Authors: Melissa Delport
“What happened?” I can’t help but ask. She takes another deep breath.
“Well when they realised that nothing untoward had happened they went over to the orphanage to speak to the nuns. I think they realised that Simon was important to me and they were possibly trying to keep an open mind. I was pleasantly surprised,” she smiles and I find myself smiling back. She pauses for a minute and then her face turns sombre. “I still don’t know what happened,” she shakes her head, “but when they came back they forbade me to ever see Simon again. We moved barely a month later and I was too young to get back. By the time I was 18, I contacted the orphanage but they couldn’t give me any information, even going so far as to say that they had no record of him having attended at all.” She sounds pained and my heart constricts with pity. “Also,” she grins, “18 isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I was still living with my parents and was very nervous to go against their wishes.”
“What changed?” I ask and she looks saddened.
“They died,” she finally answers, “last fall. It was a car accident; the medics say they died instantly.” She gazes out of the window.
‘I’m sorry.”
I do not know what else to say but she seems to visibly pull herself together and forces a smile.
“Well, obviously I got my own place and I had my number listed and then, out of the blue, last night, Simon called me!”
The amazing transformation of her face as soon as she mentions Simon is testament to how much he means to her and I feel sick to my stomach. “I met him in Times Square – I don’t live too far from there. “The thing is,” now she looks a bit uncertain, “I had an urgent call from a client – I’m a travel agent and, and I couldn’t hear a thing. I walked away so that I could take the call and when I came back, Simon was gone.” She glances around the apartment again and raises her eyebrows quizzically at me, looking for answers.
This would have been so much easier if
Lizzy had turned out to be more like the man she was so obviously in love with, more like Simon, someone I didn’t get along with. But this amazingly sweet, beautiful woman is so captivating and so open and honest, I feel awful for what I am about to do, what I have to do. Lizzy’s emotions show immediately on her face; she is an open book, and I can see by the concerned look on her face that she senses something is up.
I rise, draining the last of my coffee and crossing the room to put my cup in the sink. I take a deep breath and turn around, facing her,
“Lizzy, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.” I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and force myself to meet her big blue eyes.
“That’s not possible,”
Lizzy whispers and I notice that she has a slight lisp. It only adds to her appeal, and makes her seem even more youthful.
“I’m so sorry,” I reach for her hand trying not to look at her eyes which are brimming with tears.
“But he was always there!” she cries, “I mean, I never saw anyone else, it was always Simon. How could I not have known?”
“
Lizzy, you were young, remember. You know what it’s like when we’re young. We have no concept of time. You thought that you spent most of your time with Simon and you remember it that way because he was such a big part of your life; but it wasn’t necessarily as much time as you recall. Also, only Simon would have sought you out. Adam and the others would not have known you existed. You said it yourself, the other children in the orphanage stayed away from the woods. You wouldn’t have met the others because they wouldn’t have come to see you.”
She is nodding slowly, but the tears are still streaming down her cheeks and I can see that she doesn’t really believe this.
“Is there anything that I can do?” she asks in a small voice and I can see that she cannot bear to let Simon go even if he doesn’t really exist. I feel so much older than her at this moment, even though there is less than a two year age gap between us. I grit my teeth and clear my throat before answering, in the strongest, most decisive voice I can manage.
“The best thing you can do,
Lizzy is to stay as far away from Adam as you can.”
She visibly flinches, as though the words alone have caused her pain and then she nods quickly.
“I understand.” She stands suddenly, so abruptly that she knocks over her empty mug and it hits the floor with a crash. Shaking, she begins apologising profusely and, at the same time, her self-control finally snaps and huge, heaving sobs wrack her body. I am about to step forward and fling my arms around her, when out of the corner of my eye I see the bedroom door open and Adam appears wearing nothing but a towel draped over his hips. Rubbing the back of his head and yawning widely, he grins at me.
“Babe, if you want my undivided attention, all you have to do is ask!” he winks and then finally registering that we are not alone, he turns his gaze on
Lizzy.
Lizzy
takes almost three full steps toward him before she realises what she is doing and she clasps her hands to her chest, her mouth opening in shocked embarrassment as her gaze is torn between Adam and myself. Finally, covering her hand with her mouth, she turns and flees, uttering a very emotional “I’m sorry” as she rushes from the room.
