FIFTEEN
If the earth opened to swallow me whole, I’d willingly go. All because Liam answered the phone. Every prayer I made, all the requests I begged for were not answered. He was not working or sleeping. He wasn’t even busy enough to let it go to voicemail.
Fate had to throw another punch and have him answer the call. My fear of having to face him is now a constant. Like a second shadow, following me everywhere.
Thankfully—or not—he had free time. And that is why I am currently getting ready to go meet him. I’m a walking nervous wreck, playing the conversation we had over and over again.
“You’ve kept my number all of this time?” he asked when I called.
“I would have if I had been allowed to keep my older phone. I had to beg Johanna for your number,” I answered quietly.
“What do you want, then?” he questioned, his voice as sharp and hostile as the day in the diner.
After that, he stayed silent, waiting. Liam had always been the one to give me space to organise my thoughts and encouraged me to speak my mind.
But this was not that. He was forcing me to be the one to put in the effort, to take that step forward and give him what I owed him. A proper apology and an explanation.
Which one would it be, not even I knew then.
“Look, Liam…” I started hesitantly. “I am sorry about the way I bolted. It was hard to see you, but we should talk. If you want, of course. I—” I cut myself off mid-sentence.
God, this was so hard.
I was so afraid he would just hang up on me or tell me to piss off.
My body was trembling with anticipation, and I kept gnawing on my bottom lip, trying to find the courage to continue.
“I want to explain myself and…” Another deep breath. “Apologise to you. If there is someone in my life who’s owed an apology, it’s you.” My voice was shaky by the time I finished.
“Fine,” he said coolly.
He said yes, I repeated to myself. My breathing was shaky but relief washed over me momentarily. Then it dawned on me that I would have to face him again, and anxiety took over.
I was a mess.
There were a few moments of silence between us until he took the lead.
“We can go for coffee tomorrow; I have the day off. I’ll text you the address and the hour.”
“Sure. Work won’t start until seven p.m. anyway,” I informed him, hoping he wouldn’t want to meet me during work hours.
With that, he hung up.
Sadness overwhelmed me in response to his cold demeanour, but I shouldn’t even be bothered by that. He could have been way angrier, and I should just be glad that he agreed to hear me out.
“Let’s just hope this isn’t a disaster,” I whisper to myself.
I’m still trapped in front of the mirror, looking at the foreign woman staring back into my eyes.
The woman on the other side of the mirror looks just like me, wearing my favourite beige summer dress. It’s a straight neckline with off-the-shoulder short sleeves. It’s tight from my chest down to my waist, where it flows freely. The petite pink flowers give it a splash of colour, and the split that comes up to my left thigh, just above my knee, makes it a less good-girl kind of dress.
All the right things are covered to avoid unwanted attention, though. She is presentable and composed on the outside. Me, however? I am crumbling on the inside.
It’s the most effort I have made in years, and just standing here, looking at myself, is hard enough. It’s been almost seven years since I’ve looked in the mirror and liked what I was seeing.
Now, the brown eyes on my face have lost the spark they had, haunted by the demons that live inside my brain. My skin no longer glows, and I often felt like it did, especially when Liam was around. Covering it has been a must over the years, and it’s been a while since I’ve looked at myself without clothes. The last time, I was pregnant, admiring the unborn baby growing inside me.
But it’s Liam I am about to see, and I can’t not make an effort. Is it stupid that I don’t want him to see how messed up my life is? How messed up I am?
With a resigned sigh, I grab my purse and head to the car. The café he chose is a twenty-minute drive and quite close to my university.
The drive is too fast, and the next thing I know, I’ve arrived. Ten minutes early. Trying to get my nerves under control, I stroll from where the car is parked down the street, gazing at the stores absent-mindedly.
My thoughts are consumed with all that is Liam. About how things ended up back then. How I left, and, consequently, how he must be feeling—how he felt then, too. There’s a sliver of curiosity about his life, the fact that he is studying here instead, and possibly moving on—without me. But that part is completely shadowed by the worry about this encounter.
What if he doesn’t want to listen? Worse, what if I can’t talk? It’s atrocious to live like this, but I think I fear the outcome of the truth more than the consequences of the question mark.
