Thirty Days: Part Two Read online

  Shivers course down my spine when I hear my mother’s words from behind me. I don’t turn to look at her. Instead, I try to control my trembling lip and the tears that threaten to spill. There’s a moment of stillness before my mother’s hand strokes my arm and she sits down beside me.

  “I’m sorry, Abigail, for not telling you the truth, for letting you believe a version of your life that wasn’t entirely correct. I’m your mother and I love you with my entire being. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.” Her declaration ceases before she sighs, stroking my arm gently once more. “When you fell that day and hit your head, you woke up a completely different person. You were scared, timid…well, downright frightened. The doctors kept telling us you would remember when you were ready and if we forced it, the harder it would be for you. Don’t think we didn’t take every possibility into account when making this decision for you. We did. But at the end of the day, we had to let you decide when it was time, not us.”

  I swallow loudly. Do I really want to hear her explanation of her selfish act?

  “Marcus leaving was so hard to watch,” she continues. “He loved you, Abigail. He brought you so much peace in life. But after your fall, you didn’t want him anywhere near you. He was nothing but a stranger to you, a scary monster under your bed. Lucy saying goodbye, after finally having you in her life, was equally as heartbreaking, but she loved you so much she was willing to give you up…she wanted your happiness more.”

  “When you go to Sydney, you go to see Lucy, don’t you?” I ask, my voice almost inaudible.

  “I do, Abigail. I couldn’t let her go. She’s half your father.”

  “You lied.”

  “To protect you.”

  “Now look at me, Mum. I’m broken. I’ve hit rock bottom. Don’t you see everything you’ve done has destroyed me—my future?”

  “No, petal. We can make this better,” she pleads.

  “No, we can’t. Nothing makes sense anymore.” My voice strains as I try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall.

  Mum wraps her arm in mine and tugs me even closer to her. “It will, Abigail, you’re remembering now. You’ve decided it’s time.”

  “Really? That’s what you think, hey? Well, let me tell you, I didn’t choose this. I was forced to. Forced by Marcus. By the person who apparently loved me more than he wanted to breathe air. If this was the truth, if this was real, Marcus would have never left me to begin with. He would have stayed then and made me remember our love…he would have tried.” My head drops low as my shoulders slump.

  “I don’t believe that to be true, Abigail.”

  “When did Dad cheat?” My muscles tense from sudden accusation.

  “I don’t really think that’s important, is it?” Her arm trembles against mine.

  “I’m going to find out soon enough. Lucy’s age will tell me.”

  “It was just before you were born.” She spews the words out with a quaking in her voice.

  “Why?” My head jolts upwards.

  “Because he’s human, Abigail. We’re all bloody human. Your father and I were going through a really rough time. I had a terrible pregnancy with you. Dad was stressed at work. The day Lucy was conceived your father went into Brisbane with some friends, got rotten drunk, and made one very poor decision.”

  “To sleep with another woman. I’d say that’s the ultimate betrayal, wouldn’t you?”

  Mum doesn’t answer my question. Instead, she continues on with the words she wants me to hear. “He told me, Abigail. I knew as soon as he got back what he’d done. I chose to forgive him, as hard as that was. I needed you to have him every day and every night. He was a good man and we made a perfect child together—you. As soon as your daddy held you in his arms, everything was perfect for us. Abigail, I loved that man with all my heart and I’m glad that he also gave us Lucy. We didn’t know she existed. This I promise you. We found out just before you turned eighteen. This was hard for your father. He was robbed of so much of her life, and I think it’s very unfair he only had a month with her. She’s a good girl, Abigail, just like you.”

  “So Lucy is my baby sister?”

  “There are eight months between your birthdays to the day. She was born on July 30th.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  The air around us hushes, as do we. The only sound is that of the trees rustling above us, which is strange because there is no wind.

  “I loved Marcus, didn’t I?”

  “He was your world. The doctors did worry after your father’s death that you clung to Marcus because you felt he was your saviour. People in traumatic situations can attach to the person they felt saved them. I’ve seen this occurrence myself when I worked in emergency. However, with you and Marcus, it wasn’t like that, it was different…real. I saw you grow together with my own eyes—it was true love.”

  “And Mike, why did I love Mike? Better still, why did you let me go there if Marcus was the real thing for me?”

  “Because you were supposed to, sweetheart. I guess he had something to bring to you, and he did that. He built you up again after Marcus left, and you went on with your life happy and content. Abi, you meeting Mike made me see that the world has its own plan and we’re just meant to follow the dotted lines. So I allowed your future to unfold in the way that was already mapped for you.”

