No Kiss Goodbye (13 page)

‘Tell Mark I was asking for him, won’t you? I haven’t seen him since I heard about your terrible loss. If there is anything I can do, then just please let me know. The whole community is here to help,’ Bernadette adds. ‘I tried to call you a few times. I thought maybe we could grab a coffee, but Mark said you weren’t up to talking to anyone. I totally understand.’

A chill runs the length of my spine.
Who is this woman?
How does she know so much about me? She even knew about my miscarriage.
Jesus
. Nobody knew about that besides Ava. Unless Mark told people. Why would he talk about something so personal?
Oh God.

I’ve been housebound for so long that I have no idea what else he may be telling the neighbourhood. Is he telling people that I’m ill? If I am not taking anyone’s calls, then there would be no one to notice when I disappear. There’s so much more to Mark and Nicole’s plan than I first thought. I’m once again terrified that I have yet to discover many more layers to their plot.

I scrutinise every inch of Bernadette. She’s pretty in a conventional sense. She’s my age, maybe a year or two older, and she looks like a genuinely nice person. The type of person you could easily make friends with, but she isn’t my friend.
Is she?

I concentrate hard for a few moments, searching for any hint of recognition. A brief familiarity flickers in the depths of my mind. Her cheeks; I know her rosy cheeks. We’ve laughed together – I think. Yes, a few times, over coffee and wine. I eagerly begin conjure a foggy memory when my entire body starts to shake mercilessly.
Not again.
At the prospect of unravelling the slightest hint of a past I have forgotten, my brain panics and instantly shuts down, refusing me access to the information.
Fight it. Fight it this time.

‘Laura, wake up,’ Ava commands as she lightly slaps each of my cheeks in turn.

My face stings and I groggily rub my cool palms over the ache.

‘Oh God,’ I say as I opened my eyes.

‘You fainted again,’ she explains.

Again.

I rub my eyes and look around. My wheelchair is on its side, the upper wheel spinning slowly. My knees are curled on my chest, and I’m slouched so far forward the ground is only inches from my face. Adam’s arms are firmly in place underneath my shoulders. His strength is the only thing preventing me from colliding with the floor. Bernadette has left the check-in desk and is standing beside us. A noisy crowd is gathering around us, attracted by the commotion. Awwing and gasping as though my helplessness is a show for their entertainment.

‘Are you okay?’ Bernadette whispers softly.

‘I think so.’ I nod, too confused to be embarrassed.

It is a physical struggle to sit upright, and I could feel the eyes of every onlooker burn into my wilting spine.

I noticed Ava’s face fall as a pair of security guards approach to investigate the scene. I turn to Adam for reassurance, but the men’s arrival has equally shaken him. My heart pounds. Any small security delay could mean the difference between our successful escape and the terror of being found. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I feel like a fugitive on the run.

Bernadette must have sensed our anxiety because she presses her hand supportively on my shoulder then calmly walks forward.

‘It’s all right, guys. This lady is my neighbour. She’s just a bit nervous about flying. I think it all got the better of her for a moment. Nothing to worry about,’ Bernadette explains to the men who are now uncomfortably close to us.

‘Thanks.’ I smile, grateful that Bernadette has so easily defused the awkward situation.

‘No problem.’ She winks. ‘But I’m holding you to that coffee, okay?’

She bends down, takes both my hands in hers, and lifts them close to her chest. I don’t flinch. The gesture feels strangely familiar.

‘Please take care of yourself. Don’t be a stranger any longer?’ she pleads with tears glistening in her eyes.

I convincingly promise to keep in touch, although I still have no idea who she is.

I desperately race to retreat from the drama of the scene I’ve caused. I lunge the full force of my body into my arms as I churn the metal wheels of my chair forward. Rushing awkwardly through the door of the disabled toilet, I will my shaking fingers to cooperate as I bolt the door behind me.

I fling my large handbag across my knee and search for my phone. I can’t find it. I catch the leather strap in frustration and swing the bag upside down, angrily shaking the contents to the floor. My lipstick case shatters in the fall and light pink smudges across the other items littering the ground. I stare at the mess before me. It’s like a mocking symbol of the hysteria my life has become. My phone sits innocently on the pile and I reach to grasp it, falling awkwardly to the floor. I don’t notice the pain of landing crumpled with both my knees twisted behind me. I just concentrate on the screen of my phone. I scroll through my contacts not sure what clarity I’m expecting to find. There it is. Bernadette Joyce +353867697440.

