“I thought you were going away to rest.” Manny’s deep voice rumbles, close to my ear, as he ushers me outside to the waiting car.
“I was.”
“So why do you look even worse than when you left?”
Manny is one of very few people in the world who can speak to me like that and get away with it.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Despite that, he doesn’t need to know everything. Not yet, not while I’m still figuring it out myself.
Manny grunts as he fits himself into the car, his bulk a wall between me and the world. And I feel… not safe. Not entirely. But I relax slightly, exhaling. It feels as though I’ve been holding my breath since I checked myself out of the medical centre, asking them to help me with transportation to Bali, then hurrying back to the cabin to collect my things, hoping I wouldn’t see Axel along the way.
But he was mercifully absent, his house shuttered and dark. It felt as though my chest was cracking as I stared at it, the place where I’d been so happy. Then I packed my stuff and got out of there. Dora’s board is gone, and I mourn its loss.
But I mourn Axel more.
I can almost understand him, in a way. And that makes me furious. That he wasn’t ready to fight for me, for what we had: a connection deeper than any I’ve ever felt. I touch my lips as though I can still feel his kiss, the way he made me feel safe, surrendering to him. The way he held me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way about someone again.
Again, there’s pain, a quicksilver ripple across my chest. I guess this is what heartbreak feels like.
As we drive to the hotel I sob, quietly.
Axel
I’m an idiot.
I’ve told myself this before, many times. But I think this is the first time I actually believe it to be true.
How could I have let her go like that?
Yeah, I know. I thought I was doing the right thing, thought I was protecting her from my broken shards, when all I was doing was giving in to them, like a coward. By the time I figured it all out and went back to the medical centre, wanting to apologise and tell her what a fool I am, she was already gone. I raced to her cabin, hoping against hope. But all that remained was the rumpled bed, and a faint scent of flowers.
I walk along the beach, wishing she was out there, surfing, that she might walk up the shore towards me, light in her green eyes. But all I have are the waves. Then I spot something pale, wedged in the rocks at the point. I climb out to it, not caring about the pain in my bare feet. Nothing touches the ache inside me.
It’s Jade’s board. Dinged and scratched, but still in one piece. It feels like a sign, somehow, that everything isn’t lost. I manage to free it from the rocks, then carry it back to the beach. A small piece of her, a gift returned from the ocean.
I’ll repair it, again. And then I’ll decide what to do.
More information has come through to the council: Jade was telling the truth about Myles. Of course she fucking was! The fact I didn’t let her explain stings, like lime juice on a cut. I let my anger take control again, my lack of trust, that someone like Myles could actually want to do some good in the world, rather than taking it for all he can get. I have my own upbringing to blame for that, my own wounds. Yes, I can blame my parents, but I was the one who ran away, instead of working to change things for the better. I keep telling myself I came here to heal, but I just let things fester. And now I’m paying the price.
Myles has sent through a detailed prospectus, all about his foundation and the work they’re doing, pledging that the temple will be part of it. It won’t be publicised; rather, it will be preserved, the land left as it is for locals to use, managed by the council.
I suppose change here is inevitable, one day. Yet I hope, with the money from Myles’s purchase, the island can be protected a little longer, and let things happen at our own pace, in a way that’s sustainable. After all, I do have a hotel of sorts myself. Who am I to stop someone else from doing the same thing? It’s another thing I need to face up to, along with everything else.
I wouldn’t be facing any of it, though, if it wasn’t for her. Hurricane Jade. Blasting through and blowing away all the layers of bullshit I coated myself in: the need to hide away, to blame myself for something that wasn’t my fault, to try and keep things the same, when change is the only constant in our world.
And I know I am irreparably changed. Susie’s death. All the years of hiding away, of denying who I am and what I really want. And then… Jade. I feel as though part of me is missing, gone with her, as I prop her board on the veranda, near to the sofa where, just a few days ago, I made love to her.
Now she’s gone. Did I mention I’m a fucking idiot?
I don’t know what to do next.
I don’t have her number. Why bother getting it, when we weren’t apart? I’ve already called her management company but they’re refusing to connect us. “Miss O’Connell has a lot of people trying to get in touch with her,” the young man on the end of the line said. “I’m afraid if she hasn’t authorised it, I can’t put you through.”
It’s good to know, I guess, that she’s being protected. That someone is looking out for her. It should be me.
But I’m the fool who let her go.
