Saving Amy (37 page)

“But I don’t trust you,” I continued.

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t even want to go! But I was pushed into doing this stupid fucking speech and… Please, Amy. I’m sorry.”

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you didn’t plan on taking me?”

“No! How could you even think that?” he said, sounding almost genuine as he scooted towards me and clamped his hands around my knees “I suppose… I was worried.”

“
Worried?
” He nodded slowly, regretfully and then dropped his head again, hiding his angst, guilt-ridden face.

“Although I don’t
think
I’ve done anything wrong, broken any rules… I just wasn’t sure what the hospital would make of us. You know, seeing me with a former patient? I was worried for my career. I was…
selfish.
” His excuse seemed reasonable, and to some extent I understood - felt sorry for him even. But it was just that – an excuse. An excuse I’d have probably never even got to hear if I hadn’t questioned him.

“In hindsight, I should never have let Joanna talk me into it. Knowing how you feel about her and all.”

So it was all her idea… figures.

“I can’t lie,”
like you
, “and say that doesn’t sting, but this is nothing to do with her. I’ve never been able to trust anyone my whole life until I met you. And now I know even
you’re
capable of being dishonest… I just can’t deal with it, Richard.”

“Please, Amy. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think it would make you feel like this.”

“That’s because you didn’t think I’d find out.” I made the grave mistake of looking at his face. Desolate tears were streaming down his beautiful face, his eyes were scrunched closed and his whole body was shaking. My heart sank into the depths of my stomach and I snatched my eyes away, the pain too great to endure.

“Richard, we could go on like this all day…”

“Then we will! Stay and we’ll go on for as long as it takes,” he retorted, still on his knees, begging me,
pleading
with me.

“It’s too late,” I said, shaking my head. “Look, I’m not laying all of this on you. I’m just as much to blame. We both know how fucked-up I am. Maybe if I wasn’t this would never have been an issue… you could have told me about the ball, and Joanna, and I would have accepted it like a
normal
person. But I’m not a normal person, and you know that. You knew how I would react and that’s why you didn’t tell me.”

“No! This isn’t down to you. I just-”

“Don’t you see,” I said, cutting him off. “This was
always
going to happen.” I succumbed to the uncontrollable urge to touch him, tracing the side of his face with my finger, catching his tears and knowing this would be the last time I’d ever feel his soft, magnetic skin against mine.

“I’m just not cut out for this. I’m not capable of… of love, and trust and…” I trailed off, the lump in my throat making my voice crack. “I
do
love you, Richard. But it has to be this way. For both our sakes.”

“Amy, no,
please
. Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, baby.
Please!
” I rose from the couch and he grabbed my arm, pulling me back. He wrapped his body around me, clinging to me with such intensity, such desperation it became heart wrenching and I almost surrendered.

“Let go,” I asked gently, sniffing in my tears and trying not to watch as his fell even faster. Twisting myself free, his body too weak to resist, I brushed past his crumpled body. Then I dragged on my black sneakers and headed to the bedroom to slide my sparsely packed suitcase out from under the bed.

“Please don’t go. I’ll do anything. I LOVE YOU DAMMIT!” Richard pleaded, his voice breaking… and my heart.

“I have to. I’m so sorry.” I pushed past him in the hallway, knocking into the glass half moon table by the door and almost hitting the now wobbling ceramic bowls. “Please don’t follow me.

“Amy, I-”

“
Please.
” And then I was gone, slamming the door and the love of my life behind me.

(Richard)

“
S
he’s gone,” I whimpered as my mom opened the front door, launching myself into her loving arms and sobbing like a giant fucking baby.

“Who’s gone? Richard what on earth’s happened?” she asked in a panic stricken voice.

“Amy. She’s gone. I’ve lost her, Mom.”

My mom took me inside with one arm around my waist – just like she would if I grazed my knee as a young boy. Her gentle arm guided me all the way to the corner sofa and the soft cream leather moulded to my body as I flopped into it. My mom sat down next to me, sweeping her fine, blonde hair from her eyes as she assessed me up and down.

“Please tell me you didn’t drive here in this state?” she admonished, wrinkling her nose at the smell of stale bourbon oozing from my breath. I shrugged, unbothered. What’s the worst that could’ve happened? I could have veered off the road and wrapped myself around a tree – killing me instantly… killing this unbearable pain.
Yeah, that doesn’t seem so bad.

She narrowed her stern eyes at me – making it clear she disapproved.

“What happened, darling? Tell me…”

“I’ve been a selfish bastard, that’s what. And now…” I felt my voice cracking as the words clung to my throat. “She’s gone.”

“What did you do?” she asked tenderly, motherly – full of compassion.

“I agreed to accompany Joanna to the Little Wishes ball, and I-”

“You did what!” she interrupted, jolting upright.

“I know. I know I-”

“
Her
again. Why does everything always come back to her?” she blasted, cutting me off again.

“It’s not Joanna’s fault. Just like it’s not Amy’s. It’s
mine
. I should never have agreed knowing how she feels.” I hid my shameful face in my hands. I was such a dick.

“Oh, Richard, stop being so blind. Can you genuinely not see
why
Amy feels that way about her?”

Here we go…

“Please, don’t start, Mom,” I sighed, exasperated.

“Fine,” she said, grudgingly holding her hands up in the air.
“So, you told Amy about the ball, and then she left?” she pressed, trying to piece the puzzle together.

“No. I didn’t tell her. That’s
why
she left.” My mom’s brow furrowed, confusion veiling her face.

“You
lied
to her?” I nodded, utterly ashamed of myself. “So how did she find out?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “She wouldn’t say.”

