me and asks me, hoarsely,

"Do you want this?
You want me to fuck you?"

My answer is whispered on a breath,

"Yes."

As soon as I feel him against me he's inside me in one hard thrust that punches a cry from my body and his voice is strained as he answers,

"Yeah, now you want me."

Dragging me to the edge of the table and hard against him he pulls me up to pin me, cradled to his chest with one arm as he lifts one of my legs over his other arm and his hips thrust up into me….

He's incredible, He's perfect, after all those years together he knows me completely and what he needs to do to hit the perfect spot and I'm crying out and seeing stars in his arms as he holds me and jerks up into me as deeply as anything could go. Even though he's biting into my shoulder I can still hear the muffled sounds that he's making against my skin as he keeps going at the same pace, making me climb and climb to a peak which feels almost impossible as his fingers dig into my back harder and harder and I know it's the same for him.

Laying me down again, he almost pulls out before pushing back into me slowly but still as firmly and deeply.
As he leans back, holding my legs over his arms I follow his gaze, past the hectic rise and fall of his chest and the hollowing of his stomach as he pants and holds himself back, down to the v forming an arrow to the place where our bodies meet. He's watching himself fuck me, with slow deep thrusts, watching himself slide in and out with his brows drawn, his face screwed up as he bites down hard on his lip, but that doesn't stop the sounds he's making from escaping him to join with my cries as the feeling continues to build relentlessly.

Gripping my shoulder with his good hand to steady himself he goes fast
and hard, until he opens his mouth, tilts his head back with his eyes closed and gasps,

"Fuck, oh god fuck… FUCK.. I can't…"

and I'm crying out with every slam against my pelvis that fills me and pushes me to the very limits of what I can take as the pleasure builds and the knot inside me grows tighter, until suddenly he gathers me up into his arms and holds me firmly against himself.
I wrap my legs around him, my hot wet skin against his as his cries grow suddenly higher and he's holding me tighter and the feeling is incredible. My face is in his hair against his ear when I wine

"I'm coming… fuck.. Rob I'm…."

The tension in my body that was pulled as taught as possible snaps, and I'm crying out as stars fill my head and I'm lost in the sounds he's making as he falls forward and cries my name. As he comes he's shuddering, thrusting into me the last few times as his breathing catches, hard but stuttering, his weight along the length of me.
Then he's quiet, still inside me with his arms around me and his forehead in the crook of my neck while he breathes as his body flinches and trembles and for precious seconds, I'm allowed to hold him.

I hold him without moving for fear of breaking the spell and making him leave. I hold him tightly and I feel the tears pricking my eyes, overwhelmed by what's just happened and to be allowed this much of him.

 

As he lifts his head my feelings for him are overflowing, and I reach out to gently stroke his face. But he takes my hand away, and I see the wall back in his eyes.
He's not really here. Not completely.

I gather my feelings together in response and hold them inside, to guard myself and keep them safe.
It hurts to see that part of him is being held separate, even now.

 

Though at least now I understand why.
That's what I did. I hurt him and made him build the wall in the first place.

 

Tucking himself away into his jeans his eyes avoid mine as he tells me to hold on a minute and disappears briefly, returning with a soft blanket from our bed which he wraps around to cover me.

Sitting on the table beside me he circles me with his arm, pulling me towards him until, with his chin on my head as we'd sat before, he can avoid my gaze whilst holding me close and do things his way. When the silence between us is too much I try to find some words.

"Rob…"

He squeezes my shoulder and stops wherever I'm going.

"Hey, do you always abuse the furniture like this?"

I pull away to look up and see his faint smile, his eyes soft and post orgasm hazy, and I want to kiss him more than anything, but he pulls me towards him again to kiss the top of my head.

No real kisses, no affirmations of love.
Just a little comfort and kindness after the best sex I've ever had in my life.
Maybe I should feel rejected, upset that he's using me for sex, but I can't. I instigated it, me, I knew what I was doing and I wanted it, and if that's how it is then I'm happy to use him right back.

 

***

When Rob's asleep I take his phone and find the right number before calling it on mine.

"Doug, let me help. I'll give a statement to say he didn't do anything, everything was taken out of context, I'll put an end to any misunderstandings."

It takes a moment but he obviously recognizes my voice, and the funny thing is I recognize his, older than us, with a Boston accent and made rough by too many cigarettes.

"Ell. Thank you.
If I use your statement to back mine, it might just save him, this time."

"But he didn't do anything, can't I just say that?"

There's an uncertain pause.

"I wish that would do it.
Look, I know I'm not supposed to tell you anything, but I think you should know, it's not the first time he's done this, and it won't be the last.

I'll draw something up for you to verify."

And he hangs up.

 

.

Notes:

This seems as good a time as any to add that there's a playlist for this story, it's what I listened to while I was writing and every song connects deeply with some aspect of it or one of the characters. If anyone else likes linking music to stories or would be interested in giving it a listen here's the link for Spotify.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3HllxASGE4jVr2Ze85M77R?si=tnSXrMTZQ8qZRYG3r4FBvg&utm_source=copy-link

And if this story had a theme song, it would be "The Kingfisher" by Rosemary and Garlic, by the way. It was a constant mood setter.

.

Chapter 11: a time for kindness

The morning comes gently.
Waking to the feeling of soft sheets against my skin, I'm at the perfect temperature and it's one of those mornings when the bed couldn't feel more comfortable.
I can hear the radiators hissing into life, the muted sounds from the city, traffic and car horns and bustle outside, and Rob breathing slowly beside me, deeply and evenly.

Opening my eyes I see him, facing away from me in his t-shirt, the shape of his shoulder above the soft fall of his hair onto the pillow and as I move my fingers through it, the tendrils slide between them in waves which become small, spiralling curls towards the ends, and something tightens in my chest.
Carefully I slip closer to him under the covers until I'm pressed against him, my head against his back where I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing, and slide my arm around his waist.

Just for a little while, I want to hold him.

For a few heartbeats I wait, hoping I haven't disturbed him, but the rhythm of his breath remains unchanged.
However, just as I'm relaxing, I feel his hand brush over mine and take hold of my arm, just above my wrist to hold me there, pulled more tightly around him.
And then he's still.
Feelings that I shouldn't have roll over inside me and I bite my lip.
I dare not move and break the spell.
Tucking my head in against him I close my eyes.

 

There's a sound, soft and insistent that can't be ignored. It's coming from my hip as I lay on my side and I feel the subtle vibrations through the bedclothes.
Turning my head to see, I discover the grey cat, curled into a small amorphous shape, perched atop of me. It's purring and smiling in the way that cats can smile, its eyes closed.

"Hey, How did you get in here…"

It's barely a whisper, I don't want to wake Rob, but it opens its large amber eyes, luminous in the morning light, to look directly into mine.

I open my eyes.
I'm warm, pressed as I am against Rob with the heating now fully on, and he's beginning to wake.

To begin with he pulls my arm more tightly around himself, takes in a large breath and lets out a bigger sigh, before letting me go.

As he begins to turn I move away and do the same, until I'm sitting up and facing him, leaning on one arm.

"Hey, morning."

He's rising to sit cross legged, the bedsheets over his lap. Wrapping one arm around himself, maybe to fulfil a subconscious desire to still be held, he rubs his eyes sleepily and his hair is a tumble of dull blonde disarray.
That crumpled sleepy face is so dear to me.
He runs his fingers through his tresses to push them back and once he has I reach out to tuck a few loose strands behind his ear, without thinking.
His brow furrows momentarily, but then clears again. His voice is both soft and rough.

"Morning."

"You sleep okay? You didn't wake up?"

A small smile softens his features.

"Sure, I always sleep well when I'm with you. You're my dreamcatcher."

There's that little twist again, in my heart. He almost never refers to what comes for him every night. Edging a little closer I lay my hand on his knee, over the bedclothes.

"I know I've asked you what happens in your nightmare before, but if you could tell me then maybe I could do more to help."

Shaking his head in wide, slow movements, he looks towards the window and even with the blinds closed there's enough light to lift the blue of his eyes before his eyelids become heavy and he drops his head.

"I… I can't, I can't tell you."

His face has fallen so far, his brows drawn pensively as he remembers the things that I can't know.

"Rob…"

When he looks up his eyes are so haunted I resolve never to ask him again. Ever. I'll settle for being here for him and doing what I can.

"Do you think it's snowed yet? It's overdue.."

His energy changes instantly with the thought of it. Neither of us have grown out of loving snow. It must be one of those random things I just still have in my bank because I know it.
Pulling his long legs from beneath the covers he pads to the window in black boxer briefs and his white t-shirt, and I enjoy watching the loose movement of his body as he opens the blind.

As he does he's thrown into sunlight, making him squint slightly beneath his hair which takes on a honey coloured cast.
Pushing it back from his face the sun hits the strong angles of his profile, the sweet softness of his mouth and lights his eyes as he gazes at the sky.
Although he's completely unaware of it as he stands, tilting his head so his hair falls forward and running his hand through his short beard, he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Every stomach flipping feeling that I have for him rushes up inside me and it hits me like a train.

I love him.

There's no good pretending to myself anymore that what I'm feeling is anything less.
This is more than "caring", or "having feelings." I love him, truly, and now I've finally allowed my heart to show me the truth, I feel as if it could explode out of my chest.

Suddenly and unexpectedly I want to cry, because now I have to face the fact that I'm utterly, helplessly in love with him, and it's completely hopeless…

My eyes fill and I don't know what to do.
I'm going to have my heart broken, and maybe that's only fair.
Maybe I deserve that.

He deserves the truth though.

 

"Psshhhh, nah, nothing. The forecast was way out. Maybe the snow just missed us…"

Turning away from the window his eyes narrow with concern as they fall on me.

"Ellie what's wrong?"

Taking a deep breath I begin.

"There's something I've remembered… that I need to talk to you about."

Rob's been making his way back with a worried face but now the colour seems to suddenly drain out of it, and as he reaches the bed he sits down, heavily.

"Oh.. oh okay…"
He swallows and grabs a pair of dark grey sweatpants and pulls them on.
"I think maybe I should make us a coffee and bring it back here, if that's okay?
Should I..?
Should I do that?"

And I realise he's wildly nervous. My heart sinks. I don't want that, I don't want there to be something he's afraid that I'll remember, and now I'm afraid too because I know there's something…

"she still doesn't remember…
I'm scared… if she does it's gonna change everything…"

"It's not the first time he's done this, and it won't be the last."

I try to smile reassuringly, and fail.

"Yeah, okay. I think that's a good idea."

Once he's pulled a hoodie on and gone I can gather my thoughts.
Between my infidelity and my growing suspicion about him, I've been ever more desperately trying to cling to the here and now of him, before those things come between us, or worse, take him away from me. I don't think I could bear it.

I've fallen for him hard in the middle of and in spite of everything, and I have no idea how to save either of us.

***

I've pulled a sweater on over my jeans and I'm sitting on a chair, piling my hair on top of my head when Rob returns. He leaves my coffee on the side, climbs back to the same space on the bed and sits cross legged again, hugging his mug in his hands.

He can't meet my eyes, and although it's not very warm he sets his mug down briefly to take his hoodie off, pulling at his t-shirt in an attempt to cool down, as a light sheen of sweat dampens his forehead and his hair, close to his scalp.
Everything about his demeanour is an alarm bell as he quietly fidgets and twitches uncontrollably with nerves but I don't draw attention to it, crossing the room to sit closer to him on the edge of the bed.

"Like I said, I've remembered some things from before, and because of that there's something I've realised."

Rob takes a breath, watching his hands as one rubs and pinches at the other in the way that he does, his knee bouncing even here on the bed.

Laying my hand on his forearm I try to steady him.

"Rob it's okay…"

He raises his eyes to mine.

"I needed to tell you that I know I hurt you. I know what I did."

All at once he closes his eyes and his head rolls back to rest against the wall with an expression that looks like a mix of relief and pain as he becomes still and just breathes, and then there's only pain.

"Rob?"

Bringing his head back up he pulls his arm away from me as his eyes meet mine, and for once I can't read them at all.

"I did, didn't I. I hurt you.
Baby I'm so sorry."

I don't know why I called him that, but it came straight from my heart, and I know from the way it made him wince that it landed.

"I'm so sorry for anything I've done. If it helps at all I hate myself for it, and I'd never hurt you now, I can't even imagine it."

My throat is aching with the tears I could cry and I reach out again to touch him, but then I falter. His eyes are cold, shut down, and his voice is as emotionless as it was when we were in the hospital, and he realised I'd forgotten him.

"What the fuck am I meant to to do with that? You can keep that shit.
It's news to you but it is old to me, and I'm done with crying over it."

I think of the times I heard or caught him crying when I first came home, and the tears well up in my eyes.

"I want to tell you I'm sorry.. I need to say it. Did I say I was sorry back then?"

He shrugs and shakes his head like it doesn't matter, his mouth a downward frown.

"No. Not really."

But then his voice takes on a cold, hard edge I haven't heard before, and his eyes are like steel as he turns them on me.

"Are we done? Only, reminding me what a bitch you were and what a fucking failure I was as a husband doesn't make me feel better, apparently."

His emotionless facade is broken when his eyes fill and he dismissively crushes them with the heels of his palms angrily and roughly before pressing his mouth into a thin, tight line.

Maybe he won't let himself cry, but I can't help it as my voice begins to waver.

"I don't know what I did, exactly, or why... I don't know who he was or.."

Rob lets out a cold and brittle laugh,

"What, do you want me to find him for you and do reintroductions? After your accident he didn't want to know!"

His voice turns low and resentful.

"He backed out, stepped away and left me to take care of you."

The resentment is what shatters me.
He never wanted to be here…

"That's not fair! I don't care about him, that's not what I meant! I meant I slept with a man I've forgotten, for reasons I don't understand, and you hate me for something I couldn't even remember doing!"

I'm angry and I'm fully crying as the tears run down my face, but then anger gives way to sadness because even though I don't remember it, I still did it, and everything's my fault.

"I was going to say that although I don't remember any of those things, there's so much now that I understand about you, now I realise what I did.
I know why you're so sad, and angry, and I know why you only want angry sex… to spite me…"

I hiccup a sob, because in spite of everything, I know really that he doesn't hate me.
He just won't love me.

"And I'm really, really sorry, because I can see the damage I've done to you."

While I've been speaking, his face has fallen into pity and shame, his mouth opening to speak but staying quiet until the end while his fingers move through his beard.

Moving to sit beside me with his arm around my shoulders, I feel him resting his head against mine and just the closeness of his body against me sends my heart racing.

When he speaks he's earnest, and his voice is soft and kind.

"Ellie…
Ellie I don't hate you, I could never…
And please don't think those things.
It's…it's not everything you think.
You called it… you called it angry sex, and…
But it's not just anger, and I'm not only angry at you. I know I say it a lot but it really is complicated, it really is..."

His words are calming but I…

"But I can't believe I'd do that to you..."

As I'm wiping my eyes I'm pulled further into his arms, they tighten around me until my head's against his chest and I can feel his heartbeat. I know this was once the place where I belonged.

"I don't know why I'd do that…"

His chest rises sharply and falls again as I hear him sigh.

"I do…"

And I don't want to ask what he means.

 

He's quiet long enough for me to begin to worry.

"Rob?"

He sounds like I disturbed him in his thoughts.

"Sorry."

"What is it, what's wrong?"

He answers without letting me go, and as if he's talking to himself.

"I was thinking about the photos, online. I should see, uhhh, I should see what's going on, but I'm afraid to look."

My hand takes a hold of his arm.
He mustn't, not today.

"Don't. Please don't. Let it go, at least for a day. There's nothing you can do right now.
You know how it's going to make you feel, please don't let it happen. Give yourself today. Give us today, please."

He holds me a little tighter.

"Okay, I think you're right.."

I'm flooded with relief.
Maybe we're both holding reality at bay.

After not nearly enough time, he rubs my arm,

"You wanna get something to eat?"

It's late and he's hungry. He can skip meals and live on Red Bull but when he's hungry he's hungry and I don't know how I know that. I smile to myself.

"Sure,"

And he gives me a quick squeeze before letting me go.

"Good girl."

He's giving me a warm and fuzzy feeling which doesn't end when I hear him singing quietly to himself as he's leaving.

I try to imagine what it was like for him to be hurt so badly, and to then have to take care of me when I've been so blissfully ignorant and unapologetic..
The harsh injustice of it must have been so invalidating, he must have felt like nobody saw him or cared.

 

****

I'm here, in the apartment, and it must be summer because it's warm and the sun is pouring through the kitchen windows, filling the room and making long shadows on the walls.

Rob's sitting on the kitchen table in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, bathed in the light. Both of his legs are crossed and folded beneath him as he leans forward over his phone, his forearms on his knees. His long hair is spilled forwards so that the only part of his face I can see is the end of his nose and his mouth, pushed into a frowning line.

I smile. How does such a big guy manage to compact himself down that way until he's so small?

I guess because he's tall but he's also narrow.

Walking to him I run my hand down the side of his head, over his hair and cup his face to lift it slightly. When he pushes the hair from his eyes and looks up questioningly with a small and vacant smile I kiss him.

His returned kiss is gentle, soft, there's a sweetness there that makes my heart ache, but not for long. Quickly his kiss becomes more urgent, and his lips chase mine as I break from him and turn to walk away.

Looking back I see he's watching me go with a small beguiled smile.

Standing in the kitchen area, I sense him behind me before his hands slip around my waist to turn me, and I'm lifted until I'm sitting on the counter, my legs either side of him.
I barely have a moment to take in the light in his blue eyes before he's kissing me, his hands either side of my face, his fingers in my hair and I feel a full body rush of arousal as I part my lips and let him send my heart soaring as I return his kiss again in kind.

In this position our centres align perfectly, I can feel him growing rapidly between my legs, hard and insistent. By holding onto him and wrapping my legs around his hips, I'm able to move forward to press myself against him, and with a low groan into my mouth he moves against me, thrusting his hips forward and upwards, pulling me closer as he moves slowly but firmly, grinding against me. I feel his muscles flexing under my legs and the friction even through our clothes is making me want him, here and now. Gripping his shoulders, feeling the rising tension in them, I break the kiss, and a half laugh half groan falls from his lips as I whisper breathlessly against his ear,

"Fuck me."

 

****

 

When I follow him to the kitchen music is playing and he's already busy.
He's an awful cook really but I love when he tries, and he did well enough when I couldn't.
He looks up as I walk in and smiles uncertainly, but there's a twinkle in his eyes.

"Okay…
I'm making food, and we're gonna see how that goes..
Um, and then I'm gonna..
Oh fuck,
Ell, can you help?"
He's laughing,
"Oh, my god, this is NOT going the way I imagined already."

When I join him and slip my arm around his waist while I ask him what his plans were he shifts on his feet but he doesn't pull away.
And when I grab his arm to wrestle the spoon from him to take over with the eggs he giggles in the light and airy way he does and nudges me, smiling widely.

It's as if my confessing that I know what I did and being truly sorry has lifted something from him, and I'm so happy to see him this way.

He's been ambitious, attempting eggs and grilled mushrooms with avocado on toasted soda bread. There's a lot happening at once but he's being silly, and he's funny. He can be really funny, he makes me laugh and I'm warmed by the light that comes from him.
At one point we find ourselves smiling at each other and I see that light in his eyes.

This is my Rob. The good wolf. Not the side of him that smashed the jar in this room, the first time he completely lost it, or swung me round to shout in my face, or fucked me hard over the counter..

I don't want him to have hit me, or hurt me.
I think about Doug's words.
"Not the first time.."
Not the first time what? That he's been misunderstood? That he's been violent? Or violent towards me?

The bad wolf is so fucking hot…

But this is my Rob. I love him, and it would break me if because of his dark side, I had to make him go.

Reaching up I rub his back for him, between his shoulder blades. I know somehow that it gets so tight there with him having to lean over, being so tall, and he moves his shoulders in response.

 

In the story of the two wolves, the boy asks his grandfather,
"Which of them wins? The good or the bad wolf?"
The grandfather replies,
"The one that you feed."

As we take our food to the table, I know what I need to do. I need to stop hiding my feelings and let myself love him. I don't need to tell him that I do, but if I can just love him, then maybe he'll be okay.
Or maybe I'm being naive.

I can't change what he's already done, any more than I can do that for myself.

 

"You're quiet. Is it okay?"

When I look up he's waiting for my reply, one eyebrow raised, and a lock of hair falls over his other eye.
I smile.

"It's great, thanks to me…"

Turning his head as his mouth twists into a wry smile, he narrows his eyes and looks at me from them sideways. But before he can answer they widen a little and follow my hand as it moves towards his face.
Taking the fallen hair and threading it behind his ear, I ask him,

"Why don't you wear those headband thingies, to keep it out of your eyes anymore?"

The dimpled smile he gives me is so happy, it's beautiful.

"How do you know about that? You remembered!"

"Sometimes things are just there, like I always knew, like… I know you don't like spiders."

He shudders.

"I don't…
What the fuck Ellie?"

I'm loving how much I'm Ellie today instead of Ell, or Eliza, and he's still grinning at me.
But then a shadow passes over his eyes and his smile falters.

"So.. um, are you remembering, like are you remembering, um,"

His eyes lift from the table to mine and back as he pouts his lips, struggling to articulate the sort of memories he means without saying what they are.
I wait to see where this goes, but he just stops and sighs.

"Man, I don't know."

 

As we finish the meal I ask him what his plans are for the day and I'm relieved that he doesn't have any really, apart from a quick shower. I was hoping that would be the case, on a Saturday.
I'm so glad he seems in such a good mood, because I know what's going to happen, and I'm a little nervous.

***

He's in the dark grey sweatpants again, with the soft pale grey hoodie over a black t-shirt when he walks into the living room, his hair still damp from the shower and beginning to curl. Even without making any effort at all, he can take my breath away.
He frowns as his eyes search the room and if I wasn't so nervous I'd be wishing I could be all over him by now.

I've been sitting here waiting and unable to settle.

He must sense something's off because he stops mid pull back of his hair, his other hand on his hip and asks me,

"What's happening?"

I take a breath.

"Rob.. I've done something… "

"Why? What..?"

He's already suspicious when his phone makes the sound for the door system. When he answers I hear a woman's voice and my nerves kick up a notch.

"Hi, it's Claire here, for your assessment?"

His eyes swing to me, brows lowered and all I can do is look at him straight and nod encouragement.

 

"Hi.. Claire…
Come on up."

He's confused, uneasy and mistrustful.

"Ell.."

The fingers of his hand not holding his phone are unconsciously and nervously drawing a small circle on the side of his thigh as he stands there, round and round.

As I walk to get the door I ask him,

"Please, don't be angry with me.."