‘Christ,’ I say out loud as I nearly drop the phone. We really are friends. How can I so easily forget someone I know? What other memories have been stripped from my mind? I shake my head pitifully.
What is happening to me?
I’m actually losing my mind… or is it being stolen from me? What has Mark done to me? I forget more and more of my past with each passing day. If I can simply erase a friend from existence in my mind, then what’s next? Will I wake up some morning and just no longer remember who I am? Or even more terrifyingly, will I suddenly forget the children? Will I let Mark and Nicole win without any memory of the fight?

I ignore the knocking on the door as I stare at myself in the slightly dirty mirror. I hardly recognise the reflection. I’ve become a stranger in my own body. Something awful is happening to me and I don’t know how to stop it. The knocking grows louder and faster.

‘Ava?’ I call as I reach to unlock the door.

‘Laura?’ she shouts back.

‘Yeah, it’s me. I’m in here.’

‘Thank God we found you. What the hell were you thinking running off like that? We didn’t know where you went.’

Ava sounds weary. I’m very aware of her pregnancy now, and I know I have to put her first. I can’t have her chasing me all over the place every time I flip out.

‘I’m okay,’ I lie. ‘I was just bursting to pee. Couldn’t hold it. Sorry.’

‘Your flight leaves in less than hour,’ Adam shouts. ‘Are you still sure you want to do this?’

I glance at my watch. He’s right. I’ve locked myself away within the confines of the bathroom for at least an hour. No wonder they’re worried, and from the tone of Adam’s voice, he’s angry, too.

I reluctantly swing the door open and look at what I expect to be frustrated faces. I am not expecting to find them open mouthed with shock etched into their gaping jaws.

Adam passes me my ticket reluctantly. He looks as though he has a thousand things he wants to say, but every time he opens his mouth, no words come out.

‘Let’s go,’ I say with a smile so forced that I hear my jaw crack.

Ava stands motionless in front of me, blocking the way. She’s pointing and staring.

I glance back into the bathroom to check I haven’t left my bag behind or come out with loo roll stuck to the leg of my trousers or something.

‘Laura,’ Ava squeaks.

‘What?’ I snap uncomfortably. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? It’s freaking me out.’

‘Look,’ Adam stammers, copying Ava’s pointing. ‘You’re standing up by yourself.’

I lap the ground floor of the airport twice and actually skip my way up the escalator to take in a lap of the first floor also. Adam and Ava lag behind in unison. They are united in shock. Shock is the last emotion I’m prepared to entertain. I’m too busy basking in glorious euphoria. I can walk. Real, unaided walking. One leg in front of the other, actually propelling my body forward like a regular person, walking. It’s marvellous, and I never plan to stop. I begin daydreaming. I’m one step closer to getting my old life back, and I can take those steps with my own two feet. I’ll have to get the kids back now. Everything is going to be okay.

After nagging me endlessly to hurry up, Ava takes what feels like forever to say goodbye to Adam. She lays her head on his shoulder and takes deep breaths. I know she’s savouring his smell, but her expression is so poignant it seems like she’s saying goodbye - forever. She must have kissed him at least twenty times before she finally drags herself away with tears in her eyes and an obvious lump in her throat. It’s really rather upsetting to watch Adam’s blasé reaction to her affection. He’s too busy watching me to pay Ava any attention. He doesn’t even kiss her back. But she doesn’t notice, and I fight the urge to lend my unwarranted opinion. I hope it’s because he’s overcompensating. I understand he’s worried. Anyone can see it. Stress is screaming from the tense lines of his forehead. His attempts to remain cool backfire, and he actually ends up coming off as superior and condescending.

‘First sign of trouble…’ he warns. ‘Just pick up the phone.’

‘I know, baby. I promise I will call if there’s anything to worry about.’ Ava smiles.

‘I’ll make sure she’s a good girl,’ I joke, hoping Adam will accept my gesture to lighten the atmosphere.