“
Lizzy!” I call, following her, but she is already flying down the stairs and I cannot summon the energy to go after her. What good would it do, anyway? This is something that she has to deal with – nothing that I can possibly say will make it any easier on her.
I walk slowly back into the apartment closing the door behind me and leaning back against it for support. My legs are feeling very weak all of a sudden.
“You called her Lizzy?” Adam’s question rings out and I nod my head.
“
Lizzy,” I reply sadly, feeling like the last 24 hours have been the longest of my life.
It takes only a few minutes to fill Adam in on what has transpired and he is surprisingly calm about it.
“I can’t believe he managed to see her so often without me knowing,” he muses, heading in the direction of the shower. “Or that he managed to land such a hottie in the first place!” I slap him as he walks past. “Want to join me?” he adds over his shoulder. I can’t believe I am about to say this, given that I am usually keen for all things Adam, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ve got work to do.” I smile and head back to the sofa. I can feel Adam’s eyes on me but I don’t look up. I know what he is silently asking but I do not have an answer for him.
I need me time. As soon as I hear the shower turn on, knowing full well that Henry is probably going to kill me for being unprepared, I cast aside the folder he sent and open the Google search engine on my laptop.
Five minutes later I grin at the screen. It’s perfect. The write-up claimed: “We are a group of Brooklyn extremists testing the bounds of gravity and the ultimate adrenalin rush.” Jetty Jumpers run private Jet-ski tours and operate on the Hudson River. I sign myself up for the first tour in March, and then, on second thoughts, I book another spot. If Adam is around I want him to share this with me, and if not, I will do it on my own and leave Simon or Jacob at the Institute. I feel better already.
On Friday I interview the celebrity who has just launched his own cook book. Despite my misgivings, I am well-prepared and it goes very well. I file my piece, feeling reassured that Henry may just keep me on as a freelancer, and then, feeling I deserve a bit of a treat, I open a bottle of wine and Adam and I enjoy our own little private party.
The week passes by without incident and I relish having Adam around, only Adam. It is a taste of the life to come and it is perfect. One Thursday evening we go ice-skating in Central Park and I fall about laughing at Adam’s gallant but ungainly manoeuvres across the ice. He looks like a baby giraffe, his legs going out from under him with every attempt, as he battles to find purchase with his rented skates.
“It’s not funny!” he grates out, cursing as he topples over once more.
“It’s pretty funny,” I protest, and then, seeing the look on his face, I try desperately to assume the sombre face one would have at the bedside of a dying man.
“Okay,” I give in, skating gracefully up to him and taking both his hands in mine, feeling the cold of his bare skin even through my mittens, “the problem is that you are trying to
run, b
abe. What you need to do, is
glide”
I skate slowly backwards, pulling him along and although he wobbles to and fro, his arms almost jerking mine from their sockets, he stays upright.
“That’s it!” I smile encouragingly and pick up the pace a little.
“Show off!” Adam snorts, but it is his undoing. His arms windmill wildly and I retreat to a safe distance as he falls flat on his backside. My peal of laughter echoes around the rink and a few passers-by smile fondly.
“I think I’m done, Paige,” Adam grins up at me, his dark hair in his eyes, “how about we go and get a cup of coffee?”
“Okay,” I consent, stepping forward and offering him both my hands to pull him to his feet. Too late I notice the mischievous smirk playing about his lips.
“Adam!” I warn, but with one swift tug, he pulls me off-balance and I collapse in a heap on top of him.
“Hush love,” he whispers, his warm mouth coming up to meet mine, “you’ll frighten the children.”
I lose myself in the kiss, a slow fire building in my belly. When I come up for air a few minutes later, feeling heady and faint with longing, I notice a mother a few feet away trying to draw her ogling children’s attention away from us and I blush to the roots of my hair.
Rising unsteadily to my feet, ignoring Adam’s knowing chuckle, I help him up and we make our way carefully to the edge of the ice. We remove our skates in silence and put our shoes back on, Adam taking slightly longer to do up the laces of his sneakers.
“You are incorrigible,” I giggle when we are out of earshot of the other ice-skaters, and particularly of the disapproving mother.
