When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (5 page)

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ I say. There’s a tremor in my voice. Leo watches me silently. ‘I’m telling you about the anniversaries that you missed because you were on assignment, and you’re already wondering what stories you were working on. You’ve just woken from a coma and you can’t move your legs or remember a thing about your life three weeks ago, but you’re already thinking about getting back to work. Right?’

There’s silence for a moment, then Leo murmurs, ‘And yet, you’re still here.’ An expression of bewildered wonder suddenly crosses his face as he stares at me. ‘I must be the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet.’

I stare at him blankly. We have had arguments about his work so many times I couldn’t even guess the number of them and I am bone-weary of the fight. I have been
crushed
by this – all of my hopes for our future together ground to dust by this very problem and the fury of us each trying to figure it out. But now, without the memories of those previous fights, Leo has gone off-script and I don’t know what to say. He’s supposed to argue about how important his work is, and I’m supposed to argue back that I’m important too – and then we each get riled up, and the yelling turns to screaming and the bitterness rises in each of us and drowns everything else out.

This very argument ruined the best thing in my life and I’m still grieving for what might have been. And now, far too late, Leo has inadvertently suggested that it doesn’t need to end the way it always did. A tiny glimmer of gratitude like that could have changed everything.

I’m annoyed to look up and find that he is still staring at me, his gaze searching. My irritation is not his fault because he can’t even remember marrying
me, let alone anything that came after, but then again, it is his fault, all of it, and I’m still angry and I’m still hurting. I can’t stand the eye contact for more than a second, so I wrap my arms around my chest and frown at the floor.

‘The skull fracture must have done more damage than they realised,’ I mutter. ‘This is not how our arguments go.’

‘How
do
they go?’

‘They quickly escalate to yelling.’

‘My head still hurts too much for yelling. How about I promise that this year, not only will I be in the right country for our anniversary, but I’ll organise something appropriately romantic and sufficiently meaningful to undo the damage I did the first few years?’

This is more familiar. When I’m upset, Leo has always had a tendency to make promises he won’t keep.

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ I sigh, and then in a clumsy shift of topic that Leo is apparently happy to allow, ask him, ‘How’s the breakfast?’

‘Amazing, although I’m still going to let you bring me some proper food later in the day if you really insist on doing so.’

I laugh weakly. ‘Okay. I’ll go out later if you like.’

‘Actually, why don’t you go back to your hotel and have a shower and a decent nap, and come back when you’re ready?’

Automatically I shake my head. I don’t want to leave him. I feel I need to stay in case he needs me – there’s no one else here who knows him. I move to argue, but instead a yawn creeps up on me and I try to stifle it.

Leo looks at me pointedly and says, ‘I’ll be okay for a while.’

‘Are you telling me I look terrible?’ I reach for my messy fringe and pat it self-consciously.

‘You look beautiful. I still can’t believe for even a second you’d marry someone like me.’ The compliment and his self-derisive comment are so unexpected that they undo me altogether and the tears rise. This time they won’t be stopped. I blink compulsively and then stand and turn away from him, hoping he won’t notice. He gently touches my back. ‘I was trying to make a joke, Molly. I’m sorry.’

‘You’ve always been terrible at jokes.’ I give up on my quest to hide the tears. One escapes and runs down to my chin and I wipe at it with the back of my hand. ‘I’m just tired, and well…’ I shrug and turn back to the bed and cover his left hand with mine. I squeeze his fingers gently. ‘It’s just so good to have you back, Leo.’

Leo turns his hand over and links his fingers through mine, and his hand contracts. It’s another automatic gesture, I’m sure, but I can see the very slight hesitance in his face after he’s made it – an internal battle between who he knows me to be – a stranger – and who he is being told I am – his wife. He’s probably thinking that he will feel more comfortable about me once his memory returns, and now I feel entirely guilty that he’s about to discover the opposite. A second tear runs down my face.

‘Get out of here,’ he says. ‘Go rest. I’m okay, I promise.’

