Losing Liam Page 5

  I reach for the bottle and set it back, before turning to the liquor cabinet instead. Beer won’t do what I need it to do. I grab the bottle of whiskey and unscrew the cap before taking a long swig. The alcohol burns everything inside me. It’s not a good burn, but I don’t care as I take another long sip and feel the heat move down my throat and to my belly where the knotted rope inside me tightens, threatening to never untangle. I shrug. Fuck it, with enough alcohol I’ll just burn it out.

  I fall onto the couch and let my head fall back as the alcohol begins to take effect and the edges start to feel bearable, and my lungs feel like they can breathe again and my heart, well fuck, that bastard is still doing its own thing.

  I keep drinking, just once I’m allowed to be irresponsible and stupid and not think about anyone else other than me.

  And Evie.

  A knot was tangling itself through all my internal organs. I shouldn't have come. It was dangerous and stupid and incredibly selfish of me, but it’s been over three years and I fucking miss her. I’ve never stopped missing her, thinking about her, wondering how she is without me, if she thinks about me or misses me too. The knots tighten and pull me into my core, hunching my shoulders.

  Nessa wiggles in her pram and smiles at passers-by while I stare at her parents’ house. I have no other starting point, no way of knowing where else she might be. Her social profiles are all set to private, and my fake profile can’t see past the few public pictures she has on. She no longer has the two of us set as her profile picture. My heart stuttered the day I saw she changed it. I didn’t want her moving on, even though she deserved to.

  My feet feel cemented to the ground as I keep staring at the house. After spending all those hours on the bus and walking across town, these last few steps should feel the easiest and yet, I can’t seem to take them.

  Nessa gets restless and starts to fight the belts of the pram. I fall on one knee and smile at the beautiful baby girl who has me wrapped so tightly around her tiny finger. “Just a little longer,” I say as I search through the bag, produce a small bag of chips and hand it to her. She grabs it in her chubby hands and squeals in delight just as the door of the house I had been staring at cracks open.

  Three people walk out. My breaths are uneven and my chest feels heavy, as though a weight has been pressed against it, as I recognise the back of Evie’s head. She’s hugging her mother who is telling her how good it was to see her. I know Evie doesn’t feel the same; she’s never really happy to see her mum, given the tumultuous relationship they have.

  When they turn around, my breath leaves me. It’s Evie. She looks good. Her hair has gotten longer, and she wears it loose; she’s in a pair of short jeans and has a black singlet on that shows off her shape. She’s already changed, transformed, the last of her adolescent body vanished and is swallowed up by that of a curvier sexier woman. My hands itch to touch her, wrap themselves around her waist and pull her close, till I can kiss her, but just as I’m about to stand, the man, who I’ve mostly forgotten about or chosen to ignore, wraps his hand around her shoulder. They take the porch steps two at a time, and he whispers something into her ear, making her laugh.

  I freeze. Every part of me turns to ice as I watch him lead her away. Of course she’s moved on. Why wouldn’t she? She is young and beautiful and funny and fucking perfect and coming here was selfish. It was irresponsible and pathetic to think she would wait for me after all this time. He makes her happy, and the thought of someone else doing that stabs at my chest like a thousand blunt swords.

  Nessa notices the shift in my mood, and she reaches out for me. I pull her from the pram, and she wraps her small arms around me, melting some of the ice around my heart. Giving it a new reason to beat. To go on. Evie has moved on. I’ve become the ghost I needed to be when everything went wrong, and now the only thing that matters is this little girl. And she needs me. Evie is fine. Even if I’m not.

  I shake the memory away. It was stupid then and it’s stupid now. After that day, I did everything I could to drown her out. During the day I was Nessa’s dad; I was attentive and loving and gave her what she needed, even if I couldn’t always give her what she wanted. But at night, at night I was a savage broken animal who took his anger and loneliness out on any woman that could stand my alcohol breath and let me fuck her like she was nothing but a hole.