“Don’t use such big words, Paige,” he teases, “we both know that you're much cleverer than I am.” He nudges my shoulder and I crab-walk a few steps before he takes my hand and pulls me back to his side. I sigh contentedly as we head for Starbucks and order two Grandes to go.
“I’m thinking movies and popcorn,” I announce as I turn from the counter, coffees in hand, to find Adam’s gaze unabashedly roaming up and down my body. It reminds me of the first night we met, and, as it did then, it gets me far too hot under the collar.
“I can think of much nicer things to occupy our time,” he challenges, and I bite my lip, trying not to make his victory too obvious
.
Spring
In the second week of March one Saturday morning the alarm goes off at 5.30 a.m. and Adam curses, throwing his discarded sneaker at it and missing my head by only an inch as I sit upright in bed.
“Up!”
I shake his shoulder, his body rocking from side to side and he grumbles, twisting out of my reach and burrowing like a mole deeper under the covers.
“Up!”
I insist, pulling the duvet off him. Ignoring his bellows of protest, I carry it with me down the passage and toss it on the sofa. I pad into the kitchen and switch the kettle on, popping two slices of bread in the toaster and getting the butter dish from the pantry. It is so cold in winter in New York that there is no need to refrigerate it. Even now that spring is here it is still far colder than I am used to. I am excited for today. It’s the day we take the jet-ski tour on the Hudson River, and, having had no sight of Jacob or Simon for a whole week, I am positive that Adam and I will be sharing this thrill ride together. I am getting better at dealing with Simon who appears every now and again, but there has been no sign of Jacob since our last emotional visit and I am getting slightly concerned. Pushing all thoughts of the others aside, I focus on the day ahead. We are meeting our guide at Coney Island where we start our full, three-hour city tour.
“Why, Paige? Why?” Adam grumbles as he comes down the passage, rubbing the back of his head and yawning widely. Casting
slitty-eyed, angry looks in my direction, he settles down on the sofa and pulls the duvet over him.
I smile contentedly and pull two of the black and white mugs I bought him for Christmas from the cupboard.
“Here,” I nudge him with the steaming cup and he sticks one hand out of the depths of the duvet to take it from me.
“I love you,” he says, by way of thanks and I nod.
“We have to leave in half an hour,” I remind him, padding back down the passage to the bedroom to get ready.
The tour operator provides wetsuits and all gear, so, wearing jeans and sweaters we pull into the parking-lot. The directions I pulled off the internet were easy enough to follow and we arrive with plenty of time to spare. Each jet-ski run by the tours company has a two-person capacity but Adam and I opted to each have our own. Spending a day looking at the back of Adam’s head did not sound like much fun to me, and besides, I didn’t want to be a passenger. That isn’t my
M.O
. I want to live the moment not go along for the ride. It cost us slightly more but it’s not as if we can’t afford it and this is exactly the type of thing that I enjoy spending money on.
Twenty minutes later we are given a demonstration on how to handle the jet-skis, which I am not at all intimidated by and Adam is positively raring to go. A short safety brief later and we hit the surf, taking a few minutes to adjust and master the jet-skis. Although chilly, it is a beautiful day for it, the sun is shining and the water is smooth. Adam and I dance around one another frolicking in the wake our skis are leaving behind us, cresting the waves and soaring down the other side.
Adam is definitely better at this than I am; he is a natural; his body curved over his jet-ski like a pro, water glistening on his tanned skin. Laughing, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes, his mouth curved up in a delighted smile, he makes my heart turn flip-flops in my chest. I notice, as we cruise under the Verrazano Bridge and later get up close and personal with Lady Liberty, that the other ladies on the tour keep casting surreptitious glances at Adam. My heart swells with pride that this handsome, courageous lion of a man is all mine.
Despite my initial determination to have a jet-ski of my own I am delighted when mine suddenly sputters and dies. The tour guide comes over to check it out and soon announces that he cannot fix the problem out here and will have to send for someone to fetch it. I vault gleefully onto the back of Adam’s hovering jet-ski, wrapping my arms around him, to the collective sigh of the ladies around us, their husbands lookin
g more than a little relieved. Once out of the marina Adam speeds up, turning this way and that, flying through the waves and having the time of his life. I hang onto him for dear life, feeling terrified and exhilarated and yet oddly, safe. Adam will not let any harm come to me, I think, closing my eyes and grinning as he yells in excitement over the roar of the engine.