I figured the best approach was no warning and just let it happen. I hope I was right.
On opening the door I'm met with a small blonde woman in her forties with a bag and a kind smile, who I instantly trust. She knows the situation because I told her everything I know.

I lead her to the living room where Rob is standing, unsure of what's happening, and she holds out her left hand for him to shake, which he does, with a brief uncertain smile.

"Hi Rob, I'm Claire."
She begins, warmly.
"I'm a registered therapist, specifically for hands, and I'm here to do an assessment for you, if you'll let me?
It's your right hand, I believe?"

His eyes flick immediately to mine.

"Uh.. um yes.."

"Good, now, if we could just sit down and have a little chat."

His eyes find mine repeatedly as they sit facing each other on the sofa, Rob in the middle with his leg folded under himself and Claire on the end while she grabs her bag, and everything seems to be going as well as I could have hoped, so far.
I offer Claire a drink which she declines, and so having made my excuses I'm leaving them to it when Rob stops me.

"It's okay Ell, stay."

When I turn around he pats with his fingertips on the end of the sofa behind him. The entreating look he gives me as he bites his lip pulls me back and I sit down.

 

He's turned away from me towards Claire and I can't see what's happening, so I look instead towards the window, but I can hear.

Once they've had a preliminary talk about time frames and pain levels which I listen to with a keen interest, she begins, and when she speaks to him her tone is consistently encouraging, reassuring and calm.

"Firstly I need you to push your sleeve up, I need to see from… yes, that's it."

There's a pause.

"Okay so this is just a little assessment, and we're going to try this, can you do that?"

There's a little breathy sound of pain and I flinch on his behalf.

"No, no I can't.."

"That's okay, that's fine.
Now how about if I do this?"

"That's okay,"

"How about this.."

"SSHHIT! fuck!.. shit... I'm sorry.."

I wince, He jumped so badly he startled me.

"No I'm sorry, it's okay.
Can you push against me?
Don't, don't push it too far,

I just want to assess where you are…"

I'm aware of a light touch, and I catch my breath as I feel the fingers of Rob's other hand slide around mine, and I hold them.

"Okay, okay well done, that's good, now, can you squeeze this?"

"No, I don't think.."

"It's okay, I'm going to do a little manipulation for you now and we'll see if that changes anything.
That's it, just hold on a moment, I know… I know…"

His fingers tighten around mine again and I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb.

"Just bare with it for a few seconds more..

Well done, really well done."

I'm trying to concentrate on what Claire is saying but at the same time I'm distracted by him holding my hand like this.

"So, it's been three weeks, but I still think we can do a lot to help you. I'm going to make you another appointment and we'll begin with some manipulations and some exercises for you to do.
Why haven't you been in touch or had therapy before?"

"I… it was.. my fault."

 

If he thinks it's his own fault, then he blames himself. Maybe he thinks he doesn't deserve it.
It's hard, listening to everything, because he's left it so long and it's obviously painful, but at least it's not unrecoverable.

When he moves to speak to Claire about appointment arrangements his hand slips from mine and is gone, without acknowledgement, but my heart's still light and skippy at the thought of what just happened.

 

Once we're alone again he comes to sit beside me.
His brows are drawn together as he frowns in confusion.

"How did you.."

And he tilts his head to one side waiting for my answer.

"Promise me you won't get angry.."

He's going to be angry.

He chews his lip as his eyes look deeply into mine.

"I promise to do my best."

It's an honest answer, and I hesitate, but I knew this was coming.
I pull the hospital letter from my pocket, and give it back to him.

"I saw this, in your room, and something had to be done.
Why didn't you do this for yourself in spite of how important it is?
Why just suffer?"

My accusation has caught him on the back foot, and there's no anger. Instead all of the anxiety ticks take over.

"Because I didn't, I didn't think I.."

"Deserved it?"

I fix him with my eyes and try to ignore the fear that I see spark in his. I'm afraid to know what he would have done to accept this as some form of punishment.

 

"Whatever you think you're guilty of, you should still be kind to yourself.
You deserve love and kindness."

But when I rest my hand on his thigh to squeeze it and stroke it with my thumb he's up, instantly.

"Umm… sorry, I…"

He walks fast when he wants to, and he wants to now because I hardly have time to react before he's gone.

Fuck.
I'm so frustrated with myself. And him.

 

Jumping up I run to shout down the hallway,

"No internet Rob, no internet!"

 

***

Saturday January 21st

I'm in love with him, and maybe I always was.

I've been pushing it away but I can't do it anymore, I can't suppress it and it's won.
I love everything about him, everything. I'm so in love with him and I'm so screwed.

He doesn't love me the way that I love him.
And sex with Rob has nothing to do with love.

I can't blame him, he's never pretended it has done, and I'm trying to give love and kindness to a man who doesn't want it and can't cope with or accept it, because I was stupid and I hurt him. And even though it's turning me inside out, I deserve that.

But who am I kidding. We're walking such a fine line with his temper here that sometimes I'm not even sure if this is safe, this thing with us, whatever it is. He's carrying a heavy burden of guilt,
and I think he may have hurt me before, because of what Doug said and because I'm remembering.
I think Rob might have done something violent in response to what I did, and if he did, well then that's the line, and that's the end.

Neither of us want me to remember, and we're living together on borrowed time in the space between recall and forgetting.

***

Later on towards the evening I decide he's been too quiet and invisible. I don't like it.

But he answers my knock on his door and I find him sitting on his bed and closing his laptop.

I make a noise of disappointment.

"I thought you were staying off of there. Where were you, Twitter?"

He rubs his face with both of his hands and when he looks up his eyes are strained, and tired.

"It's everywhere, memes, people speculating, making jokes and tearing me to shreds.
This could end my career, as if this"
He holds up his right hand
"Wasn't enough."

He looks dejected and I think for a minute how I might help him.

"Okay. Get up, make a reservation, book a car. You're taking me out for dinner."

"What?"

He's eyeing me with consternation.

"Sure, we've been stuck in this apartment so long because of your fear of press involvement. Well they're involved, so fuck it.
Last I heard I was still your wife, and we're allowed to go for a meal together and frankly if we're spotted then good. Let them see a perfectly normal couple go out for food."

While I've been talking he's sat up taller and a slow smile has spread across his face, getting wider and warmer, until there's a definite fondness and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"There you are, that's my Ell, right there, you little slugger."

He's making me self conscious and even a little bashful, but when he grins and gives me the finger guns he just makes me laugh as I slip backwards through the door.

"I'm going to get changed."

***

I'm taking a last look at myself in the mirror when he gives me the five minute warning on the car.

A beautiful printed silk kimono overlays my short black bodycon dress, my hair's up with long tendrils framing my face, and for the first time since my accident, I've applied a little light makeup. I'm satisfied.
I put on a pair of gold oval hoop earrings that somehow I know Rob gave me and slip on my heels.

Stepping into the hallway there's nobody here but when Rob leaves his room in black jeans and a deep blue shirt, his hair combed but still somehow slightly haphazard and falling into his eyes my stomach does a backflip at the sight of him, he's so stunning.

My husband.

My god, he's so beautiful, how on earth did I fuck it all up so badly?

And then I realise that he's staring, and biting his lip.

"Ellie… you look.. amazing. Incredible."

His eyes soften.

"Still the prettiest girl I've ever seen…"

His smile is so sweet it's like a knife in my heart.
This isn't fair. He's not being fair at all.
I drop my gaze so he can't see the tears that have mutinied and are rising in my eyes.

Surely he knows he's just toying with me now.

Rob receives the text to say the car's arrived and he lays his hand on my shoulder, close to my neck.

"Come on."

 

***

 

The restaurant is quiet, elegant, and although heads turn as we walk in I can only expect that, looking at Rob, he's so tall and so striking. Once we've ordered we both begin to relax.
Although I'm not sure if I want the answer, I ask him,

"What was I like with you when we were together? When things were good. I mean you called me a slugger."

He's smiling but with the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Huh, um…
Brave. Yeah, brave. You've never been afraid to call bullshit on me. Or anyone. You'd take on all comers.
If you could fight it you could beat it. The way you coped with how I am… how I can be.."

His expression slides into something much sadder, and more serious as he fiddles with his fork.

"It was the things you couldn't fight that you couldn't cope with.."

Then he smiles again,

"But you haven't changed, you're still the same.
You stepped in on the hand thing and called me out for not getting it together.
Thanks for that, truly, I mean it.

You got me in line fast with the press guy too."

His eyes sweep the room, and I touch his hand.

"It's okay, there's nothing to worry about. If we're seen we're seen. I may not remember everything, but I know who you are right now and I'm proud to be seen out with you."

"Ell…"

He withdraws his hand from under mine and I notice it.

"Anyway, I'm a slugger. Anyone gives you trouble I'll fucking crush them. You… you stay out of it this time."

And in spite of himself, I make him laugh, and it's so good to see.

"I have something to ask you."

I look into his eyes. I've caught him when he's unguarded, wide open, and I'm sideswiped by a rush of feelings for him, because for a moment I'm given a glimpse of how it would feel if he let me in.

"When you were going to leave and you didn't, you said there was something you needed…
Have you found what it was?"

Looking away with a furrowed brow, he thinks for a while, before blowing out a breath, slowly and evenly, and when he speaks I can see his sight turned inwards.

"I think some, I'm still feeling my way towards something more. It's like my hands were tied,"

He holds his wrists together, briefly,

"But now they're not, and it's both easier and more terrifying."

His attention snaps back into the room and he rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, really bad analogy, I don't know if it made any sense."

Somehow his honesty has opened a door for me, but I can't look into his eyes when I answer.

"It's pretty terrifying from this side too, you know."

He leans forward, making me look up and his eyes are fixed on mine, intense, direct.

"My turn.
What are you trying to drag out of me? What do you want?"

I'm not backing down.

"The truth.
My turn.
You also said it wasn't over."

"It isn't, not yet.
My turn.
Truth about what?"

"Not "about" anything.
Your truth. Whatever it is that you're holding on to, hidden behind that defensive wall of yours.
My turn
What's behind the wall?"

He huffs a laugh out of his nose.

"Huh huh, funny.
My turn.
Why do you keep asking questions you don't want the answers to?"

This time I falter.

"I don't know. Maybe I'd rather dig them out than have them dropped on me.
My turn."

The need for truth hidden in a game becomes a simple need for truth. Looking him in the eyes I try to ask my question evenly, but with all of the love that I feel for him.

"Why won't you accept either love or kindness from me?"

Drawing in a breath he physically pulls back.

"Na. Forfeit."

"What?"

"Forfeit.
If I refuse, you have to give me a forfeit, that's the rule."

I can't hide my frustration with him, however unfair.

"What rule? Okay you said I call bullshit, this is where I call bullshit."

But his face is one big open smile,

"Nonono you have to get me to eat a napkin or say something awkward really loudly.."

How can I be annoyed? I give him a sly smirk.

"Actually, I think I'll collect on that forfeit later."

****

No one spotted us, at least not that we noticed. He's kind, funny and attentive, and I know he's at least fond of me. We laughed together and communicated with touch more naturally and easily as the evening wore on, and he has the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. He can light up a whole room.
I loved being in his company as he relaxed and opened up a little more.

Later, leaning on him with my head against his arm for the ride home, I realised I'd felt like a teenager with an unrequited crush.
Cherishing every moment, I was utterly enchanted by him, and any tiny sign that he could maybe feel even a fraction of what I felt was grabbed and held onto, until sense made me let it go again.

 

***

Lying here beside him as he's sleeping peacefully, I'm waiting for the nightmare that comes every time without fail and turning things over in my head.
Either his subconscious mind is very strong, or whatever he has buried in there is powerful.
I thought the dream might fade away after all the nights I've stopped it, but it seems neither are going to let that happen until something inside him is resolved.

I've tried my best to understand what goes on, I've listened so carefully to what he's saying in the beginning but I'm still no wiser than I was. All I know is that he's either arguing or upset, then he calls my name twice, with a quiet pause in between. I've always stopped him before the second time. It's much worse. I've heard him the second time from inside my room, and I understand why he'd go pacing the living room and why when it happened every night it was driving him crazy.

He mumbles something, moving closer to me and presses his forehead against me as he lays on his side.

Something I'm learning is that anything that feels too tender, too loving or intimate he definitely shies away from, either with humour, escaping the situation or becoming defensive.

I run my fingers through his hair and he sighs contentedly.
He wants it though.
He needs it.
I wonder how he would feel if he knew how much he betrays himself in his sleep

.

Notes:

So this was a less dramatic chapter this time, thank you for reading, and I hope it was okay. I must say now that it's the lull before the storm. Twelve is a big one.

.

Chapter 12: the snow is coming

 

Rob turns his gaze on me, clear and open, his eyes lit by the cool late morning light with an arm behind his head as we lay in bed. There's no anger, no upset, just a plain refusal.

"No."

***

 

It started with coffee in bed, laughing and bickering about stealing blankets and wondering when the snow would come until I brought up the subject of Rob's forfeit that he still owed me.

After we joked about a couple of possible ideas, I rolled on to my stomach, clutching an armful of pillows and looked up at him through my eyelashes. I had an idea for his forfeit, although I knew I was pushing my luck. I really didn't expect..

 

"I want you to give yourself to me.
I want you.
That's your forfeit."

He inhaled sharply through his nose,

"Okay…"

As his eyes moved to mine they were guarded, but also I saw something else, small embers sparked there that if fanned could maybe become more. It was something I hadn't expected, and they gave me the confidence to go further.

"And I mean you.
When we've had sex, I don't think that was really you."

He sneered, instantly flipping to dismissive and derisive, his eyes suddenly more guarded again.

"What the fuck d'you mean? I was there."

His hackles were raised. I reminded myself it was only a defence mechanism.

"That was a part of you, it wasn't you."

His eyes narrowed while his eyebrows raised and his attitude was offhand and glib,

"Yeah I know exactly which part it was..
and you wanted it...."

I knew what he was trying to do.

"Rob, stop it. This is a facade, it's a defence. You never let me in and you know it."

I watched my words land.

Then I thought of him wanting me to hold his hand yesterday, and when he asked me to keep his nightmare away, and when we were arguing and he broke down and pleaded for my help.

Almost never then, but certainly not that way. Not with intimacy.

I cautiously slid my hand in a light caress, low across his stomach, feeling the softness of his skin. He inhaled a sudden large, steady breath and I watched his expression change.

"Give yourself to me. That's my forfeit. Let me in and let it go."

Just love me.

That's when his eyes looked straight into mine.

"No."

***

There's nothing more, no explanation, his face is open and nothing is hidden. It's just a no.
He knows what I'm asking and he won't or he can't, and that's simple and honest, at least.
But his eyes are darkening pools, watching me guardedly as my hand roves slowly and gently over his body, and his hips shift subtly.

Kneeling beside him, I move his hair aside and he stills as I kiss his forehead and smile softly.

"Then let me have what I can while I give you me, instead."

His cautious eyes follow mine, brows slightly drawn and with a small nod as he bites his lip, he gives what I take as consent.
However, as his large hand moves past the side of my face, his fingers slide into my hair and anchor themselves there, so that when my gaze drops to his mouth he stops me from coming closer and simply looks away.

He may be going along with this, but he's not about to let me kiss him.

It's a small rejection and it hurts, but his arousal is clear in his now half lidded eyes, suddenly losing focus as the fingers of my hand drift lower. His breathing begins to change and I'm overwhelmed by how much I want him.

I don't know his body as well as he knows mine, so I use what I know and tune into his responses.
When I kiss and gently bite his neck he answers with a small, quiet sound, tightening his fingers in my hair, and as my body responds to the sweetness of it I suspect I may have a very different Rob here now, compared to before.

His cock is twitching and pulsing through his sweatpants beneath my hand as it grows, so without breaking contact I work my way down the side of his neck with lips, teeth and tongue to the place where it meets his collarbone. His breath quickens, and I palm him gently and then more firmly until he's holding my arm, writhing slowly and moaning my name.

With a small gasp his body stiffens as I slip my hand inside his sweats and fasten it around his cock. He's hard, hot and heavy as I hold him. Finally I get to feel the heft of him as his hips buck helplessly, thrusting into my grasp with a groan, his breath stuttering.

I only realise how much I'm testing his limits and boundaries when his breathing suddenly accelerates rapidly and he pushes me away, pulling himself from beneath me and changing it up as he slides quickly to kneel by the bed, and as I turn over in bewilderment to see what's happened he hooks his arms under my knees and drags me towards his body while he recentres himself..

I've lost him, he's switched on me, but the frustration I'm feeling is short lived.

As he lifts one of my thighs I barely have the time to follow his lead, wrapping both legs around him to rest on his shoulders before they're forced further apart and he's between them, sucking my clit into his mouth and pulsing his tongue over it in a way that sends pleasure rocketing out through my body from that point, that moment, making me gasp and moan in a way that I have no control over.
My back is arching, my head pressed back as I climb and climb, my arms across my face as the tension in me mounts. He's using his mouth and tongue on me to drive me crazy as he holds my thighs and the flesh between them, keeping me open for him and I feel like there's nowhere to hide when he stops and pulls away, leaving me gasping and suspended.

I realise he's looking at me as he holds me open, and I squirm a little in self consciousness, knowing what a wet and quivering mess I must be.

Slowly though his eyes raise to mine, darkened with his pupils blown by lust and I whine as he circles my hypersensitive clit with his finger, so lightly and knowingly, absolutely aware of the way he can control my response. He's holding me at a level where the intense pleasure I'm feeling rolls constantly through my body and the look in his eyes is the single most arresting and overwhelmingly sexy thing I have ever seen.
And I want to tell him that..
I want to tell him how fucking hot he is..

But then the corners of his mouth twitch into the small, self satisfied smile of a person who knows they have you completely where they want you as his fingers continue their perfect movement and I'm coasting through bliss....

"Tell me what you want."

His voice is low, and even, and the answer falls from my lips immediately and without restraint,

"I want to come."

My hands are twisted into the sheets, my toes curling against his back and I do and I don't, I don't and I do, this is incredible and torture at the same time.

"Ask me nicely."

I swallow a moan and answer, my hands balled into fists

"Please, Rob, make me come.."

Almost immediately he's withdrawn from me and I hear his words, quietly assertive.

"Turn over. On your knees."

I want him back, I want him touching me again, so I do as I'm told and I'm flipped and held up so I'm facing away from him, kneeling upright on the edge of the bed.

His large hands run over my breasts and one settles back between my legs to continue what he was doing to me and I reach back to touch his hair, his neck, his thigh, as I lean against him, melting into and surrendering to his touch while his other hand roves over my body again. My pleasure's beginning to climb, I'm beginning to lose it, saying his name and pleading with him not to stop between panting breaths when he laughs softly in my ear, and I'm pushed down with his arm across my back and held with my face against the bed. His hand withdraws and simultaneously the hard, solid heat of him is rubbing up and down through the length of my wet folds and nudging at my quivering entrance.

I hear his gasp and a choked sound tears itself from him as he slides into me with one hard thrust and his fingers grip my shoulder.
The sudden stretch and the way the air is punched from my lungs with the force of him leaves me gasping, yet I still smile to myself at the sound, because he's not as in control as he'd have me believe.

His forehead's against my back and I feel his hot panting breaths on my skin while he collects himself before he starts to move inside me, slow and shallow to begin but quickly becoming faster, deeper and harder as I cry out into my arm and my body scrambles to adjust as he fills me completely, reaching that particular place as the pressure starts to build.

The sounds coming from him between faltering stuttering breaths are giving him away, punctuation for every thrust inside me. He's turning me on with every noise he makes and I push back against him, hungry for more and more.
My response is building again, a tightening inside, made faster by hearing him whispering my name as he comes undone.

His rhythm is falling apart in his battle to hold on and I'm starting to lose touch with reality.
My hand reaches between my legs, I want to touch myself, add the sensations he was giving me but his hand pulls mine away and replaces it, denying me access whilst doing to me what he was doing before…
As his fingers begin circling my clit, I unravel completely.

A stream of unselfconscious sounds and words leave me, cries of pleasure and words of encouragement, anything, anything to make him keep going as I hear him too, louder than he was and I chase my orgasm.

When it comes it's as if I've been swept away somewhere, somewhere where I can hear myself in the distance, far away but I can't see and I can only feel as the pleasure explodes in my body and my head and even in the air around me.
I can feel him still inside me, still thrusting deeply, his fingers not between my legs now but holding my hips, harder one side where they dig into me sharply, gripping tightly and I can hear he's almost there from the frenetic breathing, the frantic sounds, and he calls out, sharply,

"Jesus fuck… Ellie.. Ellie!"

I hear him gasp, feel the convulsions that shake his body with the last hard hits, and he fucks fitfully into me a few times more until his body sinks onto mine and I'm briefly enfolded, pressed to lay flat under the trembling weight of him.

Moving onto the bed with an arm wrapped tightly around me, he lifts me and moves me with him until he's spooning me, panting, and I lay my head on his other arm as he folds himself around me.

I stroke his forearm from elbow to wrist, long, slow, repetitive and calming, as his breathing slows.
I even hold his hand, lifting it to my mouth to kiss the back of it, and he lets me.

"Rob?"
I venture quietly

"Hmm?"

"That was incredible, I think you broke my head."

The love I have for him inside me is threatening to burst my heart.

I hear him chuckle quietly as he holds me a little tighter.

 

***

 

Not long after he gives me a brief squeeze and I watch him as he leaves to shower. At the door he pauses to turn and smiles.
"I'll see you out there.."

I swear I see the small grey cat, weave between his feet to go with him, and I go to take a bath.

He just can't do it. He can't give himself away or leave himself open and vulnerable.

 

***

 

He's in the kitchen with wet hair and a bowl of cereal when I find him, staring into space, lost in thought and I lay my hands on his shoulders before kissing the top of his head impulsively.

Turning, he's confused and dazed but also happy as he looks up and a shy smile lights his face before he goes back to his cereal.

"You were miles away. You okay?"

"Uh huh, sure. Just thinking. I got some work stuff I need to catch up on. You?"

"I'm going for a walk. Just to the park I need some air."

The spoon pauses mid air.

"I'll be fine, I'll take my phone."

I know he still worries.

"I'm gonna get something to eat when I'm out. I'll catch you later."

Almost, I almost end with love you, and I know it was usual once.
Instead I give his shoulder a squeeze, lingering while I fight the impulse to run my fingers through his hair, and he frowns as if he's puzzled.

"Okay…"

Doesn't he know? Can't he tell? How does it not leak out of everything I say and do?
Maybe it's just not on his radar because he doesn't feel the same way about me. And that's why I need some air.

 

***

It's bitingly cold out, but that's good. I need something to blow the unhelpful thoughts from my mind.
I need to get myself together.
He doesn't love me. Not that way.
We're just really close and care about each other and have amazing sex.
But he's not in love with me and I'm a fool for trying to give love to someone who won't accept it, and…
possibly someone who's been violent towards me in the past although I can't remember.
This is so fucked up.

