Random Darren
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Short Stories.
Soft Coming Out
If you have a digitally tuned radio then this probably doesn’t apply to you, but have you ever turned the dial slowly on your radio. And with each millimetre of the dial you hoped to hear a new station. Not a new legal station, not another asinine DJ pedalling his middle-of-the-road mediocre patter, not another shoestring jazz station playing the same ten “classics” over and over, but a pirate station. Because, until the government stamped them out, you would occasionally catch a weak signal of a local pirate station and for a few minutes you were a rebel. Illegality seducing you, even if it was just a pirate radio station.
So what I’m trying to say is have you ever looked for something new? Turned the dial slowly? Taken a new route home? It’s not that I’m discontent you understand, I’m more than happy to listen to the asinine DJ pedalling his mediocre patter and drive past the same chip shop for three hundred days a year. I like familiarity, I like miming along to songs I’ve heard all my life but sooner or later we all know what familiarity breeds.
As it happens I have a digitally tuned radio in my car and although a small breach of the highway code I usually just switch between the same five stations over and over again.
***
Now I’m laying here listening to her breathing and I’m thinking I should be regretting this. Infidelity is wrong, and so is this guilt? I can see her chest rise and fall, and I hear the air moving through her nostrils. Hard going in, soft coming out.
I glance around for a clock and for my clothes. I look for my watch, a 26th birthday present from Alyssa, because I need to find out the time. I climb out of bed and hunt a round, it was on her dressing table. It’s six-thirty, I have twenty minutes to leave for work. I scan to room and can see all my clothes, I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s sound asleep, so I creep out of her room with my clothes in my arms. I dress on the landing glancing back to check she’s still asleep, she stirs but doesn’t wake. I check my watch, five minutes to go.
My escape was easy.
***
Alyssa asks me what’s wrong, and I say work. At first nothing affects you, I hear of those who say they heard about the death of a loved one and cried rivers, that they were shocked. But I’ve never seen it, they hear and a day later or a week later it hits them. And I know I’ve never been affected the instant something happens, it’s gradual.
All’s fine at work, I may be a partner soon, Mr Laroushe has commented on my work ethic several times over the last few weeks. And he was impressed at the way I handled the James Solo project.
“Sam had a temperature today. The nursery sent him home, they called me at work.”
“How high?”
“One hundred and five.”
I’m not sure if 105 is good or bad, should I be worried or will he be OK? Farenheit or degrees? Alyssa must have it under control. But I show concern anyway. “Where is he now?”
“Asleep, I’m taking him to Dr Yannassal in the morning.”
“Do you want me to drive you?” I’m asking her but I know I couldn’t get the time off, and she knows that too.
“I’ve all ready got a lift.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, I wasn’t looking forward to being alone with her.
***
I can’t concentrate at work and I keep seeing Lorraine’s face and I’m tempted to call her. My PA keeps nipping around my ankles, he asks if he can help me with anything knowing that I’m OK. “I’m OK. Have you taken the James Solo project preliminary work over to Janice?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can go home.” He knows Janice will have passed the files over to Mr Laroushe. I keep telling Josh and Bridget that I’m OK with the project but they won’t leave me alone. Maybe I should tell they there’s plenty research still to be done, that should put them off quickly enough.
***
Alyssa keeps moving closer to me, and I can feel the heat of her body. She loves me and I love her back. I keep seeing Lorraine though, it distracts me, I hope Alyssa doesn’t notice. She climbs out of bed to go to the bathroom and I decide to try and stay awake, with Sam’s illness and my work we haven’t really spent any time together for the last few days and I think this will be a good time to talk.
“Dr Yanassal wants to see Sam again on Friday.”
“Josh and Bridget are still sniffing around me.”
“Still looking for all the glory?”
I can feel sleep taking me over. I don’t answer Alyssa straight away, I go urinate first, then get back into bed and pull the duvet over to my side. “I guess.” I say, feeling the duvet being pulled away, and decide to sleep.
***
I flip through my phonebook and I keep stopping at Lorraine Michaels. I’m nervous, Mr Laroushe is presenting the James Solo project to the partners. Bridget and Josh are pacing and distracting me. Janice has been by to tell them to stop but they are still pacing. Once I make partner I’ll get them to leave me alone. And I’ll cross Lorraine out of my phonebook. I walk past the office and catch Mr Laroushe’s glance through the blinds, he nods and I nod back. I hope that it’s a good nod. “Has Donny or Brion been by?”
