Her Undoing Page 2

  “But your work--” No, that’s not what I want to know. “How long?”

  He takes another slow drag, before turning to me, keeping my gaze. “Until I’m no longer welcome.”

  My vision is clouded by tears, but I nod, taking a drag of my own cigarette. “I wish you could stay forever.”

  “I’ll try.” He comes closer and then sits down on the bench next to me. “I don’t know how long it will be, but I’m going to try to stay as long as possible.”

  I reach out and take his hand in mine, weaving our fingers together, holding him, because I don’t know what I can tell him. This feeling I have for him, it may not be love, maybe not yet, but it’s definitely a feeling I can’t ignore.

  And it’s telling me that I want him to stay, just like Dylan, and Tom and Elly, just like I want Mia to join us. I want all of us to stay together.

  3

  Mia

  My old room is still the same as it has always been, though a little more dusty and slightly stuffy, since nobody has come in here for months, if not longer... The same shelves, the same desk, the same bed, it’s all exactly as I remember it.

  I’m lying in bed, my covers pulled up as high as I can without suffocating myself. I don’t know what Mum and Dad thought about me being such a mess when I came here, but they didn’t ask me much during dinner, probably thinking that I’m still upset over Noah or something. They can be pretty hands-off most of the time, as long as I do what they expect from me, and Noah was never that high on their ‘people they like’ list. Which... I guess they were right in their distrust of him.

  I’ve left my phone in my bag, not wanting to have to see everyone’s messages. It put it there as soon as the bus left, because I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t let their messages tempt me back. I had to do this. I had to go through with it, no matter what. I had to stay strong.

  Every time my mind wanders off to the look in Mal’s eyes as he was pounding his fists on the window, or the look in Jake’s eyes, my heart breaks all over again and the sobs won’t stop.

  This hurts too much, way too much, but it’s nothing in comparison to the pain I would have caused if I’d stayed there any longer. The pain will pass, it will be painful now, but it will pass, someday. Not today, but someday.

  I sit up, reaching under the bed, to the box in the back, the box I tried to keep away from me as much as possible, even though I could never part with it, even though I could never let go of it.

  I carefully take the dusty cover off and put it to the side. Inside are pictures and other items, all things from the summers at Grandma, all things I saved, all things that have gotten me through some really rough times. Good memories, happy memories.

  The first item I pick up is a picture of all five of us together, Dylan, Tom, Mal, Poppy and me. I must have been around twelve or something, I was still in that gangly phase of someone who hasn’t fully filled out their new sized body yet. Mal had just started to bleach his short hair, which had inspired Poppy to dye hers pink, and I hadn’t wanted to stay behind. So I had blue streaks in my hair, though not as obvious as the other two, as I hadn’t bleached my hair first. My school would not have appreciated me showing up with weird hair, and my parents would have freaked out too. Even though I was going through my growth spurt, Dylan and Tom were much taller than Poppy, Mal and me, even though they were just a few years older than us.

  It was taken at the end of the summer, on the beach, in front of the big cliff. We’re all heavily tanned and in our bathing suits. We look ready to dive into the water, and we probably did after Grandma finally took a pic she liked. We were so carefree.

  I put my hand over my mouth as I try to stop the sob that escapes me. We were so happy, that was such an easier time.

  And now Poppy is gone, and I’ve left the others to themselves...

  No. I can’t go there.

  I put the picture back in the box, ready to put it back under the bed, when something else catches my eye. I push a couple of pictures and other items aside to find a picture that makes me gasp, my head spinning. I had no idea this was in there, I had no idea that it was in this box.

  It’s the picture from right after Oliver was born. It’s of me in the hospital bed, Oliver in my arms, and Jake is at my side, looking at the both of us. I’m looking down at Oliver, exhausted, but also so happy to finally hold him. But what I never realised before is the look in Jake’s eyes, the loving way he looks at me. I always thought that he was just protective, that he was just there because we were friends, always there to witness my lowest of the low moments, but that look... Have I been misjudging him all along? Have I always been so blind?

  Have I made another big mistake?

  Before I finally fell asleep last night, I sent Jake a message, telling him that I got home safely, even showing him a picture of my room, how it was still the same as always.

  There was so much more that I wanted to tell him, but I knew that if I started, I wouldn’t stop, and I can’t do that to him, I can’t do that to any of them. I’d gotten messages from everyone, but I purposefully didn’t open any of them, because I didn’t want to hurt even more. I didn’t want even more pain inside.

  I’m sitting at the table in the kitchen, it’s Friday morning and Mum and Dad are already off to work, they let me sleep in, and now I’m staring at the table as I’m boiling some water for tea.

  What am I supposed to be doing today? What am I going to do now?

  Today is the anniversary of Poppy’s death and I don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve never been this aware of the exact day that she died. The day that she left this world for good.

  I want to call Jake, as I usually would do, or Mal, or Dylan, or Tom, just reach out to them, hear their voices, calm myself down. How did I get so used to having them around in just ten days?