 

I'm just finishing a hot dog when a short distance from me I see May, wrapped up in a coat and scarf but definitely May, walking alone and heading away from me. Immediately I throw my rubbish in the wastebasket and call her name.
She turns and when she sees me she's frowning but not hostile, so I call for her to wait and she does until I reach her, watching me with curiosity. By the time I'm facing her I'm flustered and embarrassed.

"May, I just needed to say how sorry I am for being so rude to you and saying what I did. I don't know what happened, it was ridiculous of me and I'm so sorry."

She smiles, and it's a warm, genuine smile. I feel myself relax.

"You're in love with him, it's okay, love makes us all ridiculous sometimes.
I've known Bo - Robert since he was a kid. I used to work with his Mom at the hospice.
He's got a kind heart, just like she does."

Leaning forward, she emphasises her words,

"You know it's all yours, right? He loves you."

Before I can answer she takes my hand, patting and stroking it between her own and as her eyes meet mine her look is both searching and sincere.

"Ellie.. I know I'm not supposed to say too much, and don't take it the wrong way, but.. take care with him, okay? And if you ever need me, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, but…"

"I have to go."

She's let go of my hand and is pulling her scarf around herself.

"It's been good to see you again so we could both set things straight."

As she's turning to go she says,

"Y'know, you're a good match for him."

"May…"

She turns back towards me.

"You really think he loves me?"

She smiles.

"Oh sure, he loves you."

 

***

I feel the need to sit down on a bench for a little while having spoken to May. Luckily they're dry.
So many thoughts and feelings are swirling around inside my head and I close my eyes for a moment.

She said he loves me.
And she told me to take care with him.

***

I'm on my knees, I'm on my knees where I've fallen to the floor, begging and pleading with him,

"Rob…! Please don't, please…. Oh god please."

 

I don't.. I don't want to remember this..

 

He stares down at me, so much turning in his eyes but he sneers, his face twisting in revulsion.

"Look at you, you fucking whore...
You disgust me."

 

I think I might be sick.
Is this why my memories were lost?
I'm so afraid of what I might remember, but I know I have to do it.
If he did something awful I have to know and then I'll have to let him go.
That it's likely whatever happened was because of what I did is too cruel.

The wind's blowing cold through the trees. The snow is coming.

Staying on the bench for a little while, I allow myself the time for a quiet cry.

 

****

 

The apartment's warm when I return and the kitchen's even warmer.
Rob's sitting at the table on his phone while I get myself a coffee.

I'm thinking, what does it matter? What does it even matter if he loves me? If he did something to hurt me then there's no point…
And maybe that's it.
He knows he did something, maybe he knows this is turning to ashes because he already burned it down..
Or blew it all to pieces….
That would explain so many things…

My frustration is only equaled by my sadness.

 

"Rob, you want a coffee?
Have you been there on your phone the whole time?"

He answers distractedly, without raising his head.

"No, and… nah, thank you, I had too much already….

 

Oh fuck."

The last part is so quiet and light, expelled on a breath like the wind that precedes a storm and it makes me look over at him from where I am in the kitchen by the sink.
He's so pale he looks ill.

"Rob? What's…"

As he looks up from his phone to meet my eyes his are large, uncomprehending…
And scared.

"What the fuck have you done?"

He's breathing faster, his teeth barred, hurt at my betrayal etched on his face. His anxiety's rising and I have a sudden sinking feeling.

"I don't know what you…"

He shakes his head, denying and blocking what I'm attempting to say.

"Fuck you…."

My Rob has gone.

He leans forward with his hands on the table, his face twisted in anger and disbelief.

"The fuck you don't. You spoke to Doug, when I fucking…
I TOLD you not to…"

The cut of his tone is vicious. Suddenly I'm hyper aware.

"Rob, it's okay…I only..."

He jumps to his feet, the chair scraping on the floor and I flinch.
He's a big man, he's a really big man.

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"

The energy's there to start pacing but there's no space to do it, nowhere to discharge it so he's opening and closing his fists, his breathing shallow before gesturing wildly, aggressively.

"What the FUCK?
WHY? Why did you do that?
You knew not to do that. What the fuck have you done?
JESUS!"

His anger is escalating rapidly and I'm going nowhere near him.
This is a temper laced with panic and he's even more unpredictable. But I'm not backing down. I try to jolt him out of it, it's worked before, so I shout.

"STOP!"

It only has the opposite effect.

"Don't. Fucking. SHOUT AT ME!"

He slams his hands down hard on the table in his temper, and his sharp high pitched cry makes my stomach lurch as he falls back and slides, gasping, to crouch down against the wall, whimpering in pain.

Oh shit,
I try to explain and placate him..

"I only told Doug what happened in the park, and he's not told me anything I swear. I promise."

I'm moving towards him, slowly, and he rasps, choking as if the pain has him by the throat,

"Don't.
Fucking lying bitch. Stay the fuck away from me."

The last words are spat at me, he's being irrational.

"You need to calm down. I don't deserve this, I only tried to help."

"You went behind my back. Again…You lied to me."

He's panting, answering me between breaths.
What's he afraid of? If he already burned everything down then I have to know, I need to know.

"What did you do, Rob? Did you hurt me?
You just hurt yourself, did you lose your temper, like that?"

His answer is tired, exasperated and defeated.

"I never, hurt you."

But I don't think that's true. Everything I've remembered, everything he's said, what Doug and May said….
He's been playing me for a fool.

"I think you're the liar."

He wraps his good hand around his forehead before flinging it outwards, aggressively,

"NO!
I'VE NEVER. FUCKING. HURT. YOU!"

But he did something. He must have. Nothing else makes sense.

There's a muffled sob, and I'm brought back to the stark truth of here and now.
And right now he's the one who's hurting.

"Please, let me help you."

He pulls himself upright, getting his legs back under himself as he glares at me as if he really could do something awful.

"No. FUCK YOU!
You really wanna help?
STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME,
you fucking whore…"

I have to walk past him to get out.
I speak as calmly as I'm able, while my hands are trembling.

"Okay, okay I'm leaving now. I'm leaving.
Just let me go, okay?"

Rob sits back at the table, burned out, leaning forward and as he covers his head with both arms I slip out of the room.

There's nothing else I can do.

 

***

Sunday January 22nd

I don't even know why I'm writing in here anymore. Nothing makes sense and I just go round and round. He's completely irrational, his reactions are extreme..

What do I do?
He swears he didn't hurt me, but if that's true, what did he do? Nothing else makes sense.

I guess in the middle of everything the only thing I can do is keep going and see what happens, because it's my only option, and love him, because I have no choice anymore.

***

It's late, and I'm in my room and ready for bed. My journal is written, I've had a hot chocolate, I'm in my softest nightshirt and the lights are really low.
I'm taking a little me time, just trying to relax and recenter myself.

I've steered clear of Rob, although my impulse to watch him has been screaming at me for hours, I'm just too tired to deal with him, even if he'd let me.
He'll talk to me when he's ready, and maybe he has some stuff to work through before that happens.

There's a sound that draws my attention, and when I pad softly over to look down at the piece of paper sliding slowly under the door I have to smile, although maybe that makes me a pushover.

 

Ellie I'm sorry.
I'm a fuck and if you've forgiven me I don't deserve it.
If you haven't forgiven me, please forgive me? But if you won't, that's fair.

But please do.

 

When I open the door I find a sorry, guilty looking soul, leaning against the opposite wall, his arms wrapped tightly around himself with his hair in his eyes.

He lifts his head, rubbing one of his eyes with his fingertips before he speaks.

 

"There's… There's something wrong, with me. I… I can't…"

"Rob, it's okay."

His hand returns to stroke its opposite arm.

"I don't think I can face…
Please Ell.
I don't want it to happen again.."

The nightmare. I hold out my hand.

"It's okay."

He takes it and I bring him inside to sit beside me on the edge of the bed. He seems sort of defeated, smaller, his shoulders hunched.

"I'm sorry, about before, I know you were only trying to help."

"I know.
Are you okay? You hurt yourself.."

I tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear and stroke his face with the back of my fingers.

He raises a hand.

"Don't."

"Why, Rob? Why won't you let me be kind to you? Why don't you think you deserve it?"

Although he pulls himself to sit upright in an attempt to be defiant, the sadness bleeding into his words turns them all to empty sorrow by the end.

"Because that's what you taught me."

And I'm crushed, because I can see just by looking at him that it's true.

 

***

 

I'm stroking the small grey cat where it's laid, curled in my lap, my fingers sliding through its silken fur when I hear Rob call my name.
The cat raises its head and looks into my eyes.

Rob called.

I'm waking up.
Then, he shrieks

"Ellie!"

Oh my God.
It's pure terror.
I've never witnessed this part up close and the sound of him is like ice down my spine and on my scalp…

Instantly I'm wide awake and sitting up, almost panicked myself by how terrified he is.

"It's okay, oh baby it's okay, it's okay it's okay.."

But I can't comfort him, he's not here and he fights me, scrambling upright and lashing out blindly.

After only seconds he's awake with a jolt and I look up into frightened eyes that take a few seconds to recover. His chest won't stop heaving for a short while yet.

Pulling his flailed limbs into some semblance of order he draws them close around himself until they're a fortress between me and him with his forehead on his knees while he's breathing.

I try to put my arms around him but he leans away.

"Let me help you,"

He shakes his head

"My feelings aren't important. You don't want them, you don't want that burden."

"Please Rob, please… let me?"

I take his hand and he lets me trace his open palm gently with my fingertips.
He lets me.

"I've been remembering you, I still don't know what happened, But I know how things used to be, and who you were to me…
Who you are to me..
Please, let me in? Let me help.."

Taking his hand away to pull his arms around himself and lean back, he shakes his head.

"I'm not….
I'm not who I used to be."

I stroke his arm, gently.

"That's okay, I'm not who I used to be either.."

Then his shoulders shake, and he's sobbing, crying silently without any tears.

It's like a knife through my heart.

"What's going on with you?
There's so much happening with you, I know it but you still won't let it go…"

All he can do is shake his head, covering his face with his hands.

"I don't care about the fucking accident Rob, I care about you.
I love you.
Can't you tell how much I love you?"

I climb nearer to put my arm around his shoulders.

"Don't,"

He's pulling away, still shaking his head.

"Don't. Don't do that to me..
Please.. leave it. Leave me alone…."

But he's only half resisting and so I get up onto my knees and pull him closer to my body.

"Maybe you don't want me to, but I think it's what you need. I've got you. I love you. Let it go."

I pull him into my arms and he sobs,

"I can't Ellie, I can't. Please…"

His body's tense, but he doesn't pull away. I hold him tightly and soothe him, stroking his hair,

"It's alright, I've got you. I'm strong enough to take it, and everything's going to be okay, now."

And oh, how he folds, becoming liquid in my arms, melting on a level that surprises me completely, echoing the melting feeling inside my chest as I pull him towards me and he comes apart.

"I'm sorry Ellie, I'm so sorry I'm sorry for everything… I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry.."

 

He's breaking, and I hold him close and cradle him with soft forehead touches and kisses.

"What is it, sweetheart?
Why are you sorry?"

"I… I can't.."

"You can't tell me?"

"I can't, I can't, I can't. I'm so sorry…"

He turns to hide from me, burying himself against me but I still hear the bitterness of his pain as he cries.

 

***

I can see the dark room with Rob silhouetted in the doorway, his height, his frame, even the outline of his hair….
It's that memory again
But this time I remember the emotions connected to it, and what I feel is shock.. and fear.

 

.

Chapter 13: a wolf and a deer

Last night I held him. He calmed down eventually, slowly sinking into sleep, and I laid in the near dark with him in my arms, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

He's awakened a possessive, fiercely protective streak in me that I didn't know existed, one that would fight anyone who tried to hurt him or take him from me, yet I already hurt him, and I may still have to give him up, and potentially do both.

I can't lose myself to him, I'm walking a tightrope and may have to step off at any time, and although just the thought of it is so heartbreaking that it takes my breath away, I'll still have to put my safety first, if that's what's needed.
A marriage doesn't die without reasons. I'm absolutely sure that I don't know all of them and so although my heart is weak and helplessly in love, I must stay strong.

I may have to break it to save myself.

I try to tell myself that I can, that it's possible, but when he disturbs and his eyes reach for mine and search them, clear and unguarded while the cool morning light makes them bluer than ever, I fall into them and all my resolve falls apart.

He doesn't speak and so neither do I.
I don't know what that look of his means, or what he's searching for, but he must find it because closing them again, he lays his head down on me, and after shifting a little until he's comfortable he exhales. I brush his shoulder with my fingertips and feel his body relax more deeply until I'm sure he's asleep again, and I allow myself to drift and doze.

 

***

I grin at him and laugh, play fighting in the kitchen.

"Fuck you,"

Beaming a broad toothy grin, he slaps my butt with a spatula.

"Oh yeah? Fuck you,"

"Okay,"

I raise one eyebrow and bite my lip, a deliberate come on as I blatantly give his body the once over and both of his eyebrows rise at the invitation.

"Okay."

He moves quickly and grabs me by the waist to sweep me from my feet and into his arms as I laugh… but he loses his balance.

"Nononono.."

He only just saves us both from going down by grabbing the counter and even then it almost happens anyway because we're both giggling too hard.

"Smooth! You big dork."

As he holds onto me and lowers us both to the floor I kiss him.

When we part there's a devilish glint in his eyes,

"Okay, you asked for it… where's that spatula…"

 

There's a silly grin on my face as I remember…

Rob's not moved at all and is sleeping soundly. I guess the previous day and night must have really taken it out of him, and what happened after his dream plays out in my head.
How can he simultaneously break my heart, make me wonder if I can trust him and make me love him so fiercely.
I'm still processing everything.

He looks so peaceful now, his brow relaxed and his lips slightly parted.
Finally I got to see behind the wall, and the feelings he's been holding on to. I know that he still has his secrets, but I hope that letting go of the hurt and guilt will help him and not make him crash.

 

As I begin to move his arm comes up to hold me, but I slip from underneath him and watch as he settles back down again, the upper half of his face concealed by the fall of his hair.

I decide not to open the blinds or even dress so as not to disturb him, then use the other bathroom and steal a pair of his socks before padding to the kitchen in my nightshirt.

It's chilly by the window where I'm standing in the cold light, a mug in one hand and a slice of toast in the other, and I look up and out at the morning sky.

It's snowing. I watch the flakes dance downwards, caught occasionally in a flurry that sends them spiralling sideways.
The branches of the tree are lined in white and it appears to have been snowing for some time.

After I've finished my toast Rob saunters through, dishevelled and a little uncertain, but his eyes lift to the window, and see the snow.
We lived in LA too long, I think to myself as he comes to stand beside me and watches with his mouth open softly as the flakes drift down.

I drop my hand and he takes it in his.

Some things are just ingrained in our subconscious.

 

While we both stand and look outside, I ask him,

"After you've had breakfast, shall we go for a walk in the park?"

His voice is soft and rough, and although he's right next to me, he sounds far away.

"I don't need breakfast."

I make sure I know which hand I have before I squeeze it.

"You do though love, we'll go after."

 

****

The snow was too trampled on the sidewalk, but on the grass in the park it's settling and already everything is covered by a soft white layer, reflecting light and absorbing sound, where those children too young for school run and play.

Rob, smiling, grabs my hand and pulls me to walk across the grass and not the paths, and we walk with heads bowed, watching our feet as they break fresh snow.

***

Outside it's freezing, a hundred million stars shining in a cloudless sky greet me as I charge across the gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way.
I forgot my coat..

 

As we walk together, wrapped up in hats, scarves and gloves, I slide my arm around Rob's waist beneath his jacket and his circles around my shoulders.

The impulse to watch him has become a real need to hold him close, be physically near, for as long as I can, at least.

 

As we walk, we talk. Rob begins, unexpectedly,

"Where are we going, Ell? I mean, what's gonna happen with us?
I never expected to be here, now, like… like this, and I don't know what's next…"

I'm surprised by his candidness, and pause to think before answering.

"Honestly? I don't know.
I know that I love you…"

When I glance up at him his face is serious, thoughtful, and his eyes flick fast to mine, twice, before they shy away,

"...But there's still so much I don't know about you. You go deep, Rob. Has no one ever told you how infuriatingly complicated you are?"

Recovering my arm I skip ahead and turn to face him, walking backwards, but he just smiles and scrunches his nose endearingly as he shrugs. I watch him tilt his head to look skywards as he recalls, his mouth open and smiling slightly to himself, wondering whether to say what he's thinking.

"You know what the first thing you said to me was, when you woke up? Like, in the hospital?
You said,
"What's your problem, fucker?"

My smile becomes a laugh.

"I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Oh yeah? Is that right?"

He plays mock offended and bends slightly as he's walking. With one long arm he scoops up a lump of snow and drops it down the back of my coat.

The shock of the cold makes me scream, and the surprise that he did it makes me laugh as he grins at me and I slap his arm and shove him.

"Clearly the problem is you're an evil shit. Fucking hell Rob!"

Taking off my gloves and pocketing them because I don't want them to get wet I scoop up a large handful of snow as the first big new flakes begin to fall again from a recently darkened sky.

I'm moulding it into a snowball but once I have it I don't know what to do with it. Rob's clearly ahead of me so I've lost the element of surprise, and he runs a few steps away and won't let me near him, laughing at me, though I really try. In the end I throw it feebly and ineffectively to break against his shoulder, and he holds his arm out for me to return to him.

I do, but not without a secret weapon. As his arm falls around my shoulders I slip my wet, ice cold hands up under his shirt, against his skin.

"Wohhhoh!"

He expels his breath noisily and twists his body away while I laugh, and side eyes me.

"Okay, that was sneaky. Who's evil now?"

"Evens!" I beam, "Truce!"

The snow is falling more thickly and heavily now, covering our clothes and landing in his hair as he gets a hold of my shoulders, bites his lip as he grins and raises his eyebrows.

"Nahh,"

And he brings me to my knees then down to the ground as I shout his name. Kneeling beside me he tries to pin me with an arm while shovelling snow into my clothes any way he can while he's laughing, which isn't easy as I try to push him away, kicking and screaming.

He loses his balance and as I scramble upwards I find myself on the same level and facing him, laughing...

His eyes are a pale grey blue so striking in this light that he takes my breath away and I stop laughing, and his face falls into something I'm racing headlong to understand as his brows pull, just a little, and he holds my gaze.

 

My heart skips a beat even while the guilt is sliding in.

I see love there.
And uncertainty and longing and more than a little fear.
As he bites his lip it's like he's on the edge of something, wondering whether he should jump..

Time stands still while the snow keeps falling.

Then it's over.
He smiles mischievously as the glint in his eyes returns and he stands, holding out his good hand.

"Now it's truce.
We need to get back before we freeze."

Infuriatingly complicated he may be, but there's also something elusive about him that's completely captivating.

 

****

 

Once home and in comfy dry clothes I made lunch, while Rob stood in the kitchen and kept me company. Not in his room, not even sitting at the table but standing right beside me, leaning against the cupboards and chatting quietly, his hands constantly moving while I made sandwiches. Every now and then I'd ask him to pass me something from the fridge because he was nearer, to make him useful and keep him with me but he seemed to have no intention of leaving.

It seemed I wasn't alone in my need to stay close.

Every time I turned to answer him his eyes were on mine, alight and engaged, his face expressive behind snow dampened tresses that twisted into curls at the ends as it dried. He frequently pushed his hair back only for it to almost immediately fall forward again.
In the end I had to beckon him,

"Come here,"

And as he did I reached up to brush his hair back for him and tuck it behind his ear as he blinked rapidly,
and stopped talking.
Tilting his head to one side he looked into my eyes so thoughtfully and deeply that for a moment I thought he might kiss me...
It was only when I turned away and exhaled that I realised I was holding my breath.

 

****

 

Rob crosses the room with his long loping strides and flops down beside me on the sofa, dragging the fingers of his good hand through his hair.
He's set a fire in the hearth and I've been watching him.

Why do I always tell myself to watch him?

Seeing him busy, unaware of himself while he completed the task reminded me of my second day here with him, when I studied his face, his body and the way he moved as he set a fire, and realised how beautiful he is.
He's even more beautiful to me now, although I wouldn't have thought it possible.
Once he's settled, he hands me all of the mail he's collected to sort through, just like I'd asked him to, and checks his phone.

"Claire sent me some exercises, like physiotherapy exercises…"

There's a lot of bills and junk..

"That's good, I hope you didn't set yourself back when you hurt yourself. Maybe you should let her know what you..

"Nonono it's okay, I'm sure it'll be fine, she doesn't have to know..."

He's ashamed of the way it happened. The reason.
Maybe that's the way it happened in the first place. I'd never have considered it, just by observing the gentle, softly spoken man beside me now, but I've also witnessed his other side.

There's a hand addressed envelope in my mail. I slip a glance sideways at Rob. He's looking at the exercises on his phone and tentatively trying one, his face both focussed and a little apprehensive. I lay my hand briefly on his back and give him a little reassuring rub with my thumb and he moves, just shifts slightly to acknowledge my touch.

With my attention back on the letter I slide it from the envelope, and read the first two lines.

 

Ellie, it's Jon.
I've been trying to make contact for a while now..

 

My brain empties out for a second.

I have the disorienting feeling of moving through the air, turning over, falling….

I glance back over at Rob and nothing seems to have changed.
But everything's changed.
Very quickly I thrust the letter back inside the envelope.

There's a couple for Rob and I lay them on his thigh.

"Oh thanks."

"Rob, I.. I just need to go.. I have to do something.."

"Oh, okay,"

He stops what he's doing and peers at me.

"Eliza? Is there something…"

I cut him off,

"I won't be long, think about what you want to eat this evening."

 

Walking past the kitchen, a small afraid part of me considers burning the letter, or soaking it in water and mashing it up so that Rob never knows about it and I can forget it exists.
Sense prevails however, and plain curiosity, and so I lock the door of the bathroom and take my usual position.

Opening the letter I take a breath and read.

 

Ellie, it's Jon.
I've been trying to make contact for a while now.
I don't even know if you remember me, but if not please believe that we were very close, and I care about you a great deal.
I've left my number at the bottom of this letter and I'm praying that you'll use it to get in touch. I really need to talk to you, it's important.

 

***

Monday January 23

We haven't touched on the subject of what happened last night, or what Rob's sorry for, but without giving up his secrets it seems as if just being able to say he's sorry has lifted something from him, allowing him to let his guard down and let me get a little closer.
Or even let him get a little closer, because so far today he's barely left my side. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm concerned.

I'm beginning to think that maybe he does have feelings for me, and if that's the case then I'm responsible for both of our hearts now.

