When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (13 page)

Totally Thai made authentic and delicious food, but the décor was terrible – mismatched furniture, including plastic garden chairs at some tables – not even the tablecloths or cutlery matched. I thought about the contrast to
Circular
and it was a stark reminder of how different Molly and I were.

I suppose I was so used to the setting that I hadn’t really thought about how tawdry it was compared to the culinary opulence that Molly was used to. I’d wanted more to blow her away with the fresh, delicious food and the personalised service. As I stood there watching her, I felt momentarily unsure of my choice of venue – but even as I acknowledged this, a stubborn determination rose in me.

This was who I was. This was a place I liked to go, and a place where I felt comfortable. I couldn’t change the way she reacted to Totally Thai, or even my house when we visited after lunch. She would either deal with this glimpse into my life, or she wouldn’t. I wanted
her to enjoy our day together. I wanted her to enjoy the window into my world. But even if she didn’t, I wasn’t going to shy away from showing it to her. I was proud of who I was, and I was actually proud to be exposing a different side of Sydney to Molly. She had been sheltered long enough, and even she knew it.

‘Never judge a book by its cover, right?’ She flashed me a smile, but it was unconvincing.

‘Not everything worth having in life comes wrapped in a fancy package,’ I shrugged nonchalantly. The owner waved to indicate we should join her at a table, and although I knew she wanted me to be discreet in public, I slipped my arm around Molly’s waist.

L
eo thinks
that this little trip down memory lane is going well. By the time we’ve finished our coffees and gone for a relaxed wander through the Botanic Gardens nearby, he’s remembered all the way up to the end of that night. I know when he remembers going back to my apartment after dinner because he suddenly stops pushing the wheelchair and says, ‘Oh!’

The expression on his face is one that I know all too well. I giggle a little as he exhales and shakes his head in disbelief.

‘You were amazing that night.’

‘You did okay yourself,’ I say.

‘Is it just me or is it hot out here?’ He does look a little flushed and I laugh.

‘God, Leo, if this is how you react when you remember that night, wait till you remember the honeymoon!’

‘I can’t wait for
that
one.’

On our way back to the rehab clinic, Leo takes my hand and holds it tightly against his thigh. He stares out the window, but his thumb brushes against the back of my hand. I watch the movement for a while, soothed somehow by that familiar, tender gesture, then I glance at his face. He’s lost in thought, and I’m torn right down the middle. Reliving these moments with him is so painful for me, and with his memories returning so easily I know that this brief period of renewed closeness will end soon. But suddenly I’m grateful for this time with Leo. Every second I can have with him like this, I will greedily take for myself and I will hold these new memories close to my heart long after I’ve lost him all over again.

‘What are you thinking?’ he turns to me suddenly, and I feel myself flush. Even that question is so familiar and so lost that it causes a physical pain in my chest.

‘You used to ask me that all the time,’ I whisper.

‘Why did I stop?’

You don’t want to hear the answer anymore
. ‘I guess you don’t need to ask these days,’ I say. Leo smiles at me and squeezes my hand. ‘Thanks for today. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Do you think we can visit the terrace?’

‘The terrace? But you’ll only be able to see the ground floor.’

‘I’m worried about how you fit a dishwasher in my kitchen,’ he mutters, and I laugh.

‘Okay, Leo. We can visit the terrace. Lucien will be glad to see you anyway.’

A
fter the renewed
closeness during the afternoon I find that when the night draws in, I don’t want to say goodbye to Leo. On some level, I do understand that this is
not
my real husband – this is a temporary version of him: one not shaped by the years that have passed because he has momentarily forgotten about them. But this version of Leo still loves me, and it’s a version of him that I still love. He will go soon enough as the memories return, and my anger and my disappointment will definitely resurge as the real Leo emerges. But for now, I find excuses to stay at the rehabilitation centre with him until late in the evening. He convinces a nurse to find a spare meal for me and we have a ‘romantic date’ in his room.

‘This is awesome,’ I say, when I sit down with my hospital-food tray on my lap.

‘It’s not exactly Circular.’

‘It’ll do for now,’ I say. ‘It’s much better than whatever I would have ordered in at home.’

‘When I get home, I’m going to cook you a soufflé.’

‘A
soufflé
?’

