So Many Reasons Why (5 page)

Where did he see me fitting in? Was I the friendship, or the
otherwise?

"I'm your professor, so I think it would be wise to
keep this as friendship." He suddenly announced. He sounded surprised. Why
did he sound surprised?  And what the hell did that mean? The moment of
confusion passed and I realised I'd said what I had thought aloud.

Shit, shit, shit
.

Must be the vodka. I cursed the vodka.

Evil, evil vodka.

“So, where to from here?" I asked. “I love your emails.
They make my day. Well, they made my day yesterday." I said shyly. How
boring was I when my highlight was a few inappropriate emails from my
professor?

Gosh that was sad. Maybe I should book myself a meeting with
Dr Phil.

“I don't know, Emma. I mean, I will stop emailing you as
your professor. Just as a friend. Then the lines won't be blurred.” He placed
an emphasis on friend. My heart dropped slightly. All my daydreams of us living
happily ever after vanished. He may as well have put my heart in a blender and turned
it on high.

Luckily rational Emma jumped back into control before I
could confess my love for him. I hadn't even met the guy. He was my teacher.
And he was nearly twice my age. All I needed to do was repeat the reasons why
falling for Simon was such a bad idea and things would be fine.

"Right, well I've clearly lost my mind. I better go
before I say something I will regret.”

"Simon?" I said quickly, before he hung up. “Did
my voice meet your expectations?" I squeezed my eyes shut, half waiting
for his response, and half wanting to hit myself over the head with a brick for
asking such a stupid question. How embarrassing if he said no.

"It surpassed them.” He whispered huskily.” Night
Emma.”

As I hung up the phone I sighed. Romantic Emma hadn't gotten
the memo that we were just friends, or at least she didn't care. I swayed my
way into the bedroom, giddy from a combination of over indulging in vodka and
my late night call.

So this wasn't just in my head. He wouldn't be calling me at
1:30 in the morning if there wasn't something there for him too. My mind swept
back into a series of happy daydreams.

“Oh crap!” I was jolted back to reality by the realisation
that I had a 9am appointment with Doctor Mellow.

I woke up to Tom shaking me.

“Em, you’re okay.” He soothed, rubbing my back. I realised I
was crying.

Another nightmare. I didn't remember it, but then again, I
didn't remember half of them. I'd call things out, cry, scream. Then I'd wake
up and remember nothing, except how I felt.

Scared, and alone.

As much as I didn't want to relive what happened to me, it
scared the hell out of me not remembering. Sometimes if I woke up at the right
(or wrong) moment I would remember little things. The scar above his left eye
as he hovered over me. The stench of stale sweat and cigarettes. Other days I’d
remember more.

I sat up to catch my breath, with Tom next to me. I
wiped over my arm. Perspiration dripped from my fingers. I glanced behind me at
the sheets. Soaking. It must have been a bad one.

“Are you sure you're okay? I can skip work?” I looked at the
alarm clock. He was already late.

“Go. I'm fine” I promised. Only I wasn't fine. I felt empty
and scared. I felt the way I always did when I woke up. Like I was going to be
sick. I threw my arms around him, knowing just how lucky I was to have Tom.

Forcing myself into the shower, the boiling water hit my
skin leaving big red marks in its wake. I didn't care, I needed it. I needed to
feel something. I needed the empty pit in my stomach to leave. The only problem
was I didn't know how to do that. My head was throbbing from last night, and if
offered, I'd have quite easily taken a few more hours sleep.

It had taken me a long time to find a psychiatrist who I
felt comfortable enough to talk to, and almost as long to get past the fact
that his name was Doctor Mellow. He sat opposite me on the couch with his mug
of tea.

Doctor Mellow was certainly an interesting fellow. In his
late sixties, today he was decked out in an Adidas parachute tracksuit jacket
and pants, you know the ones that were all the rage for a week in the 80s?

It was sometimes hard to take the man seriously, but he was
able to get me on a level not many people could.

“How’re things, Emma? Since our last session?” Our last
session had been a week ago.

“Good. Okay.”

“And how have things really been? Derek’s possible release
must be hard on you.”