“No. Do you want me to tell them you’re looking for them?” Janice asks me.
“No.”
***
Sam’s fever is gone now, and Alyssa seems to be fine with me. She never suspected. I crossed off Lorraine, and everyone has applauded my work on the James Solo project. But I still don’t know if I’m going to be made partner. I hate not knowing.
***
You see the problem with pirate radio stations is that there are no play lists, no high class equipment, no control, and usually nothing good. I’ve always felt they were good in principal, but poor in execution. Freedom of speech is a nice idea but such poor implementation. I guess it all comes down to choice.
There’s a reason that most people listen to MOR, and it’s because given a choice most people don’t like bad reception, bad music and bad DJ’s. And even with digital radio I know what my choice is.
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Insider Story
Have you ever felt like you’ve lost control? And no matter what you do you can’t get it back? If you haven’t then you’re one of the lucky few, but even for those who lose it it usually sorts itself out within a few days. And soon you’re back on track. But not for Garcia Mullen.
He lost control of his life, if he ever had any control, and that was months ago. And since then fate had made things worse and worse as each month passed. Now he felt the end was near. His size tens overhung the ledge by about an inch. He didn’t know if his feet were too big or if the ledge was too small. He looked down, it looked far enough to kill him, if you’re going to throw yourself off a building at least make sure you jump far enough to carry the deed through, there’s nothing worse than an attempted suicide.
***
Garcia was in love. And he knew sometimes people say they are in love but they’re not, they’re just in lust. What Garcia and Angela had was love. At work all he could think of was her, she was the reason he went to work, she was the reason a bad day was good and a good day was a slice of heaven. She was hid world. He had a bad day and it didn’t matter when Garcia got home to Angela, he had a bad week and she was the reason the weekend existed. With Angela there Garcia was always happy and when things went well he was blissful.
And for a while Angela was the same. For a while.
“How was your day?” Garcia asked.
“So-so.”
“I made dinner.”
“You want a round of applause?”
Garcia would have stopped there but he felt he should continue. “I was just saying...”
“I make dinner six times a week, and I don’t feel the need to announce it.” She interrupted.
Garcia knew what to do when Angela was like this, avoid her. Avoid her at all costs. He ate his meal in silence then decided to go down to the pub.
***
It is curious that almost all prospective suicide victims decide to take an interest in their well-being while they are in a life-threatening situation. They always hold on as tightly as they can to any protrusions.
***
At the time Garcia couldn’t figure it out. Looking back now it was obvious what was bothering Angela.
“I can’t figure it out.” Garcia told Creighton.
“I’m sure it will pass.” Creighton said, he gestured with his empty glass to indicate it was Garcia’s turn to buy the drinks.
“You’re right.” He replied leaving for the bar. At the time he wasn’t suspicious, but looking back the small things should have tipped him off. Creighton wouldn’t have usually let Garcia off that quickly, ususally he would have tried to help. And then there was that copy of The Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat in the CD player, and the copy of Aldous Huxley’s Crome Yellow on the bedside table, Garcia had only known Angela ever read Danielle Steele and listen to old Take That albums. Maybe she was expanding her horizons. He should have seen it then. Mike Buell and Tony Welles joined them and Garcia thought nothing more about it.
***
Garcia held the drainpipe tighter. He needed to pretend he had control.
***
Garcia tried to spend less time at work. And more with Angela, and for a few weeks he felt like the first time they met. The elation and joy of being in the company of someone you love, the past month was just a hic-cup in the relationship.
For her part Angela was apologetic. She never explained her behaviour, only apologised, but that was more than enough for Garcia. Even his parents had argued and fallen out at times. Nobody’s perfect. But looking back now Garcia could see that Angela hadn’t changed. At least not back to before the trouble had begun. She was just pretending, to try to distract him from the truth.
Then things began to slip from Garcia’s control.
He arrived home the day of Mike’s car crash early, expecting Angela to be out. But he shouted her name all the same. Just in case she had heard and was home early too.
“Angela?” Garcia shouted, not expecting a reply.
