Gravitate (5 page)

“It’s OK, it’s over.
I’m so sorry; I didn’t think a
nything like that would happen.
I normally have such a good sense about these things,
but everything seems off today.
I
don’t feel like my usual self. And I’m not making sense. Shh, baby, it’s OK.”
I wasn’t paying attention to what he said, just listening to the gentle tone of his voice and embracing the soothing impact it had
on my trembling body.
I could feel his heartbeat, still agitated from breaking up the fight, and also fel
t a tiny shiver in his muscles.
He took a deep breath and I could feel the air moving around my neck as he inhaled. “Let’s go and find Ben – he must still be in the car park.”

He led me by the hand out of the pub, scanning t
he room for any further danger.
The cold night air hit
me like a slap around the face.
Ben came run
ning over as soon as he saw us.
He was asking us how we were and what had happened, but I didn’t hear anything; I slumped against Marty and the last thing I remembered was him lifting me up and carrying me home.

Chapter 3

I woke up feeling fuzzy.
The events of the previous ni
ght came back to me in flashes.
The blur of the room as Marty spun me out of danger, the fear of seeing the blade of the knife getting closer to us, the sheer relief
of being held in Marty’s arms.
I couldn’t remember getting into bed, but I
was definitely back in my room.
I knew I was still wearing my jeans, the belt
buckle jabbing into my stomach.
My
cardigan was still buttoned up.
I looked around the room – my handbag had been placed on my bedside table, my shoes were neatly lined up on the floor and there was
a piece of paper on my pillow.
I snatched up the paper and read:

Dear Claudia,

I am very sorry about last night; I should never have allowed
you to be placed in any danger.
I am also sorry for invading your privacy by entering your bedroom, but you were asleep in my arms and I knew you needed a good
night’s sleep after your shock.
I also took your shoes off to help you sleep, I hope I hav
en’t offended you.
Ben said he would call later to see how you are; I also hope you don’t mind me
giving him your phone number.
I feel like I have so much to apologise to you for, please forgive me.

Your friend,

Marty

I had to read the letter three times to make sen
se of it. Marty was apologising to me? For saving me from the brawl?!
I thought that I must have been impossible for him to live with during the past few days
for him to feel so apologetic.
He must have felt like
he was treading on eggshells.
I felt t
errible.
I owed him so much. 

I wanted to do something for Marty to make it up to him, to try to make amends for my awkward irritability with him
since he arrived at the house.
I’d always found men hard to buy for and what do you get for a man like Marty – someone so self-sufficie
nt, self-confident, self-aware.
What could
I buy to earn his forgiveness?
Nothing sprang to mind.

I took a shower, still thi
nking about the previous night.
It had been quite fun, if a little overwhelming, until the fight brok
e out.
However, I noted that my most memorable and enjoyable parts of the eve
ning had been spent with Marty.
I knew I wa
s thinking about him too much.
His friends had been so nice to me but for the entire evening I’d fel
t subconsciously aware of him.
It was as if, no matter what I was doing or who I was talking to, my thoughts se
emed to gravitate towards him.
I bl
ushed just thinking about him.

Choosing an outfit to wear sudde
nly seemed like a real dilemma.
Normally, I would have spent the day in baggy jeans or trackies, but having a crush
on my lodger changed all that.
I felt ridiculous – what did it matter what I wore: after how horrible I’d been to him, he couldn’t possibly have been thinking about me in that way.

As I made the bed, small feathers from the duvet sailed into the air and floated down gently. I thought about what I knew about Mart
y – the things I knew he liked.
I remembered something Marty had said on the day we interviewed him and I realised I
had a brilliant gift for him.
He’d mentioned that he was a fan of William Blake’s poetry and how he was very interested
in the visions Blake had seen.
I knew there was a beautiful book of Blake’s poetry in my dad’s study – I could wrap it up and give it to him.

I skipped down the stairs feeling lighter than I had in ages and headed into t
he study to look for the book.
I could hear Marty talking on t
he phone in his room next door.
I tried not to listen, but
the temptation was too strong.
I could only hear Marty’s side of the conversation, and the words were a little muffled, but I could pick up
that he was feeling confused.
I felt bad, but I couldn’t help listening just a little bit closer.

“You don’t understand.
I’m trying to do the task; you know I’ve compl
eted a million of these before.
This time it feels different.” There was a pause – so
meone must have replied to him.
“No, no that’s good, no problem there.” I guessed that he was having a problem with an assignment for his course. “No, but I didn’t pick up on it.” Another pause. “No, t
hat wasn’t a major problem. The only problem here is me.
Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, give me a few more days, if I’m still concerned and it isn’t working as it should, I’ll get back to you.”

I heard Marty’s footsteps walking towards the study and busied myself looking at the books on the shelves so Marty wouldn’t kn
ow I had been listening to him.
He poked his head in the doorway.

