No Kiss Goodbye (22 page)

I’m about to say my reluctant goodbyes when I notice Ava’s eyes widen and her fingers twitch nervously.

‘Oh Christ,’ I say as my hand covers my face. ‘He’s here, isn’t he?’

I turn around expecting to find Mark standing with a weapon of some sort in his hand and all the lights to dim before the pandemonium began.

Instead, I find a very timid looking Adam lurking in the doorway with a giant bouquet of red roses in his hand.

‘They’re gorgeous.’ Ava smiles.

Adam holds the flowers so high he almost hides his whole face. He’s so on edge, I can see it from here, and I’m certain I’m the reason. I begin talking gibberish hoping to dilute the awkward situation.

‘I don’t think flowers are allowed here for anyone,’ I say. ‘Something about allergies and all that.’

Adam’s lips quickly press together to form a narrow, straight line. ‘You’re not serious. That must be why they were left in the corridor. What am I supposed to do with these now?’

‘Jesus, Adam. For a second there I thought you’d turned into a romantic.’ I laugh.

Adam blushes and shuffles from one foot to the other as he sets the flowers down next to me at the foot of the bed.

‘Leave them in the apartment for me. They’ll be something to look forward to tomorrow when I get out of here,’ Ava suggests, winking at me.

Although it makes sense, it hadn’t dawned on me that Adam would be staying with Nigel also. My stomach bubbles uncomfortably at the thought of being under the same roof. I’ll be sharing the apartment with two men who do little to disguise the fact that they can’t stand me.

‘Visiting hours are over in five minutes,’ a nurse says as she walks around the ward and nods at all the visitors.

I realise I’ve been sitting on Ava’s bed for the past ten minutes or so completely zoned out. I didn’t hear a word either Adam or Ava said.

Finally, when Ava drifts to sleep, Adam places his hand on the small of my back and tilts his head towards the door. ‘It’s time to go,’ he whispers. ‘We shouldn’t be here.’

I kiss Ava softly on the forehead. Adam doesn’t, but I guess it’s less about hiding his affection and more about concern that he’d wake her. For the first time, I actually believe he loves her. The worry of seeing her ill has brought out a new side to him, and the more time I spend with him, the more I realise that this is going to be one very lucky, little baby with two great parents.

‘C’mon,’ Adam says draping his arm over my shoulders. ‘I’ll give you a lift back.’

‘Thanks.’ I smile, genuinely grateful. Not so much for the lift but for the effort he’s putting into being nice to me.

‘See you tomorrow, Ava,’ I whisper, painfully reluctant to leave.

She doesn’t hear me. But it doesn’t matter. I’m only trying to reassure myself anyway.

Adam and I chat in the car like old friends. It’s nice. There are no uncomfortable silences and no snide insults on either part, just conversation for the sake of conversation. We talk about Ava and my shopping spree and about Nigel’s love of cooking. We joke and even laugh. We never mention Ireland, or Mark, or my kids.

Adam knows his way back to Nigel’s place surprisingly well. I wonder if he’s been there before, too. Maybe he visited with Ava at some stage. I’m tempted to ask, but there’s something else I’d much rather know. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ I whisper, dropping my head and pressing the button as we step into the lift.

‘Because it’s what friends do and Ava would never forgive me if I didn’t look out for you.’

I look up and notice Adam’s eyes are glossy and tear stained. Neither of us bothers with any more small talk.

Nigel opens the door before we even knock and I brace myself for the foul stare I’m certain he’ll throw. Nigel and Adam exchange some sort of strange wiggle your fingers and slam your knuckles together handshake, follow by a hard thud of their left shoulders knocking together, finishing with a pat for each other on the back. It certainly answers my earlier question. Adam has definitely been Nigel’s guest before. They are good friends.

‘How is she?’ Nigel asks suddenly becoming less of a giddy fifteen-year-old and more a concerned friend.

‘She’s doing well. Showing definite signs of improvement,’ Adam assures.

‘That’s great news. God, she had me worried there for a while,’ Nigel says.

‘It certainly was a wake-up call all right. I never should have let her come here, I just thought…’ Adam sighs.

‘This isn’t your fault, man,’ Nigel insists, staring convincingly at me. ‘You’re doing your best. Ava would be proud of you.’

I swallow the large lump in my throat and shuffle on the spot. God, I wish Ava was here. I don’t think I can cope with the negative atmosphere until tomorrow. Maybe I should check into a hotel, but I decide against it. I can’t afford to stay indefinitely in some hotel, no matter how cheap and dingy. I would eventually have to come back to Nigel’s. If I think right now is awkward, then returning with my bankrupt tail between my legs would be ten times harder. I have to suck it up.

‘Have you eaten?’ Nigel asks.

‘Yeah, I grabbed a sandwich at the hospital,’ Adam says sticking out his tongue.

