Chapter 27 #2
‘I mean, of course they knew. I just didn’t want to talk about what happened. At all. It’s different with a therapist, but with anyone else it’s just…’ His voice changes, turns emotionless. ‘So fucking humiliating.’
Every muscle in my body wants to move to hold him or touch him. Comfort him in some way so I might take on some of the pain.
‘So you can take it upon yourself to help Max as much as you possibly can, but he can’t help you? Support you?’ I ask gently.
It all makes so much sense. This was the guy who immediately stepped in to protect me from crowds, guided me through endless swarms of people, spoke up for me so I didn’t have to face triggers. He’s been built to help and protect; which means not speaking up for himself or his own needs.
‘It’s not like that… Max tried to help me. But I knew he had so much going on in his own life and that he was struggling, I didn’t want to burden him with my own stuff.’
‘So, that’s your regret? Isolating yourself and leaving your brother to what, manage his mental health alone?’
He exhales harshly and grimaces at my words.
‘I’m sorry, I’m just trying to understand this from your perspective. Have you tried…’ I gulp. ‘I don’t know, just talking to him about all of this? Being honest about why you were distant?’
‘I’m not – I know how it sounds, but I’m not… great at that.’
I arch a brow, shoot him an appraising look. ‘What, talking? You’ve been doing swimmingly the last five minutes.’
He just sighs through his nose.
I sit up to turn the lamp back on because I can’t stand to have this conversation in the dark, and wince as the hideous brightness stings my eyes.
‘Dah!’ Elliot cries. ‘Oh my God, Nora–’
‘Sorry, I just can’t bear how much you’re punishing yourself. If I have to look into your eyes and tell you that you’re not a selfish person, I’ll do it.’
This seems to fall on deaf ears as I look down at him. He’s still lying facing upward with his fingers interlinked over his face, protecting his eyes from the light.
‘So… you isolated yourself to deal with things on your own?’ I prompt.
‘Yeah, I guess. The timing was perfect to just kind of… retreat. I’d just moved to London, could bury myself in work because I’d just started.
The hours were crazy so it was easy. And honestly, I just couldn’t bear the truth then.
That someone could really do that, you know?
Just walk out and not look back. She was just… gone. It was so surreal.’
I soak in his words. Despite Elliot’s own apparent self-hatred, I don’t judge him for isolating himself. I can’t even imagine my own reaction if that had happened to me.
‘It doesn’t excuse anything though.’ He pushes his hands back into his hair and leaves them there. ‘You can’t just run away from everybody and pretend they don’t need you.’
I try to keep my voice even. ‘Sounds like a pretty human reaction to me.’
He peers up at me, his expression careful. ‘It doesn’t exactly make me a good person. Rach abandoned me and then I abandoned my brother. I’m almost as bad as she is. I just… became a shadow of my former self.’
Something about the intimacy of the nickname Rach makes me wince.
‘Occasionally, life just deals you a hand that feels like too much to bear. It’s not your fault you can’t carry it all. You can’t be the perfect brother all the time.’ I keep my voice light, but firm enough for him to hopefully hear me.
‘That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve hurt him,’ he murmurs.
‘You’re also not the first person to hurt someone unintentionally. And the fact you can acknowledge that now and look it in the eye and want to change it is far more meaningful. That’s who you are. You’re not running anymore, you can see that, right?’
He doesn’t say anything, just studies me silently.
‘All you can do is meet Max where he is right now, from where you are. He might be a little hurt, but I’d also bet he can probably understand why you behaved that way. If you’re honest and explain everything to him. He’ll be happy to have you back.’
‘I don’t know,’ he replies, his voice quiet. ‘I’ve been pretty shitty. Like I said, he doesn’t really want to talk now. It wouldn’t surprise me if I took it too far. Ignored this for too long.’
I bend my head lower to try and let him see my smile.
‘You’ve got time to make up for it. There’s always time.’
A horrible pang hits me squarely in my chest, and I swear I feel the blood drain from my cheeks.
‘This is why you want to give him the drumstick,’ I realise, my voice tight. ‘To… make amends?’
He shrugs. ‘Well, I mean – I don’t know if a drumstick would do that, but it would be a nice gesture. I thought it could be a good place to start.’
Oh, fuck.
His hand suddenly rests on top of mine. I feel a light, brisk squeeze before it vanishes again.
‘I appreciate the pep talk.’ His face remains as unreadable as always.
‘Anytime.’ I awkwardly pat his shoulder, attempting to maintain this pattern of physical contact we’ve apparently established. ‘Just remember: having compassion for yourself is important.’
‘Compassion?’
‘Yes. I am a deep supporter of compassion. I used to be so ashamed of myself for not being able to cope in crowds and overwhelming situations, and shame is just… it’s a killer. Shame eats you alive.’
He sighs again. ‘That’s definitely true.
I’ve been beating myself up for the last year about Max and can’t really find a way to stop or overcome it because I’m still so ashamed to even reach out to him.
’ He huffs a quiet laugh. ‘I think that might be the first time I’ve even admitted to myself that I’m actually ashamed. ’
His voice is so quiet. My hands ache to touch him but I resist.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. ‘That all these events made you feel that way. I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of.’
He just casts me a patient smile, and I can only imagine how I look in this hideous light.
‘You know, you’ve been incredibly kind to me,’ I say. ‘I kind of wish you could do the same for yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks, his brows furrowed.
‘Well, being kind to yourself is the most important thing I’ve learned,’ I say gently.
‘Above everything. Turning away from your feelings achieves very little. You have to feel them. I try to be a good host for my feelings now, if that makes sense. And your feelings should come and go as they please. Guilt, shame, anger… whatever it is.’
Elliot watches me, unblinking. There’s no mocking lift of an eyebrow or smirk. I feel compelled to continue.
‘If you don’t make them welcome and let those feelings in, ironically they’re going to want to stick around for even longer. It sounds weird, but you almost need to acknowledge them so you can really feel them. And then they can start to see themselves out and you can get on with your life.’
‘When did you learn this? At school? When people weren’t kind to you?’
I pause and absorb the question, fiddling with my sleeping bag between my fingers.
‘I don’t know, I think at that stage I was just learning to survive.
It also takes a while… it’s like a skill that you improve or a muscle you strengthen.
Remembering to not punish yourself for how you react to things.
I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s possible.
Therapy is great – I know there’s stuff that’s tough to uncover alone – but it sounds like you need to let your family help you.
Trust them to know you can be honest with them.
There’s nothing to be embarrassed about when someone mistreats you. ’
He remains silent, and I feel the need to backpedal for some reason. Like maybe I’ve overstepped.
‘I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about because we barely know each other. But from experience… you might want to start with that.’
My lips curve into a hesitant smile. He stares calmly at the top of the tent until he speaks quietly in his low rasp.
‘Thank you, Nora.’
By the tone of his voice, I gather that he probably needs a moment and decide to shut up.
I have a horrible, immovable urge to pull him into an embrace and wrap my arms tightly around him, but I definitely can’t do that.
So I lie back down next to him and ever-so-carefully rest my temple against his shoulder, Elliot remaining perfectly still.
We lie in a comfortable silence for a while, distant bass and muffled screams of crowds all around us until he breaks it.
‘You think we barely know each other?’ he asks, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
‘We met two days ago?’ I counter.
‘Is that relevant?’
‘Yes, of course it’s relevant,’ I huff.
‘Fine,’ he replies after a pause. ‘Then consider yourself the person I know best out of the people I hardly know.’
For some reason, my heart does a tiny somersault. I breathe a laugh but can’t quite find a response.
And then, after a minute, I feel his head slowly lower to rest on top of mine without a word.