“You know about that?” It surprised me how much he knew
sometimes. Then again, I suppose that was his job.

He nodded. “Yes. I know about that. How did you cope finding
that out on the anniversary?” Seeing my shock, he added “Your mother filled me
in on that.” Annoyance bubbled inside me. What ever happened to doctor patient
confidentiality? What else had he and my mother spoken about?

“Emma? Let’s pretend Derek is granted parole. How will that
effect you?” I almost laughed. How would it affect me? How
wouldn't
it? I thought for a moment, trying to get the words right
in my brain.

“If don't feel safe with him locked up in prison, I don't
know how I will cope with him out.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
“He could be around any corner, lurking outside my window. I just-” I broke
off.

“What Emma? You just what?” Dr Mellow leaned forward,
placing his cup on the coffee table. I focused on the marks the cup had left on
the glass top.

“I just want to feel strong. I want to do things and not
worry, but it's always there and no matter what I do I can't focus on anything
but that.”

“Maybe you need to find something else to focus on, Emma.”

“Like what?” As if I hadn’t tried that already. Dr Mellow
shifted in his seat.

“Emma.” He began. “Getting over your agoraphobia is going to
be so much harder for you when he is out. Maybe you should try and take some
steps toward overcoming this.” My body tensed. Dr Mellow glanced at my white
knuckles as they tightened around the edge of my seat.

“Start slow Emma. Stand on your balcony. Open the front
door. Just make those first steps towards gaining control.”

The grey clouds were moving over the sky. From the crack in
the sliding door, I could smell the rain. This was my first step. Sitting on
the floor inside my living room peering through the window may not seem like
such a step, but the last time I’d even looked outside the window was before
the attack. 

He was right. Hiding from this wasn't going to change
things. I'd always blamed my agoraphobia on what had happened to me, and to
some extent, it was to blame. But I was also to blame. By not facing my fears
I'd let them grow into this huge, unrelenting problem that engulfed me
constantly. If I couldn't get myself out of this suffocation, what hope did I
have when he was released? If it wasn’t this time, it would be the next. They
couldn't keep him locked up forever. 

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Hey Cass.”

“Hey you. What are you up to?” Her voice was slightly
muffled, as though she was eating.

“Not much.”

“Cool. Might drop past. I have a free hour and I'm around
the corner at Delinkski's.” The mention of the indulgent French bakery
explained everything. “Want anything?”

“An éclair.” I decided, giving in to my sudden craving for
French delicacies.

Cass stormed through the door, handed me a box and threw
herself on the couch.

“I am so buggered!” She declared, sighing loudly. I gently
eased open the box and smiled at its contents. A feud was beginning in my head
as to whether I should eat it now or save it for later. I should have asked for
two. What the hell. I ripped apart the box and tucked into the layers of
pastry, cream and chocolate. Heavenly.

“Why are you so buggered?” I covered my mouth to avoid
shooting bit of éclair across the room. Cass reached out to pat Carol.

“Big night last night with Mr Bent Penis.” She grinned.

“Excuse me?” I gasped, giggling and choking at the same
time. Cass nodded, her blue eyes gleaming.

“Yep. I swear it was like the letter L” she giggled.

“No!” Cass nodded and joined me on the floor. “What did you
do?”

“Well we still managed it. He was quite good at hitting the
spot actually.” We both collapsed in hysterics.

“That’s good.” I sputtered, trying to catch my breath. “I’m
glad you didn’t get all bent out of shape about it.” Another round of giggles
erupted out of my mouth.

“Oh that’s good.” Cass panted, slapping her leg. “I felt
sorry for him though. Surely that would be enough to send you around the bend.”
We were both laughing so hard I was sure the neighbours would call the police.

“Seriously, we need to stop. That poor guy.” Cass sat up
too, nodding, trying to swallow her giggles. “I mean, that would be insane to
live with. Did it curve up?”

“No you idiot! To the side.” She curved her finger over as
if to show me.

“How did you even get it in?”

“Emma! You are so crude sometimes.” Cass scolded.

“I’m crude?
Me?
What about you?” I fell flat on my back, still giggling. It felt good to
finally release. It made me realise how much I needed this. I reached over and
squeezed Cass’s arm.