‘There’s a class here next week as part of the occupational therapy programme. I think it’s actually meant for people who have trouble with cognition and sequencing or something, but I’m going anyway – I’m going to learn, and then when I’m released, I’m going to cook you the best damned soufflé you’ve ever eaten to say thanks for everything you’ve done for me lately.’

‘Just getting you home will be thanks enough.’

‘I wonder if I’ll be home by December?’

December feels a long way away. I frown at him. ‘I really hope so. But why December?’

Leo shakes his head at me in feigned disappointment. ‘
Now
who’s forgotten our anniversary?’

A
fter lunch
, we walked the remaining blocks to my terrace. The traffic faded as we moved deeper into residential territory until we were on the jacaranda-lined streets around my home.

‘What did you think of the restaurant?’ I asked Molly.

‘I think you enjoyed watching me squirm,’ she said. I glanced at her and grinned. She thumped me hard in the chest. ‘But the food
was
good – great, even. So we’re going to your place now?’

‘Right. It’s just around the corner.’

As we turned into my street, Molly’s eyes immediately flew to the public housing tower that loomed above it. The tower was a startling landmark among the terraces in the area – twenty storeys of depressing grey cement that housed hundreds of low-income families.

‘That’s not where Dec…’ Molly said suddenly.

‘No. It was in a similar building, but a few blocks south.’ I stopped at my steps. ‘But this is me.’

I walked up past the small veranda and unlocked the front door. Molly trailed her hand over my chest as she went in, and then curved it around my waist. She raised her face towards me, as if she was going to kiss me, but then Lucien came skidding into the living room just before us. At this she released me altogether to crouch down towards him.

‘You are just beautiful,’ she murmured.

Lucien approached her, sniffing carefully, and Molly leant forward to pat him.

‘He takes a while to warm to new people,’ I warned her. But Lucien’s caution suddenly disappeared, and his tail started wagging at top speed. He brushed himself past her, wound his way around my legs, and then returned to lick Molly’s hands. She stood up and looked around. ‘This is nice. Do I get the guided tour?’

I walked towards her and entwined our hands. ‘First stop is the kitchen. I know you have one in your house too, but this one actually gets used.’

‘What an odd concept,’ she laughed.

‘It’s small,’ I said. ‘But it works. The laundry and a bathroom are through that door.’

She released my hand to lean on the kitchen bench and peer out through the window, and when she turned back to me, she was grinning.

‘You have a motorbike?’

‘Yep.’

‘I’ve never been on a bike.’

‘I have a spare helmet,’ I said. I could imagine the feel of her breasts against my back and her arms tight around my waist. ‘Maybe we could go for a ride sometime. My shoulder just needs a few more weeks.’

Molly followed me up the first narrow flight of stairs into my bedroom and the full-sized bathroom. ‘Speaks for itself,’ I said.

She walked lazily towards the windows and pushed back the lace curtains I’d inherited with the house to look out onto the tiny veranda. ‘It must be amazing to sit out there when the jacarandas are in bloom.’

‘Yeah, for a while each summer the view from that veranda looks like a postcard.’

‘And the top floor?’

‘That’s my office,’ I led the way up the last flight of stairs to my favourite room in the house – my favourite place in the whole world, actually. It was a small room, half the size of the floors which housed the bedroom and living areas, and the east-facing wall featured a large peaked window that gave a view of the top of the jacaranda tree outside.

‘This room is
beautiful
.’

‘I like it.’

‘I’m starting to think you might like reading.’

‘What gives you that idea?’ I said wryly, and she released me to walk further into the room. I’d lined three of the four walls with bookshelves, and every space on every shelf was taken. My desk was in the centre of the room, facing towards the window, and beside it sat a comfortable but rather unattractive recliner I’d picked up at a charity shop when I was at uni. Molly wandered along the bookshelves, surveying my eclectic collection of travel books and novels and autobiographies.

‘Sometimes I think it would have been better if the bedroom and the office were reversed. I’ve probably overloaded this floor, maybe it’ll crash down on me while I sleep one night.’

‘Imagine that. You spend your entire life dodging bullets in the field but it’s your bookworm side that will get you killed.’ She laughed, and then turned to face me. ‘I really don’t know what you were so worried about, Leo. Your place is nice. It’s quaint.’ I raised an eyebrow at her. ‘It
is
,’ she insisted. ‘It’s a really cool little house.’