I truly don't know what to do with the letter from Jon and it's unsettled me more than I can write. I desperately want to know what he has to say but once that genie's out of the bottle there's no putting it back in, and I only want Rob.

I just want him and I don't want to know any more. In fact the more I think about what I might find out and what I'll have to do the more sad and afraid I become.
I love Rob and I think he might love me...
I stuffed the letter back in its envelope and hid it.

 

***

Going back to the living room later, it was obvious when Rob looked up that he was pleased to see me, and he showed me some silly things he'd found on his phone that he thought would make me laugh.

He was in good spirits. Apparently the statement I gave to back Doug's has taken some of the heat out of the gossip about Rob and I, and things are beginning to die down.

We decided on pizza, red wine and a movie of Rob's choosing this time which was dark, arty and obscure. I just enjoyed sitting with him, drinking wine and listening to his occasional comments and insightful observations…

***

Dark obscure movies aren't really my thing, though. While the credits are rolling I've traipsed through to the kitchen with the pizza boxes and the empty wine bottle and dumped them in the trash, before climbing up to sit on the kitchen counter to finish my glass of wine. It's the second large one and I'm beginning to feel warm and fuzzy around the edges.

Rob's head pokes round the door frame.

"What are you doing here in the dark?"

It's true I hadn't bothered to turn the lights on, the ambient glow from the street had been enough to just dump some stuff and drink wine, and after watching the movie by firelight I didn't want the harsh glare of the kitchen.

Rob comes to stand in front of me with a long, soft look, and without warning or any other contact, he leans to rest his forehead against the crook of my neck.

For a moment I'm stunned into stillness, before setting my glass down to the side and responding.

With one hand cradling the back of his head I use the other on his lower back to pull him close against me, between my legs, and the small sound carried on his sigh and the loosening of his shoulders as I hold him twists my heart in my chest as something unfolds inside me.

I asked him before to give himself to me, and with an ache I realise, that's exactly what's happening, now.

Running my fingernails slowly over his t-shirt, across his shoulders and over his back I feel his body shift as he exhales, and he relaxes a little more, leaning into me further.

Lowering my head I speak softly into his ear,

"Listen to me.
I love you, and I want you. Do you hear me?
I. Want. You."

He lifts his head as his eyes lift slowly to mine, then fall to my lips as he parts his…
And for the first time, he lets me kiss him.
It's the most exquisite confirmation that this is how it's meant to be, this… soft, and tender, gently opening up with sighs to explore each other's mouths with lips and tongues and with growing passion.

He buries his fingers in my hair as he holds my face in his hands and I slip mine under the fabric of his shirt, tracing my nails across his back and feeling his muscles move beneath my touch as I skim them upwards to his shoulders and drag them back down harder. He makes a small sound in his throat as we kiss and arches his back, pushing himself towards me and fuck that turns me on, both the way he is and his allowing me to kiss and touch him like this seem like such small things but I know that to him they're huge.

Breaking the kiss I stop to look into his eyes. They're smiling, in a hazy daze of red wine with pupils large with lust, his hair falling into them and getting in the way as always.

Threading a lock behind his ear I say to him,

"Let's go to bed."

After his good hand is offered to help me down from the counter, we wind our forearms and fingers around each other to walk together along the hallway, and my heart is beating fast.
I don't know what's happening, but I know that something's changed.

 

Inside our room we kiss again, and divest each other of our clothes.

It's the first time I've seen him fully naked, and I can properly take in the slender form of his body, the lightness of his frame in spite of his stature. Together they make for a willowy combination which is incredibly beautiful and I tell him so.
I tell him he's beautiful and he frowns in confusion and disbelief, before a small light grows in his eyes and he kisses me again.

 

***

Rob and I are in the car, at night. The lights outside pass by at intervals and the interior is lit by the dashboard.

When I turn to him I'm met by raw and naked anger in return, his eyes blazing hurt and fury as he turns to me.

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..
I just needed you to love me, not punish me…"

***

Which of those am I doing, if I don't know what will happen next? I'm choosing love, but if there's something that he's done, then this is going to destroy me, and now likely also him. What was it he said?

"If we stay together then we'll tear each other apart."

 

Kneeling with my legs either side of him as he's sitting in the middle of the bed, our kisses growing from soft and tender to harder, hotter and deeper, I force myself to stop and ask him, breathless,

"I don't know if this is okay… I might hurt you…"

But he stares at me as if what I've said has struck something in him, holding me and breathing heavily with pupils full blown. His voice is thick with need.

"Hurt me."

And I realise… He's choosing the other option.

"But I meant…"

He's gripping me more tightly,

"Hurt me.
Please.. Do it, I can take it."

His jaw is set, his breathing's grown fast and shallow, almost panting and his narrowed eyes are dark as night. I don't know what's happening but it's clear in more than one way that he wants it. He's so fucking hot…

I push him flat on the bed, kissing my way down the side of his neck. I steel myself before I bite him, sucking his flesh hard between my teeth where I hold it and his hands leap to grasp hold of me.

"Uoh, uhoh my fucking God, oh fuck
Ohhhh, fuck, fuck.."

He's squirming beneath me as I move down his torso, sucking and biting. It's exciting, but I hardly recognize him and need to ask him

"Is this okay?"

Returning to his mouth I kiss him and he pants out a breathy

"Yesss..
Be… be..
UHHH.."

With my hands on his chest, I brush his small nipples with my thumbs, and when he responds with a jolt of his body I realise with a thrill how sensitive they are and kiss him harder, pinching and twisting them with my fingers, relishing the chance to be the one in control for a change.

"Tell me, tell me if it's not…"

He gasps, drawing the air from my mouth as he bucks up underneath me and the sounds he makes… he's holding on to me as if his life depends on it and I'm light headed with how much he's turning me on, I'm throbbing and slippery between my legs with the straining hardness of him pressed urgently against me.

Taking hold of him and giving him a few firm strokes that draw my name from his lips, I slowly lower myself until he fills me, fluttering around him as I adjust to his length and girth. His body's covered with a sheen of sweat, practically vibrating with the effort needed to hold on and hold back, panting.

But the thing that grabs my attention is a small breathy sound that he makes, a quietly desperate half laugh half fretful sob, almost to himself, and I hear a hint of fear..

It's the smallest thing, like the tiniest wisp of smoke before the fire.

"Please, baby, if you're not okay…"

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut just for a second he briefly shakes his head.

"I… It, it gets… Just do it.. do it.
I need to..."

When I look at him doubtfully he presses me,

"Please, please…"

I'm unsure about what's happening, but I know what it is he wants from me as I brush the hair from his face. I stop fighting the urge, lift my body and push down, hard, and he arches his back, grabs me again and cries out in a way that drives me crazy and fuck, what is going on with him?

As I move myself on him my body tightens inside and the feelings from him are incredible. Sitting upright on him and rotating my pelvis I can use him in a way that hits all of the right places, and brings him with me whilst slowing him down, controlling the speed of his arousal as I run my nails over his body and tease him again.

Rob's lost, both to me and to himself, at the mercy of his body's reactions and it's unbelievably hot to see him unravelling the way that he is, eyebrows drawn, his eyes tightly shut as he pants through his open mouth, and under his breath I hear a quiet chant, like a meditation,

"Fuck…oh fuck.. oh fuck…oh fuck.."

Having finally surrendered himself he seems totally overwhelmed and he's stirring up all kinds of emotions in me, as well as a heady sense of power that's intoxicating.

It's too much, feeling him so fucking deep inside me and reaching every part of me, hitting exactly where I need him and filling me completely while he flat out falls apart beneath me. I'm almost at the point of no return. He's going to make me come just from watching and hearing him.

But then without warning, his body bucks beneath me, and he cries out with a voice that's almost panicked.

"Stop, STOP, oh god Ellie stop I…"

Reaching up he pulls me down close to him, then rolls and pushes upwards, easily taking me with him until suddenly he's on top, breathing heavily and his eyes, his eyes are….

Laying my hand along his jaw, I sweep my thumb across his cheek, stroking his face.

"What's happening?"

"It's fine, I'm fine."

He's shaking.
He bites his upper lip and there's a tightening around his eyes as they look around, searching for something inside him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, truly. It's something I needed… I needed to try…
I'm sorry."

I can hear his frustration.
I run my fingertips up and down his back, over his soft, damp skin in long, soothing strokes.

He's still hard, I feel him twitching inside me, and kissing him briefly, I push my fingers back through his hair and speak to him softly,

"I think you should take it from here."

The look in his eyes is fathoms deep before he buries his head next to mine, and begins to move inside me again, slowly, breathing so quietly in his gentle voice, close to my ear,

"I love you, Ellie."

And I feel like my heart could explode, into a million pieces.

Maybe he is a bomb, after all.

 

Kissing my mouth, my forehead, my neck and working down to my collarbone and shoulder, he ramps up the speed as he fucks me, grunting softly with every thrust and I'm quietly whimpering now and again as I feel my body climb.
I draw my nails down his back, feeling the bunching of his muscles and he murmurs,

"Oh… God. Fuck."

and goes even faster. As I wrap my legs around his back he changes his angle to hit deeper, giving me what I need and I cry out as my body answers, rushing closer to my climax as he rails me into the mattress.
His rhythm is perfect, unbreakable, unrelenting, sending me spiralling higher and higher, and every moment I'm expecting to come and only climbing higher…
I cling to him so I don't lose us both.

Then he slows, his movements less even and I see him, brows drawn, opening and closing his eyes as he fights so hard to keep control of himself, his body's shaking with the effort, fucking me slowly and I'm so close, so in love with him..

"Ellie… I. I…"

I look into his eyes and hold them, seeing in them and knowing by the small desperate sounds he's making just how close he really is, he's losing focus, barely hanging on as I say two words.

"Come… Now."

As his eyes roll back and close I come so hard that all I'm aware of past the explosion in my body is the sound of him, fuck, I've never heard him like this, he's fucking me as his orgasm takes him, and gasping, he clings to me as tightly as I do to him.

Landing softly together, not letting go, we kiss, and kiss, stroking hair and backs and shoulders, pausing only to gaze into each other's eyes, affirm our love and smile at the wonder of it.

Somewhere deep inside me, a small voice is asking,
What have we done?

Wrapped around each other, as close as we can possibly be, he falls asleep in my arms.

 

****

 

I wake up to the feeling of Rob tracing patterns on my stomach with his fingertips as he lays beside me on his side, his head against my shoulder.

 

There was no nightmare last night, even though I laid awake for him for as long as I could, determined not to let it play its way through to the end again.

Last night he told me he loves me.

I wonder how he feels now that he's done that, while everything's still so unknown. Unless he's more sure than I am that I have nothing to fear, our future is far from certain.
Now he's where I was, days ago, wide open and heading for a fall.

 

The pale light filters its way through the blinds again, cold light that's reflected by snow, and the air is cool.
It's early, the radiators are still silent.

His eyes reach mine and his face is peaceful, trusting, and lit by the hint of a smile.

"Hey, morning,"

"Hi,"

I smile, and rub my eyes.

"What time is it? Feels early."

"Just past six."

He moves up the bed a little and his arms pull me into his warm embrace. With my head against his chest I take his hand in mine, and as I gently stroke it and trace its outline with my fingers I marvel that we're here, when weeks ago he wouldn't let me touch him.

Thinking this, I kiss his hand before letting go of it to move until I'm leaning across his chest, and can look up into his face. I still don't understand what was happening with him last night and I just want to make sure again that he's okay.

He crooks his finger over my nose and pulls it down affectionately, and there's fondness in his smiling eyes.

"You really are beautiful, Ell. Nothing changed.
You're still the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

And I kiss him.

"You're so beautiful.."

He scrunches his face up and rolls his eyes and I try to make him understand, pushing back a lock of his hair and tracing the top of his forehead.

"Rob… you really have no idea how utterly beautiful you are to me."

And the shy smile he gives me in return is the most beautiful of all.

Stroking my arm he asks me,

"Let's spend the day here, in bed?
Let's just hide from the world."

Pulling me back down to lie against him, he encircles me in his arms.
He's the sweetest, hottest, most compellingly complicated man I've ever known, and forever wouldn't be long enough to hide with him. I wish that we could as I doze back off to sleep.

***

When I was a child I walked in the forest and saw a deer. We stood together and looked at each other for only seconds, but afterwards it felt like something magical had happened, something precious that only we shared and only I had seen.
Seeing Rob happy, and letting himself be loved makes me feel how I felt when I saw that deer.
This soft side of him feels like something special, elusive, and for my eyes only.

***

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..
I needed you to love me, not punish me…"

He needed so much to be loved.

***

When I wake up again he's gone. The bed is empty, but as I'm leaving the bathroom he returns with coffee and breakfast.

His expression and tone are mock admonishing as he finds me standing, naked, and I see the look in his eyes, and the small twist of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

"Ermm, get back in bed, you strumpet, I haven't finished with you yet."

"Yes Sir,"

I smirk, raise one eyebrow and bite my lip, and breakfast is forgotten, left behind with his sweatpants.

I squeak and jump into bed as he comes after me, pinning me down with soft kisses all over my body and they're feather light and ticklish, and I squirm until he reaches the apex of my thighs and spreads my legs, holding them firmly.

Teasing my clit with his tongue in the most gentle, excruciating way that makes me push myself up into his face, wanting more, he holds me down with his forearm across my pelvis and proceeds to drive me wild with his mouth and fingers expertly for what feels like an hour, but I have no concept of time as he brings me to the edge over and over again until I'm close to begging, and he's thrusting his hips, rubbing himself against the edge of the bed, the sounds from him vibrating against me.

I grab a hold of his forearms in a haze of head spinning pleasure and pull him, gasping.

"I want you in me, think how it feels inside me Rob… I want you in there."

And as he moves up my body and the hard heat of him traces its way along my thigh I can feel a telling trail of pre-come.
He's so fucking horny, I don't know how he's held off for so long.

I can't resist reaching down to stroke and marvel at him and he all but collapses on me as I touch him.

"Oh god, Jesus fuck…."

And he's gasping, with his head against my breasts.

He's as close as I am.

While he's there he takes each breast into his mouth in turn and it's my turn to gasp as he teases my nipples just like he did my clit while he positions himself at my entrance.

Remembering how he grabbed hold of my hair while he fucked me before, I sink my fingers into the back of his, wrapping his soft curls around them and pull tight, just as he slides inside me and a long, low,

"Fuuuuuck,"

falls from his lips as he buries himself deep.

It doesn't take long. We're both so nearly there already that we hold each other close, and then more tightly again as we begin the short climb to our ends, the sounds that we make joining together.

Gripping his hair tightly to turn his head, I kiss the mark that I made on his neck when I bit him last night, and he goes harder as he buries his head next to mine.
I can hear the fraught, strained whimpers that he's trying to hold back with his mouth pressed to his hand where it grips my shoulder. His rhythm becomes more and more broken until with a strangled frantic sound his body clenches tightly, every muscle rigid.

Knowing what that signals I tip over the edge, and as I feel the warm rush inside me I come, thrusting up against him and crying his name as his body bucks against mine with the spasms that shake him, until the aftershocks force him to hold me and his eyes beg for me to stop, his breathing heavy and erratic.

Withdrawing, he curls up on his side against me with his head between my neck and my shoulder, trembling, and I make sure we're both covered and warm before I wrap my arms around him, and play with his hair while our breathing slows.

Neither of us speak, there's no need.
But when he rests his hand on my chest I see teeth marks on the back of his thumb and stroke them.

"You did this to yourself?"

He's quiet for a few heartbeats.

"To stop… To keep…. Umm.
I just… yeah."

And his voice trails away. I don't know what to say and so I hold his hand and stroke my thumb over the imprints there.

He carries an air of sadness, a kind of resignation to his fate that worries me for both of us, and occasionally reveals a vulnerability and fragility that I never expected.
No wonder his wall was so strong and guarded so fiercely.

Maybe he never was two wolves, maybe he's one wolf and a deer.

***

He stares down at me, so much turning in his eyes but he sneers, his face twisting in revulsion.

"Look at you, you fucking whore...
You disgust me.

You fucking BITCH."

 

With a harsh jolt, I'm awake, trying to find my bearings. The sun's still shining, it's still morning, Rob's disturbing as he dozes.

But even though it's still morning he's physically tired and emotionally wrung out. Nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck, he finds a comfortable place to fall back to sleep as I try to ignore what's playing out in my head.

And start to drift again.

 

***

I'm jerked violently and sent flying, sprawling across the landing carpet and almost into the wall. My knees are burned by the friction and my dress is flipped above my hips as I crash shaking to the floor.

 

Fuck.
Oh fuck.
I'm awake, shaken, and the adrenaline is pouring into my bloodstream. Slipping from beneath Rob I throw on my nightshirt and don't even look to see if he's awake or watching as I grab Jonathan's letter from its hiding place and pick up my phone before heading into the bathroom and locking the door.

 

.

Chapter 14: there's a line

I've messaged Jon and asked him not to call me, but to message back instead so we can arrange to meet. It's the best way of keeping it secret.
I don't remember him, other than two small flashes of memory and I hope the fact that we were together means that I can trust him.
Instantly I feel the cold tendrils of guilt. It's taken so long to earn Rob's trust and it's such a new and fragile thing, but I still have to do it. I need to know what Jonathan has to say.
If Rob's hurt me it's all over anyway.
I'm not even arguing with myself, I have to, though I know that it will break me.

I remembered something new and it's frightening and I need to know what I'm up against. Things have moved so fast between Rob and I in the last twenty four hours, we're both in too deep, I don't have time to wait until my subconscious or my broken brain decide to give up their secrets, and Rob certainly isn't about to.

After the latest memories, I'm starting to think that Rob's been lying to me.

When I emerge from the bathroom I manage to stash the letter and return the phone before he wakes. Seeing me he smiles sleepily, pushing his dishevelled hair back and scratching his head as he rises to sit cross legged on the bed.

"Hey, what's the time?"

***

I'm jerked violently and sent flying, sprawling across the landing carpet and almost into the wall. My knees are burned and my dress is flipped above my hips as I crash shaking to the floor.

 

"I don't know, must be almost midday."

My heart is so heavy. I don't want it to be true.
I won't believe it.
How could he do that to me? Lie to me and make me love him?

"Ell… you okay?"

I must be so transparent. His arm is still aloft with his fingers in his hair as he stops to study me.
I dig deep and find a smile.

"Sure. I think I'm just really hungry."

There's relief in the large breath blown out through his nose as he drops his arm into his lap.

"Oh man I'm starving, and I really have to shower.
Mind if I dive in? There's room if you wanna join me?"
The corners of his mouth quirk upwards into a playful smile.

I shake my head.
Maybe if things were different.

"Nah, I'm gonna find something to eat, we never ate breakfast, when was the last time we got actual food in?
You shower, I'm making food and coffee."

 

***

I'm standing by the window, watching the world outside while steam rises gently from the coffee in my hands.

I made pasta, I've had mine, Rob's been a while and I couldn't wait any longer. His is being kept warm for when he's ready.

There's not so much ice and snow on the street now, but plenty clings to window ledges and the stonework of the building opposite, and to the branches of our tree. Further down in the park, everything still looks white and wintery, with black and white trees reaching out into a pale grey sky.

 

"Hey,"

I haven't heard him approach and so when he speaks and slides his arms under mine to enclose me I'm surprised, but his voice is warm and soft like his embrace, the kisses that land on my head and are pressed against my neck are gentle, sending little shivers down my spine, and I abandon my coffee to lean back into him, trying to forget again.

His kisses may be gentle to begin with, sweet and loving, and so are the light strokes and touches which come next, tracing the lines and curves of my body, the swell of my breast, grazing my nipples as they harden under the thin fabric of my nightshirt, but as I reach back to link my hands behind his neck and surrender myself to him, gradually they become less gentle, more urgent and I hear his breathing in my ear before he murmurs, soft and low,

"Come away from the window, I wanna fuck you right here… "

His voice is so hot and one of his hands is gliding its way up my inner thigh, under my nightshirt and he's making me breathless, I can feel my response to him between my legs.

 

Taking hold of his arms I turn around to my left and take him with me, then turn in his embrace.
His back's against the wall, next to the window and I'm facing him, holding him against it, back in control.
Right now I need control.

He smells good, freshly showered with his hair still wet, in a black t-shirt and loose black sweatpants.
He's inflamed already, the rise and fall of his ribcage, the bulge in his pants and the dark, dark look in his eyes beneath his lowered brows as he looks down past his nose at me all say the same thing, and as I palm him and fondle him through his clothes his head jerks back against the wall with a sharp gasp.

He's hard and heavy in my hand as I press his body against the wall, but he's too strong, pushing back against me to hold my head in his large hands. He bends and kisses me, his mouth hard against mine, his tongue forcing its way in urgently, almost aggressively.

Things are getting out of control very quickly again and as much as I want him, fuck do I want him, this is too fast, much too fast with the new memory still fresh in my mind, and I feel a little panicked by the sheer size of him and the force that he is.
I pull back, hold him at arm's length and try to throw him off by changing the subject.

"But I made food for you…"

Unexpectedly, a little breathless distracted giggle bursts from him and he seems bewildered.

"What the fuck Ell?"

His large hand cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. I can see his arousal in his eyes, but there's also amusement, and love.

"I am NOT hungry right now… "

Pulling me gently back towards him until he's looking down at me, he bites his lip and gives me a sexy little smile,

"But I could sure as fuck eat you."

And as he kisses me again I'm reassured that it's my Rob here, with me, as I run my nails over him, rubbing and teasing him through the sweatpants and he whimpers into my kiss, stopping to whisper my name and turning me on again instantly.

My Rob.

Not the wolf.

Pushing him back against the wall and dropping down in front of him I pull his sweatpants out of the way, grazing my fingers along the length of him, so hard, his skin stretched tight and smooth, and stroke the head of his cock as his stomach and thighs tense and his breathing accelerates. Balling his t-shirt in my other hand I hold it up, pressed against his ribcage, bearing his midriff and look up. I want him to see, to know what I'm doing, and gauge his reaction.

Though I can already feel him panting from the movement of his ribs, and in the hollowing and rising of his stomach, his brows are drawn in expectation, he's biting his lip and I'm momentarily confused by the pained look on his face.

What I see in his eyes is need, so clear, but also apprehension as he closes his eyes and practically braces himself as I press him hard against the wall and he buries his fingers in my hair, ready.
Very quietly, I hear,

"Please."

Oh, I am savouring this moment as I pause, make him wait, let the anticipation build for him before I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock and I am not disappointed when he cries out and his head falls forward, his teeth barred and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Smiling, I kitten lick his sensitive places, over and over and he's gasping, holding on, but when I take him into my mouth as far I can, and still use my tongue on him there every time I pull back, he dissolves into the most delicious soft cries and other sounds as he slowly slips a little down the wall.

