Distinction: The Distraction Trilogy #3 (9 page)

“Let’s go,” I say to my dad, unwilling to look him in the eye.

He’s about to argue and I know he wants to see Eloise. Fortunately for me, after a brief moment’s deliberation, he follows me out of this godforsaken ward.

“What happened?” He asks as we make our way through the maze of hallways in search of the elevators.

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Isaac…”

“Don’t.”

“Did you still think she’d come back to you?” He asks quietly and then his tone becomes bitter. “Clearly she doesn’t love you and hasn’t loved you for a long time. She did abandon you after all.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I grit, wishing I’d never lied to him in the first place all of those years ago.

“I’m not saying I’m holding it against her. She was just a kid.” I tense at his words. I used to hate it when he referred to her as a kid. I still do. To me she was never a ‘kid’. Sure she was young, but she was mature and her body… it was all woman. It’s even more womanly now.

“Leave it alone,” I plead, wishing we could just move on from it. The pain in my chest doesn’t appreciate the reminder.

“You still love her.” He accuses as I press the button to call the elevator.

“I fucked it up.”

“You both fell apart…”

“No.” I shake my head and let out a humourless laugh. “You don’t get it.”

He scratches at his white beard. “Then help me understand.”

I open my mouth, ready to take responsibility, ready to admit my wrongs, but I can’t. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” It truly doesn’t. I’m getting divorced and Eloise has a new partner.

Things are moving on.

We are moving on.

I have to let go. There’s literally no other option for me now.

Have I really been holding on for all of these years, hoping she’ll come back to me?

“Hey, Isaac!” A voice yells after us.

“I’ll meet you in the car,” my dad sighs when he sees Silas chasing us down.

What the fuck does he want? My dad leaves before he can find out. I stand stupidly in the middle of the stairwell, waiting for Silas to talk.

He stops in front of me. “Thank you.”

Thank you? “For what?”

“If you didn’t handle the car the way you did, things would probably have been a lot worse.”

His expression, his voice, his stance… it’s genuine. There’s no malice or hidden tone to his voice. Shouldn’t he be angry that she was in my car at all? Shouldn’t he be seething with jealousy and hatred for me? I am her husband after all.

He extends a hand and even though I don’t want to, I take it. I don’t know what to say, though. I should respond but I don’t know how.

We stare at each other for a moment before releasing the shake. “I should get back to her.”

That’s right;
he
gets to go back to her. Not me. My eyes burn and the lump in my throat slides higher and higher. This is why he’s not jealous. This is why he doesn’t hate me. He’s won; he has her; she’s his. Not mine.

And suddenly the skies open and an epiphany hits me. I realise my past mistakes. I realise just how rotten and how unstable I was. I treat Elle like my property instead of my partner. I acted like a child. There’s no excuse.

Silas deserves her.

I clear my throat and nod my head to him. “Take care of her.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” he says with a warm smile. “I’ll probably see you at the wedding?”

Wedding? “Hayley’s wedding?” He nods in reply. Doubtful. I bet I won’t even receive an invitation. “We’ll see.”

He steps back and we both move to the side as three men pass us, chatting loudly.

Silas gives me a wave before ascending the stairs after them and disappearing through the doors that lead to the ward Eloise is on.

I hate him purely because he seems like such a nice guy. Eloise deserves nice. She deserves the best.

And she loves him… She loves him.

She
loves
him.

I rub my chest and close my eyes for a moment. The pain lingers; the hurt stays.

She loves
him
.

Fuck!

I don’t have a chance.

“I didn’t know you could draw so well,” I say to Silas as he moves a sharpie pen over my thick, white arm cast. I watch as the shape of an owl takes form over my forearm. He’s been drawing it for almost twenty minutes now.

“I’m a man of many talents.” He grins and slides his free hand up my thigh.

I knock it away when the door opens and my mum walks in. “Your dad just left.”

Silas exhales a breath of relief. Mum doesn’t see it but I do and I don’t blame him for feeling relieved. My dad is an arsehole.

“Good.”

“Elle…”

“He’s a nightmare,” I interject before she can defend him. “He has been so mean and stuck up.”

My mum winces but again she doesn’t defend him. “I made lunch.”

