Ryan wasn’t like a brother: we didn’t fight or disagree or fall out. He had been my wing man, my best friend. My soul mate. I couldn’t cope with another loss.
This had been something I’d talked about with my therapist. My self-destruct button had included pushing everyone close to me away. For weeks when I was in rehab after my back surgeries, I refused to let any of my family visit. I couldn’t manage their concern or worry or fear: it was impossible for me to accept that they were hurting because of me, like I was hurting because of Ryan.
It was also impossible for me to deal with the idea of losing anyone else.
All of it was perfectlynormal, so I was told. Everyone deals with grief differently, and keeping people away was one of those ways. A safety mechanism.
I’d tensed when Anya had been in my arms on Shep’s boat. My head had already conjured a different ending and I had stiffened at the idea that she was nearly not there. Twenty-five months was a long time, however quickly it had gone, and I hadn’t recovered fully and didn’t think I ever would. That was something I’d accepted. But going through it again was not something I was well enough to break into fixable pieces for.
The door to the box room opened. I knew who it was without looking over, the musky scent she wore carrying over.
Anya said nothing. Instead she sat down next to me, nudging a box out of the way with her foot. Her head went on my shoulder and my arm went around her and I breathed her in, feeling her heat.
We sat there like that while the sky blackened and dimmed, the stars hidden and the moon blanketed. There were no words, none were needed. No justifications.
We’d both remembered what it felt like to be helpless and life had underlined that it could happen at any time.
I shifted her into my arms, sitting her between my legs and wrapping my arms around her. I’d managed to dry off, but my skin was rough with the salt from the sea. Her hair was down and lose, soft against my chin.
She warmed me.
There were choices, ones that sounded big but in actual fact were very simple. Being close to anyone puts you at risk of being hurt at any time, but it was a risk I couldn’t take. I knew that now. I could live on an island but I couldn’t be one.
“How’s Harry?”
She hitched back into me. “He’s absolutely fine and asking if he can go swimming tomorrow. Kim was fine too.” Her head leaned back against my chest.
“It wasn’t your fault. The speedboat was going too fast…”
“I know. I should’ve had my lifejacket on. I should’ve been more vigilant.”
“Should’ve.” There were too manyshould’ves.
“It’s a pointless word.”
“It is. Because he’s fine. And you’re fine.”
“And you’re not.” She wasn’t going to ignore the elephant in the room.
“No. I wasn’t.”
“I saw you panic. I felt you panic.”
“I know.” Another woman would’ve stayed away. It wasn’t me who had been tossed by the sea, yet I was the one who’d reacted as if I had been. “I don’t want to apologise for it.” I couldn’t. Because right now, this was who I was. I knew in time things would get easier; I wouldn’t have that physical reaction
“And you shouldn’t.”
I felt the tension strung through her body. “How are you feeling about it?”
“Better now. Nan put it into perspective. Harry’s been pretty much brought up on a boat and I’ve swam in that sea long enough to know what to do if I capsize. It isn’t the first time it’s happened. She just looked at me and said it’s a risk I’ve been taking for years. Everything worked out fine and all that’s happened is that Harry wants to go sea swimming tomorrow.”
“And you’re taking him?”
“Yes.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “I can’t live by staying wrapped away from risks. Harry wanted to go on the boat this afternoon and I took him even though I didn’t have my lifejacket. He did. I wouldn’t have taken him otherwise. We were both fine. Even if I’d banged my head and lost consciousness, you were all there because we were far enough inland in case of an emergency. I can’t not do things because of other people’s stupidity. I just have to build that into my risk assessments.” She laughed although it was a little forced. “I sound like such a teacher.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” I buried my face into her hair. “And you’re right. You can’t live in a box.”
“Neither can you.”
