Authors: Nicola Haken
“It won’t ever be ‘gone’, baby.” Okay, so that wasn’t what I either wanted or expected to hear. I felt my eyebrows knit together and my lips start to tremble. “A part of you will probably always want to do it and you have to accept the fact that one day you probably
will
do it. But that’s not because you’re weak, or selfish or ‘fucked-up’ as you put it. It’s because the release that you feel when you harm yourself has become your instinctive coping mechanism.
“Craving wise, it’s really no different from someone who would automatically reach for a shot of whiskey, or smoke five cigarettes in a row. But of course the reality is
,
the relief that
you
seek could easily cause you serious damage if you weren’t careful. You know it’s not healthy and you
want
to get better. And you will, I
promise
you.
“I can’t say you’ll never think about it again, or even never
do
it again because it was your only escape for so long. Those scars are part of you, they always will be. But you’re not alone
anymore,
Amy, and you will find new ways to cope – to adapt. We’ll find them together, you hear me?”
“You’re so good to me,” was all I could think of to say. “You always seem to know how to handle me.” He expelled a soft laugh.
“Seriously, Amy…” His voice turned low, determined. “I need you to remember that anything that’s ever happened to you – anything or
anyone
that’s ever hurt you – won’t ever hurt you again while you’re with me. I
will
protect you. I will
never
give up on you. I love you…
and
all your fucked-up-ness.” He winked and then smiled his breath-taking hypnotic smile.
Seconds later his lips were on
mine and my heart
roared back to life with a noticeable thump. Fervently, I returned the kiss as I gripped and twisted my fingers in his hair, clutching him close to me. My heartbeat was furious, my breathing erratic… It felt like I was drowning in the depths of my love for him. I knew I should come up for air but an unprecedented weight, tied firmly around my heart was pulling me deeper.
An involuntarily whimper escaped from my throat as I started un-popping the buttons of Richard’s light-blue shirt, leaving me confused and a little embarrassed when he choked back a laugh and broke away from me.
“As much as I’d love to spend the afternoon in bed with you, we have a plane to catch.” After throwing me the delicious wink I’d developed such a weakness for he leapt off the bed, dragging me with him.
I stopped giggling when we reached the door and pulled him back a step.
“Can we just forget today ever happened?” I asked, shamefaced and unable to look him in the eyes. Richard spun around to face me, taking my face in his hands.
“No, baby, we can’t. But we can learn from it and move on… together, right?”
“Right,” I agreed, smiling weakly.
“Never forget how much you mean to me,” he whispered against my forehead before kissing it chastely and leaving the room.
Suddenly I was flustered. My little relapse into an unstable, emotional wreck made our trip completely disappear from my mind and it hit me that I still hadn’t finished packing or done my hair. I checked out my reflection in the mirrored closets –
ugh
– and then headed to the bathroom to carry on where I left off before my unwelcome visitor this morning.
Again, I caught sight of my face in the mirror and I tried to splash some life back into it with cold, crisp water from the estuary-like faucets. It revived me instantly and I set about harvesting my favourite items of makeup.
“You’ve no time for that now. Our cab is outside!” Richard said, startling me as he burst into the room carrying our suitcases.
“But I’m not ready! I’ve not finished packing and my hair is-”
“They have shops in Florida you know,” he interjected, winking at me and cocking his head for me to follow him. Sighing, I did as I was told but I looked and felt like an utter mess. How could I go out in public like this? Grudgingly, I trailed behind Richard as we left the apartment, grabbing my bag and jacket along the way and double-checking the door was locked behind me.
A man was waiting for us by the elevator. He was tall and stocky with a shaved head, dressed unfittingly in a smart black suit like some high-end gangster. He was no run-of-the-mill taxi driver and I imagined he would be awfully intimidating to a passing stranger on a dark night. After taking our luggage from Richard we travelled together in awkward silence to the ground floor.
The car that awaited us didn’t resemble a cab at all. It was sleek, black and like everything else that surrounded Richard – expensive looking. It obviously belonged to some kind of private company only fancy-pants rich people knew about. Our driver set down our luggage while he opened our doors for us and I felt incredibly important – like a movie star being chauffeured to some place glitzy and glamorous. Shame that in reality I looked like a hobo who’d just been dragged from underneath the bushes.
“You look beautiful,” Richard flattered as if he could read my mind, pausing for a brief moment before he climbed in the car.
As Richard patted the seat beside him I smiled gratefully even though I didn’t believe him, and then slid in to the back seat next to him. When the driver slammed the door closed a thousand butterflies hatched inside my stomach. I’d never flown before and I found myself succumbing to the fear of the unknown.
There must be a reason why so many people are afraid to fly
.
Great, while driving to the airport all I could think about was how many different, lingering ways there were to die in the air. Unless we drowned after crashing into the sea of course… or the plane blew up before we’d even left the runway… or a terrorist decided to gas us all while we were still in the airport…
Shit.
**********
I was lying – yes
lying
– in a very large, grey-leather recliner. It was easily as comfortable as Richard’s couch and if I closed my eyes it was hard to believe I was actually on a plane. Pulling the lever that rested beside my seat a little too firmly, I flung back up to Richard’s level.
“Finished?” he teased after witnessing me fidget, all wide-eyed and excited with all the fancy features and gadgets that surrounded me. My cheeks pinked with embarrassment and I had to purposely stop myself reaching forward to mess with our own private flat screen. I felt like a kid in a toyshop and I had the most inappropriate urge to touch
everything!
“Drinks, sir?” a petite blonde with skin so orange it would make an Oompa Loompa jealous, asked Richard.
“Yes, we’ll take a bottle of your finest pinot noir please.” I’d noticed my age never got questioned when I was with Richard. I suspected it was because people were too busy drooling over his too-perfect face to notice
the nobody
sat beside him.
