Only You, Only Us

Chapter 29

Marty is true to his word. I give him the space he asked for, hold my nerve, and then he’s back to his usual self as if last week never happened.

It’s a huge relief, and when he sends me a funny message, I nearly cry, realising that we will be okay.

He’s given me a lot to think about. So has Mum. Perhaps I have cut myself off, but that’s self-preservation. I’m not ready to risk the hurt and pain I’ve been through again. Plus, there hasn’t been anyone I can see myself taking that risk for.

I’m not lonely. Although, as I think that, I question if it’s true. I can count on one hand the friends who mean anything to me.

Summer is just around the corner, and the weather is holding. The lazy sunshine breaking through the clouds makes this a perfect time for a morning run. I head out on my usual route but add an extra loop, passing the park area. It’s still early, but plenty of people are out, the anticipation of a lovely weekend infecting the air.

My pace is good, and my steps are lighter as if the pressure from work and Marty has vanished. I even find myself miming the words to the music in my headphones.

I come up to the path around the play area before it opens back out along the cycle track, and as I round the bend, I see him standing at the swings. I scrunch up my face as I can’t put the vision of Jeremy together with what he’s doing. My eyes stay locked on him, and I watch, making sure it is him — pushing a little girl in the baby swing.

My pace slows, but not in time. Pain flares in my shin as I stumble right into a park bench. I jerk to a halt and tense as the stinging jab radiates down my leg.

“Oh, dear, are you all right?” An older woman comes over to me as I hobble and turn, trying to walk off my clumsiness.

“Fine. I’m fine, thanks.” I grit my teeth and smile, keeping my cursing under my breath as I take a few deep breaths as the throbbing picks up pace.

I keep walking, pushing past my embarrassment, but I also can’t stop watching Jeremy.

The little girl he’s with has the same messy hair as he does, even though she can’t be more than a couple of years old.

He has a child.

All the air is robbed from my lungs, and I can’t catch my breath.

I keep my awkward walk up until I reach the next bench, just out of direct sight of the play area, and I sit down. The bash to my leg has cut through my leggings, and I have a nasty scrape on my skin.

Cradling my head in my hands, I close my eyes, but all I can see is that little girl. Jeremy’s little girl.

No. I stand, pushing my emotions back down and stuffing them back in the box I thought I’d dealt with. I stand and start up at an easy pace, putting distance between me and the park. The limp keeps me slow when all I want to do is sprint home and hide.

How can I hide from my own feelings?

This shouldn’t be a problem. It shouldn’t affect me like this.

He left. I moved on.

I thought I was stronger than this.

When I burst open the door to the house, I go straight to the bedroom, pick up my wooden box, and tip the contents over the bed. Amongst my own chips is his and the letter he wrote to me.

My eyes scan the words, trying to remember what he said, trying to connect the vision of him with a child together with what he told me.

Until I can, and until I sort my own life out, I can’t be with you. Because I’m not the man you deserve.

Never doubt how much I love you.

How could he write that and then have a daughter?

I kept the note, along with his chip, as a reminder that this boy — this man — has been my weakness forever.

Only a few hours ago, I felt strong and in control, and then one look at him, and I’m flailing. I thought that I’d slayed my demons when it came to Jeremy — that I had accepted that there would always be something unresolved between us.

But this hurts.

It’s cold, like betrayal all over again.

I tear the letter into pieces, my anger and hurt spilling over and attacking the words that he placated me with. He didn’t even have the courage to speak them to me himself.

They fall like confetti on my bed, scattered amongst the coins.

“Fuck you, Jeremy Archer.”

I don’t cry. I refuse to give any more tears to that boy.

Marty is right. I deserve better. And this just proves it.

The cut on my leg needs attention, so I distract myself with some first aid while I gather my senses, which have scattered like marbles over the floor.

In any normal situation, I’d go to Marty and talk things over. But with the events of the last week and how his opinion of Jeremy is on a par with my mother’s, it’s not a good idea. Besides, given the circumstances, I’m not sure if I have a defence for my feelings.

I check the timetable to see if I can attend a meeting today. I might not be reaching for a bottle, but Jeremy is an addiction just as toxic. Talking and having support, even from afar, is what I need.