“Thanks for this Cass.” I wiped the tears from my eyes.

Cass hugged me.

“Thank you.” She corrected. “Who else would I talk about
this stuff to?”

The light pouring through the gap in the curtains at 6am did
nothing to lift my mood. After my shower and breakfast, I decided today was a
pyjamas day. I sprawled myself out on the couch, with the television on reruns
of Dr Phil. Everything seemed to be reruns these days.

Maybe if I lost myself in other people’s problems mine
wouldn’t seem so major. First up we had a mother who had tried to kill her
three adult daughters. Then a mother who refused to acknowledge her daughter
because she’d wanted a son. Very uplifting stuff. 

I changed over to a soap opera. It had been weeks since I’d
watched it, yet they were still on the same issues. My phone vibrated. I scooped
it off the floor. I was no longer hoping it to be from Simon, I was expecting
it to be him. Which made spam emails even more annoying.
 

Emma,

I still feel I was out of line calling you and laying
everything on you like I did. I hope things are not awkward between us now. I
hope you have a good day whatever you're doing. Me, I will be enjoying a lovely
day in the park with 30 screaming kids.

For what it's worth, talking to you did help.

Simon

I laughed, wondering what on earth he'd gotten himself into.
I recalled Cass saying he had a daughter. I wondered how old she was. I grabbed
my trusty laptop and went on another Google expedition. Simon regularly took
the high profile cases that came through the courts so I knew I could dredge up
a lot of information on him.

He and his wife had separated twelve months ago. They shared
custody of their four year old daughter, Madeline. I was a bit taken aback. I
hadn't expected his marriage breakup to have been so recent, though to most
people a year is a lot of time. And a four year old daughter? That's some
baggage.

I giggled. Since when was I in the position to judge other
people? If that was baggage, then I had a semi-trailer load full.

Picture after picture popped up as I scrolled my mouse down
through the images supplied curiosity of Star News. I sighed. The man couldn't
take a bad picture. He was seriously gorgeous. And his daughter was adorable
with her dark curls and pretty smile. I tentatively clicked on an image of his
ex-wife.

Wow.

Wow, was she hot. She looked perfect, with her long legs,
wavy golden hair down to her bum.

I slammed my laptop shut, feeling dejected. As much as I
knew I was being stupid, I couldn’t help myself. He could have anyone. I really
needed to get a grip. One late night phone call does not mean the guy is into
me. And let’s not forget the fact I am completely unstable when it comes to
relationships. And the fact that he was closer in age to my parents than me!
They would have a fit. There were so many reasons why this would never go
anywhere.

The thing that surprised me most was how even after all the
negative thoughts rushed through my head, I really didn’t care. It had been so
long since I’d felt any sort of connection with anyone, letting go would be
near impossible.

Somehow my phone found its way into my hands. Email was too
slow, too easy to ignore. I needed answers now dammit! Thank god for SMS.

30 kids! Not all yours I hope.

There. Light enough to be friendly, but specific enough that
he would hopefully tell me about his daughter. And his ex-wife.

No, only one is mine, thank god. I have Maddie for the
week while her mom is on a business trip in Asia.

Well that didn't really tell me much. I needed answers now,
and Google wasn’t telling me shit. I could feel unstable jealous Emma worming
her way into my thoughts. I did my best to push her out, but she was a
persistent little bitch.  My god, I was crazy. The reality of my behaviour
was starting to set in. I needed to settle before I lost the plot completely.

As quickly as that reality hit, it disappeared completely.
What went wrong with his wife? She was beyond hot. Awesome ass, long legs.
Whatever it was, surely he could do better than me. I sighed at the realisation
that unstable Emma was planning on sticking around for a while.

I needed to distract myself, I decided. I started pulling
things out of the cupboards. Some might suggest that I am a clean freak when
stressed, and there may be some truth to that theory. I grabbed the rags from
the laundry, turned on some music and began cleaning. I was bouncing away to
the music, so absorbed in my cleaning mission I didn't even notice Tom stumble
into the room. The music disappeared. I spun around.