‘Okay,’ I whisper, and then release his hand and move away from him. He watches silently as I pick up my handbag and walk to the door, where I hesitate again. He’s only been awake for a day. What if he takes a turn for the worse and I’m asleep?

‘
Go
!’ he says the word with feigned exasperation, and I nod and leave the room.

I do desperately need sleep – I’m going to need my wits about me to get through this.

I
have always hated
text messaging. I hate the lack of context and tone, and the abbreviations and spelling mistakes that seem rife with the medium. But I had spent the entire day after that discussion in the park feeling a confused mix of guilt and concern for Molly Torrington and I didn’t want to crowd her. As darkness fell, I looked up her number and sent her a message.
I hope you’re okay after this morning, Molly. Leo
.

Her response came before the phone was even out of my hands.
I’m really sorry I’ve made you drag all of this up. I appreciate your honesty with me. There’s not really anyone I can talk to about this and I think it’s going to take some time to process.
I read her message a few times and then it struck me that for all the times I’d asked myself,
what would Declan have me do?
in the last twenty-four hours, this time at least, the answer was obvious:
You can talk to me about it whenever you need to.

The truth was, I wanted to talk more about it, and that was quite a shocking realisation. The night Declan died, when I finally left the hospital and arrived back at my apartment, the silence had been suffocating. I tried to sleep but couldn’t, and eventually went to my parents’ house. Dad and Mum both got up and I told them the news, and they tried to offer me condolences but I just couldn’t explain my grief to them, or give voice to the terrible guilt I felt. After that, I’d never really spoken about it again. It had been too shocking and too raw at first, then life moved on and I put it behind me.

Molly didn’t reply straight away to my offer of a further chat, and I put the phone down and went into my kitchen to scout around for some food. When I heard the text tone sound, I wandered back to scan the screen.
Do you have plans tonight?

W
e met back
at the café, but this time I actually paid attention to it as I approached. It was the kind of hipster inner-city place I’d normally avoid. Nestled in a cobblestone laneway up a steep hill, and decorated with odd placements of vintage items, it was populated with exceedingly trendy young people.

Molly was sitting at a table by the front window. When I approached, she was reading something on her phone and for the first time I had a chance to look at her properly. This adult Molly, for all of her career success, seemed somehow fragile – or perhaps it was just the circumstances we were meeting under.

‘I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I’ve taken up way too much of your time already today,’ Molly grimaced at me as I sat opposite her. I pointed to my sling.

‘I’m not allowed to work, I can’t type, I can’t work out – I am literally sitting at home counting down the hours until I’m well again, so if you had to take up a bunch of my time, this
was
the time to do it.’

‘I can’t believe you got shot. And that it doesn’t seem to be a big deal to you at all.’

‘If you go into a war zone people are going to shoot at you or at least
near
you at some point, so…’ I shrugged. ‘It would be ridiculous to moan about it.’

‘Is this the first time you’ve been shot?’

‘The first time?’ I repeated, and then laughed softly. ‘No, this would be the third time. How are you doing after this morning?’ I changed the subject.

‘Honestly?’ she sighed and massaged her forehead with both hands. ‘I’m torn. I’m devastated that he had to go through all of that. And I’m both enraged by and sympathetic to Mum and Dad’s decision to keep it all a secret. Dec had a problem, it beat him. It’s not fair, but it happens and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘I’m pretty sure your dad was always thinking Declan would turn a corner at some point and he didn’t want the board to find out and hold Dec’s problems against him. It didn’t seem to matter how messy your brother’s life got, Laith was always expecting better of him.’ I could barely believe I was defending Laith Torrington, but I had at least partly sympathised with the man.

‘But that’s the problem, isn’t it? He does the same bloody thing with me.’ Molly’s face contorted and she ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. ‘He can delegate the most complicated, difficult project to me and I take it and make it a success. And when he looks over what I’ve done, all he sees are the flaws – he’s always expecting me to do a better job. There is no such thing as “good enough” for my father––’ Molly broke off suddenly and picked the menu up. She stared at it for a long time, but when she spoke again the anger and frustration were entirely gone from her voice. She’d pushed them down into some internal compartment and sealed the lid. ‘I’m starved. Do you want to eat?’

