Playing My Love (26 page)

                                                          
15

                                      
  Walking Confused

THREE MONTHS LATER

  I declined their offer to call me a taxi.  I needed air after the stuffiness of the hospital over the last couple of days.  In fact, I couldn't see myself returning to work in one, like ever.

  No.  I wanted to walk.  I had nothing else to do.  There was no one to go home to.

  No one to go home with.

  It was sometime after midnight when I started putting one numb foot in front of the other, robotically repeating this process until I found myself standing outside the hospital.  Vaguely aware that it was bitterly cold and that the rain was sheeting down in a heavy torrent, I forced myself to keep going.  It was thirteen miles to get home.  I was dressed in a baggy t shirt and tracksuit bottoms with a flimsy pair of converse trainers.  (I was sure I'd had a jumper with me at some point, but I'd either mislaid it or someone had stolen it.)  It was hardly hiking material, but I didn't really care.  I set off into the night.

  After a while, the rain numbed
my skin through my sodden clothes and this made me feel slightly better.  I didn't want to feel anything (although I recognised it would take more than some rain to numb my aching heart.)

  I remembered our holiday.  Although we'd taken it easy, his condition had worsened at a scary pace and I'd been forced to cancel a lot of our planned trips from our itinerary, not wanting to see him collapse or need medical treatment in a foreign country.  Despite the fact we'd forked out a small fortune on medical insurance (almost as much as the trip had cost itself) we didn't want to have to use it.

  Even so, on our return to England I took him straight to the hospital and they kept him in for two days.  Gray swore it had all been worth it, but it was a shock to me to see how much pain he'd actually been in but gritted his teeth through.

  I reached a sign that told me the hospital was two miles away.  Only
eleven to go.

  A few weeks after we got back from the holiday, Jazz and Chris came down for an impromptu visit.  The second I opened the door and saw her standing there, I burst into tears and cried on her shoulder
, any residual anger toward her forgotten instantly.

  I'd seen their shock at how Gray looked, despite their best efforts to cover it up, and we'd all spent a good half an hour just crying and hugging and talking excitedly
.

  Later, she'd taken me into the kitchen and explained everything to me.

  "Oh god, Ali, it was that fucking case I was working on.  This man had been abusing his step-daughter for over a decade, grooming her into thinking it was an affair.  When he was arrested, he slipped up in his interview and got his dates wrong, saying the 'affair' started when she left school.  But she left school when she was fifteen.  We thought we had the slimy motherfucker, but the mother stood by
him
!  Can you believe that shit?  He was fucking her daughter for years
and
admitted all of this…yet she stood by him and disowned her daughter!  As if she hadn't been through enough abuse!  Crazy fucking bitch!  Anyway, it went to court and the stupid fucking jury found him not guilty.  I worked for two and a half years on this case, trying to get this poor girl some justice and he walked free!  She, meanwhile, lost everything, Ali.  Her family, her dignity and the right to see that fucking cunt locked up.  I'll never forget her face when the verdict came through.  I wanted to rip his motherfucking dick off right then and there.  I went back up to my office, and that was when you called and told me you'd kissed Darcy.  I just vented at you, and I shouldn't have.  The minute I got off the phone I had a bit of a tantrum, then tried to call you back to apologise.  I've felt like shit ever since about how I spoke to you.  I'm sorry, darling, truly sorry."

  We hugged, one of those hugs that seemed to last forever.  I felt as safe in Jazz's embrace as I did in Darcy's, and she held onto me tight.

  "Oh god, I love you, Jazz-Bar!"

  "Love you right back
, Ali-Bar!"

  That night, at
Gray's insistence, I got my guitar out and played for them.  Everyone seemed quite surprised at how good I was considering I'd only been playing less than a year, and they even sang along to a few of the songs.

  The next day, Gray stayed in bed, and it was there that Jazz and Chris had said their final goodbyes to him.

  A loud beeping brought me out of my reverie, followed by a screeching of tyres.  A car stopped mere inches from me on the road I'd been blindly crossing in the rain.

  "Hey
, crazy lady, watch where you're walking!"  the driver shouted out.  I ignored him and just carried on as I was, not really caring about how close I'd come to being returned to the hospital.  The rain was coming down hard now, although I couldn't feel it battering my red raw skin.

  As October had rolled around, I knew Gray wasn't going to make it to Christmas.  It was a strange
notion, and I wondered how he must be feeling, knowing he wouldn't be waking up with me, exchanging our gifts, making too much food before collapsing in front of the television for the Christmas soaps and films.  I wondered if it felt as surreal to him as it did to me, but I never asked, and he never told.

  He refused to be admitted to the hospital when he got really bad, begging instead that I care for him in our cottage.  So I did, and watched him turn into a virtual stranger right before my eyes.  He stopped being Gray my husband, and became Gray the patient.

  It had been about a week ago when he'd started refusing food, and that was when I knew the end was in sight for him.  For us.

  I looked up and noticed I was walking past the coffee shop where Darcy and I had had our first chat
after meeting in the park.  Instantly my head spun with confusion, and I had to try and quash all the thoughts and images that suddenly flooded me.  Gray deserved my full attention now.

  She'd texted me a few times when I'd returned from holiday, but after about the tenth message (none of which I'd replied to) she stopped.  Instead of feeling relieved as I'd expected, I felt more lost and lonely.  I ended up deleting my
facebook account to stop myself from checking the status on her profile page and looking through her pictures.