‘That tasty, eh?’ Nigel jokes. ‘Come into the kitchen, and I’ll fix you something real quick.’

Both men walk away. I lag behind. I wonder if it’s okay to go to the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. But Nigel still hasn’t actually acknowledged my presence, and I’m beginning to feel like an intruder.

‘You coming or what?’ Nigel asks looking back at me.

‘Me?’

‘No, the invisible woman beside you. Yes, you. I assume you’re hungry? If you want dinner, then you’re going to have to help. You’ve been here long enough; you’ve officially lost guest status. You’re part of the furniture now. C’mon.’

I smile so hard that I think I sprout a fresh wrinkle. It’s such a relief not to be exiled. Both Nigel and Adam are making an effort to accept me. It’s weird, but I’m grateful.

Nigel gives me a heavy, timber chopping board and some red and green peppers.

‘Fajitas okay?’ he asks.

‘Yum,’ both Adam and I say together.

‘You were right, by the way,’ Nigel says passing me a sharp knife.

I jump as the overhead light catches the stainless steel blade; dramatically magnifying its sharp point.

‘It’s okay,’ Adam says dropping his eyes to the peppers in my hand. ‘Just chop ‘em into thin slices.’

When my heart stops beating frantically, my face flushes as I realise how ridiculous my reaction was. Adam is smiling understandingly at me; it’s as if he expected me to flinch.
Weird.

Nigel doesn’t acknowledge my mini meltdown and continues to chat. ‘Like I was saying, you were right. Sam was in danger. His mother had snatched him from his foster home a week ago. The cops were looking for him.’

A tingle ran up my spine. ‘What?’

‘You were right, Laura.’

I heard him the first time, but I don’t think I’d ever grow tired of him saying that.

‘You really did rescue him. Well done.’

I drop the knife almost reducing my foot by a shoe size. I can’t believe Nigel is congratulating me. I was sure he thought I was crazy.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Where is he now? Can I see him?’

Nigel moves close to me and takes my hands in his. ‘No, Laura, you can’t see him.’

I nod as fat tears run down my cheeks. I had known the answer before I asked the question, but it still pinched in my heart. ‘Is he happy?’ I swallow hard.

‘He’s back with his foster family on Long Island. He’s very happy,’ Nigel says, his voice crackling.

Nigel’s harsh exterior has been rocked by the little boy, and Nigel is about to show emotion. If I blink, I might miss it.

I grab some kitchen towel and dab my eyes. Nigel copies and then passes a sheet of the tissue to Adam who also has tears in his.

‘Oh, these bloody onions,’ Nigel sniffles.

Just under an hour later, the smell coming from the kitchen is gorgeous and my tummy rumbles as I wait impatiently on the couch. Nigel has tried hard to work with us, but he eventually got terribly agitated with Adam cutting the chicken breast too small. He told me off for stirring the sauce clockwise instead of counter clockwise. He kicked us out of his workspace, banning us from returning until he served dinner.

‘Tada,’ Nigel says as he carries a hot plate towards the dining table. His luminous, orange oven gloves complement the delicious colours of the crunchy vegetables.

‘Tuck in,’ he says proudly.

I rush to the table and take a large bite before I take the time to sit.

‘I thought Ava wasn’t coming home ‘til tomorrow,’ I say filling my plate.

Adam doesn’t reply. His mouth is full. He shakes his head instead and swallows so hard I see the lump swell in his throat.

‘Who’s sitting there, then?’ I point a plate resting in front of a vacant seat.

Nigel scowls across the table at an oblivious Adam. ‘I thought you told her.’

‘I thought you did.’

‘How could I tell her? I haven’t seen her all day,’ Nigel snaps.

‘Well, I couldn’t tell her,’ Adam says between more mouthfuls. ‘I didn’t want to upset anyone.’

‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on? Who was supposed to tell me what?’ I groan.

‘You could have told her on the way back from the hospital,’ Nigel says, tossing his head towards me.

Adam lowers his eyebrows, scrunches up his nose, and stops short of sticking out his tongue.

Jesus, these two are worse than a pair of squabbling kids.
If I wasn’t so pissed off that they were keeping something from me, I’d probably laugh.

‘Okay, Laura,’ Nigel begins, and his tone instantly puts me on edge.

‘Hang on,’ Adam interrupts as he reaches across the table and takes the knife and fork out of my hands and places them at the far end of the table, then he reaches back and does the same with my glass of water and plate, leaving my area of the table completely empty.

Eyeing up my empty place setting, he says, ‘Go on.’

Nigel nods at Adam as if to say,
good job
. He takes a deep breath like what he’s going to say next will hurt.

‘It’s Mark,’ he splutters, followed by some more deep breaths.
Ugh!

I watch him, waiting for him to say more. But that’s all I’m getting.