Then, too quickly, my feet bring me to the glass door I’m meant to open, and I freeze for a second. My biggest fear is right inside, and I was stupid enough to think I could face it.
To face Liam.
The café is quaint, small yet spacious to the eye, with blue and wooden details. It’s the type of place I would choose to work on school projects while eating and drinking something. Taking it in, I look around one more time, noticing the slight hustle of people sitting in with their freshly requested food or some others preparing to leave. It’s not crowded, but there’s a decent number of full tables.
It doesn’t take me long, though, to find the lone mop of dark blond hair that I was expecting to find. With his back facing me, he’s seated in the corner booth of the café. His head is tilted down to the front, probably using his phone while waiting for me. The door is still open, my hand clutching the knob, and my resolve crumbling to the ground.
What am I going to say? I can’t…I can’t tell him everything; he’ll hate me.
Worse, he won’t believe me. Why would he?
My feet feel heavy as if they are made of cement, not letting me move. With my body still sideways, I am literally one foot in and one foot out—probably because of my brain’s constant flight response.
And while there is a huge part of me wanting to flee, the rest has me rooted in place. Especially the part that keeps remembering my son’s eager requests. This moment of hesitation, though, it’s enough to make it look bad. Because that is exactly when Liam turns around, locking his eyes with mine. His once-neutral expression hardens the moment he notices me. It worsens when he realises how I was probably about to leave without even talking to him. Something that I asked him to do.
He stands, stalking in my direction with a wildfire burning in his eyes. My opportunity to escape is long gone—even if I wasn’t going to use it, this time around—and I just wait, bracing for the truck of rage that is about to hit.
“Of course you were going to run away again,” he scoffs. “That’s all you know, isn’t it?” he spits the words out as if he is disgusted by me.
Don’t worry; I am, too.
It hurts, but it’s valid. All I’ve done so far is run away, even if I think I had a good reason to do it. Even if I thought that by leaving, I was doing everyone a favour.
“Let’s go,” I sigh in defeat, following him to the booth he was just sitting down in. The table has an empty coffee cup on it with the menu at the far end. We keep quiet for a few moments, and it doesn’t take long for the waiter to ask what I am going to order.
When I order a bottle of water, I decide to speak first, hoping for Liam to stop his glaring contest.
“I’m sorry; I panicked,” I mumble, my eyes never leaving my hands.
I want to look up at him. The other day, I was far too shocked to notice his face properly, but now, my brain is itching and begging for me to do it, to just glance up at him. But I can’t bring myself to.
“It seems to be turning into a pattern, isn’t it?” The question is rhetoric, so I don’t bother answering. “I can deduce what made you panic now to make you run, what I can’t wrap my head around is why you did that almost seven years ago.” His tone is cold and detached. Understandably so, but it still throws a spear right through my heart.
“Right to the point, as always,” I say, flicking my eyes to his face...finally.
At the proper sight of him, I suck my breath in.
His dark blond hair seems even darker than it used to be. He always managed to have natural colour changes in his hair, making it much brighter in the summer and darker in the winter. I guess it makes sense, since autumn has arrived, and his hair is now a light brown colour. But his vibrant blue eyes are the same. The arctic-blue shade, which has always sucked me in, is a colour that every family member has, except for his mother who has green eyes.
The biggest difference I notice is his physique, of course. We were sixteen the last time I saw him, and even though he had always been bigger than me since we were like twelve, he is much taller and broader now. He’s filled out. He doesn’t have a face full of beard, but the light brown stubble is there, mainly around his mouth and chin. It’s a style that doesn’t flatter many men, but he rocks it so well.
Liam always rocked everything he did or wore; it’s not a surprise it hasn’t changed. He’s even more handsome, and it makes my heart beat faster like it’s ready to jump out my chest while my hands get clammy with sweat.
“And I’d appreciate you not wasting my time. You owe me this.”
“You’re right,” I answer while fiddling with my fingers.
Just then, the young guy comes back with the bottle, and I make sure to pay him. After a quick swig of it and still not being able to look him in the eyes, I admit, “I wanted to apologize…”
“What for?” he presses, wanting for me to speak for myself.
