He doesn’t mean to be cruel. He doesn’t say it out of malice – but it hurts all the same.
‘So, what happens next?’ he asks, when I remain silent.
‘I don’t know. We go home too, I suppose. We get Harry into a good rehab centre. We get him well again. We … build whatever life we can, after all this. And you do the same. Promise me, you’ll do the same.’
He nods, but doesn’t look convinced.
‘I’ll try. And unless you need me, I’ll go sooner instead of later.’
I don’t want him to go. Of course I don’t. I want to freeze time, and stay here forever, in his arms, watching the sun set. I don’t want him to go, but it isn’t fair to ask him to stay.
‘I think that’s for the best, Alex. The time we’ve spent together, all of our conversations, everything we’ve meant to each other … I’ll never forget it, I won’t. But I don’t want either of us to hurt even more than we have to. Does that make sense?’
‘It makes sense, and I hate that it does. I’ll go home. You’ll go home. We’ll both move on,’ he promises.
‘But first – one more sunset?’
‘One more sunset,’ I say, as we silently look on as the light drains from the world.
Chapter 16
Two days later, I am helping Alex pack his bag.
Well, to be fair, ‘helping’ is probably an overstatement. I only have one working arm, and he has hardly any stuff. It’s more accurate to say that I am lurking around his room while he packs his bag.
I knew he would be leaving. We both decided it was for the best – but it doesn’t make this any easier.
I look on as he folds his few items of clothing, puts his toiletries into a washbag, double checks the paperwork he needs to leave the country without his passport. He doesn’t have much, and it doesn’t take long, and part of me wants to grab that small case and throw everything over the floor so he has to do it again.
‘Do you want your tequila T-shirt?’ I ask, holding it up in all its garish glory.
‘No, thank you – why don’t you keep it? A little gift from me to you …’
‘Wow,’ I reply breathlessly. ‘You really know how to spoil a girl, don’t you?’
He laughs, but I fold the T-shirt up into a small yellow bundle, and keep it.
Once he is done, he stands and glances around the room. At the green walls and strip lighting and small rows of beds.
‘This is going to sound insane,’ he says, ‘but I’ve not hated it here. For a hospital, it’s been quite … homely.’
‘Maybe, when you get back to your own place, you should paint it green. And put some lino down on the floors.’
‘Maybe not – that really would be insane. But I do need to make some changes, as a wise woman with one working arm once told me. It’s not doing me much good keeping everything exactly the same as it was when Anna lived there, like some kind of museum. It’s not like painting the walls will make me forget her. It’s a small step, but maybe it will be fun – then maybe I’ll sell it. Do something wild and crazy!’
‘I’d love to see you wild and crazy,’ I say, looking on as he shrugs his shoulders into his jacket. He pauses, meets my gaze with eyebrows raised.
‘I’m not sure you’re ready for that,’ he replies.
‘Probably not. What about you; are you ready to leave yet? Time’s a-ticking …’
I hear the falsely perky note in my own words, and hate myself for it.
‘Oh no,’ he says, picking up one of his crutches. ‘You’re using your “holding it together to make everyone else feel all right” voice. That means you’re about to cry …’
‘Shut up or I’ll break your other foot,’ I answer, grabbing his case and wheeling it behind me. He is, of course, completely right, and I stomp ahead of him towards the lifts. I usually keep my pace slow to match his afflicted stride, but this time I zoom along. I need a minute, and I know he understands that. He understands everything, damn him.
He takes his time, giving me a few precious moments to swipe tears from my eyes and arrange my hair so it hides half of my face. He pretends not to notice, for both our sakes.
