The Stranger Within (20 page)

              Finally, when I am sure we won’t be spotted by anyone we know, I relax, and he does the same. He places his hand on my thigh. “So tell me again. You’re taking me to meet your dad, and he’s ill so I have to be careful what I say to him?”

              I take a deep breath and tell him the whole story of my father. Things I have never told James. He waits until I’ve finished before asking the first of the many questions he must have.

“So, Dillon’s dad doesn’t even know about him?” I have noticed Rhys only ever refers to James as
Dillon’s dad
, never by his first name or even Mr Harwell.

              I nod. “James thinks he lives abroad somewhere and that I barely know him. But the truth is I visit him every week.”

              “But why can’t he know about him? I don’t get it.”

              I try my best to explain but now that I am saying it aloud, voicing my fear of burdening James with my uncertain future, of him changing the way he looks at me, it seems irrational and ludicrous. More evidence that I am not in control, that it is catching up with me.

              Rhys strokes my thigh. “It must be hard. You’ve got such a lot you’re dealing with, Callie. I think it’s pretty incredible.” There he goes again, putting me on a pedestal when praise is the last thing I deserve.

              “I’m just doing my duty as a daughter. And I love him. Even though, with his…condition…it’s hard sometimes.” As I say these words, I wonder – for the millionth time in my life – if people will be saying this about me one day.
She has a condition. It’s hard sometimes.

              “So why me? Why do I get to meet him?”

              “Because I want you to be the person I have no secrets from. That’s why I’m telling you this. There has to be someone, doesn’t there? There has to be at least one person I can be myself around.”

It should be James.

              Rhys nods but I wonder if he truly understands. He is too young to have any baggage, too inexperienced to have built up protective walls. He doesn’t know how lucky he is. He is planning a future, without being held back by his past or present. Am I contributing to the heavy weight he will one day cart around with him?

              “So I just have to pretend I’m older. Twenty or something?”

              Dad will see the difference in our ages immediately, if he’s having a good day. If he’s lucid enough to even remember how old I am. My birthday last week went by without a mention. It suddenly occurs to me that Rhys might be nervous. Meeting a parent of someone you’re seeing is hard enough without the added difficulty of Dad’s condition. And Rhys’ age. But it is too late to turn back now.

“Don’t worry, it will be fine,” I assure him. “He won’t judge you or try to work out if you’re good enough for me. It won’t be like that.”

              Rhys smiles. “So, does this mean we’re together then? In a relationship? Because that’s what it feels like. I mean, it’s not just sex, is it?”

              Keeping my eyes on the road, I shake my head. “I don’t know what this is, but I know I want to keep doing it. It’s complicated, though, isn’t it? I’m married.”

              “Yes, but you don’t love him. Soon enough you’ll love me, I guarantee it!” Although Rhys chuckles, I sense he is being serious.

The trouble is, he is wrong about James. I do love him. But everything has become blurred.

We stand outside Dad’s building, waiting, neither of us sure what to say. We are both nervous now.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Rhys says. This is what anyone unused to Dad would assume.

              “No, he’s home. He’s always at home.” Just as I speak these words, the door clicks open without Dad answering the intercom. A change to the routine. He does this sometimes. We head inside and Rhys grabs my hand as we climb the stairs.

              I should have warned him that the flat will be in a state. That he’ll have to take a deep breath before we step inside and the thick stench of old smoke and rotting food assaults us. To his credit, he doesn’t react and holds out his hand to Dad as I make introductions.

              “Who are you?” Dad asks, eyeing Rhys up and down. “What’s going on, Caroline?”

              I step forward and explain that Rhys is my friend and we’ve just stopped by before we go out. I can feel Rhys look at me when I say this because nothing has been discussed about what we will do after our visit. Thankfully, he plays along and keeps quiet, realising it is our get-out clause, to be used if Dad is having a bad day.

              “I didn’t know about this. Did you tell me you were coming? Well, you’d better come in anyway. Stop those damn people knocking on my door.” I try not to look at Rhys, and hope he won’t react. Dad needs little encouragement to rant about these non-existent people.

I suggest we sit in the front room because it is the place that will be the least messy, and Dad gestures for Rhys to go in first. “He’s all right,” he says, turning back to me. “I don’t know who the hell he is, but he’s not one of them. I can tell.”

              To prevent Rhys from having to deal with the state of Dad’s crockery, I have brought some cans of Red Bull. I pull one from my bag and hand it to him as he sits down next to Dad.

              “So my tea’s not good enough, eh?” Dad says, staring at Rhys with wide eyes. But then his mouth spreads into a grin. “I’m just messing with you.”             

Satisfied that Dad will not begin a verbal attack on Rhys in my absence, I slip off to the kitchen to make tea. Dad doesn’t drink coffee, and won’t even have it in the house. He claims there is something in it that helps
them
control his mind. I never argue with this, or ask who he is talking about. I learnt long ago that it is pointless to do so.

              When I carry the two mugs into the front room, Dad and Rhys are engrossed in a conversation about football. Before now, I didn’t even know Rhys liked the sport, but then there will be a lot I don’t know about him.

              I watch them for a while and try to relax. Right now I am relieved to forget my troubles, happy to pretend nothing exists beyond these walls.

              “Is he your boyfriend?” Dad asks, when Rhys excuses himself to use the bathroom.

              Although I have been expecting this question, I don’t know how to answer it. “We’re just…good friends.” Just like with our affair, I am dealing with things as and when they happen.

              Dad takes a sip of tea. “Well, I like him. Bit young, though, isn’t he?”

              I shake my head. “He’s just got good genes. Shall I make you another tea?”

              He shakes his head, clearly lost in his thoughts again.

