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He takes the book out of my hand and sits concentrating on it for a few moments as he flicks through. “I don’t know what they are, Amber. I’m sorry.”
“We could find out, though, couldn’t we? I just have this feeling that it’s something important, something that will help me understand.”
“Do you want to take them home?” he asks. My eyes flick up to his on the wordhome, and I find him watching me, his expression scrutinising mine.
I offer him a small smile, a glimmer of friendship after the dark cloud I’ve been lost in. Spending the day with my mother, albeit in her written word, trying to understand her, has cleared some of the fog I’ve been unable to shake off.
When we get home,the first thing I do is go find Isaac, and between us, we go through his bag of salvaged belongings. Freddy has already replaced his lost iPad, and most of his time is spent in the green room that Freddy managed to paint while Isaac stayed those extra days at Elliot’s.
As I sit on his bed, I look at my fair-haired boy who I’ve never not been completely in love with. From the moment I first saw him, I always knew I would put him first. That he was my very single reason for breathing. From the brief sections of Mum’s diaries I’ve read, I’m beginning to realise that she may have not got that single moment of joy when she had me and saw me. There may have been something missing from our relationship right from its earliest days. A fundamental flaw that was impossible to fix.
Later, when Isaac’s in bed, Freddy sits by my side as I pour over the books, searching for answers. We have the laptop open and are Googling the unknown names. Most of them seem to be anti-depressive pills, all at differing doses. She took them from when I was a year old.Did I give my mum depression?
Freddy nudges me with my foot and I look up at him, my eyes stinging, my chest constricted. "You need to read these entries," he says simply, handing me a book. "I’m going to bed." He leans in and kisses the top of my head. "You know where I am."
I watch his long-legged stride walk away before turning my attention back to the open page he passed me. The writing on the pages is illegible, only random words clear enough for me to decipher. The word MISTAKE is underlined and printed over and over again. Scrawls of black biro have scored the page, ripping it into shreds.
I flick to the earlier page and see the date is from March eleven years ago. I recall the day when she told me I was a mistake, and it was my fault that she had wasted her life married to my dad.
After the black mess there are empty pages, twenty, thirty of them, I flick through to the next page with writing, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
On the next entry, her handwriting is back to normal, neat and concise. It’s a simple line.I never wanted Amber to make a mistake and lose her mind. Now I’ve lost her, and him.
There is a strong chance my heart has stopped beating. My head hurts as I read the line over and over again.
She didn’t want me to lose my mind? What did she mean?
Slowly, I tease at the edges of my thoughts until I can mould them into some form of coherent logic; but try as I might, I can’t find an answer.
Exhausted, I drop the book from my hand and slump back on the sofa cushions.What did she mean?
I wish I could ask her. I wish I could wind back time. I wish I never left, never blamed her for me losing Freddy. I wish I’d never given Freddy the option to break up with me. I wish I’d fought harder for the things I wanted. I wish I’d never hidden myself in a loveless marriage.
And I wish I wasn’t stuck on this sofa, alienated from the only person who ever made me feel loved.
I eye the door to the bedroom, wondering if I can just walk through. It feels like an age since I last got to touch Freddy.
Quietly, I make my way to the door and turn the handle. I enter into darkness, but I can see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped in what could be defeat. His head lifts when he hears me. “Amber?”
I don’t say anything while I walk towards the bed as if in a dream. When I reach him, I slide my fingers through his hair, drawing him towards me. His arms slide around my waist, his face turned against my stomach as I use my thumb to smooth along the back of his neck.
The longer I stand there the faster my breathing gets. A dark desire flames inside me, engulfing me in flames stronger and brighter than the ones that claimed my home. Freddy doesn’t move, his arms still holding me tight, frozen like a statue. Eventually, I lower my head and kiss his hair. “Can I come back in?” I whisper.
He straightens up, his hands sliding along my hips, drawing me in, edging me closer. His thumbs rub circles on my stomach, and I close my eyes to his touch as he slides his hands under my top. I feel his skin on mine after what feels like the longest time, like a decade has passed again. He lifts the top, stretching it over my head as his lips graze along my stomach, leaving a trail of shivering goose bumps in their wake. Pulling me closer still, his hands smooth over my skin, the rough texture of his working hands grazing and scratching makes me gasp with pleasure and expectation. When his fingers reach the waistband of my jeans, they swiftly tug at the buttons, levering the material over my hips. When I’m stood in just my underwear, his lips kiss along the curve of my tummy, along the patterns of faded marks. His hands run up my spine until they reach my shoulders, pulling me down so he can finally kiss me on the mouth.
I open my eyes and find him watching me, the ocean blues glittering in the dark. “I love you, Amber.”
Leaning in, I slide my nose along his, breathing in the familiarity of his scent, the smell I was never able to forget no matter how hard I tried, or how much time passed. Just like I could never forget the way he felt when he was with me, that touch which is unique to him.
The guilt I’ve been struggling under recedes and another emotion flutters its way to the surface.
“I love you, Freddy. I can only be in love with you.”
His mouth comes back to mine, pushing me, questioning me, finding me, and with all my responses, I give him every bit of myself that I can find to share.