Later we all enjoy a seafood lunch in Jersey City. Adam chats happily away to the other members of our tour, the ladies positively hanging on his every word and I am content to sit and pick at my food, one hand resting on Adam’s leg. I sigh contentedly and lean my head against his shoulder, revelling in the midday sun warming my face and the perfection of this amazing day.
We head back at a far more leisurely pace and I throw my arms out to the side, leaning my head back and I feel almost as though I could be flying.
By the time we reach Coney Island, despite the sunshine, I am shivering with cold and I dress as quickly as possible in the ladies' changing room before
meeting Adam at the reception. We thank our guide and stroll, hand in hand, back to the car. Adam opens my door and I sit back in my seat, feeling relaxed, tired and sublimely happy, hardly able to summon the energy to start the engine and back out of the parking-lot.
We spend the afternoon watching DVDs and ordering pizza, neither of us feeling much like cooking. Finally, at a little after eight we switch off the TV and Adam stands, stretching like a cat.
“I’m going to jump in the shower,” he leans forward, kissing the top of my head, and I nod, yawning. Figuring I have earned some much-needed sleep I pad through the house and collapse on the bed. I listen to the sound of the shower running and I heave a sigh. There is a massive rainstorm coming if the dark clouds rolling in are anything to go by. I drift gently into that world between sleep and consciousness and I see Kevin walking toward me. I smile and throw my arms around him and he grins down at me.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmur, burying my nose in his neck. Kevin is not as tall as Adam, we are almost the same height and I pull back and stare into his eyes.
“You’re not real,” I chastise and he laughs.
“No, Paige, I’m not real. Glad to see you’re still paying attention,” he answers and I pout childishly.
“You left me.”
“I didn’t want to,” he replies.
“I know.” I take a few steps away, “Walk with me?” I extend my hand and he takes it. We are walking along the beach back home just as we used to and I feel more peaceful than I have in some time.
Eventually Kevin breaks the companionable silence.
“He’s the one, Paige,” he says and I nod in agreement, feeling no guilt. My love for Adam is pure and beautiful, and above all, so right. I know that Kevin would want nothing less for me and he would never judge me for moving on without him.
“He is,” I smile at him and he smiles back.
“Tell me about him,” he says, kicking aside some driftwood.
“He’s amazing,” I begin, knowing that my face is alive with the excitement that only Adam can elicit, “he’s charming and funny and gorgeous.”
“Better looking than me?” He raises his eyebrow mockingly and I laugh and swat at his arm.
“I love him,” I say simply and my face falls for a moment, “it’s just so hard.” He nods and I press on, “it was so much simpler with you. Life was simple and it was easy.”
“Maybe it was too easy, Paige,” he interrupts and I am taken aback.
“What?” I ask in confusion. The water is swirling around our feet, tugging at my toes as it rushes back out to sea.
“Maybe we were too simple, too easy,” he says, “maybe in time we might have grown out of each other. We were so young, maybe we just didn’t know any better. I’m not saying it would have ended!” he hastens to add, seeing my scowl. “I’m just saying that maybe he’s the one, maybe this is what was supposed to happen.”
I do not have an answer to this, I am brought up short – I have had similar feelings before. I loved Kevin, I did, but what I feel for Adam is so much more than that. It is as if he is the air that I breathe. When he isn’t around I feel almost dizzy like I can’t breathe properly and I know he feels exactly the same. I look up and realise that Kevin is smiling down at me, knowingly.
“Know-it-all!” I snap playfully and he laughs before he turns serious once more.
“You have to fix him, Paige, you need to help him and you need to be happy.” He turns and starts walking away and I try to run after him, but my feet are stuck in the backwash and I can’t move.
“Kevin!” I shout, raising my arm towards him but he doesn’t turn around. “Kevin!” I scream again and I wake with a start, sitting bolt upright in my bed before I realise that it was only a dream.