We ordered our meals, and while we waited for them, Molly prodded me for more details about my adventures in the field. As I spoke, she listened closely. I’d seen this same reaction from women I’d dated – a keen interest and fascination was usually the first response to the ‘danger’ aspect of my work.

The second response was hesitation, and the third was fear. I’d had a lot of special women in my life over the years, but that pattern of how those relationships progressed was inevitably consistent. It was one of the reasons why I’d long since decided that I’d never marry.

After a while I turned the conversation back to her job.

‘I read an article about you once,’ I told her quietly. ‘It sounds like you’re actually very good at what you do at TM.’

‘I am,’ she said easily. ‘I work hard and I learn quickly.’

‘Were you always going to work for the family business?’

‘No.’

‘Well, what were you going to do?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t have a plan. I thought maybe I might start my own business one day. But then…’ she sighed and shrugged. ‘Then Declan died and everything changed.’

‘You’re only working for TM because Dec died?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise. She grimaced again.

‘I had been studying in Manhattan, but I transferred back to uni here in Sydney. Mum and Dad seemed to really need me close and that made sense. Then once I was back, Dad assumed I’d go to work with him when I graduated. At first, I thought I’d bide my time and eventually tell him I’d decided to do something else. But then I
did
graduate and I didn’t have the heart to hurt him. Plus, what difference does it make, really? I’m either working at TM, or I’m working somewhere else. It’s the same at the end of the day.’

‘Is it?’

Molly paused, then she sighed.

‘No, it’s not.’

‘So, what would you be doing if Dec was still here?’

‘That’s part of the problem. I think if I’d had a firm plan – you know, something I
really
wanted to do – it would have been easier to let Dad down. But I didn’t. And Dad so wanted to pass the mantle to one of his kids… There was only one set of shoulders left to take it on.’

‘One set of
Torrington
shoulders,’ I corrected her. ‘There are probably tens of millions of people in the world who could successfully lead your company. You’re not
that
special.’

She laughed softly and shrugged.

‘Maybe. But Dad doesn’t see it that way.’

‘You can’t live your whole life pleasing your father.’

‘It seems to be working okay so far.’

‘Is it?’ I asked again, but this time I saw the way her brow wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. I’d clearly stepped way over a line with that comment, so I held up my palms towards her in surrender. ‘Sorry, I know it’s none of my business.’

‘I made it your business by talking about it,’ she muttered. The waiter brought our meals and I looked down at the pork fillet I’d ordered and realised I was going to have to take my sling off to cut it. As I started shifting my arm around to wiggle out of the sling, Molly leant forward.

‘I can cut that if you like.’

‘
No!
But, thanks.’ I winced. ‘I can cut my own food, it’s fine.’ I struggled out of the sling and cut the entire meal methodically, then glanced at her as I slipped my arm back into the sling. She was watching me, a half-smile on her face.

‘That’s funny?’ I said, raising my eyebrows at her.

‘That stubborn independent streak is funny. It’s such a
man
thing to do. You obviously caused yourself pain while you cut the food just to avoid accepting help that would have been easy for me to give you.’

‘It’s about dignity.’

‘It’s about stupid male pride and ego,’ Molly muttered in response, and I set down my fork to stare at her. ‘Did I upset you when I asked you about working for your dad?’

Molly surprised me. She paused and frowned, but then she laughed suddenly and nodded. ‘I suppose you did; given I’ve automatically flipped over into insult mode. I’m really sorry, that was completely uncalled for, especially after how kind you’ve been to me today. What can I say – I can be a defensive bitch sometimes. You didn’t deserve that.’

Something about the flooding smile she offered disarmed the bristle that she’d caused and the tension dissipated in an instant because I couldn’t help but smile back.

‘As long as you don’t literally shoot me I think I can handle it,’ I said, and we laughed quietly together before Molly went back to her food.

‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ she said quietly.

‘Only one thing?’