I make it through the week, keeping the secret of Jeremy and who was with him to myself and adjusting to the shadows of my feelings waking up in my chest. The hurt I initially felt has subsided, but a dull ache won’t shift, like a splinter wedged into my skin that I can’t reach, reminding me every minute that it’s there.

It would be so easy if I could embrace the same hate that my mother has for Jeremy.

I’ve been to two AA meetings and run more miles than usual to keep myself busy. That tactic has always worked, and now is no different. And, as the days pass, I relax.

The route I take on my weekend run shifts to be on the safe side. I avoid the park area with families and kids and venture further out along the cycle track so that if, and it’s a big if, he’s still around, I’m not forced to swallow his new life.

The clouds have bubbled up in the sky, but that doesn’t bother me anymore, and I keep going. There’s plenty of space, plenty of places to run, and I ease into my pace.

Until I see a man along the path just past the cafe that’s positioned in a clearing.

It’s all happening again. Just like last time.

As I get closer, I see he’s on his own. It’s like he’s waiting to ambush me.

“You have no right,” I shout at him as I approach, needing to get the first volley in. “This is my home, while you choose to come and go when you please.” Adrenalin still pumps in my veins, pushing me to attack.

“I’m not back for long. I promise.”

“But you’re here. You couldn’t have just stayed out of my way?” I accuse.

He just smiles, a deadly smile on his lips. “Despite what you might think, I’m not here to cause you any trouble. There’s no reason for you to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“The truth?” I scoff. “Something you play fast and loose with.”

“Maybe. But not about this.”

“Then why? Why, after years, again, are you suddenly back?” I cross my arms and wait for an explanation.

“I’m selling the house, Anna. I’m back, but only to settle a few affairs. I couldn’t help but tempt fate and see you, but I’ll be out of your life for good if that’s what you’d like.” He sounds sad, resigned even, and it quells the rage that had fired up inside of me.

“You’re selling? But what about your mum?” I ask.

“She’s…” He takes a moment and looks away, and I wonder if something terrible has happened. “Moving to a facility,” he finishes. “She needs care, and I can’t provide that. There’s nothing tying us here anymore. After the funeral, the house?—”

“I’m sorry, funeral? Who’s funeral?” I interrupt.

“My father’s. He died in a car crash with his wife a few weeks ago.”

His words bring everything crashing down around me. It’s all there. Everything that’s happened between us. Everything before and everything after what that man tried to do to me — what he did to his son.

We stare at each other, silent, as the weight of those words settles between us like water easing after a choppy tide.

Suddenly, everything is possible again, and the future that could have been is lifted from the grey shroud it’s been buried under. Never forgotten but beaten and worn by years of hurt and pain. I smile, just a fraction, like I’ve found a sense of peace at my core.

Jeremy feels it, too. I know he does because he has the same look on his face.

I want to say something, but I’m not sure where to start. Then we’re interrupted by a woman carrying a toddler who’s fighting and wriggling in her hold. “I’m sorry, she wanted to come and look for you.” The woman hands the little girl over to Jeremy, who picks her up and fusses over her. She immediately relaxes in his arms and puts her thumb in her mouth as she snuggles her head against his shoulder.

“It’s all right, Poppy.” Jeremy nods to the woman, but all his attention is on his little girl.

All I can do is stare and watch on in disbelief. A possible future handed back in one breath and stolen in another.

I was okay. I had made peace that there would be something between us, but nothing more. But that didn’t give me the strength to look on and watch him with someone new — especially with a child.

“I…” My eyes look between his and hers. She has his eyes. Those beautiful blues that remind me of the sea. “I can’t do this.”

Turning, I want to run, run, and never look back. Every time I think I’m over him, he comes back and breaks me all over again, and I’m worried there won’t be anything left of me soon.

Raindrops start to fall from the sky, big, fat, and full of intent, adding to my drive to flee.

“Wait, Anna. It’s not what you think.”

“Goodbye, Jeremy.” The emotion chokes in my throat as my feet whisk me away, the smell of petrichor rich in the air.

“She’s my sister.”