  But living like that couldn’t last, not when you have a kid to look after, not when you have to get up, even if your head wants to explode and your heart is dead. I could stay reckless and throw away everything I had left in a moment of angry denial, or I could grow up and do what was right for Nessa.

  So, I sobered up and got myself qualified, and slowly, over time, I began to feel again. Little moments of joy with Nessa that wound themselves slowly through my veins and thawed out the deep ice that settled inside me. And while I would never be the same, while I could never go back to being careless or purely happy, I could be good. And up until twenty-five minutes ago, I was.

  I take another long swig from my whiskey and let the alcohol burn away my pain.

  Evie

  Rabbit meows somewhere in the house, but I can’t bring myself to get out of this bed and find him, or feed him, or give him whatever comfort he seeks. I’m engulfed by darkness, the weight of my duvet the only thing keeping me down, keeping me from floating away.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  I keep sucking in small gulps of air. Liam is alive. So why do I feel like dying?

  I keep watching the door. Waiting, waiting for him to show up, to walk in, to gift me with one of his beaming smiles and wrap me up in his warm embrace. I keep waiting for him. The clock keeps moving and still I wait and watch and wait like there is nothing else to do. Maybe if I wait long enough, I’ll wake up to find him in the bed, right here next to me where he belongs. Maybe if I keep waiting long enough, this pain will melt away like wax succumbing to a flame. Maybe if I wait long enough, he’ll love me enough to come back and I can stop waiting. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t come back, and I keep waiting my life away.

  There is pounding at the front door, but I’ve learned from experience that if I ignore it long enough it will go away. So I do, and the pounding stops. I lie in the darkness where my thoughts expand and grow as they often do in the dark and the quiet till they threaten to drown my entire world. But in this bubble of darkness, there is no world, only thoughts and memories and so many unfulfilled dreams.

  My ringtone cuts through my wallowing, and just like the pounding, I want to ignore it, but I know this ringtone and I know that I can’t ignore it. She will just keep ringing till I pick up, and if I don’t, inevitably, she’ll show up.

  My hand slinks under the duvet and into the world and blindly feels for the phone. I grab it and the light blinds my eyes as I pull it back under the blanket and into my dark cocoon.

  “Evie?” She sounds annoyed. There’s a surprise.

  “Hi, Mum.” I barely recognise my own voice.

  “What’s wrong?” I recognise her tone and clear my throat. The last thing I need is her showing up thinking I’m not well.

  “Nothing, just a tickle, must have been that rain.”

  She huffs before getting on. “There are men outside the property. They’ve come to remove the tree. They say they’ve been knocking…”

  “Yeah, I was just about to—”

  “Now, about that.”

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  “I want you to stay at the property till they finish fixing up the house.”

  “Mum—”

  “I’ve already spoken to Shelly, she said you can have another week off—”

  “You spoke to my boss?” I’m incredulous.

  “I was just being pre-emptive; you should learn from me.”

  “Mum, I don’t want—”

  “Well, you have to. The property needs fixing and you are already there. You know how hard it is for me to get down there.” She digs her dagger of guilt deep into my heart, reminding me yet again in her roundabout way that I wasn’t there that night.

  “I want to go home.”

  “What for? I need you there. Someone has to make sure those guys don’t steal anything.”

  “Mum!” The woman astounds me, and not in a good way.

  “Evangeline, this is not a punishment, it’s an opportunity, use it.”

  “But—” The line goes dead, cutting off any further argument, and a minute later the pounding resumes.

  Whether I like it or not, the world keeps turning, and even if I want to retreat from it, it keeps sucking me back in by force.

  The shrill whirring of electric saws and hammers keep banging and buzzing inside my head like irritating insects. They asked me to leave, to spend the day away, just in case, but the bed is soft and warm, and with the curtains drawn I can remain in darkness. It’s cowardly perhaps, but it feels safe. Here, in my bubble, the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and the fact that Liam chose to leave me can’t hurt as bad or stab as deep. I can feel my breaths as they blow in and out of my lungs and my pathetic heart chugs sluggishly in my aching chest.