Adam rolls his eyes.

I couldn’t blame him for being concerned. I’m tearing his pregnant fiancée away in a mad bid to escape my murderous husband. I feel selfish and so incredibly needy.

‘Take care,’ Adam says before grabbing me by the elbow and hugging me tight. It catches me off guard. My feet actually leave the ground a little bit as my body jolts back, but my arms automatically wrap around him in return and it feels good to hug him. I’ve spent so long consumed by indifference towards Adam that I’ve never allowed myself to like him or to be liked by him. It all feels so foolish now. His hug is so genuine and warm, and I’ve never felt such honesty from Adam before. This is the Adam Ava loves. This Adam is a million miles away from the sleazy womaniser of late. And, for a brief moment, it feels like Adam is my friend. A real friend who cares about me – not just my best friend’s boyfriend who puts up with me.

Ava is adamant that I sit back in my wheelchair for boarding. I’m reluctant but the temptation to skip the queue is enough to convince me.

‘I’ll take it as far as the departure gates, but I want to walk up the steps myself,’ I insist. ‘It’ll be a pleasant challenge for me.’

‘That’s fine by me, just so long as you don’t exhaust yourself too much.’ She smiles kindly.

I know she means well, but I’m full of energy. I don’t think I will ever be tired again in my life. However, I do experience a sharp pins-and-needles sensation in the backs of my thighs, but I refuse to yield to it. In fact, I almost enjoy the uncomfortable tingle. Unpleasant as it is, it’s a million times better than no feeling at all.

‘Your chair will be waiting for you as soon as we land, Ms. Kavanagh,’ the air hostess says as we board the huge plane. 

I smile. I don’t tell her that I hope I never see that piece of clunky metal ever again. ‘Thank you. That’s great.’

Ava and I sit on the runway in complete silence. We’re both too busy pondering over all the changes in our respective lives to make conversation. I watch the air hostess wave her arms about as she stands in the aisle going over the usual flight safety precautions and exit locations. I don’t pay much attention. I have an overwhelming sense of guilt; guilt because for the first time in months, I feel happy.
I shouldn’t feel happy when my children aren’t with me
, I tell myself. But I can’t stop smiling because I have my body back. My children will be my next conquest then I will be whole again. Now the only thing left to wish for is patience.

We shake a little in our seats as the plane thunders down the runway and smoothly ascends into the air. There’s no turning back from this point. I’m officially running away. I occupy my overtaxed mind by staring out the window and challenging myself to recognise land masses below the scattered clouds.

‘Something’s not right,’ I say suddenly, breaking sharply into Ava’s daydream.

‘Hmm?’ she mumbles, paying little attention to me as she fiddles with her seat belt.

‘There’s something wrong,’ I repeat.

‘With the plane?’ Ava squawks. Her nostrils flare instantly and her eyes are as wide as if someone is trying to shove an open umbrella up her backside.

I quickly apologise for my bad choice of phrase, remembering Ava has a fear of flying.

‘Shit. No. Sorry. I mean with me, something is wrong with me,’ I stutter, embarrassingly on the verge of tears.

Ava doesn’t reply. She has her eyes closed, but I know she’s listening.

‘I’ve changed.’

‘We all change from time to time, Laura. It’s just the way life goes. You’ve dealt with a lot of crap lately. But look…’ Ava points at the window. ‘We’re on our way now. It’ll all be better soon.’

Ava seems so convinced that there’s an easy fix to all my problems. I wish I could share her positive attitude.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘There’s more to this. I can’t really remember who I used to be, but I know I am not that person now. I’m not normal anymore.’

‘What? What do you mean? Of course, you’re normal. Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not. I’m so not. Normal people don’t just suddenly stand up from a wheelchair and start walking again. Shit like that just doesn’t happen in real life. You’re either paralysed or you’re not.’

‘Miracles do happen, Laura.’

‘Bullshit. It’s not like you get up some morning, decide you’ve had enough of sitting on your arse and put your dancing shoes back on.’

I only stop speaking because I’ve run out of air. I force a huge lump of air down my throat and I’m about to continue with my rant but Ava looks bewildered. It’s a long flight, and I’m aware that I’ll drive Ava crazy if I moan my way across the Atlantic.