“For everything,” I whisper.
He scoffs and leans forward, a menacing look in his eyes. His words come out harsh, making me wince when he finally speaks, “That’s all you called me for? To say sorry? How about a fucking explanation!” His voice rises, and I instantly jump at it, shutting my eyes tightly.
The proximity, the harshness in his voice, it’s edging me. Triggering me. And in this situation, I can’t panic.
Not now, not in front of him.
He wouldn’t hurt me, too, would he?
My subconscious screams at me, telling me to flee right away, reminding me that no one is reliable. Especially men. My hands shake, and my eyes blur as I fight it.
It’s Liam.
He wouldn’t do anything. I know it, and I try to ground myself to it as my brain tries to bring those dreadful memories back.
“Please,” I breathe to myself, trying to stay in control.
When I open them again, he is looking at me with a frown, confusion etching his expression lines. It only lasts a second until his demeanour goes back to detached and cold again.
“Why did you leave?” he presses in a low angry hiss.
I take a couple of deep breaths and look down at my lap. How do I go about this?
“My parents threw me out. Not even Jake could reason with them to help me. My only option was my Nana. She told me I could live with her. I—” I pause, mustering up the courage to say as much as I can without touching the subject I’ll take with me to my grave. “I didn’t know what to do; they didn’t even let me bring clothes or my phone. The only thing I had was the money Jake gave me for the bus ticket.”
It isn’t the whole story but true, nonetheless. I’m not ready to bring Dylan into this or how he came to life. Not yet.
“That’s bullshit. You could have come to me, and you know it. You could have stayed with me,” he countered.
And I know it’s true. He was the first person I thought I’d go to. Liam always made me feel like he would have gone through hell and back to take care of me if needed. I believed it then. But how fair was it to put such a burden on his shoulders?
He had—still has—his future ahead of him. I would have turned into an obstacle, a thorn in his parent’s side.
And even without them in the equation, even if they accepted me. How could I, after everything that was done? Or everything he was already going through?
I remember it like it was yesterday, the relief in his eyes every time we spent time together. The way his eye bags would slightly disappear when he took naps, cuddling me. Life inside the four walls of his house wasn’t as perfect as his parents made it out to be, and he was hurting. He hurt for them all, for…
Oh god.
He had told me time and time again, I was the only good thing in his life. And I ripped it right away from him.
But if I had stayed…if he had known the truth…
It was too much for me, by myself. It would be too much for him, too. That I am sure of.
“Your parents didn’t even like me, do you really think they’d take in a disowned sixteen-year-old?” I ask in a shaky voice, all these memories taking a big toll on me. “I wasn’t their responsibility, nor yours. What would you have done? Found a job to help me?”
“You know damn well I would have if it was needed,” he growls before leaning in on the table, closer to me.
Too close.
A gasp leaves my lips without permission, and my body hits the back of the booth harder than I intend it to. It has been way too long since a man—other than my brother—was this close to me. Even if it is Liam.
He doesn’t relent, though, staying put and not leaning back again. It’s bittersweet because that old part of me is relishing in the proximity she never thought she’d experience again. While the current one, the broken one, is terrified.
“You know damn well I would have done everything for you back then,” he whispers weakly with a broken expression.
One of his hands rises to the space between our faces. His eyes swirl with so much emotion that I can see the different shades swim around the irises as if he is having an inner battle. I am so lost in his eyes that it’s almost too late when I realise what he is about to do.
To touch me. I am not ready.
When the tips of his fingers are just about to touch my cheek, I suck in a ragged breath and turn my head away, closing my eyes and whispering, “Please, don’t.” His hand freezes mid-air, and one second later, he distances himself from me.
“Are you afraid of me?” Shock and hurt lace his voice with the way it cracks when he speaks.
At the sound of his voice, I snap my eyes open, seeing the defeated expression on his face, and I can’t deal with it. To see in front of me the extent of the damage I’ve done. How much I’ve ruined him breaks me even more, forcing a sob out of my mouth. I quickly press my hands over it before mumbling a quick, “I’m sorry.”
The next thing I do is the only thing I know to do properly.
I run away from him, without looking back. Once again.