“Yes?” He heard back from the bedroom.
“I’ve got some bad news.” He said running up the stairs. “Mike was in a car crash.”
“I’ll be out in a second.” She shouted back.
Garcia paused for a second. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“I’m just getting dressed.”
He was puzzled. He saw he naked ever night and every morning. Why was she being coy now? “OK.” He said, putting his hand on the door handle. Garcia didn’t know why but he wanted her to think he wasn’t going to come in, just a few seconds of deception so he could enter and hopefully find out what was going on.
And clearly it had worked, Angela seemed surprised to see Garcia. She was expecting him to stay out while she and Creighton Zinzser finished hiding the evidence of their tryst. Garcia could see Creighton buttoning up his shirt and Angela about to put her blouse on. His lie had thrown them off, now he knew why Angela had been acting strange.
***
Within a week Garcia’s mother had died, Mike had slipped into a coma and Tony was badly beaten in a mugging. Then Creighton and Angela announced their engagement. One or two of these incidents he could have coped with but all of them together had overwhelmed Garcia.
And then yesterday happened.
After a few bad trades Garcia found himself in the middle of a crash precipitated by him. Within twelve hours five major stock markets had lost 70% of their value. Paris, London, New York and Toyko were left reeling and the world was in shock. Garcia couldn’t believe it and at first thought it was a nightmare. Until his picture appeared on CNN, and the caption “Brown Trader” below it, The man responsible for “Brown Tuesday”. And if it’s on CNN then it’s got to be true. After meeting with his boss that morning Garcia had decided at lunch to end it all. And here he clung, waiting for the end.
“Garcia, come in.”
“No thanks Shae, I’m going to jump.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I was on CNN, and not in the good way with Larry King. In the bad way because I caused a stock market crash, I won’t be able to trade ever again.”
“It’s not that bad, the NASDAQ’s all ready gained 30%. The markets will recover.”
“But I won’t.”
“Mr Marks says it’s just the pressure you’ve been under.”
“I used to thrive on pressure Shae, but now I can’t seem to focus. I’ve lost it, Shae. I’ve lost it.”
And those were Garcia’s last words because he did lose it. He lost grip of the drainpipe and as he fell to his death Garcia was happy, because now his life would be back on track, and his body all over the pavement.
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In the Shame of the Moment
He didn’t mean for it to happen, he couldn’t control things, he just let things get the better of him. It was like he wasn’t in control, he was just a puppet. The coffee peculated and she poured two cups out.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Cream?”
“Just a touch.”
She was talking to him now. They’d spent the last three hours not talking, although this wasn’t talking, but it was better than what had gone before. Anything was better than what had gone before.
“Is Helen still coming ‘round?”
“I think so. She didn’t say she wasn’t to me.” He said.
They didn’t usually do this kind of thing, they were the perfect couple. That’s what their friends always said, that was what Helen said. Too perfect, two perfect.
“Good, I’ll put the chicken in soon.” She said.
“Nina...” He said, about to begin an apology.
“What?” She asked, she was all ready out of the door way.
He thought better of it. “Nothing. It’s fine.” He was going to continue with the apology he’d begun a few moments ago. But decided against it, it was better to just ignore things for now.
***
“How’s the world of insurance?” Nina asked Helen, taking her coat.
“Boring, and at times tedious.” Helen said.
“I’ve just got to check on the chicken. Go through to the dining room, have some nibbles while you wait.”
“OK.” Helen said, while Nina went back to the kitchen. She could feel the chill in the air. She thought nothing of it, she couldn’t have said anything even if she wanted to. You can’t in these situations, can you?
David was at the dining room table. There was a small tray of nibbles next to him. He was nibbling but he didn’t look like he wanted to be there. He probably didn’t have an appetite. Helen had been hungry when Nina called at two. And at the time Chicken sounded appealing. But not now, not after seeing David chewing like a fresian.
“Hi, Helen.” He said. “Nibbles?” He pushed the tray closer to her seat.
“No, thanks.” She said, moving the tray back to it’s original position.
“How about some wine?”
“Erm...” She shouldn’t, but decided she would. “OK, what do you have?”
“White or rose?”
“White, please.”
David poured. Helen lifted her finger, David stopped.
“Enough?”
