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Dylan quietly closes the door behind him, and I collapse backwards on the bed, staring at the bright white ceiling and spotlights set into the walls.
A realisation overwhelms me. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and suspect the decision to leave Bristol is now made for me. None of my family lives there anymore, so I have nothing to keep me there. I no longer belong in the life I clung onto. I don’t belong anywhere.
* * *
I fallinto an exhausted sleep and wake in a darkened room with open curtains. Struggling to remember where I am, memories of my rollercoaster day return. Dylan’s home. The room is warm and my mouth is dry, and I summon the energy to look for a glass of water.
The kitchen is through a door opposite the metal stairs and across from a lounge room. The door to the lounge is open and a TV plays low across the room. Dylan sits, bare feet on the coffee table watching TV. He looks up as he hears my footsteps.
“Okay?” he asks.
“I wanted some water.” I glance at the clock over his head. Two A.M.. “You’re up late?”
He makes a small noise of amusement. “Rock and roll lifestyle.”
He’s in his rock-and-roll uniform from the summer; black T-shirt sleeves stretched across his biceps and dark jeans hugging his long legs. “You look tired, Dylan.”
“I was waiting up, in case you needed anything.”
His words melt my insides; the fact someone in this world is looking out for me in my fucked up life sends me rushing to the kitchen before the tears start. Shakily, I pour myself a glass of filtered water from the fridge then gulp it down. I refill the glass and head back toward Dylan.
He’s sitting forward now, elbows on his knees as he watches me. “Are you okay?” he asks again.
I waver between running back to the strange, empty bedroom and spending time with Dylan. Dylan wins, and I head into the room, perching on the opposite end of the sumptuous brown leather sofa.
“Not really,” I say hoarsely.
“I’ll do anything you need to help,” he says, “with your flat or whatever.”
An ad for Christmas Day TV flashes across the screen, traditional English shows and movies reminding me of past Christmases. Another kick in the teeth.
“This is my first Christmas on my own,” I say softly.
Dylan sighs and leans back, the sofa squeaking as he does. “Not a nice one so far, I suppose. With the break-in at your flat and everything.”
The creeping fear and loneliness of the last five months seizes hold. The violation of my one safe space in life is the end of my ability to ignore how my life this year resembles the flat I left behind.
“Everything’s a mess…”
“We can clean things up; I’ll help. I know you won’t want me to buy things, but I have a lot you can borrow—”
“Not my flat,” I interrupt. “Everything. Everything’s a mess. Look at my life. I’ve lost everything this year. I have nothing.”
I clamp my mouth shut, aware of the sob fighting its way out of my throat. I can’t let this out and have him see me like this, but the dam against my emotions cracks a little every day. It doesn’t help when Dylan shuffles toward me on the sofa and takes my hand.
“You have me, Sky. I’ll always be here when you need me. I won’t leave you again.”
The dam breaks, and ugly sobs escape as tears flow. I hate crying in front of people, but I can’t hold this together any longer. “I’m sorry,” I hiccup.
“Sky, I said you don’t need to be strong all the time. I’m here; I’ll catch you tonight and tomorrow, you can be strong again.” He rubs my cheek with his palm, wiping away tears. I rest my face against his, allowing myself to take comfort from him as the tears flow. He’s gazing at me with concern, and I’m sure my red face and snotty nose must look delightful.
“Don’t hurt. I don’t want you to hurt.” Dylan wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, squashing my face into his chest. With no jacket this time, I inhale the comfort of my Dylan and feel his warmth through the thin material. The combination of his strong arms and words releases the control I’ve held.
Dylan holds me silently, as I sob the last five months into his chest. The end of Grant and my old life, the limbo I’m stuck in, and the final kick of my safe place gone. And Dylan. Meeting him, resisting him, and at the point I was giving myself to him, he was torn away from me. The pain of the weeks after, built on top of the aching loss of my old life in the weeks before. I’m defeated; I don’t have the energy anymore.
The tears ebb, and Dylan tips my face toward his, long fingers under my chin. Everything is stripped away now, back to a rawness of souls who share an understanding in each other’s eyes. Dylan places his mouth on mine; lips soft at first until I kiss him back, holding his head against my warm tears.
The moment Dylan kissed me on the beach all those months ago and the reuniting kiss in the car earlier are nothing compared to this. His kiss reaches into the empty spaces inside and fills that emptiness, as if consuming the darkness. The reason for the pain of separation from Dylan makes sense, as the light missing from my world re-ignites in this moment.
I’m in Dylan’s world again, our world. The hurt and confused Sky pushed away her memories of how melded we were and how the unity of our hearts and souls changed our lives forever. This is why. With Dylan, love becomes a different concept. Not hearts and flowers, or lust and need, but the unexplained, frightening place, two people go and are lost together.
Love has become a word that can never express the reality of the universe crashing around yet holding us together.