  Being alone right now feels even worse than it did eight years ago. Especially now I know what it feels like to have them around all the time, what it feels like to live with them, what it feels like to be with them, even in just a ‘friendship’ sense. This darkness, this empty hole is worse than it has ever been.

  But I can’t go back, not unless I find a way to stop hurting them. Not unless I find a way to not ruin their lives, over and over again, just by being there. And since I can’t change myself like that, I can’t change into a totally different person, it’s better if I forget about them again. It’s better if I stop thinking about them, not reach out, ignore them.

  It’s a better idea to do something, to keep myself busy, like starting to look for a job again, now that I’m back in the city. My parents think that I’ve still got my job at the bookstore, but that’s a lie. So I’ll have to find another place to work. Preferably soon, as I can’t keep living here and I’ve already dipped into my savings account too much. I need to have money coming in, stat.

  I get up from the table, ready to get back to my room and grab my laptop, when my head starts to spin and my legs nearly give out from under me. I grab the table and slowly lower myself to the floor.

  See! I’m a mess. A huge mess. I can’t even make sure that I eat enough to not faint from lack of sugar, or maybe from exhaustion... Exhaustion because I’ve mostly cried all night, barely getting any sleep.

  I wish I wasn’t here on my own. But there’s no use regretting it now. I chose this myself. I chose it because it’s better than what I could be doing.

  I can’t hurt them any more than I already have. So it’s better that I get myself out of the equation of their lives and live my own life, away from people that I hurt, away from the people I only bring pain to. It’s better for everyone.

  When I finally feel good enough to get up, I slowly walk to my room and grab my bag, first taking out my phone. I don’t mean to take a look at the screen, not wanting to see messages that could make this pain even worse, but then I see a message I didn’t expect. It’s from Jennifer, Oliver’s mum, the one he lives with, the one who raises him.

  ‘I just wan
ted to confirm that all five of us are still having dinner tomorrow. I couldn’t get a hold of you or Jake this week, just wanting to make sure. Oliver is looking forward to giving you his birthday present.’

  The sound escaping me isn’t a sob, it’s much more painful than that. I’d totally forgotten that we were all supposed to have dinner tomorrow, since it’s our monthly meetup with Oliver, and we always love to do presents for birthdays. Oliver is really into those things, which is kind of fun and sweet, but it also means that I’ll either have to see Jake tomorrow, or I’ll have to bow out, bow out of my own birthday celebration...

  No. I can’t disappoint Oliver like that. I can’t.

  ‘I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.’

  4

  Tom

  I don’t think any of us slept last night, apart from maybe Elly, but that was probably more out of exhaustion than anything else. We’ve mostly sat in the living room, sometimes talking, but mostly quiet and with our own thoughts. I have no idea how time even passed.

  At one point, Mal came over with a blanket and put it over me, saying something about the house getting cold at night, but that’s about all I can remember of the last hours. It was like time stood still but also moving ahead in big jumps, it felt really odd.

  I check the time on my phone, eight in the morning. And I almost let out a curse, catching myself just in time. We’re supposed to meet Mal and Poppy’s parents in an hour, but I don’t think that I can do it. I don’t think I can do that today, I feel too raw.

  Poppy isn’t here. She’s... She’s gone. Some days I almost forget about it. Some days I nearly believe that she could come into the room at any moment, that she could just show up, even though she’s been gone for years. It’s just weird how my brain keeps refusing to accept it, thinking that she’ll show up again, somehow.

  But she’s gone. She’s been gone for years, and I’ll have to keep on living, keep raising Elly on my own, for many more years to come. I’m still here. How is that fair? How is that even possible? How will I manage, when I can’t even get up from the couch right now? When some days I feel like I can’t get out of bed, even though I manage it every time, for Elly, for our daughter.

  Mia leaving yesterday hit me harder than it should have, than I expected it would. She was never going to be mine, I was always going to be a friend, never her lover, so I shouldn’t feel like this.

  I’ve had my chance. I’ve had my little family. I’ve had all of that. My time of fluffy love and unlimited happiness is behind me, now I need to live for Elly. Now I need to make sure she grows up well, that she’ll have a childhood as happy as I can make it, and that goes before anything else. That goes before anything I would like in my own life, because Elly’s the most important person in my world.

  She has to be my main focus, even when I selfishly want Mia to come back, even when I selfishly want her at my side, even when I selfishly don’t want to have to live without her, like I have to live without Poppy. I don’t want to have to say goodbye again. I don’t want to have to let go of another person, not now, not yet. Never again...

  I push myself off the couch. I need to start the day, no matter how much I dislike it, I have to. I have to keep living, one day at a time, and if that’s too hard, just one minute at a time. One, then the next, then the next, until all the minutes turn into hours and days, keeping me going.

  Mal is still asleep in the chair, sitting all strangely, with his head to the side. It makes me wince, because he’s going to wake up with a wicked neck pain like that, but I let him sleep.

  Instead, I go over to the kitchen, where I find Jake. He looks like a mess. His hair is sticking out at odd angles from running his fingers through it, his eyes are red and he’s got a notepad with a lot of scribbles on it next to him.

  “Morning.” My voice is rough, and I clear my throat.

