Saving Amy (36 page)

I felt sick…

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of…
off
all week,” Richard asked tenderly, stroking my cheek. I shrank back from his touch.

You’re lying to me! How could you?

“I think I’m getting a migraine,” I said, shielding my face with my hand to hide my glassy, on the brink of crying eyes. “I think I’m going to head to bed.” I was gone before he could reply.

Lying on my side in the huge, lonely bed, I drew my knees up to my chest and sobbed into my pillow. The only thing that was stopping my heart shattering into a million shards of shattered trust right now was hope. Hope that Richard would be honest with me… eventually.

**********

Well it arrived. It was Saturday. As it stood, Richard was still ‘working’ this evening. A dense, uncomfortable atmosphere invaded the air between Richard and me, choking me and making me feel physically sick. He knew something was troubling me (he always did) but he didn’t press me. I think he was putting it down to the after effects of the whole ‘dad’ situation. But in reality, the pain of Richard lying to me felt so much worse than that.

Part of me still thought (
hoped
) Joanna was the liar but I only had a few hours left to prove that was the case. If I didn’t, this overwhelming sense of betrayal was going to eat me alive. It was going to hammer away inside my brain until all that was left was a pile of incomprehensible mush.

“Dammit! We’re out of milk,” Richard cussed as he stared into his black coffee. Richard couldn’t stomach black coffee. It tasted too ‘coffee-y’ apparently. “I’m nipping to the store. You want to come?” he asked, reaching across the frosted glass fruit bowl by the microwave for his keys.

“No,” I answered curtly, shaking my head.

“Back soon,” he whispered into my ear, the collar of his navy blue shirt skimming my cheek as he kisses my hair. I nodded weakly and pulled away from him. My unease forced his eyebrows together and his face crumpled like his heart was being crushed. I hated myself for making him feel this way, but I hated the feeling of being lied to more.

I heard the thud of the door closing and put my plan into action – a plan which I only devised thirty seconds ago. I headed to the study first, ransacking the drawers and filing cabinet for any correspondence relating to the charity ball. After finding nothing I turned my attention to his laptop, sifting through a mountain of emails and pausing to read any from
her
. Again I emerged empty handed – everything was work related as far as my untrained eye could tell.

I closed down Richard’s email programme and gave the room one last glance to make sure I’d covered my tracks. Then I scurried to the bedroom. A rummage through the dark wood dresser and then under the bed brought up nothing so I turned my focus to the closet.

Bingo.

Richard’s usually limp and empty rucksack was sitting bloated in the bottom of the closet beneath the hanging clothes. I dropped to my knees and paused as my fingers clasped the zipper, struggling to come to terms with the fact our relationship had come to
this
. Unzipping the bag went against everything I hoped our life together would stand for. Sharing, trust, loyalty… but those torturous suspicion-fuelled emotions were destroying me from the inside out so I dismissed my qualms and ripped it open.

A choking lump swelled in my throat when I peered inside and saw Richard’s smartest black tux folded pristinely inside. I fell back on my heels and threw my face in my hands.

Oh, Richard. How could you?

Although I wasn’t naïve enough to think it wouldn’t hurt, I could’ve at least understood to some degree if he was too ashamed to take me to this godforsaken ball (given my age, fucked-up-ness and the fact that I was an ex patient) but of all the people in the world he could take… why
her
?

Something had changed inside me, just now. Just like that. Suddenly, it felt wrong being here in his apartment. It felt wrong pretending everything was okay when I felt like I was slowly dying inside. It felt wrong that I was ever foolish enough to trust somebody.

Oh, Richard.

The slam of the door startled me and I quickly zipped up the rucksack and shoved it back where I found it. Then I climbed into bed, threw the covers over me and squeezed my tearstained eyes shut, pretending to sleep. Richard’s boots clicked against the wood floor, getting louder as he came to find me. The sound came to a halt by the bed.

“Amy.” He nudged my shoulder but I stayed ‘asleep’. “Amy,” he said a little louder.

Damn. He’s not going to give up.
Grudgingly, I peeled my eyes open.

“What?” I asked, standoffish.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, concern saturating his voice.

“I’ve just got a headache,” I mumbled and then rolled onto my other side so I couldn’t see him. He perched himself on the edge of the mattress and trailed a finger up my spine. His touch was comforting and painful at the same time and slow, mournful tears started to trickle down my flushed cheeks.

“We need to get you checked out. You’ve been having them a lot lately. I’ll make you an appointment with Doctor Pilling.” I shrugged at him. “Can I get you anything? Tylenol? Water?”

“No,” I snapped briskly, wishing he’d leave. Hearing the worry, the sadness in his voice was making everything so much harder.

“I’ll leave you to sleep. Shout if you change your mind.” He leaned down and kissed the back of my head, zapping my brain with a thousand unbearable emotions – confusion, anger,
betrayal
, love…

I must’ve lay hibernating under the quilt for an hour or more and now I really did have a throbbing, crying-induced headache. Gingerly rising to a sitting position, I felt like fifty sacks of shit.

An all-encompassing feeling that there was no going back from here plagued my mind. Being here with him, sharing the same air, was just too painful – far worse than any physical blow I had ever taken to my body.

It was the lies – it was unbearable. I liked to think (although I would have been monumentally pissed) I could have dealt with him going out with
her
if he’d just told me about it. I got it - they were friends. They worked at the same hospital. In some ways it even made sense. But to
lie
to me… I just couldn’t handle it. If I didn’t trust Richard, what was the point? What was the point of anything anymore?