The orange woman set two tall glasses on the table that separated our seats and topped them up with the rich red wine before placing the bottle next to them. Then she smiled – a little too flirtatiously for my liking – at Richard and continued her journey down the aisle, ignoring me completely. I couldn’t help but notice no cash was exchanged. Wow, we really must’ve been flying first class if Richard’s favourite wine was free. Richard didn’t
do
cheap wine. In fact, Richard didn’t do cheap anything.
“Are we okay,” Richard asked tentatively after taking a sip of his drink.
Are we?
Would I ever push him too far one day? In all honesty I just didn’t know. But for now I refused to look that far ahead and risk losing the most precious thing that’d ever happened to me. So, for now, yes… we were okay.
I nodded sweetly at him and gently squeezed his knee beneath my fingers. I resented the distance this darn table was putting between us and I just wanted to fling myself onto him and never let him go. For now, I’d just have to make do with holding his hand.
Weary from my exhausting morning of tears and tantrums, Richard caught me trying to stifle a yawn. Then I watched curiously as he stood from his seat to reach into the overhead lockers, and smiled gratefully when he re-emerged with a pillow and blanket. Still smiling as I closed my eyes, I reclined my seat and rested my heavy head on the plump pillow. Then after kissing my forehead, Richard draped the fleecy blanket over my legs and tucked me in at the side.
“Rest,” he ordered gently and my heart danced as I was taken back to the first time I encountered Bossy Doctor. God, I loved him.
In the cab en route to our hotel it was too dark to take in the scenery so I focused my weary eyes on something beautiful instead – Richard. He was slumped back in his seat with his head tilted towards the window next to him, smoothing his hand over his tight-fitting jeans. I wondered what he was thinking behind those hypnotic eyes of his.
I slept away the majority of the six-hour flight and yawned my way through baggage control yet amazingly I was still tired. Though it was 2:30 in the morning. Or was it? I didn’t know if my cell had adjusted itself or not while I was comatose.
The car slowed to a halt outside The Diamond Plaza. It was a mammoth white building with endless windows and a huge canopied porch supported by great stone pillars. My pulse raced as my eyes tried to absorb the magnificence of it all. Would I ever get used to this? I hoped not.
Stepping out of the car we were greeted by a tall man in a dark blue suit complete with tailcoat and
pershing
hat. I didn’t thinking people like that actually existed outside of old-fashioned movies! He took our luggage without needing to be asked –
I’m sure my case has grown –
and led us inside through an immense sandstone lobby and up to an impressive reception desk that spanned the full width of the far wall.
I remained quiet while Richard checked us in with a flame-haired lovesick receptionist. Despite being the middle of the night I was surrounded by beautiful people, impeccably dressed guests and staff alike going about their business. Feeling awfully self-conscious, I dragged out my hair-tie and shook out my hair in an effort to conceal my face. Naturally, Richard fitted in perfectly.
“Would you like the newspaper delivered with your breakfast in the morning, sir?” Red Head asked, her infatuated eyes never leaving Richard’s. I wondered if I waved my arms in the air she’d notice that he was with someone.
He nodded curtly – rudely even – like she’d just asked him a ridiculous question.
What’s up with Mr Cranky Pants?
Her eyes fell to the ground as heat rushed to her cheeks. I almost felt a little sorry for her as I started to question whether I had just met ‘Tired Richard’ for the first time.
Delivered…
the word bounced around my brain and it reminded me I didn’t sign for Richard’s delivery this morning –
yesterday
morning. I hoped it wasn’t important.
Next, we were introduced to our concierge – Michael – and he took our baggage before leading us to the top floor in an elevator easily big enough for twenty people. Unbelievably the elevator was manned by yet another finely suited man. Were rich people incapable of pushing a button all by
themselves
?
Upon reaching the twenty-first floor we followed the blue-suited man known as Michael to the far end of the landing that was all cream and gold with plush red carpet. He guided us to a suite – not a room – that was possibly larger than my old house.
Wowzers.
Yep, still wasn’t used to this. Michael settled our luggage beside a rich-red chaise longue in the corner of the room before turning to leave. Then he paused by the open door with an expectant look in his eyes. I was momentarily confused until I saw Richard stride towards him with his open wallet.
Cheeky bastard!
He only carried a couple of suitcases… Richard slipped him some money (even though I was secretly hoping he’d do a Kevin McAllister and drop him some gum) then he nodded courteously and left us alone.
“Your delivery didn’t arrive today,” I said as Richard strolled towards me with outstretched arms. I gladly fell into them.
“Not to worry. I had the courier inform me of any issues and had it redirected to the hospital. I have it right here.”
“Where?” My eyes instinctively scanned the room in a full circle before settling back on his face. Then I followed his gaze as he proffered his hand towards the corner of the room.
The suitcases?
Was he inviting me to take a look? Was it for me?
“Your suitcase,” he stated, as if that should quash my confusion. It didn’t. “You know, it’s times like this your blonde hair really suits you,” he teased and I playfully punched his arm.
Striding over to the luggage I heaved my suitcase up onto the chaise longue. I was sure it seemed heavier than when I left it. Or perhaps the jetlag had just made me weaker.
“Here,” Richard hollered, throwing something small and shiny into the air. It was too late – or too
early
– for hand-eye coordination and I missed, letting it drop to my feet. It was a key. Again, I was baffled, until I noticed the small brass lock fixing the zipper closed. Hmm, I didn’t remember it having a lock when I packed it.
Clumsily, I removed the lock and flipped open the grey case.
“This isn’t mine.” Fantastic, we’d picked up the wrong luggage. That explained why it was so darn heavy. What the hell would I wear now?