‘He’s here. I know.’

‘You do?’ Adam snorts spraying a mouthful of chewed up carrot across the table Nigel.

Nigel looks at the sticky patch on the table with disgust. ‘Ugh, Jesus, Adam. Say it, don’t spray it.’

I can’t hold in my laughter any longer. Adam laughs and snorts, too. Nigel doesn’t laugh.

‘So, you’re okay?’ Nigel asks.

I shrug my shoulders. ‘S’pose. I saw him at the hospital. It was a bit weird, but I’m okay now.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ Nigel says his shoulders falling and rounding. ‘I was dreading telling you.’

Adam begins to laugh again, but this time I don’t see the funny side. ‘Oh yeah, Nigel. No wonder you tried to leave the dirty work for me,’ he says.

Nigel shrugs and slugs Adam’s arm.

‘I thought you’d react a bit differently,’ Nigel says.

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘Dunno. Just thought you’d be shocked,’ Nigel adds waving his hands about a bit neurotically. He doesn’t seem to know whether to hold my hand, offer me a hug, or simply give me a good ole slap on the back. He settles on none of the above and rests his hands on his lap.

The toilet down the hall flushes, and I hear footsteps approaching.

‘Holy shit,’ I shout as I jump into the air. My chair flies back and cracks loudly off the false fireplace sending a huge crack across the marble mantel.

Mark stands sheepishly in the corner, his jaw quivering.

‘Lau-RA,’ Nigel scolds, racing over to examine his damaged fireplace.

A loud buzz is attacking my ears and darkness is falling over my eyes.
Don’t you dare faint,
I warn myself.
Not now.

‘What’s wrong now?’ Adam asks. ‘You said you knew Mark was here.’

‘I meant here, New York, here. Not here, the apartment. Oh God…oh God.’

My knees turn to jelly, and I have to grab the table to remain standing.

Mark steps forward to catch me, but the closer he gets, the more I tremble. He backs away again quickly.

‘Grab her,’ he shouts to Adam.

I can’t fight it any longer. My eyelids feel like they weigh more than the rest of my body and they slam shut.

I wake lying on top of the bed. My head is resting on a soft pillow and my feet are elevated on two even more fluffy pillows. My skirt is tangled around my knees and my lifted legs expose polka dot oversized granny knickers.

Mark is sitting beside me with one arm on each side of my waist. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake. I can feel his chest heave wearily with every breath. He leans over me and kisses my forehead softly. I want so desperately to feel his lips move lower and touch mine.
What the hell?
I’m so angry with myself that I begin to shake. Why am I weakening? Why am I savouring his smell and enjoying studying the contours of his face? I’m still so damn attracted to my husband that it’s infuriating.

I wriggle beneath him and he freezes. It’s as if he’s embarrassed that I’ve caught him showing his affection. I pull myself up to a sitting position against the pillows. Mark stands up, looks at me, and then sits back down. He does this a couple of more times before finally settling on remaining seated.

‘You’re looking well,’ he says fiddling with his fingernails.

I smile, remembering when he was so nervous on our first date that he had almost pulled the nail off his thumb.

‘Thanks, you look good, too. Nicole must be looking after you.’

I’m not purposely bitchy. It’s a genuine compliment. Nicole is obviously good for him. He looks less thin than I remember and less pale. But he does look like he’s aged ten years.

‘Everyone misses you,’ Mark whispers.

I drop my guard and let my rigid shoulders soften. I needed to hear that.
I miss them.

‘They haven’t forgotten me?’ I ask begging for reassurance.

‘Of course, not. They could never forget you. I think they just want you to come home. We all do.’

My shoulders tense again, engulfing my neck. I want to believe him, so badly. My bottom lip trembles, and my nose scrunches tightly as I wear my feelings on my face. ‘I thought you wanted rid of me?’

‘No. You decided I wanted rid of you. And you know as well as I do there’s no arguing with you when you make your mind up on something.’

I roll my eyes.
He’s right.

‘Have you looked at the photo?’ Mark asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. No amount of smiling can hide the twitch in his lip.

I rummage in my pocket, but all I pull out is a flaky tissue and a couple of dimes.

‘It’s gone,’ I quiver.

‘It’s okay,’ Mark dismisses. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Tears sweep across my eyes and race down my cheeks as my whole body heaves. These aren’t the delicate tears that I so often find myself shedding lately. These aren’t like the salty tears that fell when Nigel took Sam to the police station, or the tears that trickle when I think about how much I missed the kids. These are very different and very raw. They are uncontrollable, sting your face and blind your vision tears. I let them fall and fall, as the hours, days, even weeks of exhaustion flow out of me.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Mark whispers, gently rubbing my back.

‘No, it’s not,’ I snort as I wipe my nose with my sleeve. ‘It’s really, really not. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’