Chapter 12 #2
‘I’m here for you, Maya,’ he murmurs into my ear. ‘I’m not going to leave you on your own to deal with this.’
* * *
Benedict
She looks wrecked.
My heart stutters in my chest as I take in how pale she is, how dark the circles are under her eyes, as if she’s not slept for a long time.
I manage to get the attention of a passing nurse and she shows us to a quiet private room where we can sit down. I guide Maya to a sofa and take the seat next to her.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. I feel ridiculous for asking such a stupid question, but I want her to know that I’m concerned about her. That I genuinely care. Even if she doesn’t want me to.
‘I can’t stop thinking that it’s all my fault,’ she blurts out, turning to look at me with haunted eyes.
‘What are you talking about?’ I ask, frowning in confusion.
‘I was so angry with my father for taking you away from me. I wished—’ She stops, as if the words are too painful to say out loud. She clears her throat and shakes her head, trying to pull herself together. ‘I wished he was dead, so he’d stop meddling in my life. But I didn’t really mean it.’
I can practically feel her need for forgiveness.
‘And now he’s lying in a hospital bed. If he doesn’t make it…’ She pauses again and the air throbs with her angst.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say, cupping her jaw in my hand so she’s forced to look at me. I’m desperate to reassure her.
‘But I fuck everything up, Ben.’
Her voice sounds so broken with pain it physically hurts me to hear it.
‘What are you talking about? Of course you don’t.’
‘I do! It was my fault that my mum died,’ she says angrily, confirming my fear that this must be bringing back all her old feelings of guilt and grief.
She starts to cry, her whole body convulsing with the force of her anguish, and I pull her into my arms, feeling her shuddering against me. All I can do is stroke her hair and whisper soothing words until her sobs finally slow and she sinks against me.
‘Shit. I’m so sorry,’ she whispers against my shoulder.
‘No need to be sorry.’
‘You must think I’m a such an awful, pathetic person.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t, Maya.’
‘You will once I tell you the truth,’ she says. ‘I didn’t tell you the worst bit. I doubt you’ll want anything to do with me ever again once you know what a selfish bitch I am.’
I see shame and pain flash across her face, so I lay my hand gently on her arm to show my support, feeling her tremble under my touch.
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
I hold my breath, my heart beating hard as I wait for her to continue. But she seems to be struggling to get the words out.
‘It’s okay, Maya. It won’t change how I feel about you. Just say it.’
I can tell she doesn’t fully believe me, but I also see that she’s warring with herself about not telling me. She feels the need to confess, that’s obvious, if she’s going to move on. If we’re going to move on.
She takes a shaky-sounding breath, then blows it out before speaking in a quiet, tear-strangled voice.
‘I deliberately went onto that ski slope to scare her – even though I knew neither of us were skilled enough to ski on it.’
There’s a tense, ringing silence while she stares down at her trembling hands and twists her fingers together.
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask, sensing her need for me to push her to keep talking. It’s clear from the tense way she’s holding herself that she doesn’t usually allow herself to talk about it at all.
‘I was angry and selfish and stupid,’ she says in a rush.
She sucks in a steadying breath, then lets it out slowly before speaking again.
‘I’d been expelled from school for cutting class to go and smoke weed on the recreational ground with some boys, so she’d taken me on that skiing holiday for us to have some girl-time.
She was supposed to be going with a friend, but she cancelled on her so we could go together instead.
I was really excited about it because we’d been close in my younger years, but as I got older, she backed away from me.
She always seemed to have something on her mind, and I felt like she’d stopped listening to me – or caring about me.
That’s why I started acting up at school.
Because it would always get her attention.
My father was always too busy with work to talk, and I wasn’t academically brilliant like my sisters, so he wasn’t very interested in me anyway – I don’t think he knew who I was most of the time.
It was her I went to when I had a problem.
She always showed me the love and affection I craved. Until she stopped being available.’
She shakes her head. Her eyes look glassy, as if she’s imagining being back at the scene.
‘We had a row about my bad behaviour, and I decided to punish her – to test her love, I guess – by threatening to ski down that run. It was notoriously difficult, and people had died trying to do it, so she’d made me promise not to go on it.’
