Distinction: The Distraction Trilogy #3 (27 page)

Leaving him looking so hurt and dejected affected me more than he’ll probably believe, but now isn’t the time to do this. Judith is… she’s gone. I haven’t even begun to adjust to that fact yet. He definitely hasn’t and that worries me. Save for his three day drinking binge where he was God only knows where, he hasn’t shown any sign that he has even acknowledged his mother’s death.

That concerns me greatly.

I can’t believe I had sex with him. It was so good that the thought of it, even now, makes me tingle all over.

We used to have such an amazing sex life. I almost forgot how good it was.

Isaac
:
I need you to come back.

I drop my phone on the console of the car and almost speed home. Every red light and stop sign pisses me off. How can Silas do this? Where the fuck am I going to find the money to buy him out?

“That piece of shit, arsehole, fucking wanker.” I exclaim and slam my hand against the steering wheel.

As soon as I’m home, I race to my old bedroom and pull out my laptop. I call my solicitor and start looking for possible loans. There’s no way, no way at all I can let somebody buy him out. I’ll be fucked.

Eloise
:
You’re a pathetic excuse of a man and a businessman. Dropping out of an amazing opportunity because you’re sore about where your dick can’t go anymore.

Okay, so maybe not the wisest message I’ve sent. I’m letting my emotions override my reasoning. I huff, switch off everything and throw it away from me.

I then grab the book from my bag and lie in bed, snuggled against my old grey teddy.

“Judith, if you’re listening, bitch slap some sense into me with whatever ghostly powers you’ve been granted. I don’t have a clue what to do.” Tears spring to my eyes. I press the book to my forehead and sniffle like a baby. I just want peace of mind, just for tonight. I want everything to leave my brain so I can simply rest.

I check my tie for the hundredth time. My mum always hated sloppy looking ties. My dad sits beside me, a handkerchief crumpled in his hand. We don’t speak. We haven’t spoken since we both woke up this morning, although I don’t think my dad actually slept last night in order to wake up this morning.

It’s time.

Time for the burial.

The burial that so many people are coming to, which, in my opinion, is shallow and fucking ridiculous. None of them were there when we needed help, none of them, yet here they are now that she’s dead.

I can’t control my bitter thoughts; they consume me. Rage consumes me. Rage at them. Rage at myself. Rage at my dad. Rage at Elle. She never did call me back.

It’s odd to think that my mum’s body is in that car directly ahead of us. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t feel upset. I think it’s because I said goodbye to her a long time ago. She hasn’t been her for years… fucking years.

I go through the motions of the day without speaking. We climb out of the car when we reach the cemetery and take the wooden box onto one shoulder; my dad on the right, me on the left, friends and family behind us. Two other men who I don’t even fucking know hold the box at the back. My mother was so light by the time she died that ninety percent of the weight we’re carrying is from the wood and the metal handles.

“I swear on all that is holy, if my son is put in a fucking box because of those little shits I’ll murder them myself!” My mum screamed from outside my hospital room and then broke down into sobs that broke my heart for the first time.

“We’ll deal with it.” My dad whispered to her. I stared at the door, feeling the weight of what I’d done to them come down on me. I couldn’t help it though. I wanted to do it again. I didn’t want to be here anymore.

“How?” She cried, her voice weak now. “How?”

“Larry told me of a really good rehabilitation facility for teenagers like Zach.”

“I don’t want him to think we’re sending him away. He needs us.”

“He needs help,” my dad responded calmly. “Help that we aren’t equipped to give him.”

Time seems to skip ahead and she’s being lowered into the ground. I’m standing with no recollection of how I got here. Every face is blurred. Everybody is motionless. People who didn’t give a fuck are crying. They weren’t crying four years ago when we lost her to begin with.

The vicar talks and throws dirt down onto the box, because that’s all it is - a fucking box carrying an empty shell. A shell that was emptied four years ago.

My dad continues to wipe at his eyes as I stare expressionless at the tree in the distance.

I feel a pinkie finger graze mine and then fingers interlock with mine. It takes me back to Crystal’s funeral, back when Eloise was my student and I shouldn’t have been touching her but I did.

I had her.

She was mine.

And now she’s here for me, like I was there for her.

Her head rests against my shoulder. Her quiet sobs help me focus. I unlace our hands and wrap my arm around her shoulders. She cries into my chest.

Should I be crying?

“Amen,” everyone says and the crowds get tighter. My dad drops the first rose onto the box. Eloise and I move together, holding each other tight as we both drop ours.

“This is where people are buried when they leave us.” Mum told me, placing the yellow and white daisies onto the grave.

“Leave us?” I felt this irrational unease knowing now that there were possibly hundreds of bodies buried beneath me. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to be buried.”

“You won’t leave me.” She smiled up at me with warm eyes, her brown hair cut short and tucked behind her ears. Pulling me onto her lap, she kissed the side of my neck and we both placed our hands onto the smooth surface of the gravestone, directly over the name ‘George.’ “And hopefully I won’t leave you for a very, very long time. Long after you’ve had little babies of your own.”