“Ooh, yay.” I grin and Silas lifts himself off my bed before pulling me up beside him. “What are we having?”

“Egg and rocket pizzas.” She responds and checks her watch. “Hurry down. I’ll make coffee.”

Silas wraps his arms around me from behind. I’m actually surprised he’s still here. I know he has an important interview tomorrow that he has to prepare for. Ever since he arrived yesterday he has been nothing but sweet, attentive and patient, even when my dad was belittling him and openly ignoring him.

I really don’t understand what my dad’s problem is. He’s such a mean person sometimes.

Silas has had to deal with my moods too. I’ve been quite ignorant and standoffish. I haven’t meant to be; I just haven’t been able to focus since Isaac left the hospital yesterday. Whenever I think about it I get this tingle in my chest.

“You drink too much coffee,” Silas points out unnecessarily.

“I’m aware of my habits.” Again my tone is flat, though I tried to be cheerful.

“We don’t spend enough time together. It’s wrong that it has taken me this long to discover such small things about you.”

We descend the stairs. “We’re both always busy and we’re okay with that.”

“We are?” He murmurs and now I’m wondering if it’s just me who has always been okay with the fact we rarely see each other. I wasn’t lying though; we are both always busy so we fit each other in when we can. 

“In the dining room,” mum yells from the kitchen.

We enter and sit in the seats where the plates of food have been placed. It looks good. Silas thinks so too and winks at me.

“This must be your third cup and it’s not even eleven in the morning.” He states when Mum finally enters the dining room with coffee.

I raise a brow as I take my drink from her hands. “And?”

“It’s not good for you.”

“I’ll quit one day,” I try to joke but his frown tells me he is serious. “Chill, it’s fine.”

My mum looks between us both, her eyes wide and curious. I kick her under the table to try to get her to divert her attention. She grunts and moves her eyes to her plate.

The air in here just became thick with Silas’ intensity.

“So, Silas, you’re in your final year too?”

Silas nods and the conversation moves onto nicer things as we eat. Thankfully my coffee drinking habit isn’t brought up again.

My baby days are though. “Mum… he doesn’t want to see those.” Why must she show those bloody albums to everyone I bring home?

“Sure I do!” Silas grins and mum happily leads him from the dining room and probably into the living room.

“I’ll just clean this up then,” I sigh out loud and quickly gather the mess that remains on the table. I take my time clearing the dishes, which isn’t hard considering I have only one useable hand. Then I clean the table, purely because I don’t want to be in there listening to how ginger I was as a child and how cute.

This triggers a memory of when Judith told me she’d show me pictures of Isaac as a baby. She called it blackmail material to get out of homework. We never did get round to it. It was one of the many things she forgot about.

Speaking of which, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of Isaac younger than twenty-six.

Why am I even thinking of such things? My partner, who I care deeply for, is in the other room right now. I should be thinking of him and his baby photos and our future together.

I dry my hands on a tea towel and enter the living room cautiously.

“Oh my god, is that chocolate?” Silas asks looking a little bit disgusted.

“It’s brown sauce,” I admit sheepishly, wishing Mum would just burn that photo. “I squirted it in my hair and shook. That’s why it’s on the walls.” I’m not saying I was a normal child.

Silas shakes his head, clearly amused. “Your hair was so orange!”

Here we go. I run my fingers through my hair and shrug. “I was adorable.”

“You looked just like that Scottish animated character.”

“She does, doesn’t she??” My mum beams at me. “She acted a lot like her too.”

“Whatever.” Dropping onto the couch, I cross my arms over my chest and frown as they laugh at my expense.

“You’re going to make such beautiful babies one day.” My mum’s tone is warm and longing. I hope she doesn’t expect that one day to be soon.

“Definitely, a blend of our skin tones and that red hair.” Silas adds absently and my stomach drops out of my arse.

My mum nods her agreement and they begin a full blown conversation on kids and how many he wants and what they’ll look like and who they’ll be more like.

Meanwhile… panic attack.

My entire body clenches and tenses painfully as I stare at a spot on the wall and zone out. I don’t know what it is about kids and babies that freaks me out so much. I just don’t want that in my future. Not yet anyway. I’m twenty-four for crying out loud!