Fuck I could do this all day, but suddenly his breathing rapidly escalates, there's an edge of panic as he begs urgently for me to stop.

Almost instantly I do, but still not fast enough. In a split second, even as I'm looking up he convulsively shoves me away, and I lose my balance.

***

I'm jerked violently and sent flying, sprawling across the landing carpet and almost into the wall. My knees are burned and my dress is flipped above my hips as I crash shaking to the floor.

***

Quickly he jumps to catch me before I fall, sweeping me up in his arms to lift me onto the table and press himself between my legs.
The black in his eyes is deeper than night, a wild, howling darkness that scares me.

***

He stares down at me, so much turning in his eyes but he sneers, his face twisting in revulsion.

"Look at you, you fucking whore...
You disgust me."

***

"Ellie, I'm sorry, fuck.. I didn't mean to do that, I didn't… I'm sorry, I want you so much, I need you, I need you so badly baby… I'm sorry
I just…it's too…"

He's peppering my face, my neck, along my collarbone with small kisses as he presses himself hard against me, between my legs, his fingers fumbling to lift my nightshirt...

"Ell please…. Ellie?"

 

***

I can't see what's happening, but I hear… I'm hysterical, begging and pleading with him….

"Rob…! please don't, please…. Oh god please…"

I feel the naked terror.

***

It's too much. The fear from my memory mingles with the present and I push him away, a flurry of arms and legs. I can't cope, I need to get away from him.

"NO, Rob…STOP!"

He pulls back instantly, as if he's been burned. I can see the shock in his haste as he tucks himself away and pulls his sweatpants up, but when his eyes meet mine, searching from one to the other I don't know whether to kick him away from me or grab him and hold him tightly.
He's wounded, there's raw hurt and rejection there, but also the dark fevered desire that's been awakened is swirling around like a storm inside them, threatening to sweep my Rob away. When he pushes his hair from his eyes his hand is shaking.

His brows pull, his voice beseeching, urgent.

"Please…? Ell…. I…. I NEED you…"

He's incredulous, disbelieving, breathing fast and shallow, but as I see the comprehension of what's happening land, his jaw clenched, brows furrowed, my heart breaks a little when at first I think he's angry.

When his eyes meet mine though they're completely wild, viscerally carnal in the way they were when he first kissed me against the wall in the hallway. He stopped himself then, and he's doing it now, he's fighting it.

It isn't anger, it's not his temper, it's something else, something chaotic that he can't hold, can't control, although he's trying to contain it. His fists opening and closing are a sign of his struggle, and when he looks at me, breathing hard with chaos in his eyes I realise with a lurch in my chest that either way he's lost, and my Rob is gone.

I need to be further away.

I don't know what's going to happen but he's frightening me and I need to get away from him now. I move, fast, scooting backwards over the table to slide off of the far side, but it's dragged almost from under me.

His wordless roaring shout is a burst of redirected energy, discharged like lightning in a storm, as he flips it over, upturning it like it weighs nothing.
I have to jump out of its path to avoid being hit by it, and shrink back against the wall.

Turning wide and fearful eyes on him I get the same in return as he gapes at me, suddenly lucid again in horror and shame at what he's just done, what he could have done had it hit me.

Time is measured in only a few panting breaths, before he crumples.

"Ellie… "

Turning, I focus on the door. Just the door, and walk away.

 

***

Once I was in the safety of my room I locked myself in, before bathing and dressing in my jeans and one of Rob's hoodies, but it felt too him, and I swapped it for a long sweater of mine.

The whole time my head was a maelstrom of thoughts and feelings.

When I asked him to stop he did so immediately. That wasn't in doubt, the problem was he couldn't handle or contain his own feelings afterwards.

As I laid in the bath, alone in a quiet moment, I had a little weep.

I have no doubt that he's capable of having caused my accident, that he could so easily have lost control, lost himself, and done something awful. Something he regrets. I know he feels terrible, undeserving and guilty about something, and he's terrified that I'll remember.

The truth, though, is that I love him.
And I'm terrified that I'll remember as well.

 

***

I can't stay in my room forever. He's had time to cool off and calm down. In fact, even in the moments before I left it was clear to me that by doing what he did, not only did he release whatever had possessed him, he'd also frightened himself.
Even he's afraid of what he is.

Closing my door softly behind me I hear him crying, the sound muffled by his door as I pass by outside.

Although it hurts my heart I don't knock. If that's what he needs to do then I'll let him be.
But in reality the reason for my reticence is I'm afraid to know why.
Let him process his own shit. If he's done something terrible then I need to distance myself in preparation for the inevitable. I need to save myself.

But later when he's playing Radiohead's Motion Picture Soundtrack…

I can't.
I love him, and I can't leave him. It's more than I can take and my feet carry me without my consent and I'm knocking on his door..

"Rob?
Rob open this door.. I need to see you. NOW."

"ROB!"

Slowly it swings open, immediately he turns to go sit on the bed and I follow. As soon as he's seated he holds up both hands in surrender. His eyes are pinched, he looks as if he's been fighting with himself for hours and lost.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I know, I really fucked up. I always fuck it up…
But I know this time I fucked up on a whole other level and…"

But I'm done being endlessly understanding, and as I let loose my feelings, he holds my gaze, however flinchingly, and he takes it.

"YES.
You did.
You really did Rob I mean for fuck's sake, what is wrong with you?"

He winces, pain flashing in his eyes and he takes a breath before he speaks..

"I'm… Ellie there's something…"

But I'm not listening.

"I mean there's a line!
Do you know where it is?
Do you?
I think I've seen enough to know you can barely control yourself, I mean god knows…
But for fuck's sake, do you WANT me to end it? DO YOU?"

Finally he drops his gaze, and his head, heavy with defeat.

"I'm sorry."

 

He's so thoroughly miserable I almost falter, but there's something I need to say. Sitting down beside him, laying my hand on his back, I keep my tone measured, and even.

"I know you say you haven't hurt me, but if I find out you did, or that you've been lying to me, we're done. I'll have no choice."

And I swear, as I say "lying to me," I feel him tense beneath my hand.

 

My eyes will always find what they love, and so I look at his face, in profile, and I wish I could read his thoughts as one of his hands pulls and pushes at the other. He's so dear to me, and I wish I could trust him.. In spite of everything, I want to wrap my arms around him and make everything okay. I wish I could erase everything that's happened.
But he is who he is.

His head is still bowed, his body bent forward as we sit on the edge of his bed and I stroke his back because I still love him.

"I left a coffee in the kitchen, did you eat yet?"
I already know the answer.
"You haven't, have you.
Come on, let me make you something to eat and you can have your coffee. You'll feel better, I promise."

Without looking at me or raising his head he nods, and after a quick rub of his back I leave him, calling back,

"I'll see you out here in a minute, okay?"

 

I've been in the kitchen for about five when I hear the apartment door open and close, and he's gone.

 

For a few seconds I cling to the counter, my heart racing as I feel myself falling, turning in the air.

 

***

Tuesday January 24

I contacted Jon.
Not because I feel any need to meet him or out of curiosity but simply because I need more information on what's happening with Rob.
He's come so far, he's letting me in and my love for him grows deeper every day, but he fights himself so hard, struggling so much of the time with things that I don't understand, and sometimes it gets too much and then he detonates….
He is like a bomb. Or a bolt of lightning.
I've been remembering more and what I remember scares me.

I don't want it to be true, because I love him, I love him so much that I can't bear the thought of being without him.
But there's a line.

 

****

Sitting in the window seat in the living room, I eat alone.
I've been thinking about what happened with Rob this afternoon, and the more I think the more I'm sure that what he did had nothing to do with anger, he didn't lose his temper.
More than that, I think he was fired up, then overwhelmed by his impulses and feelings when I made him stop. He was suspended at a point that he couldn't come back from, but he wasn't angry.
He didn't handle it well though. In fact he didn't handle it at all, allowing his basest instincts to overwhelm him.

I've seen it often enough now to know the signs. Everything builds in him until he can't contain it and then he lashes out, explodes…

Blows everything to pieces.

 

The sky's becoming overcast, evening is here and soon the light will be fading, dropping the temperature when it's already cold.

Where is he?

 

The sound of my phone vibrating on the coffee table jolts me from my thoughts and I put down my bowl to grab it, my heart suddenly racing.
No one ever phones me. What if it's Jon? He shouldn't be calling..

But it's Rob.

"Hey, um, Ell?"

He sounds hesitant, unsure of my reaction.
I'm so glad to hear his voice, and a warm feeling of relief spreads without consent throughout my body.

"Hey. I've been worried about you, are you okay?"

I hope he can hear in my voice how much I care for him, how I'm still reaching out to him in spite of everything, because although I can't remember all the happy days we've shared, they're still there, they still mean something and pull me towards him, and he and I have something new between us now.

I know he loves me back, in spite of everything. That's why it hurts him so much when he messes up.

"I'm okay.
Ellie, can you come to the park?
Our bench."

I'm confused.

"Umm , yes? Rob what's…"

"Come quickly, and wrap up, It's so cold."

He's gone.

 

Once I'm dressed for the approaching frost, I take a blanket from the cupboard, bundle it up, and carry it with me.

 

***

I know which bench it is. The snow has partly melted and refrozen enough times to become hard and icy, and it crunches underneath my feet as I look up and see him there.

He's noticeable first because of his height, his long legs in the black sweatpants, his knee bouncing more I think now to keep warm rather than with nervous energy.
But he's noticeable too because he's head turningly handsome, his strong profile and bone structure contrasting with the fluid waves of soft dark blonde hair that partially cover his face, and the fuzzy stubble that softens his jaw. When he raises his head to me and smiles, the warmth of it and the dimple on his cheek dial the handsome up another few levels and I marvel to myself, not for the first time,

That's my husband..

 

He beckons me over, patting the seat beside him with his hand without speaking and as I lower myself to sit with a puzzled frown, he bites his lip and smiles an excited smile, as if he has a secret.

Raising his arms above his head, he claps his large hands, loudly.
He winces, slightly, but then looks at me and smiles, as twenty, then fifty, one hundred, two hundred starlings fly out of the evergreen trees close to us where they were roosting, and as they climb into the sky there are more, and more, flying to join them from the roofs of apartment blocks and other trees in a giant murmuration, thousands of them together in a huge flock which begins to twist and turn, folding in on itself and opening out again in a swooping series of patterns that fill the grey sky with a whirring of wings.
I've never seen so many together.

"Oh Rob…"

I'm overwhelmed by how beautiful and magical they are, as I always am, every, single, time.
And he knew I would be. He thought of me.

When I turn to him he's smiling at my reaction, and his eyes are full of love.
Parting his hair and taking his face in my hands I press my lips to his, and in my kiss I try to tell him everything.

 

It really is near freezing, I don't know how long he's been outside already and his cheeks and lips are cold as ice.
When he shivers I remember the blanket and as I wrap it around the two of us he wraps his arm around me, and I press myself against him in an attempt to keep us warm.

Settling back we watch the starlings in their mesmerising dance that at times seems to fill the sky, and after a few minutes of silence I look up at him.

"You know it's to confuse predators… They keep moving, changing direction and form, always fluid, so they can never be deciphered. And if they're never deciphered, they'll never get caught."

His blue eyes drift from the sky and land on mine.

"Yeah Ell, I know that, you've told me before and I know."

I hold his gaze without speaking until he understands.

"I haven't hurt you Ellie. I promise. Not ever."

I squeeze his good hand and hope that he's not lying, but he doesn't know the things that I've remembered.

Gradually fewer and fewer starlings are in the sky as they begin settling down to roost and the light fades. Keeping the blanket wrapped around us as much as possible, we walk home.

 

Later on, when I'm alone, I find a message on my phone, from Jon.

Hi, it's so good to hear from you.
If you'd rather meet in the park on Thursday, that's fine, if it's safest. Is half one okay?
And Ellie, if for any reason you need someone before then, just call me, I'll get to you.
See you soon.

 

***

Lying together in the darkness we're wrapped around each other. Neither of us wanted to take the brave step of initiating anything, and so instead we hold each other close without speaking.

Neither of us knows how much longer we have. I could remember something damning at any time, it feels inevitable, and while I'm clinging to the wreck of what happened in the past, I'm not looking to the shore.

He sighs softly as he settles and my heart aches.

The deeper I fall, the harder it's going to be and I need to let go, now, even though just the thought of it breaks me. I think that it's time to face the truth and head for solid ground before we sink.

Moving slowly, I leave his arms to turn away.

"Ellie?"

His hand is on my shoulder, and although there are no more words to his question, I understand it.

"It's okay, go to sleep."

But it isn't. It isn't okay, and tears lay on my cheeks as I drift away.

 

***

 

I'm jerked violently and sent flying, sprawling across the landing carpet and almost into the wall. My knees are burned and my dress is flipped above my hips as I crash shaking to the floor…

…He stares down at me, so much turning in his eyes but he sneers, his face twisting in revulsion.
"Look at you, you fucking whore...
You disgust me."

***

I'm jolted awake, my pounding heart pumping adrenaline through my bloodstream, and after an anxious glance confirms that Rob's still asleep, I run to the bathroom to huddle on the floor, trying to focus on something, anything, as a distraction. But now I need it, nothing works.

No…
no…

My hands clutch my head and I screw my eyes shut in desperation.
Now it's happening I realise I don't want it,

I DON'T WANT IT!

***

Reaching the top of the stairs he swings towards me, blazing fury.

"You fucking BITCH."

His face is above my face, close, so close we're almost touching and he's fighting with himself as much as he's fighting with me, holding himself just those inches away as if in that moment he wants to invade me, destroy me as he shouts, his huge hand raised and open as he towers over me…

I'm swung around, carried over the top step.
The floor is no longer beneath me and for brief moments my stomach is in my mouth in blind physical panic. His angry face is motionless above me, empty eyes watching as my hands reach out to him and try to grab the stair rail in a futile attempt to save myself before gravity claims me and I fall…

***

Throwing myself towards the toilet, the contents of my stomach hit the bowl while I cling to it, and the sensation of falling, of turning through the air combined with the shock makes me feel as if the world is lurching beneath me.

When I'm done I lay weeping, bitterly, my head pressed to the floor.

He did it. He did it. He did it.

 

I lay on the tiles for a while, until I'm stiff and cold, then I pull myself upright, the weight of my heavy heart making it harder than it should be. Everything's come crashing in, and it's over.
I have to stop this now, I have to let him go and I can't bear it.

 

There's enough light to see without turning any on, and so I pad back to the bed and slip beneath the covers, as numbness fills and covers me.

As I do so Rob disturbs. Moving over, he cuddles up behind me to hold me, resting his head against the back of mine, and as he mumbles sleepily that he loves me, my tears begin to fall.

He was right, he is tearing me to pieces, and tomorrow I'm going to do the same to him.

I hold my breath to choke my sobs and hold myself so still, so that he won't know I'm crying.

 

****

 

The morning creeps in, devoid of sunshine, cold and bitter, matching my mood exactly.
I'm dead inside.

But Rob's up early, showered and dressed, and when he brings me coffee, upbeat with a happy smile, I ask him what's going on.

He received an email yesterday but didn't get round to telling me, somebody is interested in working with him.
He has to video call them, and then go out for something.

His happiness is palpable.

"It's work! It's good.
Shows there are still some people out there who have faith in my abilities."

Also, after the last nightmare, he hasn't had another. Something must have been resolved that night.

"That's good…"

It's the best I can do, but apparently it's enough, as he kisses me on the head and dashes off.

"Won't be long!"

I hear his door close, and a while after, the apartment door too, as I sit in bed with the coffee going cold, and it means nothing.

 

***

 

Wednesday January 25

I've been turning myself inside out with first the disbelief and then the remembering..
I remember Rob shouting, furious, his eyes burning with the urge to hurt me, and I remember being thrown to the floor, where he spat hatred at me. I remember begging him not to hurt me, but at some point he swung me over the top of the stairs, and watched me fall with nothing in his eyes.

The horror of it is only exceeded by the gut wrenching sense of betrayal.
He knows what he did. He's known the whole time, and now we're done.
I don't want to feel anything anymore.

He lied to me, and I need him to be gone now, so I can begin again in knowledge of the truth.

But I do feel, I can't help but feel…
I hate that I still love him so much, even now, and if I could forget it all again, I would, in a heartbeat.

 

***

 

It's less than an hour before Rob returns. I'm in the kitchen, and as soon as I hear him my heart drops into my stomach somewhere, although I can still hear it beating in my ears.
I can't face him, I don't know if I can do this.
I go to stand by the window and look outside, watching the cold leaden sky. It means I don't have to see his face as he walks in, and seeing the outside makes me feel less trapped, somehow.

"Hi…"

I hear him walk into the kitchen area and turn on the coffee machine, before I feel him behind me. He sounds happy, and I try to be strong.

He kisses my head, rests his chin there and trails his fingers down my arms.

I wait, hanging in the moments between recall and forgetting, and wish I could forget it all again.

For all of the time this morning that I've spent planning what to say, I've got nothing, except,

"I think you should leave."

And his voice is the softest and smallest that I've ever heard it,

"What?"

In a window on the other side of the street, I see the small grey cat, watching me.
I blink and it's gone.

"I'm sorry, you have to go."

I almost lose it then, almost, but I hold on. I'm okay if I don't have to look at him or see his face.

"I don't understand what's been going on, but I know you have to leave now."

Rob sounds upset, confused, he's almost pleading,

"Nonono… but..
But I love you…
You made me let you in..
I did what you wanted.. "

I squeeze my eyes closed tightly against the pricking of tears but one still falls.

***

We're in a car at night, and his eyes blaze hurt and fury as he turns to me.
"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..
I just needed you to love me, not punish me…"

 

He has hold of my shoulders and turns me, his eyes searching mine, begging.

"You do this NOW?
When I.. I asked you before, more than twice if I should go, and you said no… you made me trust you…

and now..?"

"I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT YOU DID THEN!"

I hurl it at him, and he falls back, horrified and wounded, huge eyes fixed on mine and I'm watching him, reading him all of the time..

"I remembered everything, Rob.
Is that why all the secrets? Is that why you kept my friends from me? So they couldn't tell me? Couldn't warn me?"

His eyes are full of fear and shame, but when he comes back at me, he rallies and comes back angry, disbelieving.

"And because of that you changed your mind?"

"YES!"

What else did he expect?

"But I thought, I thought things were different, I thought.."

His expression twisting into hurt and fury, he lunges forward, his face suddenly in mine… stabbing his finger at me, shouting and spitting vitriol.

"FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU AND YOUR…
I TRUSTED YOU!"

I jump backwards towards the door, knowing what he's capable of this time, but I will not be cowed by him. This is my home. He's leaving. If there was ever any doubt it's gone now.

"Well I'm glad I never trusted YOU!"

Pacing. He's pacing now, and he lashes out hard and fast and swipes at something, sending it flying without missing a step. I don't see what it is, but it smashes against the opposite wall.

I remind myself that I'm brave.
His words are bitter.

"I'm so fucking.. like what was I thinking? I knew, I knew all along and yet I still…"

He's pacing faster, his fingers opening wide and clenching, fast.
His hands are shaking, and I know what's coming.

I'm not able to take this from him as I did before, with sex. He's going to have to get it out on his own, and he knows it.

He pulls his arm back to swipe at and smash something else but stops himself, his eyes darting around, searching frantically for another way.

With his arms pulled tight against his chest he leans his with his forehead pushed hard against the wall as he attempts to gather himself.

I can see how fast and heavily he's breathing. He can't do it.

Pulling his head back, he heaves in a large gasp of air before pressing against the wall again and he screams out all of the pain, anger and frustration in one single heartrending sound, before covering his head with his arms and sinking sobbing to the floor.

 

I'm overwhelmed by his reaction, totally at a loss for what to do and regardless of what I've remembered and what I have to do, he's breaking my heart.

"ROB… this, this isn't normal, you have to stop."

My words only seem to make him worse as he becomes distraught, falling apart in front of me.

 

There's a knock at the main door, and I close the kitchen door before hurrying to open it.
It's a neighbour, and his friend. They look closely at me, scrutinising my face and trying to peer around me.

"Are you okay? I mean, we heard stuff before now, but this time…"

I take an even breath, and let it out. They mean well.

"Look, thanks for your concern, but everything's under control. You can see, I'm fine."

With the best smile I can manage, I close the door, and return to the kitchen.

Rob's sitting against the wall with his arms around his knees, still crying, but more quietly now, his body shaking as he sobs.

He's repeating,

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,"

I don't know what to do, or say. I can't go to him, it's too late, and I can't make him leave either. But he solves the problem for me, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms and his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it.

"Could you go, Ell, please, and leave me alone? Give me an hour, I'll be gone, I promise."

He sounds utterly broken.
I knew this would be hard, but I had no idea. Clinging to my composure by a thread I answer, softly.

"Okay."

As soon as I'm ready, I look back through the door. He's still there, although now his head is in his hands, and he's quiet.

"Goodbye Rob."

I'm so sorry baby.

When he doesn't look up, I leave.

 

And I realise I don't know where to go.
I don't take the elevator, deciding to walk down the stairs instead, I don't know why. But after only one flight I have to stop. I can't see the steps for tears.
Sitting down, I let them come until I'm sobbing uncontrollably, my chest burning as I fight my urge to go back up there and stop him.

But I know this has to be done. I could never feel safe with him again. I would never be safe.
It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

When I can do so safely again, I carry on down the stairs and walk to the park, trying to distract myself from what I know will be going on at home, and how quiet it will feel on my return.

Will he really be gone?

 

***

 

After Rob doesn't answer my call, I walk around the empty apartment in silence.
Various things of his have been taken, and for every thing I notice, my heart bleeds.
He really has gone.
I don't know why I'm surprised, I think a part of me is still in shock and can't believe it's real.

As I wander the rooms, I come to the kitchen and find a large bunch of flowers, laid down beside the sink.

It's a beautiful arrangement, long stemmed red roses with eucalyptus, Italian ruscus and deep purple lisianthus. He must have laid them down when he walked in, and I haven't noticed them before.
With them is a small card, with Rob's untidy writing...

Happy Anniversary Ellie,

I'm glad I let you in x

 

.

Chapter 15: true love waits

Keeping the flowers feels wrong, looking at them actually makes me feel sick with guilt, but throwing them away seems even worse, and so I put them in water in the dining room, closeted away where I won't see them all the time, silently accusing me from the centre of the table.

Then I put Radiohead on and play True Love Waits. For Rob.
I hate it less than the other tracks and it makes me think of the first time he almost kissed me. It feels like I deserve that, so I can think about what I've done. What I had to do.

I'm so numb, for all of my earlier tears it still doesn't feel real and I think I must still be in shock.