  At one point there is a lot of shouting, and the house groans and creaks and rips and shakes, and fingers of light slide under the door from the giant hole left by the fallen tree that’s been viciously ripped from its purchase on my roof; just like the heart in my chest. I wonder if it screamed as they pulled it away. Another ridiculous thought by a silly girl hiding under her blanket instead of facing the world.

  Rabbit meows again. He must be hungry. The sunny day has slowly turned into a dusky evening, and the machines stop whirring and silence falls on the house, gripping me with fear. But it is not the quiet I fear, it’s what it’s going to bring in
the morning.

  Liam.

  Liam

  I jerk awake and my eyes rip open just to fall shut again. Pain radiates in my skull, and my body feels heavy and slow. I blink a few times and lick my chapped lips, my heavy eyelids fighting the light.

  Groaning, I sit up, and every part of my body protests the movement. Looking around, I find myself on the small couch, the whiskey bottle nearly empty at my feet and light pouring in from the windows.

  I push my palms into my eyes and rub some of the exhaustion away, knowing it will do nothing to relieve the headache that settles more comfortably inside my skull with every passing second.

  I reach for my phone, checking the time. I have over fifteen missed calls and two texts from Emma, Julie’s mum. Fuck—Nessa. I frantically swipe at my screen and read the message. Emma is reassuring me that Nessa can stay the night and I can pick her up whenever I’m done with the job I had lined up for today. I read over the drunken half-witted messages I left her the night before asking her if Nessa could stay. I don’t remember sending them but thank all the gods that she agreed. Then I read over her message again—I can pick Nessa up when I’m done with the job I have lined up for today.

  Fuck.

  I look over my missed calls. Twelve are from Michael. I guess he wants to talk. One is from Dylan; he must have wanted to catch up for a drink last night. I’ll call him back later. The last two are from Olivia; she still doesn’t understand the meaning of no strings attached and keeps calling. I guess after fucking her more than three times she now thinks it’s a regular thing. Of course, there is nothing wrong with Olivia; she is sexy as fuck, a single mum and willing to do almost anything as long as I make her feel like I care about her for a few hours a week. She is sweet and charming and has a great sense of humour and maybe, just maybe, if Evie hadn’t shown up and upended my entire world with a single look, we could have had something. It wouldn’t have been fireworks and lightning strikes, but it would have been something…

  I head for the shower letting the hot water batter my back and sail down my face. I suck in hot water, washing away the furry layer that coats my teeth. Running my tongue over the roof of my mouth, I blow out a breath and crinkle my nose. I could set fire to a house with it.

  I dress and make toast. I’m pretty sure it’s all I can handle at this stage, and my body needs something to soak up the alcohol that is still sloshing inside me. As I take my first bite, my phone goes off again. I guess it’s time to face the unavoidable.

  “Good morning.” Michael sounds too loud and too cheery for a Sunday morning.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “The Miller house needs a quote on the job.”

  I blow out a breath that could probably still light a cigarette and brush my hands through my wet hair, raining small droplets around me. “I don’t think I’m the right guy for the job.”

  “You practically rebuilt that place.”

  It’s true. I allowed Evie’s mum tear away every piece of soul from that house, every little thing that meant anything to Evie and conformed to her emailed plans to turn it into something hollow and empty. Then she tried to talk down my price.

  “Let her get someone else.”

  “Who? One of those big shot builders from the city that built all the hotels around here? You and I both know they will rip her off, do a shoddy job and in three months you’ll have to go in and fix their bloody mess.”

  I hated that he was right, and I hated that he knew just how to get to me. Building something with your hands should be a point of pride, not a place to cut costs and fuck people over.

