Fix You (12 page)

Thirteen

July 3
^rd
2005

H
anna wore her despair like an iron blanket
pressing down on her body; it comforted and caused pain in equal measure, yet
was somehow reassuring in its relentless misery. Like the sun rising, she could
rely on it being her constant companion during daylight hours. And at night,
while she lay curled up on her childhood bed, she let the hurt consume her as
strangled cries fought their way out of her mouth, her hands curled up into
fists as if she could somehow fight the anguish off.

It was a battle she couldn’t win.

For the first month after Diana’s death, it seemed right and
proper that she should mourn her mother, and she didn’t give a second thought
to the way she felt. Richard had returned to New York a week after the funeral,
begging her to join him, but the memories of Diana and the need to settle her
estate anchored Hanna to London. During their separation, she felt increasingly
alone, unable to answer his calls or return his emails without breaking down,
finding excuses to prevent him visiting her. She wanted to conquer her
depression on her own without him ever finding out just how low she felt.

But as time went on, and the flowering bulbs of spring gave
way to early summer heat, her misery continued unabated. She only left the flat
for the most pressing of reasons, and even then she found herself rushing back
home as soon as she could.

By June, things had reached an all-time low. She turned down
any social invitations, and made every excuse not to meet with the Larsens or
speak with Richard. Being with them reminded her of everything she had lost,
and the jealousy she felt whenever she saw their tight, family unit consumed her.
She hated herself for it.

At work, she was given a warning for lateness and
absenteeism. With every word that her editor said, she had found herself
nodding and agreeing with him; she was lackadaisical, uncaring, and
unprofessional, and his poor opinion of her only confirmed that she was right
in having an equally low opinion of herself.

Now it was 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and she was still
half-asleep, her hair dull and greasy. Her ten-day old pajamas were in
desperate need of a wash. The knocking on her door was an accompanying sound to
her misery, like the backbeat of a drum, and she didn’t even have enough energy
to drag herself out of bed to answer it.

Then the shouting started.

“I know you’re in there, Hanna, open up!” The voice carried
across the hallway and into Hanna’s room and she closed her eyes in the hope
that whoever it was would go away. Just as she snuggled back into her soft,
feather pillow, she heard a key turn in the lock, then the bang of the door as
it hit the wall.

Clearly she had company.

She could hear the footsteps as her visitor walked across
the hall, each click becoming louder as they approached her bedroom. A sense of
resignation washed over her as she realized that she would have to face whoever
it was, and try to get them out of her apartment as quickly as possible. Didn’t
they know she wanted to be left alone?

“Jesus, it stinks in here.” Ruby wrinkled her nose up as she
walked into the bedroom, immediately glancing over at Hanna and seeing her
curled up under three-week old sheets.

“Go away, Ruby.” Even to her own ears, Hanna’s voice sounded
monotonous and dull.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve finished my last exam; I’ve
got all the time in the world to devote to making you get in the shower.” Ruby
wandered over to the window and yanked open the curtains, a soft shower of dust
falling from the fabric to the floor below.

Hanna blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust her eyes
to the morning light. A scowl covered Ruby’s face and her usually calm demeanor
was somehow agitated and nervy, increasing Hanna’s anxiety.

“I just need to go back to sleep. I’m so tired.” Hanna
closed her eyes.

“Hanna, we’re so worried about you. You never call Richard;
you won’t come and see Mum and Dad. You haven’t texted me once to see how my
exams are going, it’s completely unlike you.”

Hanna refrained from responding, because she wanted to tell
Ruby that she couldn’t care less how the Larsens were feeling, or how they
never heard from her. She was like a cuckoo in the nest, poisoning their happy
unit with her misery and jealousy, and they were better off without her.

She was so angry that she didn’t have a mother to hold or
love her anymore.

“I’m fine, Ruby. A bit tired, and a bit emotional, but
nothing I can’t handle.” Hanna pulled the sheets further up her body, until
they were covering her face. Ruby was right; the stench in her bedroom
was
foul.

“You’re not fine.” Ruby’s eyes were getting watery, and her
voice reflected her mood. “You’re anything but fine. Please let me help you.”

“I just need to close my eyes. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Have you at least gone to see a therapist?”

“There’s no point. I know what’s wrong with me; I just can’t
bring myself to care.”