“And you don’t think maybe
Joanna
told her?” she insinuated. She said Joanna’s name with such disdain, as if the word was burning a hole in her tongue.

“No way. Joanna wouldn’t do that,” I replied confidently.
Would she?
No. She wouldn’t. I was sure.
I think.
My mom almost choked on a sarcastic laugh but I ignored her, throwing off the ridiculous idea that Joanna would do such a thing.

“Did you go after her?”

“No,” I admitted, sounding every bit like the douchebag I was. “She asked me not to,” I explained – like that made it all okay.

“And you
listened
to her?” she asked incredulously, practically accusing me of being a first class fucking idiot.
Which I was of course.

“I thought she’d come back. I thought she just needed some space, some time. But that was a week ago – I haven’t heard from her since.” I stared down at my hands, concentrating on my fingers as they knotted themselves together.

“A
week?
Why on earth didn’t you tell me sooner?” Her tone was sympathetic now and she clasped my hand within hers.

“Because I was embarrassed. And, hopeful that she’d come back.” A long silence followed. The only sound was that of my heavy breathing and the sniffs of my pathetic tears. “I tried to call her, but then I found her cell in the bedroom. I tried work, but then Vanessa told me she’d cleared her desk and handed in her notice the very next day. I don’t know where she is. Or if she’s in trouble, if she’s scared… I love her, Mom, and I’m never going to see her again.”

The thought of never seeing her again, never holding her, never kissing her, never running my fingers through her soft blonde hair which smelt of vanilla… it pierced into my tear ducts like a salt-tipped knife, and suddenly I was blubbing like a moron again.

“You will. She loves you, Richard.”

“But she doesn’t trust me. I lied to her. I let her down. After everything she’s been through in her life…” I threw my head in my trembling hands. “I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

I spent the next couple of hours filling my Mom in about Amy’s past in excruciating detail and she simply listened – completely supportive and un-judging. She gasped in parts, shook her head in others… but at least now she had a better understanding of why Amy reacted the way she did, why trust was such a difficult process for her.

“So,
this friend in Florida… have
you checked to see if she’s there?”

“Kind of.” I nodded.

“
Kind of?
”

“I didn’t ask her directly. I sort of made out like I’d dialled her by mistake, figuring I’d be able to sense if she was aware of what’d happened. I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.”
Or to have to explain what an insensitive jackass I am.
“It worked. She was all chirpy and full of herself, and kept asking how Amy was doing.”

My mom ran her finger across her chin contemplatively.

“And her parents? You’ve checked with them?”

“No. She would never go back there,” I said adamantly. “That bastard has already nearly killed her once before, remember?” I unintentionally snapped as I thought of her sadistic father – my mind wondering back to when I paid a visit to the slimy son of a bitch after he cornered Amy outside work.

I caught up with him outside his house. He looked like a fucking tramp and smelt even worse – it was eleven in the morning and he was wasted. He was old and weak – frail. Seemed life was doing a good enough job of paying him back for some of the shit he’d put Amy through but I still felt better giving him a little taste of his own medicine.

I pinned him against the wall of the house in the same position he’d had Amy in god knew how many times. He tried to spout some bull about how influential he was and that he could have me struck off in a heartbeat. But weighing him up – the way he stank like a urinal, the way he slurred his words, the way his crumpled, vomit stained clothes draped from his emaciated body… we both knew he couldn’t influence a fucking fly…

That was why he took it. Why he just stood there while I rammed my fist into his prominent ribs. Why he barely raised a hand when I grabbed his throat and slammed his head into the brick. Why he didn’t mutter a word when I told him I would
fucking
kill him if he ever went near Amy again…

He was too weak to fight back and he knew it. Or maybe I was just the wrong gender.

“Richard, it’s all she knows. She might feel like she had no other choice,” my mom suggested as insightful as ever. I shook my head, refusing to believe she would willingly return to the suffering that’d plagued her whole life. Refusing to think of her cowering on the floor just inches away from the evil fucker’s fist. No. I
couldn’t
believe that, because if I did, if I even considered the possibility that I’d pushed her back into that torturous existence, I would never be able to live with myself.

“We’ll think of something. We
will
find her,” my mom tried to reassure but the irresolute tone to her voice suggested she too had reached an impasse.

Under strict mother’s orders I spent the rest of the afternoon lying down in the guest room to sleep off some of the bourbon before my shift at the hospital tonight. I didn’t sleep however. I couldn’t even close my eyes because Amy’s beautiful, porcelain face – crumpled and hurting, swamped with the pain of my betrayal was etched onto my eyelids and I couldn’t bear it.

I swore I would never make her feel so bad again after almost losing her once before back in Florida. I swore I’d never be such a god damn selfish, insensitive, thoughtless, inconsiderate, stupid fucking cunt ever again. Yet somehow, I managed it.

My mom was drowning me with a near constant supply of black coffee (I couldn’t fucking stand black coffee), bringing in the next before I’d even finished the first, each one accompanied by a lecture on the dangers of drink driving. It did the job though. Each sip clearing my distorted vision a little more, calming my trembling hands… The only problem with that was, I was slowly starting to
feel
again, and the pain was excruciating.

Where are you, beautiful?

**********

“Jesus, Richard, you look terrible! Are you sure you’re well enough to come back?” were the words Joanna greeted me with the second I stepped foot on the pastel blue floor of the ward. I hadn’t told her yet. I hadn’t told anyone except my mom. As far as Joanna and everyone else was concerned, I’d been sick with the stomach flu this past week – starting the night I lost Amy, hence my bailing out on the ball.

“I’ll be fine,” I said curtly, reluctant to divulge the fact that I was dying inside, that the heart I once barely knew existed was now broken, scarred and bursting with pain.