She closes her eyes and her shoulders seem to draw in towards her chest.
‘She acted like she didn’t believe me. Like I was being tedious and childish to threaten to do it. I was so angry with her I skied down it in defiance and then went and got drunk in a local bar. I didn’t realise she’d followed me down until the next day.’
She takes a ragged-sounding breath.
‘My father hates me for it. He’s never let me talk to him about what happened. I’ve tried so many times, but he refuses to discuss it. And now he’s going to die before I can tell him that I’m sorry.’
There’s an awful pause and I search desperately for the right thing to say. But what the hell is that? What could possibly make her feel better right now?
‘I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Maya. You were just a child when it happened, and your mother was responsible for her own decisions.
It sounds like it was just a terrible accident,’ I reassure her.
‘And you’ll get to have that conversation with your father once he’s better.
He’s getting the best care here, and as we know he’s a tough bastard.
He’s not going to let something as inconsequential as a car accident do him in. ’
I’m relieved to hear her laugh at that, even though it sounds strained.
She finally turns to look at me, and I see hope in her face. And trust. And fear.
‘Why are you here? After the awful way I treated you the other day, I thought you’d never want anything to do with me ever again.’
I sigh and run my hand over my face, knowing it’s time I was completely honest with her. ‘Because it was never just a fling, what we had. You mean more to me than that. I tried to pretend to myself that I didn’t care about you, but I do. I do care.’
‘Really?’ She’s looking at me as if she can’t quite believe it.
I let out a frustrated groan. ‘I never should have agreed to go on that date with April. It was a gutless thing to do. Totally selfish. I told myself I was putting my concern about jeopardising my business relationship with your father first. But the truth is, I was afraid of how I really felt about you, so I took the easy way out when it was offered to me, pretending to myself that I didn’t have a choice. But of course I did.’
I reach out and cup her face again, so she can’t look away.
‘I want to have a proper relationship with you.’ I swallow hard. ‘Because I’m in love with you.’
Her eyes pool with tears and she lets out a hiccoughing sort of laugh.
‘Thank God, because I love you too.’
I lean forward and kiss her gently, savouring the incredible, wonderfully familiar, taste of her in my mouth.
‘You’d be better off with April, though, you know,’ she says, her voice wobbling with emotion when we finally break away from each other.
‘I’m not refined and successful, or a good person like she is.
’ She looks down, breaking eye contact with me.
‘I’m afraid I don’t deserve you. That’s why I pushed you away. ’
I nod, totally understanding that impulse.
She lets out a mirthless laugh. ‘You see? I’m a fucking mess, Ben. I think it’s because after my mother died, I completely lost my mind. I felt completely powerless, so I made damn sure I’d never be in a position where I’d feel that vulnerable again. Until now. Until you. You crept up on me.’
She gives me a smile that nearly breaks my heart.
‘You were just meant to be a bit of fun.’
I want so much to take away her pain, to set her free from her guilt, but I know the only person who can do that is her.
Hopefully with my support. Now I’m really looking I can see that her fear of rejection has been there in her eyes the whole time I’ve known her – I just mistook it for insolence up till this point.
I experience a wave of shame at how badly I’ve misjudged her.
‘None of us are perfect,’ I say with a wry smile.
‘You know, I always thought I hated the girls at that school where I used to work because they had such first-world problems,’ I say sinking a little into her embrace, feeling her supporting me.
‘They all seemed so excessively unhappy, considering their families’ wealth and status.
But I know now that misery breaches class boundaries.
My mother and I were physically abused, but I know there are lots of types of abuse.
Mental abuse, or something as simple as feeling forgotten about or ignored.
Loneliness and isolation are ugly, brutal bastards.
I was selfish to think you could never have any problems because of your seemingly privileged lifestyle. ’ I grimace at her. ‘I’m sorry.’
She gives me an understanding smile, and I feel reassured that she forgives me for being so obtuse and short-sighted.
‘You’re not the only one who’s been misguided.
All my bratty, headline-grabbing behaviour has been about trying to get my father’s attention – to get him to care enough to talk to me so we can finally deal with the subject of my part in my mother’s death – but I just ended up disappointing and alienating him even more. ’