  “Fine,” I rumble. “Will the occupant still be there?”

  “I believe she’s extended her stay until the work is done.”

  Fucking perfect.

  Evie

  I’ve managed to pull myself together in the same way that you rake together fallen leaves and leave them piled up under a tree. They are a beautifully constructed mess that is held together by sheer willpower and yet entirely vulnerable to the slightest gust of wind. I’ll be fine. Even if Liam is a fucking hurricane.

  The floor and walls are coloured a light blue as the sun shines over the tarp covering the hole left by the tree, and a light breeze manages to creep in from beneath the plastic sheet that protects the now naked side of the house.

  I jerk at the loud banging even though I expect it, and Rabbit jumps off my lap and hides behind the curtain. I draw in a long breath and hesitate for a second. I’d rather hide like Rabbit; we’re both cowards. Instead, I walk to the door and swing it open where a version of Liam I’m still getting used to stands and glares at me as if he wishes for me to burst into flames.

  We stand there for too long, his angry eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the world, now weighed down, heavy and burning holes into me. While I try to recognise some of the boy I knew in his older face. His dark hair peeks from under the cap he wears, and his sharp jaw is covered in a day’s worth of growth. He looks exhausted and fucking furious.

  “Can I come in?” he finally says, and his voice is deep and scratched as if he’s swallowed a load of gravel before coming over.

  I step aside, still staring at this apparition, fighting my fingers from reaching out and touching him, making sure he’s real. My heart feels heavy in my chest as if it has fallen into the pit of my stomach that just feels hollow, and my gaze follows him as he walks inside.

  I follow silently behind him, mesmerised by his shape, by his realness, by the way my heart feels alive and dying all at the same time.

  He sets down the toolbox and examines the roof and walls, his eyes expertly roaming over the damage as he scrubs his chin. “I need to get a quote out to your mum.” His tone is emotionless and empty and carves a long deep wound inside me.

  I nod at his back, still unable to form words.

  He swirls around and takes a step towards me. I want to retreat, but I can’t move. “I need to get something out of my truck.” He scowls at me as his eyes burn.

  We step at the same time. I try to get out of his way, and he chooses the same direction as I do. We crash into one another. We try again just to walk into one another for a second time, stumbling around like drunks.

  “Would you just get out of the way,” he growls at me, and something inside me breaks.

  “Why are you acting pissed off when I’m the one who has the right to be angry? You just show up here after you’ve been gone for years. You just disappeared. No notes, no phone calls. Nothing. You vanished into thin air. And I looked for you. For years I searched. Not wanting to believe the worst. I called every hospital—for months—and searched the streets, put up fliers, went to homeless shelters. I drove back here a hundred fucking times, but everyone said you were gone. You were a fucking ghost, and all you left in your wake were endless questions—you just left me.”

  “Evie—” His tone softens, and the fire in his eyes changes from an angry inferno to a slow burn.

  “How could you?”

  “Evie—”

  “No! I mourned you. You died. I carried your ghost for years, asking questions I never thought I’d get the answers to. I wondered why you left, why I was never good enough for you, why I wasn’t worth a phone call or a goodbye. What did I do wrong?” I whimper as my voice cracks, and I suck in a broken breath. “All I ever did was love you. I’ve soaked through my pillow night after night, stopped eating, stopped fucking living—because life without you was…” I gulp for air even though there is none. “It was nothing.”

  “Evie—”

  “You have a daughter?!” Though it comes out as a question, we both know it to be fact.

  “Nessa is—”

  ”Nessa?” I whisper her name, and I feel it hack my heart into pieces as nausea takes residence in my belly. He called her Nessa, the name we were going to give our daughter. Ours.

  His face crumbles, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I can’t hear anything he says as I retreat. My legs carry me away from him, as my mind fractures and tries to rebuild itself all at once, tries to be strong, tries to survive another wave of agony, another hurricane of heartbreak, another devastating blow.