As I rub my eyes I realise I must have just dozed off because I can still hear the water running in the bathroom. I smile fondly; Adam always takes far too long in the shower, he almost always uses up all the hot water. Luckily we can afford the gas bill. Pondering as to whether I should join him, I glance across at the bedside clock and I freeze in horror. It is well past 10 o’clock. I must have been sleeping for over two hours. Adam! I leap off the bed assuming the worst and throw open the bathroom door. My heart lurches as I take in the pitiful scene before me. The shower is still running although the water must be freezing by now. Huddled in the corner of the cubicle, almost blue with cold, sits a shuddering Jacob.
I lunge forward to turn off the faucet and the icy water hits me like needles stabbing at my skin.
Oh God!
I grab two towels from the rack and jump into the cubicle throwing them over Jacob’s body. I crouch down beside him, rubbing his arms and his back – any part of his body that I can reach.
How long has he been curled up in here?
My mind races frantically, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. Jacob’s physical needs are primary – he is freezing, his body is wracked with convulsions of cold and I need to warm him, quickly, but there are also the mental needs that need to be taken into consideration. Jacob is naked. This means nothing to me, but he is so fragile that it could traumatise him. The whole time I'm thinking of this, I'm speaking soft words of comfort and soothing him with hushing sounds, exactly, I think hysterically, as I do my step-nieces and nephews when they are hurt or frightened. Jacob is truly like a child. I drape the towels over his body and gently place my arms around his back and under his right arm on the other side of his body. I start to stand, saying softly, “Come on, Jacob, let’s get you out of here.”
Through his confusion he seems to understand what I am trying to do and he gingerly starts to rise, working with me instead of resisting and sobbing pitifully the whole while. It takes a few minutes to get him onto the bed and I pull the towels off him, at the same time throwing the duvet over his lower half. I pull it up to his neck and then I throw blanket after blanket on top of him. I switch on the bedside lamp which casts a soft warm light over the room but which only accentuates the blue, stricken face before me. Standing
back, satisfied that I cannot do any more here, I keep my voice calm, “Jacob, I'm just going to get you something warm to drink.” I walk slowly from the room and the moment I'm out of sight I hurtle down the passage. I don't want to wait for the kettle to boil, so I microwave a mug of water for a minute and then toss in a tea bag and three heaped spoonfuls of sugar. Sugar is good for shock; I remember reading it somewhere. I fly back down the passage skidding to a halt just before the bedroom door and then I enter as calmly as I left.
“Drink this, Jacob,” I instruct, then realising that he cannot control his shivering enough to hold the mug, I hold it for him, placing one arm behind his head guiding him. After a few small sips he lies back on the bed exhausted and closes his eyes.
I take a moment to examine him, careful not to touch his body, but it seems that his colour is returning and although he is still shivering, it is not the same uncontrollable shuddering of before. I heave a sigh and pull up the dressing-table chair, taking a seat next to the bed and not taking my eyes off of him. My body becomes stiff and sore and the mental fatigue of being constantly vigilant is taking its toll but I refuse to move even for a second. I cannot bear the thought of Jacob waking up again alone and terrified. I am startled when my phone starts ringing and I snatch it up off the bedside table. The caller ID flashes Bill Morris just as he stirs. I punch the mute button and cast the phone aside.
“Paige?” It is Adam’s blue eyes that gaze up at me and I feel a huge wave of relief pass over me, before his face contorts and he yells, “No!” I blink in surprise and, in an
instant, Jacob is back, cowering against the wooden headboard, his eyes darting back and forth before finally settling on me.
I cannot believe this. Jacob has forced his way through and taken over. I didn’t think it was possible – Jacob is so weak and reserved. Even as I'm thinking this, a part of me is relieved to see that he appears to visibly calm down, seeming far less frantic when he realises that I am here. It seems that I am finally starting to earn his trust.
“Jacob?” I question, even though I know it’s him. He's panting slightly with the exertion, just as Adam once had when he forcefully subdued Kyle.
“I-need-to-tell-you,” he speaks through slightly gritted teeth and, despite his recent cold, a sweat has broken out across his brow. I sit forward in anticipation; obviously Jacob wants to finish his story.
The trauma. This is it! All thoughts of Bill Morris’s call forgotten, I release a deep breath and focus all my attention on Jacob.