  I couldn't bear the idea that she might meet someone else.  Despite knowing she'd only ever loved Sam and myself, I couldn't help but wonder how someone as beautiful and wonderful as Darcy wasn't attracting more attention.  This thought led to wondering if she was attracting
attention while I was ignoring her, and if she was feeling some sort of powerful connection that exceeded the one we'd felt.

  I tripped on my shoelace and went flying onto my front.  There wasn't much skidding involved owing to the fact I was barely lifting my feet from the ground as I was shuffling along.  However, it was also because of this reason that I failed to put my arms out to brace my fall and my cheek smacked hard on the concrete.  Stunned, I remained where I was, my face half immersed in a dirty puddle.
Although my skin was numb, I'd heard the loud smack and it had reverberated through my head enough to stun me.

  A couple of weeks ago, Gray had asked me why I hadn't seen Darcy for a while.  My mouth had gone dry and my palms clammy.  I'd sat next to him on the bed, nervously playing with my sleeve.

  "Gray…I need to…yes, I think I need to tell you something"  I started to say, then cleared my throat.  "Darcy…and I…"

  "Stop.  Before you go any further, just stop.  I already know, Ali."

  I stared at him, my jaw working soundlessly.  He blinked a few times, looking pained.

  "I'm dying, but
I'm not blind, nor stupid.  I saw the way she used to look at you…and the way you looked at her.  Jesus, I want you to be happy.  I want you to be with someone who makes you happy, who loves you and wants to look after you.  I just don't want you to forget me.  You're such a beautiful woman Ali, you shouldn't be alone.  You deserve the best.  Never settle for less, do you understand?  I'm…I'm trying to give you my blessing, okay?"

  I nodded, hating myself completely for my transparency, and that was all that was said on the matter.

  I wearily pushed myself up from the pavement, not bothering to wipe myself down, then continued on my journey home.

  I remembered that I'd
only ever gone on a date with Doc to prove to him that we weren't compatible, and had hoped he'd get over his infatuation with me over dinner.  Jazz had set it up, telling me to meet her at our local restaurant for some lunch, but when I'd walked in and seen Doc sat with a beautiful single orchid, I knew she'd set me up.

  "Please don't run off?  I'd just like to have one drink with you
, Alison"  he'd said nervously, his voice and hands shaking.  I'd been surprised.  He normally carried himself with what I'd always regarded as a cocky arrogance, following me round campus trying to convince me we were a perfect match.

  "One drink.  And don't call me Alison, it's Ali"  I mumbled grouchily, sitting at the table in front of him.  I'd expected him to look smug at winning me over, but he just smiled in relief.

  "Okay, Ali"  he repeated, staring into my eyes.  I noticed how warm his were, almost like a puppy dog that wanted my love.

  We left the restaurant and found a wine bar which is where we spent a good seven hours talking and drinking.  When we shared a taxi back to our flats, I'd expected him to try and kiss me, or perhaps invite me back to his place for another drink.  Instead, he gave me a warm hug.

  "I'd like to see you again?"  he asked, sincerely.  Gone was the cockiness, and the arrogance.  Left in its place was an intelligent, funny and charming man.

  "Okay"  I agreed, wondering at how he'd managed to side step all my expectations.

  We went on three more dates before he kissed me, and a further four before we slept together.  The earth didn't move for me, but he was a gentle and considerate lover who looked after my needs before his own.

  We became a steady item before I was really aware of it going from casual dating to something serious, which seemed to amuse both Jazz and Doc.

  I could taste blood in my mouth as I hit the halfway mark home.  I frowned, confused as to why there would be blood in my mouth, but then I remembered I'd fallen a few miles back.  I raised a numb, leaden hand to my face.  Being that my fingers were as numb as my face, I wasn't sure what I was hoping for as I tried to assess the damage, but I was aware of a swelling around my lips and cheek.

  A car drove by and slowed down, stopping alongside me as the passenger wound down the window to ask if I was alright, and to offer me a lift somewhere.  I just looked blankly at them and shook my head, unable to speak.  My feet carried on walking, on some bizarre autopilot now and beyond my control.  The girl in the car asked me if there was someone they could call for me
.  Funny, the nurses at the hospital had asked me that same question.  I didn't want anyone called for me.  Not yet.  I ignored the girl and stared straight ahead, hoping they'd leave me alone.  It worked and they drove off quickly into the dark night.

  Doc had proposed to me the day before I found out that my sister had died.  He'd taken me to my favourite restaurant and ordered a bottle of champagne.  The waiter had brought over two flutes and Do
c had poured the fizz into them, but as I'd gone to take a sip, he'd frowned.

  "Wait, don't drink that.  There's something in the glass"  he said quietly.  I lowered it from my lips and peered into the bubbles.  The ring was sat at the bottom, twinkling and sparkling away.  I stared at it, stunned.  Then I jumped up and ran to the ladies toilet, leaving Doc at the table.

  I stayed in there for twenty minutes, trying to breathe and get my thoughts together before a waitress came in to check that I was okay.  When I walked back out, I told Doc I needed to think about it, to make sure I was ready.  He nodded, incredibly understanding considering my extreme reaction!

  The next day, I'd got a call from the police informing me that my sister Emma had overdosed on a cocktail o
f heroin and alcohol.  After hanging up the phone, I remained sat on the sofa for a couple of hours, numb.  By the time Doc had returned from the gym, I calmly informed him that I was ready to marry him.  Oh, and also that Emma had died but that I was surprised she'd lasted this long with the amount of drugs she'd pumped into her body over the years.  It was a bittersweet moment for him, in retrospect.

  We hired a small church, and just told everyone to sit wherever they wanted (mainly because I had so few on my side.)  It had been a beautiful day, despite the drizzly rain.