  Jake jolts before he looks up to me. “Morning.” He nods to the coffee maker. “There’s coffee, I think. I made some earlier.”

  I go over to the counter, opening the cupboard to grab a mug, before I look at the coffee maker, only to realise it’s empty. “When, exactly?”

  “About an hour or two ago?” He sounds distracted and I grab the pot, pouring water in it to refill the machine. “Did it get all boiled down?”

  When I look back at him, he’s looking confused at my actions. “It was empty. You must have drunk all of it.” If he’s had the whole pot in just two hours, I don’t want to imagine the caffeine buzz he’s on right now.

  “Oh.” He blinks, pulling a face. “I guess that explains a few things.” He drops his pen and stretches his hand before rolling his shoulders.

  I finish setting up the machine and then sit down at the table, trying to glance at Jake’s notes. His handwriting when he’s writing shopping lists and things for us is hard enough to decipher under normal circumstances, let alone these scribbles when he’s running on little sleep and too much coffee. There’s just too much on the page, all scrawled over another. I can’t make much sense of it. “Working on something interesting?”

  He shakes his head, turning the page over. “No. Just thinking a couple of things over. Work, finances, those things.” Why is he looking so uncomfortable suddenly? Avoiding my eyes, tapping his fingers to the underside of the table, his shoulders tense.

  “Worried that you can’t keep living in your studio after you finish your research?” I have no idea how those things work. Will he have a job after he finishes? Will he have to move out of the place he’s in right now? Life in the city is expensive, really expensive, so I can understand worrying about having to move.

  He slowly shakes his head. “No... Just... Just a couple of ideas I was working on.” He shrugs, but still won’t look my way.

  “Ideas, like?” His evasiveness is starting to look suspicious.

  Looking down to his laptop, he takes a deep breath and balls his hands into fists on the table, like he’s ready to fight for some reason. “I’m thinking of buying this place.”

  “What?” I stare at him, not sure I’m hearing him right. “Why?” Why would he do that?

  When he looks up to me, his eyes are filled with tears and I don’t even need to hear his words to know what he’s about to say. “So Mia has a place to return to. So Mal and Dylan have a place to live that isn’t a van or their parents’ garage. So this house won’t go to some stranger.”

  “You can pay for that?” I didn’t think he had that much money.

  “I can try. But getting a mortgage on this place and living in the city for work... It’s expensive. I keep trying to find a way to make it happen, but I can’t seem to make the money work out.” He lets out a frustrated sound.

  Then two things occur to me at the same time. One, he wants to buy this place so a stranger can’t buy it, he wants to protect it, and two, he’s not counting on living here himself, he just wants to do it for Mia and Mal and Dylan, not for himself. While he said that he’ll stay here as long as he feels like he needs to, he’s not expecting to stay here for very long, he doesn’t see this as a permanent place to live for him, and that hurts.

  Just thinking about the things he’s doing for us, the ways he’s helping us out, the ways in which he fits in with us, it hurts to see him write himself off, how he seems to accept that he’ll have to leave at some point, and he’s already preparing for it. How can he stay so calm, talking about buying this house and then letting the girl he loves live here with other people?

  I realise he’s still talking, his voice getting more and more grumbly, but somehow also calm and collected. “Even if we can keep the costs of the repairs low, it’s still going to be too much for me to cover.”

  “I’ll buy it.” I don’t even know where the words are coming from, but I know that I’ll do it, for him, for all of us.

  Because there’s one thing he’s right about, we can’t let this place go to anyone else. We have too many memories of it, and I’d much rather live in it myself than seeing someone I d
on’t know live in this beautiful, though slightly run-down, house.

  “You’ve already got a house. How would you even finance it?” He’s the one blinking at me now.

  “I’ll sell the other house. It’s smaller, but in a much better state, so I can probably get more than enough to cover the cost of this house and pay for repairs.” Even though it feels strange to talk of selling the house that Poppy and I worked so hard on, but we only bought it because we love these type of houses and we couldn’t buy this place, because Mia’s grandma still lived in it. So we bought the next best thing, the house next to it.

  “No.” Jake shakes his head resolutely. “No. You’re not doing that. You’re not selling the house you shared with Poppy just to buy this place.” He stands up, going over to the window which looks out over the front garden. You can almost see my house from here, just the front of it, through the trees. “You can’t.” His voice is softer now. “That would be wrong. It would be wrong to make you do that, to make you give up something that’s so important to you.”

  He doesn’t seem to understand that the house is just a house, not a home, not when it isn’t filled with the people you love. “Jake.” I stand up, but he stops me with a glare.

  “No. I can’t let you do that.”

  Then his phone beeps and the screen lights up. I can’t help myself as I glance at it and the message on the screen gives me a strange feeling. ‘Are you still in for the birthday dinner tomorrow? Just need to confirm so I know how many people I need to reserve for. Please let me know soon.’

  Jake grabs his phone, but when he reads the message, he pales a little and sits down in his chair again, dropping the phone and staring off into nothing.

  “Jake?” I try to get his attention, a little confused about why he reacts like this. “Who is that from?” I didn’t catch a name, too distracted by the text.