I had to do it, I had no choice. But that doesn't mean it wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, or something that will ever be okay. I love him, and already there's a huge vacuum in the apartment caused by his absence, mirroring the one left in me.

 

I'm not going to look on the internet. I've committed all this time to doing things the doctor's way and by the book, I'm not going to mess it all up out of curiosity now.
What does it matter now anyway? I don't have the stomach for it anymore. He's gone.

He's really gone…

If the whole truth is something I'm not ready to remember, then maybe I should leave it alone. What I've remembered so far has brought me nothing but heartache.

***

The rest of the day passes like a dream, but a dream in which I watch myself, wandering the rooms for no reason.
Nothing is significant and nothing is right. It seems to go on forever, time means nothing, and no thoughts or feelings arise within the vacant space that I appear to be. Everything has revolved around him since my accident, and without him I'm utterly lost.

Eventually, sitting on the sofa alone, I bury my face in my hands… and remember..

***

Driving together in a car, singing alternative lyrics to songs that we know, silly songs we're making up as we're going along, just for fun. I'll sing a line and then he'll sing a line, and we'll collapse laughing and then start again. The day's full of sunshine, just like his smile, and my heart's full of love.

 

This is what I've lost.

 

Rob and I are in a car, at night. The lights outside pass by at intervals and the interior is lit by the dashboard. There's no music, and I'm angry.

"You think I don't know about your feelings? Your "feelings" get priority, every time. They're splashed around our marriage like a fucking Jackson Pollock, colouring everything.
I'm so sick of taking care of your Mommy's sensitive, special little boy. It's suffocating me and I can't breathe."

When I swing to meet his gaze in the light from the streetlights and the glow of the dashboard, hurt and shock are there, clear and raw in his eyes…. My words have badly wounded him. But I'm unrelenting..

"For FUCK'S sake Robert, not everything is about you."

 

My heart aches for him.
That look in his eyes…
Did I really say that? Was I really that unkind?

This isn't the first time I've been made to question my role in the things that happened between us…

Rob told me himself, the reason he didn't think he deserved love and kindness was because that's what I taught him…
I rejected him. In every way possible.

Not for the first time, my past faith in my own innocence is proven folly.
But it's all over now anyway.

 

I tell myself I'll be okay, that he's okay.
It's only when the time comes to go to bed, alone…

His absence feels like a punch in the gut, I'm floored by just how alone I am in the empty bed, and as I lay my head on the pillow I can't help but wonder where he is, how he is…
That's when it's real.

My heart is truly broken, it feels like it's broken, aching painfully behind my ribs, and nothing will ever be okay again.
I wish so badly that he was here. I want to see his smile and lie within his arms.
Crying myself to sleep is such a fucking cliché….

 

***

I'm met by raw and naked anger, his eyes blazing hurt and fury as he turns to me.

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..

I just needed you to love me, not punish me…"

 

***

Cold fingers of morning light edge between the blinds.

Empty. The apartment is empty.
I'm empty too. I feel like ripping myself open to see if there's actually anything in me at all, but there's no point in anything anymore.

For a long time I lay here, with no thoughts in my head, looking at the marks on the ceiling, the glow in the dark stars that Rob wanted to keep.
Now when I turn off the light their glow will remind me that he was here, as well. Their saviour. He's become a part of their history.

It could be an hour that I've laid here, could be several. It makes no difference to me.
Eventually I grow tired of laying with myself and get up, but that's worse. Now there's an expectation to do things.

I wonder if he went back to LA?
Or to his parents?
I kinda hope he's at his parent's house. At least there he'll have people who love him to take care of him. I hope he's okay. I hope he's doing better, but I can't shake my last image of him from my mind, broken, brought down to the floor against the wall in the kitchen, I hear the betrayal in his voice.

Leaving the bedroom in my nightshirt with a heavy heart, I see the little grey cat in the hallway, heading slowly towards the kitchen. Stopping suddenly, it turns its head, its large amber eyes on mine, almost accusing.

"I know. I know,"

It disappears into the kitchen. I follow it through the door, and I'm not even surprised anymore when it's gone.

I make a coffee and stand by the breakfast counter to drink it. I'm not hungry.

Amongst the clutter of papers and things that soon amassed again after the day Rob.. even now, my body betrays me at the memory… Rob cleared them, there are a few letters and bits of junk mail that I haven't seen. He must have left them yesterday for me to sort through before everything happened…

I've nothing better to do, so, standing by the table, I leaf through them for anything that looks important…

There's a letter from the hospital. Even as I'm opening it I know what it is…
My medical notes.

I asked for them to be posted because of my lack of internet access, and I'd forgotten all about it.
Not all of my medical notes, of course, but the ones pertaining to my accident.

Here, here is something that matters.
Roughly tearing the last part of the envelope I pull the sheets of paper from inside, my heart in my throat.

My eyes skim everything, flying over the words as quickly as possible..
Some of the details I already know, some are unimportant, but there's one thing I need to know, the answer to the most important question….
And there it is, in ink.

 

An MVA.
A motor vehicle accident.

 

My head's spinning, and somehow I find a chair to sit on.
It's not…
It's not a fall down stairs and I hold onto the table because I feel myself turning through the air..

Oh my fucking God he didn't do it.
I'm reeling.
I don't know what happened on the stairs, but at least he didn't cause my head injury. It wasn't him.

Scrabbling to pick up the phone I dial his number. I don't know what I'm going to say, I just need to speak to him and hear his voice.
I should have told him what I remembered. I should have asked him there and then.

The number's unavailable.

Although a note of unease sounds inside me I tell myself maybe it's just as well.
He may not have caused my accident, but he still sent me down the stairs, that still happened.

A car accident.
Everything's been happening too fast. Resting my elbow on the table I hold my forehead and close my eyes.

***

With his eyes blazing hurt and fury, he turns to me.

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..

I just needed you to love me…"

 

***

Finding out it was a car accident has bumped me from the fog.
First I need to eat something, get dressed, and…
Maybe I should go speak to May? I really need someone to talk to about everything, and she did offer to help.
She's the only person I can think of who could help.

 

****

I'm in the kitchen, feeling more together, ready for the day in jeans and a hoodie, with my hair in a ponytail. I've just finished eating when my phone's notification sounds.
Pushing my empty lunch plate aside, I take a look.
There's a message.

 

Hi Ell,
whereabouts in the park do you want to meet? Can you still make it?

 

Oh, shit.
Jon.
In the middle of everything I've completely forgotten him.

Things have happened fast since we last made contact, but I think that now I actually need to see him more than ever.
I message back.

Can you come to the apartment? Rob's not here.

Then immediately I wonder if I've done the right thing.

 

***

It's the most unnerving feeling, waiting to meet the person you cheated on your husband with, when you've no idea who they are or what they're like.

I mean, he has to be a good person, right? I mean I must have fallen for him for a reason...

Or maybe he was a one night stand, and maybe I really don't know him.

Maybe this is a terrible idea..

Fuck.

But it's too late now because he's downstairs, he says my name, and without Rob's phone I buzz him up from the system by the door before pacing around close by.

 

When I open it I recognize him straight away as the man in my memories.

He's above average height, with dark mid length wavy hair and brown eyes, dressed in dark jeans and a sweater with a tan leather jacket.
When he smiles, there's a familiarity about him that immediately makes me feel comfortable, but strangely he seems to be another person that other than two brief moments, I can't remember at all.

He has my coat.

***

I'm charging across a gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way as a hundred million stars shine in a cloudless sky.
I forgot my coat..

 

"Hi Ellie. It's good to see you."

I'm brought back from my memory by his voice. He's British, I didn't expect that.

"I'm sorry, I don't…
I don't remember you, Jon. I have amnesia."

He smiles, and it's a warm, kind smile.

"I know. Rob put the word around that no one should intervene, and though several of us didn't agree with him, no one was ready to fight him on it. No one. But I always believed you needed to know the truth."

I offer him inside, lead him to the kitchen table, and while I do my mind is already racing to keep up.

Rob and Jon know each other…
and I do have friends, friends who Rob kept away.
Just the feeling that I'm not completely alone is almost overwhelming.

While I make Jonathan coffee I explain that I've forgotten almost all of my memories of Rob, and also apparently of him, and I tell him what I do know, that I was injured in a car accident, and that at some time before that we'd had an affair.

I don't want coffee, my stomach is churning. I take Jon his and sit down with him at the table, with his eyes on me for every second until I'm seated, but twice he looks away from me and back before speaking, and I realise he's nervous too.

He spreads his fingers and taps them on the table as he begins.

"I did the wrong thing, Ell. You were vulnerable, after what Rob did, what he tried to do. I tried to help and things just got out of control. I made mistakes.
But I love you both, and I need to do what I think is right, now."

Part of me says I can trust him, but his contacting me doesn't make sense.

"Rob told me you didn't want anything to do with me after my accident."

Jon shrugs, slowly, but not in an offhand way. It's a gesture of defeat, and when he looks back to me I can see the sadness in his eyes and in his wry smile.

"You'd already chosen him, Ellie, It was always going to be him."

I can tell already, this wasn't a one night stand. There were feelings. But something that he said has snagged my thoughts.

"Wait… you said "after what Rob did."

Jon looks at me in shocked realisation.

"Oh fuck, you really don't know,"

***

His face is above my face, close, so close we're almost touching and he's fighting with himself as much as he's fighting with me, holding himself just those inches away as if in that moment he wants to invade me, destroy me as he shouts, his huge hand raised and open as he towers over me…

 

"And it's just been you and him? Here alone all this time?"

I can tell he's concerned, and I'm feeling sick. Anxiety's stretching my patience till it's thin.

"Yes it's just been me and him. Jon what did he do?"

***

I'm swung around, carried over the top step.
The floor is no longer beneath me and for brief moments my stomach is in my mouth in blind physical panic. His angry face is motionless above me, empty eyes watching as my hands reach out to him and try to grab the stair rail in a futile attempt to save myself before gravity claims me and I fall…

 

"Jon please…Was he violent towards me? Did he ever hurt me?

I hardly dare ask it and I don't want the answer but I need it. I need confirmation. To know that I made the right decision. I'm bracing myself for the worst and I can't just sit here waiting. Rising to stand, I tread from foot to foot, unable to keep still.

"What do you mean?"

Jon's looking up at me, confused, and he clearly doesn't know what I'm talking about.
I try another approach,

"You said in your message to meet at the park if it's safer."

He frowns.

"Only so Rob wouldn't know.. I didn't want to cause trouble between you..
Ellie what's been happening? Where's Rob?"

"You said if I need you .."

"Not... not for you, for Rob…
Why, what's happened? Where is he?"

Jonathan is becoming more concerned, but not for me… I'm still pushing for the truth.

"We're not together now.
He's gone.
Please just tell me. Was he violent towards me? Do you know if he ever hurt me?"

Jon's shaking his head, his eyes on mine.

"Hurt you…? No, he'd never do that...
It's what he tried to do… to...
Is he okay? Do you know where he is?"

I believe him and it hits me then, his awkward body language, his concern...

"Why are you so worried, Jon?
What don't I know?"

He looks away, and suddenly I'm afraid.

"For God's sake, please just tell me…"

He sighs, seems resigned, and when he speaks, it's slowly, calmly, as his eyes watch mine carefully.

"Last September.."

 

He takes a breath and starts again, pain in his voice and his eyes narrowed with the strain.
I feel cold when I realise he's checking on me, he's not okay but he wants me to be, and the fear inside me grows…

 

"Ellie, last September Rob tried to take his own life."

 

My mind is white noise as I stop breathing and stand motionless, my face falling into shock.
My limbs turn to liquid and I drop into the chair.

There's just silence and buzzing.
Silence and buzzing….

"He took a massive overdose, and came as close as he could to succeeding without leaving us behind.

We found him, Ell, you and I, and we waited together with him for the paramedics…

 

Ellie, do you need a minute?
Let me get you some water."

 

Jon sounds concerned but there's another voice, I hear it automatically in my head, and now I understand what my subconscious has been shouting at me all along..

Watch him….

I understand my need to know where he is and what he's doing, the compulsion to do something whenever he's sad or distressed…

May said take care with him.

She knew, she knew what he did..

Oh my god, what have I done?
Where is he?

Jon returns from the kitchen area with a glass of water, which he stands on the table in front of me, and sits back down before he continues.

"He'd seemed a little weird earlier that day when we spoke on the phone, and something told me to visit that night to keep him company.
He wasn't expecting me to.

Ellie he thought he'd be alone.

You'd planned to stay the night at a friend's, but you came home early just as I arrived at the building.
Ellie?"

I don't answer him, instead I simply raise a shaking hand before covering my eyes, hoping he will pause, and he does.
Because I see it all. I can remember..

***

Walking into the apartment with Jon, Radiohead's playing so loudly, Motion Picture Soundtrack on a loop as we learn by the end of the night, and my first thought is that Rob should turn the volume down, stop being selfish and think about the neighbours.

Fucking Radiohead..

But something feels off, and when Rob doesn't answer us, Jon hurries into the bedroom ahead of me. I think maybe he already suspects something.

I remember the look on his face as he turns back to me and pulls out his phone. He's deathly pale, his hands are shaking...

… and everything implodes.

After the crashing wave of relief that Rob's still alive comes the horror, the blind naked shrieking terror that we're still losing him anyway, he's still slowly leaving us.

I learned that day that it's not possible to beg or plead or pray while you're still screaming.

You have to stop the screaming first.

Jon's doing everything, and I'm useless. Completely useless.

He looks so peaceful, quiet and still while all around him is chaos. Jon's going to look for the ambulance and I'm..

I'm falling to my knees beside him, hysterical. Holding him to me I stroke his face and beg him,

"Rob…! please don't, please…. Oh god please.."

There's nothing, no response at all and I'm desperate, he's slipping through my fingers and as much as I plead with him I still can't keep him with me.

 

…it's unbearable, the truth is too painful and I want to run from it, but I can't. These things have already happened.

Instead I walk to the window, look down into the street below while Jon sits, quietly and patiently, allowing me time to remember...

 

I remember the wail of the ambulance as we're taken to the hospital, the lights outside are flashing through the gaps so fast as I hold his hand, telling him I love him, I love him so much, and willing him not to go...

As his body suddenly becomes rigid the paramedic literally picks me up and half sweeps, half throws me to one side as he calls to his colleague,

"We got another seizure, he's seizing again...."

 

I remember the paramedic trying to calm me, his kind words a blur as I shake uncontrollably, dry heaving over a cardboard dish as we pull up outside the ER because we almost lost him again..

Rob.
My Rob..

Jon and I, waiting in the hospital, totally numb...

Watch him….

***

Outside the window the birds are busy, bustling and squabbling in the top of the tree, the sun is trying to shine, the world is still the same.

Even through the remembering, I still can't quite believe it's true, I can't take it in and I don't want to.
But with an ache I understand his preoccupation with seizures..
And his fear of it happening to me.

 

Jon's watching me as I return to sit back with him at the table, with new concerns growing in my mind.

"I remember… I remember us finding him and I remember him fitting…
If he had seizures, I know that's… What does that mean, for him?"

Jonathan leans forward, folding his arms on the table, and sighing, he slowly shakes his head.

"Look Ellie, this, this is a lot, and I'm aware of how much of a shock this must be. I don't want to overload you… "

I exhale heavily.

"I understand what you're saying, but I've been in the dark for far too long. I want to know everything.
Please, Jon, I need to understand him."

He closes his eyes, nods in acquiescence, and carries on.

"They really had to fight to keep him with us. He stopped breathing more than once on the way to the hospital. With that and the things that he took….
There was damage to his brain, Ell, and he's different now, to how he was before. And although he's improved a lot from how he was back then, he'll never be the same."

Jon's brows pull as he remembers, and it's obvious how much he cares about Rob. How much he loves him.

"From what he told me, his feelings are.. They're far more intense for him now, and he can't control his emotions, most obviously anger. It overwhelms him, makes him lash out and behave irrationally sometimes.

Once he left the psych hospital, you took him home and cared for him, the same way he's just done for you.
You were so strong for him..

But you struggled to deal with his rages and meltdowns. It was really hard for you, he… he was really difficult.
You must know what I mean, he's still the same. It seems it's his anger that's the hardest to control…
You lost a lot of friends back then.

Ellie, I'm so sorry."

 

The bad wolf.
I realise that's what he's talking about. But Rob and I know the bad wolf is more than just his rage.
It's also sex.
And suddenly everything makes sense.
But Jon's talking.

"You know, he used to have panic attacks. When he was still performing, he even had them on stage.
After he was damaged they went away. The irony wasn't lost on him.

But he's strong willed.
On stage he'd just carry on, you know, just power through it, which was incredible. And in spite of how agitated or impulsive he's gotten since he changed he's always been able to rein himself in, hold back enough to keep you safe.

No, Ellie. He's never hurt you, not ever.
He couldn't live with himself if he had…"

He grimaces at the irony of what he's just said.

"Still, he hurt you in other ways.
He never told you how he was feeling, there was no warning and you couldn't forgive him for that, or that he was different because of what he'd done. You were always afraid that he might try again.
I was here as much as I could be, to help. We were always close, the three of us, but when things got too much, you turned to me…. And I let it happen..."

 

If I had days I still wouldn't have time to get my head around everything.

I'm not the only one who's damaged, and everything's a mess.

Then I remember what Rob said,

"It's done Ell.
You don't understand. It already happened and the damage is done.
We're the survivors. There's no going back.."

And that's the stone that breaks the damn, or my heart, because a huge sob rises in my throat to burst free without warning, then another, and before I know it I'm helpless, my body shaking with the force of them and I cover my face, resting on the table as I cry.

The fact that Jonathan's here makes no difference, consideration of the situation means nothing in the face of the heartbreaking sorrow at it all, and the gut wrenching sobbing that I'm powerless to stop.

I'm crying for Rob, and the shock and the horror of it all. He hurt himself in a way that changed him forever, and he couldn't tell me.

So this, this was his secret. It wasn't about the accident at all …

 

After a while I become aware of Jon's hand, patting me on the shoulder, trying to be of some comfort, and I remember that he's here and who we are.
He must have gone to find some things for me because as I look up wetly with red eyes and apologise, he hands me some tissues and a cup of tea with a gentle smile.

"Tea can't fix everything, but it helps. Glad to see you still keep some in."

I thank him, drying my eyes.
Drinking some actually makes me feel a lot more calm. I just..

"I'm so sorry that I upset you Ellie, I thought if you didn't know then you really needed to. For both your sakes."

Of all the things I imagined I might find out today, I never came close.

He was so afraid that I'd remember or find out, and I don't even understand why.

The paper from the hospital is still on the table and I push it slightly, pointing it out to Jon.

"I just found out it was a motor vehicle accident, like, this morning.
You see I'd thought, I'd thought it was him... my accident, I thought he was to blame..
I just sent him away, Jon, I made him leave.."

I know now that the hollow feeling in my chest is guilt.

Jon leans back and shakes his head.

"No, he was in the car, but you were driving, it wasn't his fault.
Ellie, I'm sorry but I have to go."

 

Oh God
I'm battered by a fresh realisation.

He was in the car….

His nightmare..

"Wait.. you were there? Jon please, I still need to know about the accident."

Suddenly he seems weary, as if it's all weighing too heavily on him.

"I was.. it was… it's a long story, but I was following in my car, a good way behind. I was worried about you. I followed the lights and arrived with the paramedics."

Jon stands, getting ready to leave.
I haven't even learned about my accident.

We're both emotionally drained, but still Jon holds me with his gaze to tell me one last thing.

"Ellie, you need to know. Rob was hurt, and because of how he is, he was in a really bad way, he was barely holding it all together but still all he could think about was you, only you. He was like a man possessed. It was like watching you when we found him.
Almost losing you… you terrified him just as much as he did you, in September."

 

Cold dread creeps over me. He's frightening me right now and he's not even here.

 

"Jon, please, if he didn't hurt me I need to see him, we have to find him, but I don't know where he is. Do you think he's at his parents' house?"

Jon's unconvinced.

"Nah, I don't think so. He loves you Ellie, he wouldn't go far.
I'm sorry, I've told you what I needed to. I hate to leave you now but I really have to go.
I agree though, we really need to find him, and soon."

 

Watch him…
But I'm not watching him now.
Oh god he could have done anything..

 

However Jon's watching me, with a strange, sad smile and a kindness in his eyes.

"You fell in love with him again, didn't you."

It's more a statement than a question, and the tears almost claim me again. He sees it, and lays a hand on my arm.

"Give me until tomorrow to track him down. I know he won't be far away. He needs you. That's what makes what we did even more shitty.
I'll find him and take you to him. I owe him that at least.
And Ellie…"

I can see the sincerity in his eyes..

"I don't know what you think you remember, but Rob would never hurt you, ever."

 

***

Several more times I tried to call him, and it didn't even ring.

***

Thursday January 26

Rob, I'm writing this as a letter to you.
Please read it, even if you won't ever talk to me again, please just let me tell you this.

When I woke up in hospital, I didn't know who you were. I had no recollection of you and so all I knew of you was what I was able to observe and learn.

You've been so hard to get to know. Let me tell you, you're harder to decipher than starlings in flight, but like them you mesmerised me, and you pulled at my heart so hard, in a way that was so strong, that I was unable to ignore or resist it.

As time went by I remembered us, and how we were.

I remember the day we met, and I remember watching tv and being silly and play fighting and turning each other on over the years.
I remember us. How we were.
How we loved each other. I know that you were my best friend.
One day I'll remember our wedding day.

But more than that I've come to understand you now, you wonderful, beautiful, infuriatingly complicated asshole. I mean the you that I came to know since the day that I woke up, I fell so deeply in love with you, all over again, and you're so dear to me that I can't describe it in words.

I know now what I did, and more than that, I know what you tried to do and what happened to you.
I know everything, and I understand how badly I let you down. I can't expect you to forgive me when I can't forgive myself, but I just need you to know, I'm sorry. You can never know how much.

Rob knowing everything doesn't make me love you any less, I love you more now than ever, because now I understand.

You see, my heart has been reaching out to you from the very beginning, it always knew, even before I did, that you've always been everything to me.

I'm sorry I mistrusted and misjudged you, but now I know the truth.
You didn't blow it all to pieces, I did.

If you don't want to know me any more then that's fair. It's something that I'll have to live with. But I just want you to know that I know, I know it all, and I love you, and I'm sorry.

 

***

His secret, the thing he was so afraid of me finding out, the thing that he told his Mom would change everything if I ever remembered it was his suicide attempt, and the damage he did to himself. He thought that if I knew I would reject him and abandon him.
The same way that I did before.

I try to not think the thoughts that are hovering, ever on the periphery of my mind, waiting to plunge me into panic over how long all of this is taking.

And I'm not watching him anymore.