“Yuck.” I scrunched my nose in disgust. She laughed through tears and kissed the crinkles away before reaching down my legs to pull my socks up to my knees. “Are they all dead?”

“Do you know what that means?”

I nodded. I was only five but I had a small understanding of what it meant to be dead. “You go to sleep and don’t wake up.”

“And then we bury the empty shell so we have somewhere to connect us.”

“Oh.”

“Come on. We’ve visited grandma and grandpa enough today. Do you want ice cream?”

I nodded and pulled my chubby little body to standing. “Can I get hot fudge?”

“No.” She smiled softly and ruffled my hair. “It makes you crazy.”

“I promise I won’t be crazy.”

“Isaac?” Eloise’s voice shakes me back. I blink the memory away and look at her. “Shall I get you a drink?”

I glance at my dad who is sitting across the table from me. He wouldn’t give a speech at the service. He hasn’t said a word all day. Now he silently broods over a glass of whiskey. His fourth glass.

“No.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it gently.

“Nobody would blame you.”

I look at my ex-wife, unsure of what to say. For a long moment, I stare into her beautiful green eyes and count the little flecks of grey and hazel that swim in the irises. She stares back but I can’t read her thoughts. My mind is blank.

“Come home with me tonight,” I demand softly.

She opens her mouth, no doubt to refuse, so I look away and pull my hand from hers.

“Look,” she whispers and her hand goes to my thigh. “We need to talk properly. Throwing ourselves back together won’t work out for either of us.”

I don’t have the energy to argue anymore.

My dad slams his glass down on the table and stands. He wobbles a little before looking around the room. “I loved my wife,” he yells and everybody hushes, their chatter dwindling until it doesn’t exist. “Loved her.” Elle goes to move but I press on her thigh to keep her seated. My dad sways and glares at everybody in the room. “I love her too much to tolerate you bunch of hypocritical bastards on her behalf.”

Now I let her stand.

“Who…” He wobbles again and catches himself on the table. “Who the fuck do any of you, think… you… fucking are?” Elle sidles up to him and whispers in his ear. She wraps an arm around his waist to steady him. “Where were you?”

“John,” my dad’s long-time friend moves to him, giving me a pleading look. Obviously he expects me to step in. I don’t. I refuse. “Isaac, do something.”

“I’ll take him home.” Elle begins to walk him out of the room and I see the heartbreak on her face when my dad starts crying.

I remain seated and I remain quiet. As much as I can’t stand this room full of posers, I’m not about to embarrass my mum at her own wake.

My lips twitch at the thought.

My mum always hated it when anyone made a scene, especially me. It reminds me of when I used to tantrum over food.

She always let me watch as she made cakes and other treats. I loved her food. I loved it too much and she loved me too much to say no. She hated my tantrums too much to say no. I was a terror. I’m the reason I have never wanted kids. If my kid is anything like I was, I wouldn’t be able to cope.

I wish she had said no though. It was her food that led to my weight and my weight that led to my unhappiness.

Though I don’t blame my mum, not fully. I did nothing to help myself but then, when you’re young, you don’t realise what you’re doing to yourself until it’s too late.

“Fat Zach,” they yelled and the first egg hit the window.

I wasn’t just unpopular because I was big, I was unpopular because my dad was head teacher of our school and my mum was a History teacher. There are no other secondary schools within fifteen miles so I couldn’t transfer.

Year seven, my first year of secondary school, wasn’t great but it was the best year out of them all. Year ten was the worst. That was when their jokes became cruel. That was when their jokes began to hurt. Of course not everyone bullied me, mostly just the popular kids. The girls were the worst for it, one girl in particular.

I’m not even sure why I’m thinking about this. I wrote it all down. I got it out of my system. It doesn’t bother me anymore.

Normally I wouldn’t let somebody drink so much but John needed it tonight. Just tonight. I won’t let him again tomorrow. I’ve already set about hiding the alcohol. It took me far too long to get him to bed, in between him crying like a child and yelling angrily about everyone who turned up. He was a stubborn nightmare.

I’m drained, emotionally, physically, spiritually… I’m done for the day.

I can’t believe Isaac didn’t help.

Although he hasn’t said a word all day, other than to tell me to stay with him, I’m worried about him. I wish, for once, he’d let me in. It’s frustrating, really fucking frustrating. I don’t think he realises how frustrating.

Heaven finally answers my prayers as I’m tidying the room.

“I tried to kill myself.” His voice comes from the dark hallway behind me as I’m shoving a bottle of whiskey under the couch. I jolt upright and spin to face my ex-husband. The light above goes out as he taps the switch. His words sink in and send a cold chill through my body. “I succeeded for all of two minutes.”

He’s finally talking to me, though I’m not sure this is coming at the right time or for the right reasons.

Is he doing this because he trusts me enough to do it, or is he doing it because he wants me to stay?

“Why did you turn the light off?” I ask calmly as he takes a step towards me.

“I don’t want to see the shame on your face.”

“I’m not ashamed of you or your choices.” My breath hitches. “I’m sorry you felt like ending your life was the only choice.”