A decision I always knew on some level I would make knifed into my heart. But it was the only way. I slid a small grey suitcase out from under the bed and quickly threw in an armful of clothes from the closet and my makeup bag from the dresser before Richard had chance to catch me. Then I stuffed it back under the bed while I conjured up a plan.

I sat, sobbing into my knees for almost half an hour and I was still clueless. I had no idea how to break it to him. I wasn’t even sure
what it was
I was breaking to him. I had no idea where I would go,
who
I would stay with or even if I’d ever see him again.

I briefly considered calling Julie but then realised my job was here in Seattle. In turn that led me to think about whether I even had a job anymore. Would I be able to cope with the endless questions and sympathetic glares from Vanessa? Would Richard use Vanessa to get to me? They were friends after all, something else he’d lied to me about. Would he turn up at the office begging me to come home? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that my dream job was something I’d probably have to let go as well.

Where would I go?
A hotel perhaps?
I probably had enough of my paycheck left to buy me a few nights sleep, but then what? Leon’s name popped unwillingly into my mind and I literally shook it away again…
for now.
I could always go…
home
. At least I knew what to expect if I returned to that life. At least my emotions would remain on an even keel – regardless of how unpleasant they were, at least they’d be consistent.

Basically, a plan seemed unreachable just now. One day, one hour even, at a time. Yes, that was my plan.
One moment at a time.

All I knew for certain was that I didn’t plan on making a dramatic exit. Maybe I’d just slip away while he was out dancing with
her
. I knew it was the coward’s way out but that’s exactly what I was. There was no point in trying to convince myself I didn’t love him – because I did, with every beat of my breaking heart. And so I knew if I did it while he was here, if I risked looking into those hypnotic green eyes while I ripped the sparkle out of them… I’d end up staying.

I couldn’t allow that to happen. I couldn’t spend another moment of my life on this soul-destroying rollercoaster. I wasn’t naive enough to think I’d ever be happy again, and I felt surprisingly okay with that. If I didn’t allow myself to ride so high again, I would never feel the pain of being dragged back down.

I knew Richard would need to get ready for ‘work’ soon and I headed to the living room so I didn’t have to sit with him while he changed. Part of me was still hoping that he’d come clean, that honestly would prevail and stop my heart from shutting down.

“Feel better?” he asked, sauntering towards me from the kitchen. I nodded and brushed past him to pour myself a glass of water from the faucet. “I need to leave soon. Will you be okay here on your own?”

Would you stay if I said no?
The thought was tempting. The thought of collapsing into his arms and letting him hold me there all night. But no… I
needed
him to go. I needed him to see his lie through. I needed to feel my heart shatter into a billion pieces so I could be sure I’d made the right decision. So I simply nodded and carried on getting my water.

“I wish you’d talk to me, baby,” he said solemnly, thankfully keeping his distance. A crushing silence followed and then I heard his footsteps leave the room while a forlorn tear dripped into my water.

He really is going through with
it,
I thought when he entered the living room dressed in his purple pinstripe shirt, aubergine tie and black work-pants. He was carrying the rucksack full of lies and my eyes locked onto it, unshed tears burning the hell out of them.

“How do you know Vanessa?” The words were out of my mouth before I even realised I planned to say them.

“
What
? Where did that come from?” he asked, cocking a puzzled eyebrow as I sat, slowly dying on the couch.

“I know you know her. Just tell me,” I snapped, figuring I wanted answers to all my unspoken questions before I left. He owed me that much surely…

“Um, we met through work several years ago. She was publishing a book on cardio thoracic medicine written by our MD,” he admitted, being honest for once. “Why? What’s this about?”

“So my supposed
talent
had nothing to do with me getting that job?”

“No! I mean, of course it did. Look, our friendship might have been the reason she agreed to see you, but it was
you
who impressed her enough to employ you. You should know by now Vanessa won’t entertain anybody she doesn’t believe in,” he said and he sounded almost sincere. I shrugged, emotionless.

Whatever.

“Is this what’s been bothering you all week?”

I wish…
He edged cautiously towards me and then reached out to take my hand. I shrank away from him.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked, my interrogation in full swing.

“Um, just some stuff for work. A few files…” His lie stabbed into my heart like a knife, tearing and shredding until I couldn’t feel it beating anymore.

“You know, the thing that hurts the most is how easy you seem to find it,” I accused. He shook his head, hurt and bewilderment swamping his face. “Lying to me, I mean.”

“Amy I-I
don’t
understand.” He dropped the rucksack of deceit on the floor, his arms appearing too weak to support its weight any longer.

“Richard, don’t,” I said, looking to the floor because I couldn’t bear the pain of looking at him anymore. “Don’t keep lying. Please,” I begged. “It’s breaking my heart.”

“How did you find out?” He bowed his head comprehendingly.

“It doesn’t matter how,” I shrugged, blinking the stinging tears away. “But I can’t stay here.” My revelation opened the floodgates to my tears and they swiftly dashed for freedom, pouring
themselves
rapidly down my face.

“What do you mean? You’re not leaving me. You
can’t
.”

“I have to.”

“Amy, no! You don’t mean that. You can’t. Amy you can’t leave me!” he pleaded, dropping to his knees.

“I have to.” I repeated.

“I should have told you. I know I should. I just didn’t want to hurt you!” I still couldn’t look at him, but I could
feel
the agony radiating from his body.

“Richard, you couldn’t have hurt me any more if you’d tried.”

“So you want to hurt me back? I get that… but not like this. Please, not like this.” He pressed his hands together as if he was praying and I had to fight against the crippling urge to look at his face – knowing I would crumble.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you. Believe it or not that’s the last thing I want. I love you. I love you
so
much…”

“Then stay!” he interrupted.