“Good morning, Claudia. How are you feeling? Did you get my note?”
Marty gave me a warm smil
e, and I felt an involuntary contraction in my stomach and the desire to giggle even though he hadn’t said anything remotely funny
.

“Yes I did and thank you, it was very thoughtful o
f you to leave it there for me.
Thank you for looking after me last night, you re
ally didn’t have to apologise.”
I could feel my cheeks burning, and inwardly cursed my copper colouring.

“No, Claudia, I should have been more aware of possible danger to you.”

“No harm was done.
Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes.
Actually I was just about to head i
nto town, but I shan’t be long.
Do you need anyth
ing?”

“Not that I can think of.”
I felt di
sappointed that he was leaving.
“I’ll walk down the stairs with you.” I carefully placed the Blake book back on the shelf without him noticing which book I’d been looking at.

In the hallway, Marty headed out the front door, while I sauntered into the kitchen, feeling quite smug about the
gift I intended to give to him.
I indulged myself in a little self-satisfied smile and fl
icked the switch on the kettle.
Lying just along the counter was Marty’s mobile phone.
I’d heard him talking to someone upstair
s, but now his phone was here.
If he wasn’t on the phone, then
how was he talking to someone?

My first thought wa
s that someone was in my house. I felt panicked and betrayed.
How could Marty have brought someo
ne here without telling me?
I stormed up to his room, ready to confront whoever was there – this was my house, not his, I had a say on who stepped over the threshold.

My bravado started to
slip as I approached his room.
My hand shook as I reached for the
door handle.
I paused and listened but I couldn’t hear anything, not even
breathing. I carefully opened the door.
The only thing I heard was a small squeal
as it revealed the empty room. Bed neatly made. Wardrobe shut. Desk tidy.
Marty’s laptop sat on the desk, h
eadphones and webcam connected. I mentally kicked myself.
Of course, he was talking to someone via webcam, using the head
phones so as not to disturb me. So thoughtful, again.
And here I was, accusing him of sneaking someone into my house
without my permission.
I felt terrible, closed the door carefully and left his room, determined, more than ever, to repay him for his k
indness and my poor behaviour.
I wrapped up the Blake book and went downstairs to the kitchen to await Marty’s return.

I didn’t need to wait for long.
He
returned in less than an hour.
I was still feeling guilty about going into his bedroom and for my suspicious thoughts
that were totally unwarranted.
I gave him my most radiant smile as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hi,
Marty.
How was town?”

“It was very quiet which made it easy to buy what I wanted.” He smiled and I noticed he didn’t have any shopping bags with him.

“You didn’t buy much?”

“There was only one thing on my mind.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small, plain jewellery box. “I got this for you – do you still have your father’s wedding ring?”

My mind was
racing – he’d bought me a gift?
After
the way I’d behaved around him?
Overcome with emotion, I stumbled on my words as I answered his question.

“Yes, it’s
upstairs, in my jewellery box.
You bought me a gift?”

“I di
d. I wanted to apologise again.
Would you mind getting your dad’s ring?”

“Not at all.
I have a gift for you too.” I could feel my cheeks blushing.

“I’ll wait here for you
and we can open them together.
But the only gift I want is your forgiveness.”

My heart po
unded as I ran up the stairs.
He really was an unbelievably kind man, I
didn’t deserve such treatment.
I scooped the ring out of my jewellery box, pausing for a moment to put it next to
my mother’s ring on my finger. A matching pair.
I’d avoided thinking about my parents and their demise as much as possible recently, the pa
in had been too raw, too fresh.
The emotions evoking from within me were unpredictable – ranging from vicious an
ger to uncontrollable mourning.
I noticed that today it hurt just a
little less.
It still ripped me apart, but I felt I might still be able to hold my life together, something that seem
ed impossible a few weeks ago.
I felt guilty that Marty was part of the reason for this change – did
that make me a shallow person?
Before he’d arrived in my life, I felt like I was surrounded by thick, dark clouds, with no hope
of ever seeing sunlight again.
Now, the clouds were still gathered above me, but a ray of sunshine was just beginning to emerge.

Back down in the kitchen, Marty had made two cups of tea and was sitting dow
n with my gift in front of him.
He looked relaxed and serene, making me think that he had finally figured out that I was clearly not upset over the events of the previous evening and that, in fact, I was indebted to him for his kindness over the past few days and his pro
tective care of me last night.

“Here’s the ring.
I think you s
hould open your present first.”
I suddenly felt quite shy – what if he tho
ught the book was too personal?
What if he thought I w
as cheap for not buying a gift?
I sat down and kept my eyes focused on the table, not daring to look in his eyes, but instead
studying the grain of the wood.
Marty’s gentle fingers brushed under my chi
n and tipped my face up to his.
He looked me in the eyes and I felt a blush creep over my cheeks.