“I don’t want you to see the shame on my face.” I remain standing before him, unmoving as he spills his darkest secret. “I had just turned fifteen.” So young, I think but don’t say. “I was the size of a blimp and fucking miserable. Every single day they tormented me. Chased me… to see the fat kid wobble.” His laughter is cold and forced. “Like it was a game to them.”

I hate teenagers. “I’m sorry.”

“My dad was head teacher, which made them worse. It was like hurting the head teacher’s son scored extra points in their sick little games.”

My hand flies to my mouth.

“I won’t go into detail, but I find it hard to connect with people. I find it even harder to… well to trust.” His voice drops to a whisper and he takes another step towards me in the darkness, the only light coming from the lamppost across the road.  It highlights his features enough for me to see his eyes glint hungrily. “Until you I haven’t loved another or cared for another. Even when I thought I trusted you, I didn’t fully. I treated you badly and I know it’s not an excuse but…”

He pauses as if wondering whether to go on. I fold my arms over my chest and nod for him to continue. Whether or not he sees it, I’m unsure.

“I never felt like I was good enough for you. I always felt like a fraud, like you’d see through me one day and just hate me as much as I hated myself.”

“Isaac,” I choke. His words cut through me and the urge to hold him to me is strong. I resist, though. He needs space for this.

“I hate myself now more than I ever did because I pushed you away.” One more step, he’s so close. “I love you. I can’t stop.”

“Is that why you went to rehab?”

His laughter is cold, unfeeling. “Yes. They helped me get in shape, taught me about nutrition, portion sizes and exercise.”

“That’s good…”

“Best time of my life. Only place I felt safe. The kids there weren’t mean or nasty; they were just as tortured as I had been.”

Everything begins to snap into place like a puzzle and my eyes grow wide with realisation. “You burned your pictures?” Why does this all seem so familiar? Almost like I’ve been told this before?

No… but I’ve definitely read this before.

Holy fuck.

“I was embarrassed to be seen like that. I wanted a clean slate. My mum home-schooled me for the next year and then I went to college in Louth before leaving for Boston University.”

Blowing out a breath, I sit on the couch. “It’s all so…”

“So stupid?”

“No, so clear. It’s all so clear now. The reason you hate this town, the reason you never visited your parents…”

“I blamed them for the way I was. I know now that I was wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling the way I did.”

I pat the seat next to me and wait for him to take it. He does and I rest my temple against his shoulder, wanting to offer some kind of comfort. Or maybe I need to receive it, I’m not sure at this point. “I’m sorry you had a shit childhood.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You have to stop fat shaming though. Big is beautiful; skinny is beautiful; chunky is fucking beautiful. It doesn’t matter what shape you are, as long as you’re healthy, happy and as free as can be. That’s what matters.”

“How is it that you’re twelve years younger than me, yet so much wiser?”

I grin up at him and rub the back of his neck with the tips of my fingers. “Men take longer to mature than women.”

“Can I kiss you now?” He asks and I’m surprised that he asks. Normally he’d just do it.

My stomach clenches in the best way but I can’t allow it, not now. The timing is wrong.

“No.” Standing, I stretch, yawn and look out of the window to the dark and empty street. “I leave for Scotland in two weeks.”

“So?”

“I’m not repeating old mistakes.”

“I’m a mistake?” He snaps and I realise I’ve said the wrong thing. I didn’t mean it like that.

“You know you’re not.” I’m tired… I can’t think. “I should go.”

“But I just told you everything you wanted to know.” His fingers pinch into my bicep when he grips my arm.

My guilt is consuming but I have to walk away. “It’s not good timing, Isaac. I can’t be your distraction from the real issues right now.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?” My arm cools as he releases me. “You’re not going to stay?” The light comes on as he reaches around me. “I don’t have a chance do I?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

His blue eyes scan me from head to toe. “You said that you left Silas for me.”

“Slip of the tongue… maybe on a subconscious level you were part of the reason. I still have feelings for you. I can’t continue something with him while I’m still pining over my ex. That’s unfair.” A dull throb begins to pulse at the front of my head. “I’m going to go. We can talk more tomorrow, or when you’ve adjusted.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.” He turns to face the window and stares out into the dark street. I watch and wait as he closes the curtains and turns back to me. “Why can’t you just take a chance?”

“It’s not about taking a chance.” I’m getting frustrated now. “It’s about timing. I can’t come back to you, not now. Not until we’re all in a better place.”

His chest rises and falls as he stares at me, a blank mask in place. “Just go.”

“My intention isn’t to hurt you,” I breathe, hating that even though he shows no emotion, I know that I’m causing him pain. “I love you.”

“Not enough though, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It always fucking is.” He walks to the front door and pulls it open, letting in a cool breeze.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, grabbing my things from the desk. I step outside and make my way to my car. He watches me the entire time, not closing the door until I’ve driven out of sight. “That went well…”

Another thought comes to mind, something suddenly seeping in, and I find myself racing home in order to pull out a book I’ve been reading but have yet to finish.

Holy fuck.

This is Isaac’s book. It’s his life.

Now I feel even worse.