‘Okay, there are dozens of things, but one thing in particular that you might be able to explain,’ she said wryly. ‘Why did you stay friends with Declan? My father was a complete arse to you, wasn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’ That was something of an understatement. Laith had made me feel decidedly unwelcome from the first visit I made to the Torrington mansion, right up until the times I’d seen him at industry functions in more recent years. Even a decade after we last spoke, he still made a habit of boring holes in me with his death-stare whenever we were in the same room.

‘And Dec?’ Molly added. ‘From what you’ve told me today, he was hard work as a friend.’ She smiled at me but there was so much sadness in her eyes. I set down my fork and leant in a little as I said quietly, ‘You know, Molly, that question is exactly why I told you this morning to focus on the good things you know about him. The human side to your brother was remarkable. He was one of the most generous, genuine people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.’

‘Tell me about that side to him then,’ she prompted. ‘I mean – he was a great brother, but I’m not sure I’d ever have thought of him as generous – and genuine? How does that work given what you told me today? It sounds like he was living a lie for most of his adult life.’

I hadn’t intended to tell her any other secrets about Declan, but there was a cynicism in her voice when she spoke about him and it stung me to realise that I’d put it there. Plus, I really wanted to show her that my ‘stupid male pride and ego’ could actually accept help when I needed it. And so I set down my fork and I looked at her as I told her a story about her brother that I’d never shared before.

‘We met in our first semester at uni and at the time my living situation wasn’t ideal. I was living with my mother and she was at a real low point. Anyway, eventually Dec came to visit me at home. I’m sure he’d never seen anything like where we were living – a public housing unit in one of those huge towers in Redfern. Back then those places were dangerous and uncomfortable. I’d seen
your
house so there was no way I wanted him to see where I lived but he kept asking and eventually I had him around…’ It was an uncomfortable memory. Mum had hit a real slump when my biological father finally left, and it had taken her a few years to find herself again. Meanwhile, I was trying to find my place at uni and working two part-time jobs to get some money behind me, and not at all sure if I was up to the task of juggling it all.

‘Did Dec give you money?’

‘Not directly,’ I said, and then I laughed. ‘I would have been mortified if he’d offered and that probably would have been the end of our friendship. But the Dean called me into her office late in that first semester, and she told me that I’d been “selected” for a scholarship. Within a few weeks I had enough income coming in that I could live independently while I finished my degree. It was an embarrassingly long time later that I realised my “scholarship” was personally funded by your brother. Although he always denied it – the Dean admitted it when I finally graduated.’ I picked up my fork again and pushed the food around the plate for a moment, then admitted, ‘I just don’t know if I could have finished uni without that money. And if I hadn’t… Well, there was this whole other world around me then that would have sucked me back in. I’d been in a lot of trouble in my early teens and the vultures were already circling. If I’d slipped back into that lifestyle, it would have changed everything. My life would look completely different now.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Molly said as she frowned at me. ‘Twenty minutes ago you were telling me nonchalantly about getting shot in the pursuit of your career. Would you really have let money stop you?’

My immediate reaction was to rip that statement to pieces. I gave myself a firm mental lecture – trying to remember that Molly had grown up with a kind of privilege that was as blinding as poverty itself could be. And she’d had a very tough day. Her ignorance was not malicious, but it was still infuriating.

‘Money stops people from my background from doing all kinds of things, Molly. When I started uni, I was the first person from my family to do so. If I’d dropped out, the best case scenario for me would have been to find some shitty, menial job and stagnate there for fifty years. The worst-case scenario…’ I shrugged. ‘Well, my other friends weren’t exactly model citizens and our pastimes weren’t always legal. Even if I’d been arrested just once, I’d never have had the freedom to travel the way I do now. It was the dream of this job that kept me out of trouble – but the path from there to here wasn’t exactly well-worn. No one else I knew back then had a professional career – God, half the people I knew had never worked at all.’

‘But if you’re determined enough that you would literally put your life on the line to do this job, time and time again – and talented enough to build the career you’ve achieved – I just don’t understand why you think you would have let anything stop you,’ Molly said quietly.