How I Got Here (20 page)

Chapter Twenty

Oliver 2

Oliver had just got off a 36 hour shift at the hospital, another in a long string of busy shifts. Since returning to work a month before, he’d taken to working long hours, asking to take on more and more responsibility. When he wasn’t working double shifts, and worked a normal length shift, he would readily put himself forward for the greatly hated night shifts. He settled into a rhythm that he was content with, a rhythm of overworking himself, going on shift for several hours, then taking a few hours off to catch up on sleep, and then heading straight back to the hospital for another shift. He’d do anything in his power to try and get her out of his mind, because whenever he thought of her, he felt like he’d lost something so important to himself, that he couldn’t handle it, because it was as if he’d lost something attached to him, so much so that it was as if he’d lost a part of himself when she’d went away. He frequently berated himself for acting the way he was, fully convincing himself that he was a walking cliché. His co-workers frequently questioned him on his low mood, but he didn’t want to discuss any of it with them, fearing what they would do if they realized his mood was over losing River, someone they only ever knew as an unsolvable case. When he was asked about her case, as he often was because he’d done the impossible and cured her, he would force a smile onto his face, and tell them how much progress she had made, and how happy he was that she was getting back to normal. Further than that he wouldn’t ever go, not even when he was questioned over how he did it, all he would say is that all he did was listen to her.

Every day he wanted to go out and track her down, ask her why she’d left without saying goodbye in person, but he was kept from seeking her out, by respect for her wishes, she didn’t want to be found, and he needed to accept that. He knew that he needed to let her move on, and so he wouldn’t go after her, it was all up to her now, if she wanted to change the way things were, then she knew where to find him, she had his phone number, while she had changed hers, so he couldn’t call.

He still carried her memory with him, causing a constant dull ache in his chest, because that was the one thing he couldn’t do for her, he couldn’t follow that wish of hers, because he never would, in fact he knew for a certainty that he never could forget her, she was too important to him, and that would never change, no matter how much distance she put between them. She was too vital a part of his life, she’d weaved herself into every part of his existence, and he knew that she wouldn’t be able to change that, he didn’t even want to try, because he felt so much for her.

He missed receiving her letters, for the longest time they had been a regular part of his routine, he enjoyed
getting each new installment, he’d felt as though it was a book he’d been reading, and all of a sudden it had been ripped away from him, leaving him without the last few chapters, and there were no other copies of the book around, so he’d never be able to find out the ending. He felt almost desperate to read about her past, while at the same time, he hopelessly wanted to be a part of her future, and if he couldn’t then he at least wanted to know that her future was going to be happier than her past, he wanted to know that she was doing ok now, that she would keep on getting better, and being apart from her and not knowing anything about how she was, was slowly driving him crazy.

By the time January rolled around, dull and grey
and soaked with rain, Amanda had finally given into his constant reassurances that he was ok, that he was moving on and she had no reason to hang around. She had a life back west and he couldn’t keep her from it any longer, especially since Tiff was back in school, and had been enrolled in New York as well as in her old school.

In the first months after River had left, he’d liked having Amanda around, he’d liked having someone to come home to and talk to, and he’d especially liked having Tiff there to distract him from his almost constant misery, to pull him out of the darkness that he so easily slipped into when he thought of River.

Now though it had been too long, he needed to get things back to normal, but normal seemed to be impossible without River, and he knew that it sounded pathetic whenever he said that, but it was the truth, normal wasn’t possible here anymore, but he did need to try and piece his life back together again, he needed to find a life for himself without River, and for that to work he needed his space back, he needed his apartment back to himself, because having his sister there worrying over him, was as constant a reminder of his unhappiness, as River’s absence was. He was starting to miss his space, and he couldn’t make up his mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he was deciding that he was going to view it as a positive step forward, and so he’d told Amanda that it was time, she, of course, had hesitated at first because even though she knew living with him was far from ideal, because the apartment wasn’t big enough for them all, and she didn’t really want to be living with her brother, she also wasn’t convinced that he was entirely ok, and why should she be? He wasn’t convinced himself either. Nevertheless after a long talk, a compromise was met, Amanda and Tiff would move out of his place, however they would not be returning to their old home, instead she had gone home for just long enough to pack up her home, and then returned to New York and found them a new home, a good thirty minutes away from Oliver’s place, which suited them both well enough.

So tonight it was an empty apartment he returned to, the silence seemed too loud to him, and he tried to drown it out by putting on the TV, but he couldn’t follow anything that was being said, he tried to read but he kept wondering what River would think of the book. He tried to keep busy by straightening out the apartment, and when that didn’t work, he’d gone out for a walk, but nothing seemed to work. His thoughts were constantly full of her, because this city was where they’d met, it had been the entire basis of their relationship, and even places he’d never been with her, reminded him of her, which is partly why he was starting to think he was losing his mind. The hospital especially was torture for him, walking the corridors each day or at the moment it was usually each night, he’d walk past her room and feel the emptiness inside him grow, her room was now occupied by a fifteen year old boy, who’d been in a car accident recently.