It’s not until fingers waggle in front of my eyes that I snap out of my panic and take a deep, relaxing breath.

“Are you okay?” Silas looks concerned as he scans my face with warm eyes. “I said your name five times.”

“Must still be a bit woozy after the accident.” It isn’t a total lie as I don’t feel totally all there. I don’t want to admit that I was mentally freaking out over the fact that my mum and boyfriend were just planning any kids I probably won’t have.

“Do you want to lie down?”

I nod and accept his help. I don’t need it but I appreciate it all the same. Silas is helping to keep me grounded, all the while reminding me that life is what I want it to be. Life is what I’ve chosen to be.

If only I could get those dark blue eyes out of my head. They brim with tears and stab at my soul, tormenting me beyond my limits.

“I think I’m going to stay away for a while,” I tell my dad and try to ignore the fact his face just fell. “I might take a break, go travelling when all of this is over.”

“You mean the divorce?”

I nod. “I just need to… find something.”

“Someone?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“I’m always here.” My dad places his hand on my shoulder. “I think a break from this town will be good for you. Make sure you say goodbye to your mother.” He removes his hand and runs it through his white hair. His nerves are suddenly apparent. “Isaac… promise me you’ll come back.”

I smile at my old man and pull him in for a hug which he reciprocates. “I’m not that guy anymore. Of course I’ll come back.”

He doesn’t try to hide his relief. I hate how much of a bastard I used to be. This is what life is about - family. Not meaningless sex and binge drinking.

“I’ll leave tonight or in the morning. I haven’t decided yet. I have to get back to work, as I’m sure you understand.”

My dad nods and moves past me to enter the room. “I do.” He halts in the doorway and looks at me over his shoulder. “I am so sorry this is ending for you the way it is. I wish… I wish things could be different.”

So do I.

So do I…

The train ride home is torture, nothing but a radio full of solemn songs to remind me of what I’m leaving behind and my own thoughts for company. I’d put my personal music on my phone but I can’t seem to catch a decent signal. Why are solemn songs suddenly an ‘in’ thing? They’re okay sometimes but not always. I can’t stand to hear them right now. They resonate too deeply with my mood and only bring me down further.

I’m becoming such a depressing person.

My flat is empty as always. There’s nobody here. There’s barely even any furniture here.

The fact I haven’t tried to make this square place a home is evident. As much as I’m enjoying Boston, it’s nowhere near as good as Cambridge.

Nostalgia hits me when I stare around the empty space and I find myself wandering into my room and pulling a wooden box from under my bed. It contains photos and other memorabilia from long ago. I haven’t looked through it all since the day I finally realised Eloise wasn’t coming home. I don’t particularly want to look through it now.

I do though, just to further sink the knife into my masochistic heart.

My fingers tightly pinch the edge of the wooden lid and push it away. Dust tumbles in and around the box, spilling onto the first thing in sight. Our wedding photo.

We both looked so young in comparison to how we do now. We looked so happy.

I mentally compare myself to the image of Silas and find my hands curling into fists. It makes me want to launch the photo across the room. I don’t though. I’m angrier about the fact that it has taken me this long to figure out where we truly went wrong together.

Placing the lid back on the box, I lift it, wincing when something rolls on the inside and makes a clattering noise. Not that it matters if something breaks. I’m going to toss it anyway. It’s time to throw away the past and move on.

It’s as I’m placing the box on the ground by the front door that my phone alerts me to an incoming message.

The knife in my heart sinks in further…

Eloise
:
If you’re still in town I’d really like to speak to you, face to face.

I don’t get chance to respond before another is lighting up my screen.

Eloise
:
I understand if you don’t! I forgot to add…

And then another.

Eloise
:
But I’d really appreciate it.

I bite on my lip, hating how badly I need to hate her purely because I feel like hopping back on the train and going back just to see her again.

Instead I make the right decision for once.

Isaac
:
I’m not and I don’t.

And then I kick the box, sending it and its contents scattering all over the floor. Pain radiates up my leg from my toes but I welcome it. It reminds me that I’m not a mindless robot.

I don’t know why this is suddenly affecting me now. I feel like the past four years haven’t existed. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly torn up about losing her.

Did I honestly, deep down, think she was coming home? Am I that naive?