Worry spurs me on to try his phone again, though I know in my heart that it's useless. My messages go unanswered.

 

When I finally slide into sleep, I dream.

I'm following the little grey cat through the hospital again, silent bare feet follow silent little paws as they walk in line ahead of me, and I have only my nightshirt on.

It's night, but we're not alone in the corridor this time. Two figures ahead of us stand close together in the half light, her head on his shoulder as he comforts her, and as I move closer I can see them more clearly.
It's me, and Jonathan, and I'm crying.

For a moment I stop and watch them, watch myself, but the little grey cat is waiting, watching me with large amber eyes until I continue to follow it.
Turning down a side corridor it waits while I open the door again, before strolling in and then it disappears.

I'm standing in a side ward with only one bed, the light directly above barely illuminating the figure laid underneath the blanket, but I know who it is without looking. I don't think I can bear to look.
Walking over with lowered eyes, I quietly pull up a chair, and laying my head on the bed with my hand tucked beneath it, I hold his hand with the other.
I'll hold it all night, and I won't let go.

 

.

Chapter 16: the emissaries

Jon found him.

When I got the call to say he had, I almost dissolved in the onslaught of relief. It was so overwhelming, I sat on my bed and wept uncontrollably.

I have to get stronger, Rob said I was strong.

 

He's staying at a friend's house, not too far away. They're working away and gave him the keys.
Jon says he's going to get his car and bring it round, and I grab something I need, thrusting it into a tote bag before I leave.

It's late morning when, in my green sweater dress with tights, long boots and a scarf to keep me warm under my coat, I step out of the apartment block into the cold bright January morning.

***

Outside it's freezing, a hundred million stars shining in a cloudless sky greet me as I charge across the gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way.

 

Jon greets me with a smile as I drop into the passenger seat, a smile that I try to return in kind but my nerves get the better of it and it falters.
So much is riding on this.

Once we're underway and a few niceties have been exchanged, I thank him for doing what he's done and for taking me to Rob.

He shrugs briefly with his eyes on the road, but his words are heartfelt.

"I'll do anything I can to help put things right. We should never have done what we did, especially that night.

But I'll only drop you nearby, and pick you up if you need me to.
It's better he doesn't see me because of his temper.
I've been on the receiving end of it before."

He turns to me and smiles ruefully.

"God, even when the doctors brought him round he came back fighting. They had to hold him down until the sedation took effect. It took five of them."

The smile that he started with has died on his face, and I understand then how much it hurts him too.

"It wasn't a good time."

 

The streets and buildings pass us by. After a few minutes of silence it's obvious that Jon needs to talk, and I'm interested to learn more.

 

"You know, you looked forward to Rob coming home so much, but I knew how apprehensive you were, and once he did, I saw how much you struggled. Rob had been to hell and back, and for him to return irreversibly changed… Jesus Ell, you did so well, I just stood back in awe of how strong you were for him.

He wasn't easy, and he struggled too.. he hadn't been well for a while, and regretted what he'd done. There was so much in his head.

But you had enough on your hands just dealing with his outbursts, and you couldn't bear for him to talk about what happened, or how he felt, you were terrified that even talking about it might prompt him to try again, and it was too much for you, you couldn't handle it.

I tried to be there as much as possible, to help defuse things and to listen to Rob when he needed to talk.

You fell into complete denial with him. Anytime he tried to talk to you about it, or about his feelings you couldn't cope and shut him down hard. You built a wall around yourself and wouldn't let him in.
It really hurt him. He felt like you'd rejected him for what he did, but I could see that you were hurt too, and afraid.
What happened drove a wedge between you, and you both turned to me."

I'm listening, piecing together our story, thinking how all of this sits with the things Rob has said and done, and things I've remembered.
And then Jon sighs.

"I love Rob, but you and I leaned on each other too much and I fell in love with you. We crossed the line, and I blame myself for not being stronger. You were vulnerable and I should have been better.
I'm sorry, Ell, and when it's the right time, if that ever happens, I need you to tell Rob that I'm sorry too."

When he looks across at me with pleading eyes, I nod my reply. I'm sure that he means it. I can imagine Jon and Rob as friends. It's sad, the way things turned out. I'm aware too that the betrayal and loss of his friendship with Jon is another thing that Rob's had to silently endure.

Jon picks up a packet of cigarettes from the central console but thinks better of it and throws them into the glove compartment. After a moment he continues.

"You were so angry that he never talked to you before… that he gave you no warning. It makes it more ironic that you wouldn't let him talk afterwards, when he really needed to.

But there really was no warning. Neither of us saw it coming.
When it came to how he was feeling, we were both completely in the dark…"

 

Jon and I, completely in the dark.

 

His word's drop into my head like a coin into a slot, and I remember everything.

 

********

Loud music thumps from a room downstairs, dense and insistent.
He's moving inside me in time to the bass, here in the close darkness, hiding where we really shouldn't be. Kissing, caressing, his mouth is on my breasts, dark hair against the pale. His hands are on my hips, gripping my flesh and I'm almost… I'm almost…

"Eliza…"

His voice is forced, I feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

"Jonathan… I'm…"

 

********

Jon has fallen quiet, lost in his own thoughts as he drives..
And everything begins to play out in my mind.
Everything.
I remember it all.

 

********

A slip of light becomes a wedge, becomes a room full of coats, all laid upon a bed and amongst them our shame is revealed as the New Year's party continues downstairs.

Rob stands silhouetted in the doorway as the countdown to midnight begins, his chest heaving. Light catches his eyes, wild with pain and anguish.

Ten.

Sudden static fills the room. Electricity made from anger and shame. I disentangle myself and leap to my feet, slippery and naked beneath my dress, as with one fluid movement Rob surges forward, his body twists and his fist flies through the air.

I cover my eyes…

The impact is sickening. Loud.
A combination of dull thud and sharp crunch.

Nine.

Jonathan falls back and bounces back onto the bed, clutching his jaw and Rob folds in on himself, cradling his hand as he lets out a series of strangled gasping whines, his face crumpling in pain.

His legs almost buckle, and I reach out to him instinctively.

Eight.

Staggering backwards he shies away, turns and leaves the room, colliding with the door frame as he goes.

Jon's holding his face, regaining himself enough to sit on the edge of the bed while I cover myself and make my choice,

"Jon I'm sorry…"

He closes his eyes for a second, understanding.

"Go, go after him."

I run.

 

********

We pull up outside a large, stone building with broad steps framed by a low wall, leading up to an impressive doorway.

I'm shaken by what I've remembered, but relieved to finally know everything. There are no misunderstandings any more. The events of that night are clear in my mind.

All I want, all I need is to talk to Rob.
As I stand ready to close the door of the car, I thank Jon again for his help. He smiles, although he seems sad.

"Bye Ell.
Call me if you need me, but I hope that you don't.
Be happy."

I press the buzzer for the right apartment and wait. Terrified.

Now I know. I know everything that happened. What he did, what I did. No more secrets.

 

*******

Seven.

"Rob, stop! I'm sorry, we didn't plan to..!"

Reaching the top of the stairs he swings towards me, blazing fury.

"You fucking BITCH. Didn't PLAN to? You didn't FUCKING PLAN TO?
You fucking…"

The breath he draws is part sob and he holds it to stifle it.

Six.

His face is above my face, close, so close we're almost touching and he's fighting with himself as much as he's fighting with me, holding himself just those inches away as if in that moment he wants to invade me, destroy me as he shouts, his huge hand raised and open as he towers over me, wanting to..
But I trust he won't, I'm not afraid.
He gestures with it wildly.

Five.

"SO YOU FUCKED HIM ACCIDENTALLY?
I can't, I can't fucking…"

Overwhelmed by his emotions and trying to hold his temper he begins to pace, but then takes a step towards the stairs..

"Rob stop, WAIT."

 

********

When the door opens the first things I notice are his tangled hair and the dark shadows under his tired pinched eyes which widen when he sees me, but then quickly narrow as he scowls.

"What the fuck Eliza, how…
No.
I can't do this anymore, get the FUCK out of here, and leave me alone."

My arm reaches out for him…

 

********

Four.

I grab his arm and pull, but against the sheer size and strength of him my efforts are insignificant, merely an irritation that he pulls away from. He turns as I try in vain to get in front of him, and somehow we're caught up together.
The momentum swings me around, carrying me over the top step.

Three.

 

Everything slows down

 

The floor is no longer beneath me, and for brief moments my stomach is in my mouth in blind physical panic. His angry face is motionless above me, empty eyes watching as my hands reach out to him and try to grab the stair rail in a futile attempt to save myself, before gravity claims me, and I begin to fall.

Rob suddenly realises what's happening. Eyes wide now and fearful, his hand snatches at the empty air in front of me before he tries again, and this time he grabs my arm.
With only one hand to use, he bends his knees, his shoulder braces against the wall and he pulls, hard.

 

********

Rob's turning to leave, going back inside.

"Rob, wait, please....
I thought that you hurt me, but I was wrong…I'm so sorry for not trusting you."

 

********

Two.

I'm jerked upwards violently, sent flying, sprawling across the landing carpet and almost into the wall. My knees are burned and my dress is flipped above my hips as I crash shaking to the floor.

One.

I can't see him, but I hear him.

"Oh my God. Fuck, Ell, FUCK… You almost…"

He's panicked and shaken but I see his face as everything else comes crashing back in, and in spite of everything, my heart aches for him.

He stares down at me, so much turning in his eyes but he sneers, his face twisting in revulsion.

"Look at you, you fucking whore…
You disgust me. You both disgust me."

 

A huge cheer explodes from the party downstairs.
It's a new year…

As I rise to pull my dress back down the sound of party poppers, champagne corks and laughter float up from below. The full celebration.

And the mask slips. His expression tears apart to reveal the painful ragged truth, gaping like an open wound, before he turns and runs down the stairs, plunging into the darkness as the music begins again.

"Rob!"

Gathering myself together I go after him. I've fucked it all up. I've ruined everything…

But he did it first.….
And I'm SO angry with him.

 

********

"I know everything. I remember everything.
Rob it all came back…
I know how much I hurt you…."

He stops, freezing where he is before turning. Eyeing me warily he exhales and comes outside to sit on the steps of the building, and I sit down beside him.

 

********

Outside it's freezing, a hundred million stars shining in a cloudless sky greet me as I charge across the gravel driveway, clouds of my breath visible in the lights lining the way.
I forgot my coat..

"ROB!"

I slam my hand on the front of the car as I round it to get to him. He's in the driving seat, and so drunk right now I'm surprised he can function at all.

"I didn't want to be here, you did. Pretending we're okay, that you're okay… You're in denial and it's fucking ridiculous."

I'm met by raw and naked anger in return, his eyes blazing hurt and fury as he turns them on me.

"Get in the car. GET IN THIS FUCKING CAR!
Either get in, or FUCK OFF ELIZA. Either way I'm FUCKING LEAVING!
I'm pretending I'm okay? I'm in denial? ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU WANT?"

He catches himself, pausing for a moment to breathe.

"Happy New Year, you fucking hypocrite. You should go home with him."

There's a slur in his words.

His hand covers his eyes, rubbing them before sliding down his face.

He pulls at the seatbelt, in fast hard tugs so it won't move. Oh God.
I roll my eyes.

"No! Rob, you're fucking hammered, get out, please GET OUT!
Look, just don't, I'll drive."

Desperately I try to drag him by the arm.

He loses patience with the seatbelt, smashes both hands on the steering wheel and screams in pain and rage, his shoulders drawn up to his ears, his hands held rigid and still before clutching one to himself as he sucks in gasps of air.

"You can't drive like this, please…
You're behaving like a child."

He gets out, kicking the car twice on the way to the passenger side in temper, proving me right, and I climb in.

 

********

"I remember the whole night. I remember what I did with Jon. I remember the accident…"

 

********

We set off in silence, but then he's crying.
Oh fuck. I hate it when he cries.
It frightens me.

"You didn't tell me, you didn't tell me it was him.."

I glance over at him.

"It's not enough, is it, that you fuck around behind my back, you've got to fuck him, in the coat room at a fucking party with all of our friends downstairs.
My best friend, Ellie..?

…He's my best friend."

He's lost, broken. Trying to find the pieces and not knowing how.

 

********

It's cold on the steps.

"I know I hurt you really badly…"

Looking into his eyes I see the utter devastation left from what Jon and I did.

"You both abandoned me,"

It's a simple statement, but lost, wounded and so forlorn. All of the hurt is finally able to pour out of him, and I hear how badly we broke him.

"I fucking needed you both, I… I'd…"

I lower my eyes, ashamed.

"I know…"

And there's that fear of discovery in his voice.

"You know?"

 

********

Letting go of the wheel one side I reach over to lay a hand on him…

But I don't touch him. I don't want to trigger him and I can't make myself acknowledge his pain.

 

********

My hand makes contact with his forearm and when he doesn't pull away I caress it to reassure and comfort him.

"I know what you tried to do… back in the fall… and I couldn't cope with it. I know how hard things have been for you since,
I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, I let you down.."

 

********

I take my hand away again and keep my eyes on the road. I'm unable to keep the sadness from my voice.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't hold you and everything else together."

I hear a sharp intake of breath.

"You're not doing that, you're not doing anything, fuck, you won't even talk about it..
You can't keep on pretending it didn't happen, Eliza.
I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what I did, but I've needed to talk and you've shut me out."

He claws his hand and presses his fingers to his chest,

"I'm right here, I'm right here and I have feelings..

I needed you to love me, not punish me…"

 

I'm not ready to hear it. I'm not ready for any of it, any more than I was when it happened and he blew my world apart..

 

********

Rob rubs his forehead with his hand.
He seems very, very tired.

"You did more than let me down, and I can't let you keep doing it,"

His eyes meet mine, but they drop again as he sighs and pulls himself away from me.

"It's over. I think we're done."

My heart hits the ground so hard…

"Please Rob, I'm different."

You said I would have to be different.

"I love you, so much. You don't know how much."

I try to touch him again but he pulls back with a hollow look.

I have one thing left.

Reaching into my bag I pull out my journal, and run my fingers over the birds embossed on the blue cover, my emissaries, before handing it to Rob.

"Please read this. If you read this you'll see. It's all in here, and I've written you a letter at the end.
I'm going to be in that cafe across the street, waiting. If you don't come, I'll understand, and I'll leave you alone."

Our eyes meet, and I pray it's not the last time that I still have hope, before I stand and walk away.

 

********

My eyes are fixed on the road.

"You think I don't know about your feelings? Your "feelings" get priority, every time. They're splashed around our marriage like a fucking Jackson Pollock, colouring everything.
I'm so sick of taking care of your Mommy's sensitive, special little boy. It's suffocating and I can't breathe."

I'm so angry, I don't stop there, and everything comes out.

"You ruined everything, I thought we were happy, I thought we had a good life, a future… And you set a bomb off underneath it, and blew it all to pieces.. How about just for a second you consider how I feel."

Hurt and shock are there, clear and raw when I swing to meet his gaze.

"For FUCK'S sake Robert, not everything is about you.

I just.. I was lonely, okay? Things had been really fucking hard after… and there was no one I could talk to…

I was so terrified that I was losing you and I couldn't talk about what you did because I was, I fucking am, terrified that it'll make you think about doing it again…
I felt so fucking helpless and afraid, and I needed someone to take care of me… ME!
And he was there… and he loved you too, Rob, he understood….."

This is the first time I've said it. The first time I've got it all out and he's reeling, his mouth open and his eyes full of pain…
But he comes back angry.

"He was there? Fuck - Is that all he had to be? Just there?
I trusted you.. I can never trust you again, can I?"

 

********

Time's passing. Outside the cafe it's beginning to rain.
He's not coming.

 

********

My eyes flick to the road and I correct the steering. It's a very cold night.

I turn back to him, furious.

"I trusted YOU, I trusted you to talk to me and not try to fucking kill yourself and leave me without a word… I thought we were happy and you didn't tell me…
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

And just like that I'm sobbing..

"And you're trusting me to drive right now, but I can't while you're fucking..."

His eyes fly wide open, huge, fearful and his hands fling upwards as he grabs the wheel with his good hand and the other shields his eyes...

"ELLIE!"

Headlights, dazzlingly bright, bear down on us almost from above and a huge truck is seconds away.
I pull the wheel and they swing past us to the sound of a horn blaring loudly, too close.

Recorrecting, back on course I keep driving.

We both exhale, and my arms and legs feel weak and shaky.
I glance across to Rob, and he meets me where I am. The shock has left us both unmasked, fearful, our resentment stripped away.

There he is. My best friend. The man I still love with all of my heart, in spite of everything. I've made the most terrible mistake..

We're both shaken and reeling, the fear still alight in our eyes.

I almost lost him.
I know I still love him. I love him so much.

What have I done?

 

His face begins to soften with relief as the fear subsides, and something flashes In the corner of my vision.

With adrenaline still coursing through my bloodstream, I spin the wheel.

As the car mounts an obstacle and flips into the air I hear him scream my name,
and my very last thought is

I'm sorry.

 

********

 

The rain is chasing new pathways down the cafe windows in a perpetual cycle, the glass is foggy and the air is damp. The sky is full of dark and brooding clouds, very different to when I set out today, and it feels only fitting.
While I've been waiting my almost not daring to hope has slipped sadly into acceptance.

Finally I understand…
I still don't know what made him try to end it all but I understand that after he did what he did, even while he was trying to find himself again, I shut him out.

He must have been desperately lonely…
Then I slept with the only other person he could turn to, so he lost him, too.
And then I forgot him.
Like he was nothing.
Fuck..
How has he even survived?

Those defences were there for good reason, and all I could think of was how to break them down.

And when I'd made him trust me and he'd let me in, I did it all over again.
This is all I deserve.

 

It's been an hour. He's not coming….

 

.

Notes:

One more chapter to go! To everyone who's been reading, thank you all so much 😌

Chapter 17: a small grey cat

Slowly I begin to put on my scarf and check around for my bag.
It doesn't feel right, calling Jonathan, I'll find my own way home somehow. Maybe I should call for a taxi.

 

But when I hear the cafe door opening I look up, and there he is, holding me with his eyes, his face unreadable and rain in his hair.
Desperately I try to push down the surge of feelings rising in my chest but I can't, and they won't let me speak.

He beckons me over, and all I can do is go to him, my eyes full of tears and my throat stuffed with feelings, but I hold them back, keep them in check for him.
It's time that his feelings came first, though right now I don't know what they are and suddenly I'm overwhelmingly nervous.

As I get closer he reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me behind him out of the cafe, and I anxiously follow his back into the gently falling rain. I can barely catch my breath before he turns around, pulls me close and kisses me.

It's a kiss full of feelings, and so tender it makes my stomach swoop and causes my tears to finally fall as his fingers find their way into my hair and he holds my face, and as he does I lay my hands on his.
When he finally lets me go I need to tell him again..

"I'm so sorry...."

What was rain then freezing sleet has become snow, and he takes my hand again.

"Come on, let's get inside. It's time we really talked."

Crossing the street we head up the steps to the large building. Rob's friend's apartment is on the ground floor, he unlocks the door and the warmth is welcoming as he lets us in.

It's a lovely apartment, large, bright and airy, but that's not really what holds my attention as I remove my boots, slip off my coat and scarf and lay down my bag.

Rob has taken off his sweatshirt and is using it to dry his hair, his jeans slung low over his hips with his long back to me, and I drink him in with my eyes, absorbing every moment. Bundling it up he tells me to wait here a minute, before disappearing from the room and I do, still unsure of where we stand with each other now.

When he returns he's wearing clean dry sweatpants, a white t-shirt and he's carrying a towel for me to dry my hair, his own falling damp and curling on his shoulders.
Passing it to me he heads across the open plan area towards the kitchen, calling back to me,

"Do you need dry clothes?"

I don't. I shake my head to silently decline as I use the towel.

"Would you like a coffee?
Or a whiskey? I can get us a whiskey, or… no. Is it too early?"

At first I don't know what's going on, why the sudden awkwardness...
And then I realise, he doesn't know what to do with this, with me knowing everything again. He's nervous.

He's kept it from me all this time to protect us both. What's he to do with it now?
I nod and smile at him in what I hope is reassurance as I answer.

"I think whiskey is a really good idea. And I think that we both need to talk."

He seems both resigned and relieved, and the tension visibly drains out of him.

"Okay. I was gonna leave a bottle to say thanks for letting me stay, so.."

Two crystal glasses are laid on the polished surface that separates Rob in the kitchen area from me as I sit in the living space, and he begins to pour the whiskey into them.

"You've been speaking to Jon."

He mentions him almost casually, without looking up, and I wonder how deliberate that is to convince me that he's not angry.

There's no good skirting around it.

"It was all there in the journal. He found out where you were and brought me here.
Rob there was nothing… there was nothing there for me. I promise."

"How is he?"

He's bringing the drinks over and sits beside me on the large sofa, his eyes flashing up at me as he leans forward to lay the glasses on a small table, next to my journal. It's open on the letter I wrote for him.
The question catches me off guard. I take a mouthful of courage.

"He's sorry. He asked me to tell you that he is. He told me what happened in September, as well. Well he did, and then I remembered.

I remember everything…"

 

Rob's eyes widen a little and shy away, and taking a mouthful of whiskey he shifts on the seat uncomfortably, before speaking falteringly, choosing his words.

"I um… appreciated… what you wrote.. in the journal. I've been feeling…

I thought that you'd remembered, and that's why you wanted me to go… I thought you remembered and changed your mind… back to how you were, and I - I couldn't…."

He pushes his hair back to watch my face closely with huge sad and hesitant eyes, and the guilt settles heavier upon me.

Moving closer and turning further towards him, I take his hand in mine.

"It wasn't that. What I remembered came out all jumbled, and I just got everything wrong.. but I know now.
Rob I'm so, so sorry for how much I've hurt you."

I stroke his face, trailing my fingers behind his ear to tuck his damp hair there, while those blue eyes watch mine.

"You know, the things I've remembered make no difference to how I feel about you, other than I understand you more now.
I still love you just as much."

His eyes fall to my lips as he leans in to kiss me.
It's soft, and gentle. His fingers travelling through my hair and resting on the back of my neck.

When he pulls away his eyes meet mine and grow hazy as he sweeps his thumb over my cheek.

"I love you too."

 

I can't hold it back anymore, I can't help myself.

"Why couldn't you tell me.. before..?
How didn't I know?"

I can't bear the thought of him being so lost that he could do what he did, and I didn't see it or help him..

Tilting his head away he looks back at me distrustfully, guardedly, and I realise that opening up to me goes against everything he's known.

"Please Rob, talk to me? I'm here, and I'm listening, I'm listening to you now."

As I'm holding his hand I stroke the inside of his forearm, up and down gently in a loop, emulating his self soothing. I don't know if he needs it or not but it sure as hell is helping me.