We stay for an hour, Rhys chatting away to Dad, and as we leave I am sure I sense Dad’s disappointment. He doesn’t seem to be in his usual hurry to get rid of me and even watches us walk down the stairs, something he’s never done before.

“I really like your dad, Callie,” Rhys says, once we are in the car. “I know he’s…ill, but I could really talk to him.”

I pull my seatbelt across me and start the engine. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You know, I really think Dillon would like him too. Why don’t you –”

“No!” The word shoots from my mouth and Rhys looks taken aback. I have never snapped at him before. I try to soften my voice. “There’s just no way any of them can know about Dad.”

“But why? I don’t understand. He’s really nice. Friendly.”

The urge to shut down overwhelms me but I try to resist it. Rhys deserves explanations. After all, I am the one who brought him here tonight.

“Don’t you get it? He’s got a disease. One that is quite possibly hereditary.” I look away from him and stare out of my side window. It has started to drizzle and as droplets collect on the window, tears form on my cheeks.

It seems to take a while for Rhys to get the gist of what I’m saying, and he doesn’t realise I am crying. “But it doesn’t mean you’ll end up the same, does it? Look at you, you’re completely fine. Aren’t you?”

I have to laugh at this, but it comes out as a sarcastic snort. How can he think I’m fine? I’m sleeping with a teenager, I can’t bond with my stepsons, and I’ve been married less than a year.

Rhys grabs my arm. “What did I say?” And then he sees my tear-stained face and pulls me towards him, smothering my head with soft kisses. “Don’t cry, Callie. Whatever it is, you’ll be okay. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

I cling to him, digging my fingers into his back, and want to believe he is right. That we can deal with everything together. It is wrong to depend on him, yet he is the only person I
can
depend on.

We stay like this for what seems like hours until finally Rhys pulls away. “I don’t want to go back to Wimbledon yet. Let’s go for a walk. There’s a park over there.”

I have never been in Dad’s park in darkness. There aren’t many people around and it is eerily quiet. It is still drizzling but not enough to spoil our walk. Rhys grabs my hand as we stroll around the lake. It is only then I realise how much freedom the night shadows bring us. I would never hold hands with him in daylight.

“Let’s cut through there,” Rhys says, “I think I see a bench.”

I let him lead me and it is both strange and comforting; just one more example of when Rhys does not seem his age. We sit down and cuddle up close because it’s cooled down now the sun is hidden.

We kiss for a while, but restrain ourselves from going further, and I long to be somewhere more private. “I can wait,” Rhys says. “I’m just happy being here with you.” He leans forward to tie his shoelace so I am the first to notice when a figure appears in front of us.

“Callie? Is that you?”

My heart feels like it’s stopped in my chest – I haven’t heard anyone approaching us – and I look up to see a face I have not set eyes on for over six years. A face I have not missed. Grinning, Max Hunt looks down at me. “Long time,” he says. “How have you been?”

Rhys looks up and Max nods at him, his grin disappearing. Has he seen us kissing? Surely not, otherwise he wouldn’t be greeting me so warmly. But how can I explain what I’m doing in a park at this hour, with a teenage boy? Max is shrewd; he will know straight away Rhys is too young for me.

Nobody says anything for a moment, as if we are all in a twisted tableau: me, my teenage lover and my ex-boyfriend. What comes out of my mouth next is not a fully-formed idea; there is no time for that.

“This is…my stepson, Dillon,” I say, searching Max’s face for any sign of disbelief.

But his expression is hard to read. “Nice to meet you, Dillon. I’m Callie’s ex, by the way. I don’t suppose she’s ever mentioned me.”

Rhys stares at him, unsmiling. “No. She hasn’t.” I can’t tell whether he is angry at me for introducing him as Dillon or the fact that my ex-boyfriend is here.

“So you got married then?” Max plonks himself down on the bench and Rhys edges away from me. This is good; until now we have been sitting far too close for my introduction to be believable.

“Yes.” Now it is Max who is sitting too close to me. Even without looking at him, I can tell Rhys is silently fuming beside me.

“That’s great. I’m glad I bumped into you. Listen, I’ve been wanting to call you but –”

“What are you doing around here anyway?” I don’t want him to finish his sentence. I don’t want to remember. I am having enough trouble dealing with the present.

“Remember Simon? He’s just moved here and we’re meeting for a drink in half an hour. I got here a bit early so thought I’d go for a walk.”

I nod, silently cursing my bad luck. Seconds earlier and I daren’t think about what conversation we would be having now. “Well, we better be off,” I say, standing up. Rhys does the same.

“I’ll give you a call and we can catch up properly,” Max says, but I am already walking away, Rhys dragging his feet behind me.

Neither of us speaks until we are in the car, the doors shut and the engine running. Rhys is the first to utter a word. “So that was your ex?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know what else to say. It just looked dodgy, us being in the park like that. Imagine if he’d seen us kissing.”

“You could have said I was your husband.”

“What? He would never have believed that.”             

Rhys slinks back in his seat and doesn’t look at me. “Do you still like him?”

Surprised, I turn to face him but he continues staring straight ahead. “Of course I don’t. I got married to someone else, remember? It was over with Max a long time ago.”

Rhys snorts. “It doesn’t sound like it’s over for
him
. You told him you were married and he still wants to
catch up
.” He says the last two words with a sneer and I don’t like this side of him. Although I’ve trusted him with knowledge of Dad, there is no way I can tell him what Max and I went through together, how we will always be connected by our silent baby. Even if Max never wanted her.

Forcing the memory aside, I try to understand how Rhys is feeling. “You’ve been with girls before. That doesn’t change anything between us, does it?”