He needed a change, he needed some sort of escape and on this particular walk around the city he found one. It was as he was walking round the darkening city, in search of decent coffee, and he suddenly saw an estate agent’s shop, in the window they had properties all around the U.S, and a thought suddenly hit him, seeming to be the perfect way out. He had savings, a lot of savings. He could so easily pack up and move somewhere new, after all Amanda had done it in a few easy steps, and that was with a kid to think of as well, he was alone, painfully alone, and so he could leave so much easier than she had. Though thinking about his sisters move stalled him for a moment, she had just moved her life to New York, primarily for him and now he was thinking of leaving, but then he had to remind himself that her life was better here, she enjoyed living in New York, and liked being closer to their parents, she was now in night school because their parents could watch Tiff, which pleased everyone, because now Amanda was training to be a teacher, something she had always wanted to do, she loved her apartment and said she should have moved to the city years ago, and so even if he did leave, there was more than enough to keep her in New York, he may have been part of the reason she came, but his absence wouldn’t cause her to leave.

With a sudden burst of courage, and perhaps just a little insane spontaneity running through him, he walked to the window, closed his eyes and pressed his hand against the cool surface, opening his eyes without a hint of nervousness about what he was about to do, he looks at the property his hand had landed on, and he knew instantly that he’d found his new home.

Chapter Twenty One

Letter
12

This is really the last letter about my
past; the last part of this intricate story of how I got to where I was, to the the point I was at when we met and you changed everything for me. I should warn you, even though you’re not going to be reading this, that this isn’t even the biggest part of the story, nothing hugely spectacular happened, and nothing in this last part will majorly  shock you, it’s all pretty straight forward stuff.

I was in the hospital paid for by my parents, they’d insisted that I stay in until I was a healthy weight again, until they were sure that I was healing and I can see
now that it was kindness, in the beginning I guess I thought they just wanted to get rid of me, I felt like I was too much of a problem to them, and it was easier to shove me out of sight, but I’ve grown up a lot since then. It seems so strange that I should have such an utterly different outlook now, but I do. They wanted me to get better, and now I can see what I’d pretended wasn’t there. I see the concern etched on my father’s face, and I see the sadness in my mother’s eyes, I think maybe I didn’t allow myself to see that before, because I didn’t want to see how much I was hurting them, do you understand that? I don’t really know if I understand that, but at the time I thought it would be easier for me, to pretend like they didn’t care, because then I didn’t have to care that I was hurting them, because I couldn’t stop myself spiraling down, even when I knew it was hurting them, I wanted to distance myself from them, from everyone, because I couldn’t control what I was doing to myself, so I didn’t want to see that it was hurting them, because that would only make me feel worse, because I couldn’t stop the way I was acting.

After what happened in the park with Kim, I’d developed the problem with being touched, every time someone came near me, or touched me, however gently and no matter who it was, I would pull away and start screaming, I just couldn’t handle it, I’d feel this major swelling of panic, and I couldn’t deal with it, the same thing would happen that happened when I went to the park with you, and this is why, every single time someone touched me, I kept seeing her face, kept feeling her pushing
me under the water, I kept on thinking that whoever touched me would hurt me. I could feel the murky water soaking me, and taste it in my mouth; each time someone came close I relived that experience. I couldn’t seem to control it, however irrational it was, it was there and the fear was very real. I think for one reason or another I’ve always had trust issues, but now they were heightened.

It wasn’t until I got to the hospital that they noticed how bad it was, someone would come by to put a drip in and I’d scream, I’d beg them not to touch me. At first they thought I was afraid of needles, and I was too panicked to explain that it wasn’t the needles I was afraid of, but the person trying to put it into my arm. Ev
entually they did get the drip in, and then they started to notice things, I’d flinch if someone got too close to my bed, if someone put their hand on my wrist to comfort me, I’d freak out and start telling them not to come near me, I would shout and scream until they got away. Even with my parents paying a substantial amount of money to them, I’m surprised they never kicked me out, but I guess my parents were paying enough money for them to put up with me. After my second month in the hospital we came to an understanding, the staff would only touch me when it was vital, but other than that they would keep their distance. I began to calm down, but in doing so I sunk deeper into darkness. I spent long lonely hours in that little room, staring out of the window and crying over how much I’d messed up. I missed school, I missed having friends to talk to, I missed feeling happy, I missed being able to cope. I’d make lists in my head of all the things I missed, then one day my dad brought in some of my things, books, scrabble, clothes and then hidden under a grey hoodie that was too big for me, was my notebook. The one I let you read that time, the one with the stories you praised. It was blank when he brought it in, I’d bought it for school but hadn’t ever gotten round to using it, so I asked my dad for a pen. Honestly it shocked him so much to hear me talk calmly, I think he would have bought me a thousand pens, but he settled for the black one with a silver casing which was in his shirt pocket, though he promised me that he’d buy me some new ones, proper fancy ones. I couldn’t even thank him, I was suddenly taken over by the most overwhelming sadness, because my own father was shocked to hear me speak, what was I becoming? If that was the reaction my own father had when I spoke? I hated myself so much in that moment.

I remember staring at the notebook in my lap, toying with the idea of writing down my feelings, it would have started with the line,
My father looks so sad, I hate that I’ve made him feel like that, he’s meant to be strong, and yet I’ve made him look so weary.
I couldn’t bring myself to write my own feelings though, that would be too close to being honest with myself, and I couldn’t bear to see the person I was written out on those pages, because I knew I’d only hate myself more, all of those feelings were still too raw for me to face, and I guess if I’m honest, I was scared to see them written down.

Instead I filled page after page with a story, pouring my pain into the characters, leading them through their own crises as carefully as I could, so that I could forget my own. It became increasingly important that my characters got happy endings, of course they had to go through a lot to get there, because I wanted it to be realistic, and I couldn’t imagine anyone being entirely happy all the time, maybe there are people who are happy all the time, I’ve just never come across them. I found myself wanting to write more and more each day, it became a part of who I was, scribbling away silently at that little notebook.