I can take this on. I'm strong, I know it because Rob told me I am.

When he talks he does so whilst watching the path of my fingers on his skin, and then I know, it's helping.
His voice is low, and calm.

"It's not your fault. I hid it, really well, really really well. I mean you knew I'd been…"

He takes a breath before talking again,

"I just seemed unable to ever experience joy, and everything felt so fucking bleak.
After my anxiety got worse everything was overwhelming…

My work was gaining huge recognition and you were so excited for me and I just wanted to.."

His voice trails away and I gently squeeze his hand.

"But I didn't want to tell you and hurt you…"

As his eyes lift to mine I feel a little stab in my heart.

Then he drops them again, rubbing his forehead with his fingers and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't think about it much beforehand, not seriously, but I started gathering everything I could find. Everything that might help do the trick.
You know,
just in case."

When he looks back up at me the honesty in his eyes is unnerving, and he shrugs.

"Then suddenly it just made sense. It felt like the only way out, of making it all stop."

He pauses…

"But I failed.."

 

It's enough listening to what he was going through, told to me calmly with so little compassion for himself, but hearing him say he failed…
My heart lurches into my throat, making me feel sick

I hold his hand in both of mine.

"Please… don't say that."

 

The thought of him squirrelling away a stash of drugs so he could end his life, just in case he needed to, is breaking my heart.
I wasn't there for him at any point.

I want to comfort him but I don't. The situation feels too brittle, too fragile, and something else is stirring inside me, very small but twisting and growing so slowly as I speak..

"When you needed me I shut you down, shut you out, and then I betrayed you.
I know what that did to you Rob..
I'm the one that failed, and I'm so sorry.
I know I can't ever make it right, and I know how badly I let you down."

He's looking at me softly, and I should be feeling a little lighter, but there's a sound in my head like the snapping of kindling, catching alight.
He's thinking, his eyes become distant, and the feeling gets closer.

"I couldn't wrap my mind around it to start with…
You and Jon.
How you could do that.

But now I get it. Now I understand… What I tried to do….
It frightened you enough that you couldn't talk to me about it, you were scared, you needed someone and he was there."

He shrugs,

"We do crazy things when we're scared… "

"Not just scared…"

I don't mean to say it, to interrupt. It slides out of me, involuntarily.
He turns to me and tilts his head in the way that he does…

"Ellie?"

 

"Angry…"

 

It breathes out of me as a whisper, as a first curling thread of smoke, and I turn towards him, my voice still quiet but growing stronger...

"Angry. Not just scared, I was angry, I still am, angry…"

And I can feel it now, the source of the smoke, the burning of the kindling inside and it's too much, too much and too frightening to utter aloud so I say it quietly, bitterly...

"You would have left me.
You would have left me, that way, with no WARNING?"

But as I find my voice, my words are getting louder, and the voice inside of me is shouting, now. The anger that I haven't let myself feel, until now.. it's rising, and burning. I'm standing, somehow, backing away from him and I'm shaking, my voice wavering with emotion...

"I would have come home and you'd be GONE!…
gone forever….

How could you do that to me?

You never told me, you NEVER EVEN SAID GOODBYE, AND I'M SO… FUCKING… ANGRY!"

I was so afraid, so terrified of making him try it again that the anger I felt has been stuffed down hard, with all my other feelings into a deep dark place where they wouldn't be allowed to do harm.
But they did harm…

Rob's looking like I kicked him but also wide open, like he's seen me for the first time, and he's on his feet, pulling me into his arms..
And I fight him, pushing back against his chest and pounding my fists as I scream at him and finally break.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!
I LOVED YOU!"

But he only pulls me closer, holds me tighter as I struggle and fight him…
And then I'm sobbing, in his arms, as he holds me up.

"I loved you so much, and you didn't tell me… you never told me."

And he's holding me, and kissing my head and crooning,

"I'm sorry Ellie, I'm so sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.."

He holds me until I've cried enough tears to put out the fire, taking care of me and putting my feelings first again.

 

When I'm calmer, and lying in his arms on the enormous sofa, Rob brushes my hair with his fingers and tells me,

"Ellie, you never said... Not in all this time."

I huff quietly,

"I was trying to protect you.
Seems you weren't the only one with a wall."

He takes hold of my hand, covering it with his.

"I'm so sorry."

He holds it a little tighter, and his voice is husky.

"I won't ever do it again, I promise."

 

I turn in his arms to look up and see his face. His eyes are looking upwards and away as he recalls, reflecting the cold light from the windows, but then swing down to land on mine, slate blue, sincere, and I'm as captivated as ever.

"I hope you can forgive me, eventually.
But as for me forgiving you,
Ellie… I already did anyway.

When you had your accident, it was..
It was a wake up call to me, to show me how much I frightened you, and why you reacted the way that you did."

I can feel his knee bouncing, small, fast movements more like shaking than anything else, and I lay my head back against him, stroking the space beside me on his chest with the side of my thumb in sweeping strokes.
His body is tense, unyielding.

"Fuck Ellie, I've never been so afraid as when I was trying to keep you alive until the paramedics came, nothing could have prepared me for that."

I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing, growing faster with his heartbeat against my face.

"It was terrifying and emotionally violent in a way I could never understand before… and it changed everything, everything."

"Wait."

I sit up suddenly and move back to look at him.

"You kept me alive?"

His eyes flinch away and his brows pull as he chews at his lip.

"You'd stopped breathing, and I had to pull you from the car, I had to take the risk of moving you.
I breathed for you and I.. I tried to do chest compressions… but…"

He holds his injured hand against his chest, clearly distressed, the memory still raw.

"I couldn't...I tried, I really tried but I couldn't do it right... I thought you might die because I couldn't.."

 

The doctor had told me, in the hospital, that the actions taken immediately after the accident saved me, and now I realise why he looked at Rob when he said it.

I move closer again and make him look at me.

"You breathed for me Rob.
You're the reason I'm alive…"

When I realise he's on the verge of tears I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight.

"It's okay, it's okay, you did everything you could, and I'm here... It was enough, you did enough."

Pulling back, I part his hair so I can see his face properly, give him a smile, and watch his expression soften a little.
Leaning my forehead against his, I tell him,

"Thank you."

When we kiss it's slow, heartfelt and honest. I have no secrets anymore. The love I feel for him is deep and true and open, and in my kiss I give him everything.

 

However, when he pulls away he exhales heavily, biting his lip with a furrowed brow and I know there's still something else....

"Tell me?"

He looks at me and goes to speak a couple of times before dropping his eyes. He takes another breath and begins, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his sweatpants so he doesn't have to make eye contact.

"I'm not the same as I was.
Afterwards….
It was different.
Ellie we never…
We didn't sleep together anymore.
You didn't want…"

He takes a breath.

"You didn't want me.
Not afterwards. Not at all.

But now, since your accident… you couldn't remember the old me, not really…
And you fell in love with the fucked up version of me that I am. Now.

Now I feel like you want… me.
Now it's reaI, it feels… I feel.."

"Safe."

He exhales, and looks up.

"Yeah.
Accepted… and wanted.
As I truly am."

He kisses me again, and I can't remember ever wanting him more, fully and with my whole heart…
In between kisses he pauses to murmur,

"Fuck, I love you…"

His voice is soft, and breathy, I've not known him to be this way before.

"My strong, brave, beautiful…
Uhhh…"

Dropping to press my mouth against his neck, below his ear, I suck and gently bite him, working my way along his skin.

"Uhh .. Ellie… fUCK.."

I can feel him getting hard beneath me as he shifts, his breathing getting faster, his body tense,

"Ellie, wait, wait stop.."

I do, straight away, and hold the side of his face in my hand, concerned.

"Okay, it's okay, what happened?"

I know we've been here before.
But now..

Pulling both lips between his teeth he raises his eyebrows before his mouth twists into a sexy little grin, his eyes shining, and I can't help but mirror him.

"I think we should take this to my room."

He takes my hand in his and leads me as the snow outside continues to fall.

 

***

 

The bedroom is immaculate, apart from our clothes that are strewn around it, and the bed is huge.

 

It doesn't take long for sweet tender kisses to become passionate, and gradually I push Rob back as we kiss until he's half sitting, half lying, propped up on pillows. Reaching down, taking him in my hand and stroking him gently I watch as his eyes close and his eyebrows pull in the beautiful expression I've come to love the best.
His breaths are long and shaky and when his hazy eyes open and return to mine I stroke his hair and kiss him again before whispering in his ear.

"Let me give you something."

 

Kissing my way quickly down his body, his brows pull further and he bites his lip, and I'm listening to his breathing change.

I've wanted to do this for so long. Maybe this time he'll let me take him through to the end.

I slide my tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to the tip, and he groans, long and low as his hips shift a little. The sharp intake of breath I hear as I explore the most sensitive parts of him hollows his stomach beneath his ribs as his head twists to one side.

"Ellie…"

He grips the pillows and arches his back as my mouth encloses the head of his cock, and as my tongue laps at the underside his breathing hastens as sighing cries fall from his parted lips.

"Uhh uh uhhh ohh fuck, oh fuck… uhh uh uhhh.."

I'm unrelenting, teasing him, holding him there until the tension in him rises and I hear a note of desperation in the sounds that he's making. Then I take him in my hand and tease him gently while I rise back up the bed and kiss him, swallowing his muffled cries as I coax and reassure him, surrounding him with love.

Now I understand. If this hasn't happened since he hurt himself, it's been a long time for him, and a lot changed with him in the meantime. The way he's always stopped me has already shown me how vulnerable he feels. I need to take care of him, be gentle with him.

"Ellie?"

Nuzzling beside his ear I kiss him there.

"Hmmm?"

"Everything feels… Everything feels more. Since I… it's just more.."

"It's okay… I love you, I've got you."

As I head back down his body he reaches down to me with his good hand, finds mine and grabs it, holding on tightly as the other arm covers his face.

Taking him fully into my mouth, I hold him down with my hand around the base of the shaft, and his cries become whimpers as he curses, calling on God and Jesus as his breathing gets faster and more shallow.

He's so fucking hot right now and I'm so turned on. Slowing down I hyperfocus on him, wanting to keep doing this to him for as long as possible whilst being as tuned in to him as I can be.
He's gripping my hand tightly with his good one, his body slowly writhing, winding and unwinding as he pants,

"Ellie?.. oh fuck, Ellie, I…I…"

His free hand is opening and closing fast and I fully realise, this is like his temper, like his meltdowns. It's an extreme emotional and physical reaction and when I'm in charge, he's out of control and overwhelmed by it.

He's taking in large gulps of air as his eyes roll back

“God… Jesus… fuck!"

He's agitated and restless, there's a certain edge and a pitch to his cries and I replace my mouth with a hand to move back to be closer to him, alongside him. He's come so far, he can't stop now..

"Stay with it baby, it's okay, let it happen."

His face is agonised bliss.
He needs to trust me, and himself.

His body is twisting as I play with him, rising up the bed, higher and higher and his breathing is frantic.
He's gripping my wrist.

“I… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–oh my fucking…"

His eyes open and find mine although he can barely focus, and what I see there makes me pull him towards me, holding him tightly with my free arm as he buries his head in my neck and holds on.

As his breath hitches and his climax hits I work him through it and try to hold him together while it tears him apart, as his body spasms and folds in on itself and he clings to me, spilling himself onto his chest as he shudders and gasps.

 

Wrapping both arms around him I hold him, until the aftershocks have ended, then move his damp hair from his face.

"Oh, honey, that was intense."

It takes a little while before he can answer. His voice is husky against my neck and he's shaking all over.

"That was… fuck, that was a lot..."

He's breathing like he just finished a sprint.

"Fuck.
I think I just died and came back again."

When his blue eyes find mine they're fucked out, but seeing my face he laughs softly,

"Too soon?"

Grabbing his t-shirt from beside the bed I pepper him with gentle kisses while I use it to clean him up and he lays back, holding my arm, his stomach flinching every time I touch him.

He goes to move and I try to stop him.

"Wait, just give yourself time.. you're still shaking."

But he licks his lips with a glint in those eyes, and moves the damp hair back from his face again as he pushes himself up.

"Nah ah, I've got something to give you.."

I'm so horny with everything that's happened, I'm throbbing and desperate to be touched. Even the thought of what he's planning makes me involuntarily clench so I'm not about to argue.

Sliding down the bed he comes back up with his shoulders under my thighs, and as I lay back I feel him open me up.
He gasps quietly, and when I look down his eyes meet mine as they grow darker beneath his brows.

"You're so horny…"

I'm not bashful anymore.

"Yeah, you did that."

Apparently he can still be bashful, if caught off guard, and he makes me laugh softly in spite of myself,

"You know, for someone so fucking complicated, you're so easy to love."

It's the most sexy combination, his shy smile but with his eyes so fucked out yet so dark and full of lust.

Then he buries his face between my thighs, and my body goes insane, its reactions struggling to keep up with what's happening. He's sucking my clit whilst doing that thing with his tongue that makes me grip the sheets as the pleasure soars immediately, and I'm already climbing to the inevitable conclusion. The sensations caused by his mouth on me ricochet into my brain and I call out his name automatically.

"Ell?"

He's stopped instantly, concerned.

"Are you okay? Is… is this…"

I'm left gasping, marooned mid journey.

"Oh, my god, you're so fucking good at that, I'm never getting over it.
Can you do that to me every day?"

Bright laughter bursts from him.

"Absolutely, every morning. On the breakfast bar, naturally, it's the only proper place."

I pull a face,

"Oh, naturally."

Then with no warning he drops back and continues.

My head is spinning with what he's doing, I have no choice but to just lay back and surrender myself to the onslaught of pleasure coursing through my body and as it builds, the tension in me builds as well, swooping in my stomach and making me sigh and moan, digging my fingers into his hair and holding on as he works his magic on me.

He brings me up and holds me there by adjusting the speed and the firmness of his actions until I'm a hot writhing mess, I feel like I'm having an out of body experience.
Rob's making sounds that I can't hear but that vibrate through me, and as he slips two fingers inside me, curling and uncurling them against just the right spot, I'm undone and call out to him

"Rob, I'm gonna come, I'm…"

His mouth is withdrawn and only his fingers remain, but moving slower now, and slower..
I buck up into him, making sounds of frustration but when I look at him he's propped up on one arm, smiling devilishly, and there's that burning darkness in his eyes.

"Hmmm, no you don't.
Not yet.."

 

Clambering up the bed without removing his fingers he takes me by storm, gripping my jaw in one hand and kissing me deeply, passionately, while continuing to play with me slowly. I am held, secure in his will and trusting the force that he is.

He is a force.
Holding me down he kisses his way down my neck and chest, taking my flesh between his teeth, suckling my breasts and making me gasp and all while his fingers lazily toy with me, curling inside me while his thumb passes feather light over my clit, keeping me simmering and so fucking crazy for him. Rising up my body again he breathes into my ear, hotly,

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard.."

I want him inside me so badly. I can feel him, rigid and insistent already, nudging against my thigh and I need to touch him, feel him.
Wrapping my hand around the thickness of him I sweep the end with my thumb, spreading the bead of precum nestled in the tip and he buckles, dropping his forehead to my shoulder as he pants shallowly, his breath hot against my skin.

But he takes his fingers from between my thighs to remove my hand from him, and there lies my punishment, when all sensation stops.
It feels even more that way when he takes my hands and pins both of them with one of his above my head.

I should know by the familiar look in his eyes as he fixes them on mine and positions himself against my entrance who's in charge now.

There's no vulnerability in that look, no doubt in his mind of what he can do to me as he watches me and sinks inside me with a long, low

"Fuuuuuck… ."

Just for a few seconds, he waits. Then he fucks me, bad wolfs me with brows set low over wild dark eyes, hard and fast, grunting with the effort as he sets his jaw and rams into me relentlessly. All I can do is cling to him as he takes me back to where I was, rapidly heading towards the point of no return, the tension building as he thrusts into me as deeply as I can take it.

He's let my hands go in order to support himself so he can change his angle, tilting his hips and it's torture and bliss, he's hitting so deep now and I'm crying out with it, holding onto his shoulders for stability. I bite his neck, his shoulder, but when I drag my nails down his dampened back he arches it and swears, loudly, before fucking me harder to spite me.

I'm so close, so close now and he knows it. I can tell because he slows down again, watching me with glittering eyes through the hair that's fallen into his face as he breathes evenly through his nose and controls himself. He's just as deep but he's rocking himself against me and I'm gripping his arms, his shoulders..

"You… you fucker.. I need…"

I feel as if he can see into my soul as he slips his hand between us and uses his thumb on me with devastating effect.

I'm seeing stars, I'm spiralling away into space and I can hear myself crying out, far away in the distance when the universe shatters with the force of my orgasm and all I can do is hold onto him as it rocks me so I still know where I am.

 

His eyes are burning darkly, he's still holding me, still inside me, so hard and he's so close. I can read it in his face, in his breathing and I know what I want.

 

"Let me fuck you, I wanna be on top."

His look to me is unfathomable, his dark eyes pained beneath his brows.

"Please, baby, let me do it."

It's a few more seconds before he closes them, briefly, then holding me close he rolls over so that I'm on top and he's propped against the pillows.

As I begin to move on him and he's breathing faster, I take his hands and press them down either side of his head, and he lets me. Leaning forward over him I kiss him, drinking in his eager response and look into his eyes,

"Please, let me take you there again, it's so fucking hot.."

He closes them, his brows drawn and whispers

"Ohhh fuck.."

And so it begins. He's so horny already, it doesn't take long before he's writhing underneath me as he climbs, lifting me up, his back arched, his head tipped back and to the side.

"Jesus Christ fuck.. oh .. oh Ellie oh fuck…"

and he's still climbing, panting with small high whimpers as he gets closer. He's strong enough to throw me off and yet he lets me hold him down..

 

This is the good wolf.
The flip side.
And I love both of them.

He feels, so fiercely.
The intensity of him is sometimes overwhelming, he's all trauma and chaotic energy, and I love him. I really love him.
The man who tried to take his own life but then stayed to save mine.

Maybe this time I can do better. Be better.

He's so fucking hot.
I can feel him, impossibly hard and straining inside me, as deep as he could possibly go as I ride him.
He has the most beautiful expression of blissful agony on his face and he's been on the edge so long now.. He rises to sit up against me, presses his head against the crook of my neck and as I run my nails down his back he whimpers and his muscles tighten a little more as he climbs a little further..
God, he's incredible.

 

His body is rigid, trembling as his muscles tire, and there's a small, soft ahh with every exhale, as I raise and lower myself on him. I'm truly fucking him now, he's actually stopped moving and is just holding on to me, so tightly drawn and suspended in the moment, and god he's so finely balanced on the edge, just a little more..
Lifting up to push down harder than before I elicit a small cry from him…
And he's quietly desperate,

"Ellie… Ell please oh fuck I...."

Reaching behind myself between his thighs, I stroke firmly along his taint and the extra sensation tips him over the edge -

Crying out and convulsing he comes, hard.
With his head on my shoulder he holds his breath, gasping,

"Oh fuck…"

before he grabs hold of my arm, and holding his breath he convulses long again, his body shuddering.

Panting and struggling to lift his head, his wild eyes find mine briefly before he screws them tightly shut, his mouth falling open and as his body lurches, folding in on itself, it happens once more.
He holds his breath and strains with a long, groaning whine against my shoulder and the fingers of his good hand grip me hard before his body falls limp, collapsing against me in my arms.
He's panting ragged breaths and shaking so hard as I hold him and stroke his back.

Eventually his breathing begins to settle and he returns to himself, although he's still trembling.

Groaning and flexing his shoulders he speaks softly,

"What the fuck just happened?
That's never…"

I stay with him and hold him for a while, before moving to sit beside him and he curls himself over towards me wordlessly until he's laying with his head resting in my lap and his hair over his face.

I brush it aside for him and run my fingers gently over the skin of his shoulder and his back, tracing patterns to soothe him.

He becomes so still and relaxed, I don't even know if he's awake, but when I take my hand away I hear his voice, drowsy and distant,

"Please, don't stop, it's so nice."

He would never have been like this, not before today.
He's so beautiful, I still look at him and can't believe he's mine.

My husband.

And I love this newer, softer side to him.
But it's not new really, I should have known, it was there all along in my memories.

 

Turning over suddenly, he raises himself up to look at me, his eyes clear blue and so sincere.

"Y'know, it was my fault."

I lift a lock of his hair with one finger and lay it back.

"What was?"

"Your accident, everything."

"No… sweetheart, no."

But he just nods.

"Everything..
Everything."

He sits up in front of me, and I raise myself up too.

"I blew everything apart.
That's what you told me.
Everything happened because of that. We were fighting in the car because of that. Because of me.."

I'm shaking my head, more and more.

"Stop, please stop. Don't do this to yourself anymore."

Laying my hand along the side of his jaw, I hold his face and kiss him.

He's so exhausted, I think maybe he's just so tired that he's not thinking straight..

"I love you so much, please don't do this.
You're just tired, it'll all seem better when you're not.

The reason we crashed is that I lost control of the car.
Me.
We were fighting because of what I did."

His eyes drop but then return to mine as I continue,

"We weren't even fighting when it happened, I remember.
I lost control of the car, for no reason, so it's my fault and my fault alone.

I was driving, Rob. Not you, me, and I'm so, so sorry..."

I look to see if my words have reassured him in any way but instead his face is a puzzled frown.

"But it wasn't for no reason.
You lost control when a cat ran out, right in front of us.
You were trying to avoid it.

I saw it.. a small, grey, cat."

 

A small grey cat with amber eyes, it's face turned towards me in the headlights..

 

"Did the cat survive?"

He lowers his head and frowns sadly,

"I .. I don't know… it was dark and everything was happening…"

 

I brush a strand of hair from his face with a heavy heart.

"It's okay.
I think I know.

I love you. So much."

He's everything to me. The same as he always has been. His face is transformed by his smile as he answers,

"I love you too."

 

Something catches my eye, past the window where the snow is falling.

 

There's the small grey cat again, sitting by the doorway with its neat feet together, staring at me with large amber eyes…
Standing, it arches its back and rubs itself on the door frame, tail held high, and with one last glance it slips around the corner and is gone.

 

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Notes:

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So here we are.
The dream would be for me to have written a story that you would want to reread, just to see it all again from Rob's perspective, you'll probably find lots that you missed, but I'll leave that up to you.
Thank you to everyone who left kudos or comments, I love you, you power me.
If this story had a theme song which would play here at the end, it would be "The Kingfisher" by Rosemary and Garlic, by the way.
For me it's Ellie's song.

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As a late addition, I'd like to say that there's a follow on to this story, because I found that I couldn't leave Rob behind. It's called RUN.
It's a departure from my usual writing, so please read the tags if you decide to check it out.

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