‘Want to head back downstairs and get better acquainted with my mutt? He’s due a walk.’

‘Not
more
walking,’ she groaned and shook her head. ‘No way, Leo! Let’s go downstairs and you can make me a coffee and I’ll sit and pat him.’

I
t felt
strange having Molly Torrington sitting in my living area while I cooked dinner that night; stranger still that she and Lucien appeared to be bonding so quickly. I’d convinced her to walk him to the park with me, but as soon as we returned home she’d kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch with the remote in her hand.

‘What do you want to watch?’

‘I don’t really…’

‘I was talking to Lucien,’ she interrupted me with a laugh. ‘I could tell you wouldn’t have an opinion purely from the amount of dust on this remote control. What do you do to relax?’

‘I don’t watch rubbish on TV, that’s for sure.’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on.
The Bachelor
is on tonight – will you watch it with me?’

‘What’s
The Bachelor
?’ I said. I was joking but I needn’t have bothered, given that Molly missed my pitiful attempt at humour anyway.

‘
Leo
! For such a well-travelled man you’re remarkably naive about the things that really matter.’

We watched the evening news – and then when the theme music to the reality TV show started Molly squealed in excitement. ‘I love this show!’

‘I wish you’d told me that
before
I slept with you,’ I sighed, and she laughed. She settled into my arms and then Lucien jumped onto the couch and made a place for himself, his head on her lap.

‘I’m only letting you sit there to impress Molly,’ I told him.

‘I’m already impressed,’ she said and turned back to brush a kiss over my lips.

I realised that I was in over my head with Molly when she convinced me to sit through an entire hour of reality TV. It was mind-numbing; the only entertaining aspect to the experience at all was her heart-felt explanations as to the background of what I was seeing in the show.

‘You’re an educated, cosmopolitan woman. A career woman,’ I said, during an ad break.

‘Yes.’

‘And the idea of a group of women all competing for the attention of a man just to win television ratings isn’t offensive to you? Even
I
want to storm that mansion and stage an intervention.’

‘It’s all good fun.’

‘But it’s demeaning.’

‘It’s all good fun, Leo,’ she repeated. ‘Those girls are getting exactly what they want – fifteen minutes of fame. No one is getting hurt. Lighten up, will you?’

‘But don’t you think that as a society…’

‘Leo, the ad break is over and now you need to be quiet again so I can explain to you what the rose ceremony is,’ she told me. I laughed, and heard the echo of her laughter too. ‘You just need to watch it some more and you’ll get it, I’m sure of it.’ When the credits rolled, Molly sat up and grinned at me expectantly.

‘Well, what did you think?’ she asked, when it was over.

I burst out laughing. ‘Well, I enjoyed having you here more than I hated the show so let’s call it a success but next time I might read while you watch it.’

‘Next time,’ she repeated softly, and playfully leant in to kiss me, which soon took on an urgent, passionate edge that wasn’t to be deterred. She pulled impatiently at the bottom of my shirt, feeling for the bare skin of my chest.

‘Do you really want to stay here tonight?’

‘Just try and get rid of me at this point,’ she muttered. She threw my shirt over my shoulder then surveyed my chest and arms as her eyes grew darker. I caught her face in my hands and kissed her. Lucien slid off the couch and walked towards the back door, shooting a look our way as he passed.

‘Come upstairs,’ Molly commanded softly. She tugged on my hand, and I rose to follow her. As we climbed the stairs, I thought how much I liked having her in my house. I knew she was out of place there in my very ordinary surroundings, just as I was in her startlingly luxurious home. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.

On Monday morning when it was time for Molly to leave, I kissed her at the door. When she took a step away towards the town car at the kerb, I caught her hand and drew her back for one last lingering kiss.

‘Text me?’ she whispered.

‘Can I call you instead?’

‘Okay, Grandpa,’ she teased. ‘Why don’t you just send me a telegram? Or a note via carrier pigeon?’

‘I’ll text you,’ I promised. I kissed her one last time, then watched as she left. The second her car was out of my sight, I missed her. I wouldn’t interrupt her work day, and I knew she wouldn’t interrupt mine, but the minute I left my office that afternoon I was going to find out when I could see her again.