“More than.” Helen said.
The room went silent. Helen drank three glasses of wine waiting for Nina.
“The chicken should be ten more minutes.” She said.
“Do you want help bringing it through?” David asked, although he really wasn’t in the mood for this meal. He rather just have pie and chips.
“That’d be nice.” Nina said, and went back to the kitchen.
“Excuse me.” David said following.
Helen sat and drank her fifth glass of wine, she shouldn’t really be drinking. She ate some nibbles, then wiped the grease from her fingers. Shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, not that a few nibbles was ever going to change the situation much.
***
They still weren’t talking. They were, but they weren’t. And even though they had a guest they probably wouldn’t talk for the rest of the night. David wasn’t sure that they’d ever say another word to each other.
“I’ll carve.” David said, he knew he shouldn’t be ordering her around, not now, not after everything that’s happened.
“OK.” She didn’t want to argue, she really didn’t want to talk to him. Not now, not ever.
David carved the chicken and put the meat in the meat bowl. It was quite ornate, an engagement gift from a friend, from David’s friend. Nina placed the peas, carrots and potatoes in their relevant bowls and took them through to the dining room. David disposed of the carcass and started to make the gravy. Nina came back for the cutlery, David kept stirring the gravy. No-one wants lumpy gravy.
***
Helen had made her napkin into a pyramid by the time the meal commenced, but she squashed it down when David brought the meat and gravy through. Nina served out the vegetables, and David served out the chicken silently. He then passed the gravy boat around. Helen sipped her sixth glass of wine, she decided six was enough and felt the need to start some conversation.
“How have you two been?”
“Fine.” David replied.
“What have you been up to?”
“Nothing much.” Nina answered.
Helen could see she was banging her head up against a brick wall but felt she needed to continue nonetheless, each question elicited a monosyllabic response from alternating members of the couple. David brought the pudding in when dinner was finished and all three ate in silence, Helen had finally given up trying to get any conversation out of them.
David took out the empty bowls and plates, then after saying a brief good-bye to Helen he went upstairs. Helen and Nina went through to the lounge to watch the news. Helen felt she may be able to talk to Nina now they were alone.
“That was a nice dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“The chicken was just right, and the potatoes were fantastic, how did you do them?”
“Like normal.” Nina said.
And for the next ten minutes they didn’t talk. Nina couldn’t stand this, she knew that David deserved this treatment but not her friend. And after the news finished Helen got up to leave and Nina decided to at least finish the evening on a civil note.
“I’m sorry, Helen.” Nina said while Helen put on her coat. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much of a talker tonight. It’s not you, it’s David.”
Helen wanted to know more but instead she just said. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Nina wanted to vent her anger, but she couldn’t do that with Helen here. She knew who deserved her wrath, and knew where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You do that.”
“Bye, Helen.”
“Bye.” Helen said as the front door closed.
Nina went to talk to David, talk to him for the last time. Mistakes have consequences.
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Forgiveness, In It’s Many Forms
Ideally she would have kept her old car, she would have preferred to have kept her old car, but she couldn’t. Something in the pre-nuptial meant she couldn’t. She had to give it back. If she could have afforded it she would have brought in a solicitor, but she left that up to him. Love is blind, and gullible.
“Are you going to drink that cappucino, or take it on in a staring contest?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m sorry.” Gwen said, she was thinking of him again.
“That cost £4. So drink it.”
Gwen sipped the cold coffee.
***
Gwen Hajek sold her old flat six months after the engagement was announced, three months before the wedding was to take place. And seven weeks before she found out. “How much is it a month?” She asked, she’d seen the price in the paper, but was hoping to negotiate.
“One and a half grand.” It was spacious, bigger than the bedsit she was currently in, the one she moved into after the incident, she could take the rest of her stuff out of storage. And the landlord wasn’t trying to make any advances, unlike the last two. “Can I move in Monday?”
“Sure,” The landlord said, “But I’ll need a month as a deposit.”
Gwen reluctantly wrote out a cheque.
***
“You’ve found a new flat?” The voice at the end of the phone asked.
“Yes, I was wondering if Paul could help me move my stuff?”
Janie put down the phone, Gwen could hear mumbling in the distance, and then the receiver being picked back up.