“Why won’t you call Richard? He’s going out of his mind.”
Ruby’s face started to crumple; she sucked her lips inside her mouth, biting
down on them with her teeth.

“I don’t know what to say,” Hanna whispered. Each night, she
fell asleep with his name on her lips, and awoke in the early hours of the
morning with the thought of him squeezing her heart like a vice.

“He loves you, Hanna. He’s going out of his mind.”

“He’s better off without me. I’ll just bring him down, too.”
She let her head fall back to the pillow and closed her eyes.

“Let him come over and see you, he’s desperate.”

“I can’t.” The tears that came so easily nowadays were
bubbling over from Hanna’s eyes. She kept her lids tightly shut as if she could
somehow cage them in.

In five months of sleepless nights, she had spent so much
time thinking about her relationship with him, and still couldn’t see a way
forward. They had spent some time together—always when he flew over to see her
for a stolen weekend—but it wasn’t enough to solve any of her dilemmas. She was
never going to fit into his life in New York, no matter how much she tried to
change and adapt.

They were at an impasse; there was nowhere for them to go
but downhill. She wouldn’t live in New York, and he was unable to live in
London. One of them was going to have to break the cycle.

She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough.

TWO WEEKS LATER, she was taping up the
final box when the buzzer signaled the arrival of the removal company. Hanna
was pleasantly surprised to see they were fifteen minutes early, and she pulled
the door open wide to let them in.

Her heart dropped as soon as she saw Richard leaning on the
doorjamb, his hand raking through his hair. His suit was so disheveled, it
looked like he’d spent the night in it.

She supposed he had.

“What are you doing here?”

Richard barged through the door, taking in the piles of
boxes stacked in the hall. “What the fuck is this?” he asked, holding up an
envelope. His tone was soft but his words were harsh, and she winced upon
hearing them. “You tried to break off with me in a letter?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“How about the phone. Or even wait for me to visit you. A
fucking letter?” His face was bright red. He lifted the paper up and started to
tear it into strips. “What the hell were you thinking…?” His voice trailed off
as he looked around the room, taking in the boxes for the first time. “Are you
moving?”

Hanna slowly shook her head.

Coming to a stop in front of her, Richard reached out to
touch her face, and she found herself stepping backward.

“Then what’s happening?” His voice was too quiet.

“I’m leaving London, I’m planning to travel.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you just going to disappear?”

“I’ve written you a letter.” She felt nauseous, and tried to
will her body to calm down. She couldn’t show him that she was falling apart.

“Another fucking letter?” His voice cracked. “Don’t do this,
baby, please.”

Oh God, she was going to cry, or throw up, maybe both. She
ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and turning the lock behind her.
For the longest time she knelt on the cold tiled floor, her head bent over the
bowl of the toilet, her body heaving. Her hands were shaking as she braced
herself against the basin.

When she emerged, he was standing outside, his cell phone in
his hand, shouting orders down the mouthpiece. He must have let the removal
company in—there were men everywhere; dressed in overalls and carrying boxes
and furniture out to the van they had parked in the middle of the street.

Hanna watched as they maneuvered her bed and mattress out of
the front door. More than anything she wanted to climb back inside and bury
herself under her duvet, and put herself in storage alongside her belongings.

Richard was following her every move as he stood in the
middle of the room unsmiling, his green eyes staring directly at her. It was
unnerving.

“I catch a flight from Heathrow tomorrow,” she blurted out,
just to shatter his silence.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m flying into Sydney.”

“I’ll come and visit you.”

“No!” Her reply was firm. “I need to do this alone.”

“I can’t agree to that.” Any sense of anger had left his
voice. Hanna realized that, despite being in the pit of despair, she was the
one who was going to have to be strong.

“I’m not worth it.”

His voice was little more than a whisper. “You’re more than
worth it, this will never be over.”

Walking over to him, she wrapped her thin arms around his
waist, pressing the side of her face into his chest, unsure which of them was
shaking more. Tilting her chin to look at his face, she watched the tears
streaking his cheeks, mirroring her own, and she stood on her tiptoes to brush
her lips to his mouth.

Falling back on her heels, she walked over and picked up her
bag, pulling the strap over her shoulder as she made her way to the front door.