F
our amazing weeks
passed before I was cleared to return to the field. But for the distraction of Molly, it would have been a frustrating, maddening time. But while I was grounded, those weeks belonged only to Molly and me. We didn’t talk about our relationship – we didn’t need to. We just enjoyed each other’s company. That was okay, and it was more than enough.

During that time no one in the world knew about us. We were ensconced in a bubble of necessary secrecy, and the isolation of that was the catalyst for an intense intimacy. When Molly had finished her long working day, and I’d finished mine and spent some time at the gym, we’d find our way to each other and the day would finally come alive.

As our affection grew, we were increasingly cautious about being seen too much in public together. On some occasions when I wanted to wow her with a romantic date, my options for planning generally extended only as far as to where to get takeaway food and how to find a suitably private venue where we could share it. And there were time constraints too – Molly worked insanely long hours, starting early and finishing late every single week day.

She communicated with me a lot with damned text messages, her words drenched with emoticons and punctuated with string of x’s and o’s that grew or shrank depending on how her day had been. So I had to compromise a little, and then I compromised a lot – until eventually we were in one continuous text conversation throughout the working day. I’d scroll back up the history every now and again and stare at it incredulously, unable to believe I had finally succumbed to a hated technology that I’d resisted for so long. Each time I did, I’d feel grateful – the text string was a visual reminder of her presence in my life – the silly icons a reminder of her affection.

It’s a remarkable thing to be a part of a connection that is so satisfying that you feel lucky whenever you consider it. This made me want to try harder and to be better – I wanted to bring my A-game to every hour with Molly.

Sometimes, I struggled to find a balance between offering her support and challenging her about her relationship with her father. There was no doubt that she was unhappy with the direction her career was taking, but I could see that she actually revered Laith as much as she resented him; I could also see that she was too afraid of losing his approval to admit that last part even to herself.

The day that I was finally cleared to return to the field, I saw the doctor at lunchtime and Brad and I had flights booked to return to Libya by the time I’d left the office. I texted Molly to tell her and she suggested we meet for dinner at Totally Thai
to celebrate. Afterwards, we shared a bottle of wine on the balcony off my bedroom.

We had only had a handful of nights apart in the month we’d had together, but as my trip drew near, I almost regretted allowing so many nights with her in a row. I wasn’t used to missing someone, and I was almost nervous at the thought. Molly didn’t seem at all concerned about the impending change to the way things were. Was she ready for a break from the somewhat full-on relationship we’d tumbled into, or did she not understand what my trip would mean for us?

I wasn’t sure which alternative was worse, so I put off a discussion until late on Sunday afternoon and then I tried to make it a casual, natural conversation as I packed my suitcase.

‘I have a satellite phone,’ I said quietly. ‘But…’

‘I know you won’t call me,’ Molly said. I glanced at her and she shrugged. ‘I get it.’

‘I
might
call. I just can’t promise it.’

‘It’s fine. And it’s only for a few weeks anyway, right?’

‘Most likely. I’ll let you know if that changes.’

‘So no texting, huh?’

I smiled at her as I dropped a flak jacket into my case. ‘You’ll have to find someone else to text forty times a day for the next little while.’

‘Forty times a day!’ she repeated, flattening her palm against her chest in mock outrage. ‘You exaggerate. It’s rarely more than thirty-five.’

‘You can email me. I’ll make sure I check it every few days. I’ll write back when I can.’

‘And when you get back?’

‘When I get back…’

‘What will it look like? Do you think this is the start of frequent trips?’

‘Yes.’

‘How regular?’

‘It depends. If it disintegrates into a full-blown civil war, I’ll probably spend a lot of time there until it resolves.’

‘So what are we talking? Five trips a year? Ten?’

I thought about this as I retrieved my ballistic vests and rested them over my clothes in the suitcase. I glanced at Molly hesitantly before I answered. ‘Last year, I was in the field for nine months.’

I saw the shock on her face and I turned back to the wardrobe, feeling a flush creeping up my neck. The conversation was necessary, but I didn’t want to have it; I wanted to pretend that this was a one-off, and that in a few weeks’ time I’d return to Sydney and we could resume an easy togetherness. I withdrew my helmet and gas mask from the drawers and when I turned back to the bed, Molly was staring at them in horror.