We’re halfway into the flight, and I’m well into munching through my second packet of salt and vinegar Pringles before I finally give in to the discontentment of the silence. Something is holding Ava back from congratulating me on walking again, and I have to know what it is.

‘Aren’t you happy for me?’ I ask.

Ava ignores me and continues looking past me and out the window. There isn’t much to see except for the middle of big white fluffy clouds and the odd glimpse of blue sea below, but Ava stares as though she would find the answer to all life’s problems spray-painted by the angels out there somewhere.

‘Ava,’ I call, knocking my shoulder against hers.

‘I am afraid to be happy for you,’ she says softly, drawing her eyes back to meet mine.

‘What does that mean? Why on earth would you be afraid to be happy about anything?’

‘I don’t know what reaction you want from me, Laura. And if I give you the wrong one, I’m afraid you’ll totally flip out at me like you do with everyone else.’

My fingers begin to twitch as though they have an independent mind, and I can’t stop them. Have I really become such a bitch that people are actually watching what they say around me?

‘I’m happy for you every time you walk,’ Ava finally says.

Ava closes her tired eyes, turns her back to me, and prepares to drift off to sleep.

‘Every time?’ I ask, almost spraying a mouthful of soggy crisps at her.

Ava shoots up to sit straight and rubs her tired eyes. She obviously realises what she just said and tries to backpedal. It’s no good. My mind has jammed on her words. Nothing is going to take my mind off it.

Ava’s cheeks flush and she looks as though her body temperature has risen by ten degrees and is still climbing. Delicate beads of perspiration gather on the edges of her forehead.

‘I was being sarcastic,’ she says. ‘Sorry, I know it was inappropriate. I was just trying to be funny.’

‘Yeah. Fucking. Right,’ I spit. This time the wall of crisps stands no chance of remaining confined to my lips. Slightly chewed crumbs project forward and hit the man sitting in front of me directly in the back of the head. I imagine he’s furious as he unfolds a tissue and begins to wipe away the mess. His wife turns around to investigate. I apologise meekly and politely tolerate the long rant she throws at me. I cross my fingers that she won’t call the air hostess. I’m so fragile the thoughts of a further telling off churn my stomach. Thankfully, she finally accepts my grovelling and turns back around.

I’m ready to continue interrogating Ava, but she’s fallen asleep. She looks as peaceful as a baby does. I know she’s pretending; when she really sleeps, she snores as loudly as the purring engine of a Formula One car.

‘Ava, please? So many people have lied to me recently. I never thought you’d be one of those people . Please, I’m begging you. Just tell me?’

‘This isn’t the first time you’ve remembered how to walk. Okay!,’ Ava growls without opening her eyes.

‘Okay.’ Her words cut through the air and hit me like a blunt knife twisting in my gut. I don’t know what explanation I was waiting for. Or what explanation would have made sense, but it certainly wasn’t that.

‘That doesn’t make any sense. Ava, please? I need more. I need to know more. I feel like I’m losing my mind here.’ I exhale sharply through closed teeth. ‘Where’s the air hostess. Fuck, I need wine!’

‘See, this is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘How can I believe that?’

‘Easy. You believe it because it’s the truth. I’m your best friend and the person putting my neck on the line to help you. You asked me not to lie, yeah?’

I nod.

‘Well, I’m not lying. Simple as.’

Her expression promises me she’s being honest, but my head just won’t accept something so unrealistic.
What am I supposed to say?

‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. By the time this plane lands, you will have passed out at some point and not only will you forget having walked today, but you'll also forget this conversation ever happened. You always do, Laura.’

‘No. That won’t happen,’ I shout forgetting the limited confines of the plane. ‘I’m never getting back in that fucking chair again. Never.’

The familiar feelings of temper and confusion swirl around my body like a cyclone too powerful to escape. I feel darkness creep over me, and I’m afraid to blink. I don’t believe Ava. I just don’t. But something is screaming at me from inside not to rule out her theory. If I let myself fall asleep, then I may never get this close to an answer again. I’ll just rest my eyes. I won’t fall asleep.
I won’t fall asleep.