“He’s says he’s free Monday afternoon, after 2. Is that OK?”
“Yes, thanks Janie.”
***
Gwen wasn’t going to miss her bedsit. Much. She grew attached to things far too quickly, when she moved out of her parents home she moved in to a damp, roach-ridden hovel. Now, looking back she would go misty-eyed when thinking about the time she spent there. She didn’t consider she had to move out of it because Health and Safety condemned it. Even now she was welling up thinking about that place. She was welling up thinking about leaving here now.
“Are you going to be glad to get outta this hell-hole?” Paul asked, picking up the last box.
“Hell, yes.”
***
Gwen hadn’t expected Rafael to leave her. You don’t. When you’re planning a wedding the last thing on your mind is losing the groom six weeks before. And at first Gwen hated Rafael. “I’m sorry Gwen, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I still love you...but the engagement was a mistake. I love Leiko too. And I can’t love you both, so I’ve made a choice...” Gwen knew his choice before he told her, and then she listened to him babble on for half an hour after that. She shouted her considered response back and left. She didn’t hate him now, she felt lucky, she couldn’t imagine spending her life with him. He said he’d only been seeing Leiko for a few months but Gwen could tell he was lying. He’d probably been seeing her since they were engaged, before that even.
She couldn’t hate him anymore, only pity him. But now she was curious.
“This is sick. Sick and wrong.” Janie said.
“Sick?” Gwen asked.
“It’s stalking or something.” Charlotte added.
“It is not stalking. It’s curiosity. I’m just curious to find out who my ex-fiancee is dating.” Gwen replied.
“I can’t have anything to do with this.” Charlotte said. “Just wipe my phone clean of any fingerprints.” Then left to go to lunch.
“Unhealthy curiosity.” Janie said, dialling.
The phone rang a couple of times and then a voice answered. “Jones and Galasraga. How may I help you?”
“Hey, this is Nurse Jenkins at the De Montforte surgery, I was just checking my files and I noticed that Mr Galasraga was moving home but we have no forwarding address. Would it be possible to get that address now, just for our records.” Janie lied.
Rafael hadn’t told Gwen where he was moving to, probably because he had a healthy desire to live. It was fortunate that Gwen knew how lax reception was at J&G.
The music stopped playing and a voice said, “Mr Galasraga’s new address is 124 McGoohan Lane.”
“Thanks for your help.” Janie said writing the address down and hanging-up.
“Thanks Janie. Remind me to never trust you again.”
***
Gwen knew her name and now she knew her address. She had no idea what she was doing sitting in her car at the entrance to McGoohan Lane. She should turn the engine on and drive to her new flat. She should have. If she’d have seen Leiko the day she found out she’d have killed her. But now she couldn’t wish her any harm.
Gwen had seen Rafael’s red BMW just leave. At this time of the day he was probably off to see a client. She didn’t know if Leiko was in though. She waited a minute and then walked down the houses counting up to 124. Approaching the drive she saw her old car. If she’d seen it a few months ago she’d have set it on fire.
She walked up to the door and rang the bell.
A few seconds later the door opened. “Hello?”
“Hello.” Gwen said, she could see what Rafael liked in her. “Leiko?”
“Yes. Do I know you?” Leiko asked.
Gwen thought about all the times over the last few months when she’d been angry at what Leiko and Rafael had done to her life. At about where she was now, and why she was there. All the times she’d had to explain what had happened. And the embarrassment. And she thought about how now none of that mattered. She didn’t even miss her old car, if she thought about it. And standing there in front of Leiko English, The Other Woman, she realised that none of that was important. That he wasn’t important and that Leiko wasn’t. “You don’t know me, but I’d like to say, thank you. Thank you for saving me from him.” Leiko looked confused as Gwen walked back to her car.
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The Short Answer’s “Maybe”
In a break up no-one wants anyone to be happy. She, despite what she says, doesn’t want you to be happy and you don’t want her to be happy. While you’ve been in that relationship you’ve revealed everything. You’ve let her into your sick world and you want her to tell anyone what it’s like, let them in on your secrets. And the only way to make sure she doesn’t tell is to make it clear that you know about her sick world. If she takes you down she’s not going to be alone. Making that message clear is not a happy process. And when the subject of splitting-up first arises you both make it clear, I know you and you know me, and let’s keep this stuff between the two of us. And that’s why no-one is getting close to me. Because I’d rather save you the trouble, if I don’t know you and you don’t know me then when we split there’s no need to pretend. If I don’t know your world and you don’t know about mine then maybe we can be friends, maybe we can still see each other. Because only by us not knowing each other can we keep seeing each other. But then I broke this rule for Georgina. She was the exception to the rule, she’s the reason why I am like I am now. Gina.