She couldn’t look at him again, knowing that to see his
expression would change her mind. Instead, she closed her eyes, keeping her
hand on the door handle as she swung it open, waiting for the creaking sound to
stop to make sure he could hear her.

“I’m so sorry, Richard.”

Fourteen

March 4
^th
2006

“
A
re you sure you want to do this?”
Richard looked his stepbrother straight in the eye, searching for any sign he
was wavering. Daniel lifted a glass to his mouth with shaking hands, his lips
twitching as he swallowed. Over the past year, his nervous tics had increased;
now Richard wasn’t sure what movements were intended and what weren’t.

“I don’t want to be part of it anymore; I can’t even walk
into the building. Heck, I can’t even be in Manhattan without having a panic
attack.” Daniel’s batophobia had started suddenly, after he had left rehab and
attempted to stay clean. The first time he had tried to walk into the Maxwell
Enterprises lobby, he’d collapsed on the ground and been taken away by
ambulance.

It was almost impossible to live in Manhattan when you had a
gripping fear of tall buildings.

“What are you going to do with all that money?” Richard
asked.

“I’m going to find somewhere with low buildings and constant
sun.” Daniel gave the merest hint of a smile.

“That narrows it down,” Richard had to remind himself that
his stepbrother was nearly 23.  They had agreed to meet at the Stone Creek Inn
on East Quogue, not far from the house Daniel had inherited from his father in
the Hamptons. He stayed there intermittently, preferring it to the terrifying
trips to Manhattan, although now he had also put this residence up for sale,
along with his part of the company.

The rest of the time, Daniel flitted from place to place,
staying with friends and acquaintances long enough to wear out his welcome. His
drug taking seemed to be irregular although he had already had one stint in
rehab this year.

“I want to travel for a while first, see what’s out there. I’m
not even sure I want to live in America anymore.”

“What does your girlfriend think of that?” Richard couldn’t
remember her name. They tended to change on a monthly basis and were pretty
interchangeable: blonde, statuesque, and happy to accept the gifts Daniel
lavished on them.

“Marie and I split up. She started talking about engagement
rings and buying a house together.” Daniel shuddered visibly. “I suddenly saw
my whole life flash before my eyes.”

Richard remained silent, trying not to think as a result of
Daniel’s decision, the one who was going to end up like Leon Maxwell was
Richard himself.

The avocado salad was well dressed, and they both cleared
their plates pretty quickly. Daniel grabbed a roll and smeared it with butter
before stuffing it in his mouth.

“Talking of ex-girlfriends, have you heard from Hanna?”

This time it was Richard who took a huge mouthful of wine
before placing his glass back down on the crisp, white tablecloth. “Ruby tells
me she’s still travelling.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either.

“Does she ever contact you?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe I’ll bump into her while I’m travelling, too.” Daniel
looked up as the waitress served their main courses, his eyes lighting up at
the sight of his steak. “That would be neat.”

Richard coughed, nearly spitting his wine out in the
process. He wasn’t sure if the tears it brought to his eyes were from the
choking or irritation.

“It’s a big world, Daniel. I’m pretty sure it would be like
finding a needle in a haystack.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“It would be fun, though. I miss her. She was one of the few
people I looked forward to seeing when I was stuck in rehab.”

“She visited you twice, three times max. I was there every
week.” The corner of Richard’s mouth turned up a little.

“She was memorable. And she used to send me emails.”

The lobster risotto turned to ashes in Richard’s mouth. He
remembered the emails, and the texts, and the letters, and the presents. Not to
mention their physical reunions.

“I’m pretty sure she’s not hanging out in a drug den in
Marrakesh.”

“Did I hit a sore point?” Daniel dropped his knife onto the
floor with a clatter as his arm twitched wildly. He sat back in his chair and
took a deep breath as a waitress brought him over a clean one. He gestured to
her to pour the last of the red wine into his now empty glass.

Richard shrugged and finished his risotto, carefully placing
the cutlery on his empty plate. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, we’re here to
talk about your plans. I need to know where you want the money transferred. As
soon as your lawyer gives us the signed papers on Monday, we’ll need to sort
out the wire.”

“Just put it in my bank account.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you know how much
money you’re getting?”

“I’m not an idiot, Richard. I do have a financial advisor.”

This time, it was Richard’s turn to give a wry smile. Maybe
Daniel would be okay after all.