Muddled memories shoot around my head bringing with them a crippling headache. I press the palms of my hands against my aching temples; fanning my shaking fingers across my head, I softly stroke my hair. It’s almost metaphorical as though my fingertips are scratching away the dark soil that buries my memories. I concentrate hard and tightly grip hold of any tiny clue I’ve unearthed. I cement it to my mind and scrutinise every detail before it breaks away from me and I risk forgetting all over again.

My first recollection is the night of the ball. I was distraught as I waited alone on the dark road. I remember losing my temper, and the teenagers jeering me. I was furious. A strange and overwhelming emotion had swept over me. I wasn’t in control. Anger was a powerful strength and I had no desire or ability to stop it. I had somehow conjured the ability to physically run across the road to attack the group.

I bow my head. The memory is flooding my senses now, and it hurts. It crushes my chest and my lungs ache beneath the weight of my thoughts.

They called me a freak. Of course, they did because I am one. I make a mockery of paralysis. Even a group of dysfunctional teenagers could see how disgusting my behaviour was. Seeing it play out, I disgusted myself. Was I always suppressing the ability to walk? Or, was I lacking the capability to without an explosive surge of adrenaline? Either way, something is drastically wrong with me.

Next, I remember spilling my drink on Nicole. God, I was vicious.
That’s not me. And if it is, it’s not who I want to be.

My hand covers my mouth. I don’t want to know any more. I don’t want to remember any more. But now I can’t stop. My thoughts are an out of control hurricane in my mind, and there is nowhere to hide.

I remember standing in the hallway of my house. I was screaming. It scratched my throat. It was directed at Nicole. I wanted her to leave. Ava was there, too. I reached for the picture frame from the wall, grabbed it, and flung it at them. I was trying to hurt them. On purpose. I shake my head gently from side to side and pull my mind back to the here and now.

‘Oh, Ava, I’m so sorry,’ I apologise, turning awkwardly to look at her. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’

‘It’s okay,’ Ava whispers, half asleep. ‘I know you never mean it. Anyway, I’m kind of used to it by now.’

I giggle a little at first and try to turn it into a real laugh, but it doesn’t work. I’m not sure which is worse – the fact I’ve viciously attacked my best friend or the fact I’ve done it so often Ava can laugh about it now. I remember lots from the past. I’ve wanted memories for so long. I’ve waited for this moment; I’ve prayed for it. But now that it’s finally here, I wish so hard it would go away. I’m unravelling a monster. Maybe Mark isn’t so wrong to want to be rid of me.
Maybe Mark isn’t the bad guy
, I think. Perhaps getting rid of me is his attempt to protect our children from the freak I’ve become. But I would never hurt them. No matter how frustrated I ever become, I would never take it out on the children.
Would I?
I don’t recognise myself, how can I expect anyone else to understand me?

More memories seep from my brain. It’s like a leaky tap inside my head, and I can’t turn it off. I hold my breath as if it will save me from the horror before my closed eyes. If I don’t breathe, then I don’t exist. Time will stop with my lack of oxygen, I hope. And it helps for a moment. For a moment, there is only darkness. But I give in to my body’s desire for air, inhale deeply, and brace myself.

I remember Mark rushing down from upstairs to protect Nicole, but it only heightened my furious rage. I caught the expensive Waterford Crystal frame from the shelf and aimed straight for him. It shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces as it collides with the timber floor. The jagged pieces of glass sparkled as they dotted across the picture of our wedding that had been dislodged from the frame in the fall.

‘Am I crazy?’ I ask shaking my head.

‘No.’ Ava turns her whole body to face me. ‘You’re just struggling. That’s all.’

‘Do you think it’s whatever drugs Mark gave me? Do you think that’s why I lose control?’

My desperation is obvious, and my eyes silently plead with Ava to agree with me. I need her to blame Mark, too. I need to know I am not crazy. I need Mark to be responsible for the mess I’m in because I can’t deal with it if it’s my own fault.

‘I don’t know what the answer is,’ Ava admits sadly, ‘but that’s what we’re going to New York for. We won’t leave until we know all the answers, okay?’

‘Okay.’ I nod.