***
I don’t want this to sound cliched, but the moment I saw Gina I knew I was in trouble. I could count on one hand the amount of relationships I’d had up until then on one hand. And the amount of people who’d been into my sick world on one finger. “Can I help you?” I asked her. She looked lost, I never used to get many people wandering past my office, so she probably was lost.
“I’m looking for Patrick Oakland.”
“You’ve found him.”
“Michael Ryman referred me,” She said. “He said you’re good with contracts.”
“I like details.” I said, and from that moment on I knew, or thought I knew, she was the one.
***
After looking at Gina’s case I knew that there were at least three other associates who could have looked after the case just as well as me, I should have let her go. Should have. From that first moment though I knew I had to help her, to get this case sorted out for her. So I could get to know her, and she could get to know me.
Impressing her in court would just be my first step, we can’t date clients so I’d have to get this case through quickly. The judge ruled quickly, I’d argued in front of him before. He knew I could bore him to death, not that he wasn’t all ready close to it as it was. And after hearing my argument he ruled in our favour. Gina was happy.
And the day after she ceased to be a client I started dating Georgina.
***
She thanked me for winning so quickly every night that week, she’d been to four other solicitors before me. “I can’t believe we settled that quickly, I’ve been delayed for months with this thing.”
“I have a reputation.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“For the moment it’s a good thing.”
“Well I’m happy that it is.”
“Just don’t bring a case against me.”
“After today, trust me, I’d never think of it, Patrick.”
And after that I made my mistakes, I forgot to stay distant, and I started to answer her questions. By the end of the week we both knew, knew our desires and dreams, knew our likes and dislikes.
***
“So, pizza or chinese?” She asked me the first night she slept over.
“Chinese.”
“Are you sure? Are you gonna change your mind like Saturday?” She was teasing.
“There was too much Chow Mein. I did not change my mind.” I said.
“You wanted Chow Mein, then you didn’t.”
“OK, OK. We’ll have pizza then.”
“Are you always this indecisive?”
“Sometimes.” I felt the urge to tell her about the times I’d taken hours to make a single choice, but held back. Should I let her know.
“Pizza then?” She queried.
“You choose. I’ll go with that.”
She smiled and started dialling the pizza parlour.
***
For those first few weeks Gina was happy and I was happy. I let her be in my world, but she didn’t know much to start with. Just little things. Details here and there. Until finally I couldn’t keep my guard up much longer. I was tired. And I saw her sick world. We were happy, but I knew this couldn’t last.
In retrospect I’m never sure if I started to drive her away, or if she started to go and I just gave her the motivation. But when I could feel the end was near I started to take action. I started to sow the seeds of doubt, I mentioned things to people she thought she only she knew. I shut her out, everytime she expected one thing I did another. And in the end she said she had to go. I wasn’t the man she’d met. I’d changed and with those words I knew I was safe again.
***
Today I met, Beth. In much the same way I met Gina, she was lost, but she wasn’t a client. She’s going to be working here. “Are you Bethan Somaz?”
“Yes, you’re Mr Oakland.”
“I’m going to be helping you get settled in.” Now I always thought it best to avoid office romances, although there is seldom anything romantic about them, and there is an unofficial rule that associates shouldn’t become involved with each other. But looking at Beth was only the second time I thought about breaking the rules. The rules at work weren’t official so I wasn’t too bothered about those. It’s my own rules I’m more concerned about. But this time I’ll be more careful. Beth will be the test, how distant can I be? She’ll attempt to get closer to me by letting me into her world, more and more details, more and more ancedotes. Each time she tells me something she’ll expect a reply, and I’ll just keep on with the small talk. When Gina left I had to make sure she didn’t think she knew me. When she left my defences were back up. This time, with Beth, there’ll be no need for that. Because Beth will never know me.
Never.
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