  “Yeah, great freaking job, Mum. Obviously, my map is littered with dead ends. Mike asked someone else to marry him. Real genius move on your behalf.”

  “Come on, petal. How about we go home? I think we should stop talking about this now. You’ve had a big enough shock. I’ll take the blame, Abigail, if it will make you feel better, but I can’t change the past and the decisions I made. You can’t make me pay for this. You can’t punish me for being a mother who only wanted the best outcome for you.”

  “Home,” I mutter with a heavy tongue.

  Mum leans forward before kissing Dad’s stone. “I still love you with all my heart, Fletch,” she whispers softly before getting to her feet and slinging my carry on over her shoulder.

  I watch her dust down her three-quarter denim jeans and adjust the collar on her red button-down cotton blouse.

  “Take my hand, Abi,” she says as her hand opens and her arm extends out to me. “Come on, petal.”

  “Bye, Daddy,” I breathe before doing as she instructed. Mum’s hand is now clasped in mine, helping me find my own feet.

  We stroll in synchronisation along the paths. Mum never lets go of her grip. Instead, the hold she has tightens. When the gecko car comes into sight, I find myself wondering what being home again, away from Marcus, will be like now that I know so much more than I did when I left.

  The car door opens as I stare blankly into the distance.

  “In you go,” Mum says tenderly.

  “Yep,” I respond, sliding in and pulling the seat belt across my chest.

  As Mum turns the key, I realise that reality awaits. Let’s hope I can recall more of my lost memories.

  “Abigail,” Mum gabbles as we start our journey homeward bound.

  “Yes.”

  “What took you so long?”

  “Huh?”

  “I got the call at four a.m. to say you were on a flight home and should be touching down soon. I knew you’d come here after I was told the details of what had happened. You didn’t show up until seven a.m. Where have you been?”

  “I just needed time to think.” I decide it’s better not to inform her about the plane incident and my almost death. I’m too exhausted to partake in her moment of sheer panic that it would create again. “Who rang you? Grady?”

  “No. Marcus.”

  “I’m guessing you see him all the time, too?” I bark, the betrayal still so raw.

  “No, Abigail, not since the day he left the hospital. He promised to stay away until your memory came back as long as we left him alone as well. He said we couldn’t make it harder for him. He still had to survive witho
ut you and that would be impossible if we were to remain in his life.”

  “Okay.” I stare at her, still unsure if I can believe a word that comes out of my mother’s deceiving mouth.

  “Sammy’s flying back today.” A change of conversation won’t work. She has no hope of extinguishing the burning pain that rips through my body, bouncing from my organs.

  I don’t reply, but instead stare out the window and watch the world keep moving. It’s actually funny to think that life doesn’t stop even when your world is at a complete halt.

  Unavailable

  Back in my bedroom, the ambience is sombre. Mum agreed to give me space, and I agreed to talk to her when I’m good and ready. Leaving Sydney, I told myself I’d never step foot back in this house or speak to my mother again. I guess I was wrong.

  Unzipping my carry on, I search for my phone. “How many times have you called, Sammy?” I say, talking to myself aloud, something I’ve been doing a lot lately. “Sixty-eight missed calls. Impressive. Twenty-six text messages. Well, look at you go, miss. I’m a sucky arse best friend.” I’m not in the mood for reading, or for hearing her sorry arse voice and pathetic excuses, so I peg the phone against the linen on my bed and drag my dirt covered skin into the bathroom to freshen up. I can smell myself from a mile away. Frankly, I stink.

  Dressed in denim shorts and a tank top, the bed becomes my seat. My hair drips water down the length of my back, causing an itch I can’t reach to scratch. “Probably should have dried that better,” I groan, running my hands along the still soaked strands before flicking excess water from my fingertips to the floor.

  My phone chimes a muffled sound, drawing my attention to the screen. A number I don’t recognise. Go away. I ignore the call and lay my wet head down onto the pillow. Curiosity gets the better of me, though, when a new voice message alert follows.

  Listening.

  “Abigail.” Heavy breathing, followed by a long pause. “Please pick up. I need to talk to you. Let me know that you made it home safely. Call me back as soon as you get this, please. Abi, I’m sorry, I truly am.” Another long pause. “Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you then. Call me back. Oh, it’s Marcus.” The distress in his voice, accompanied by fatigue, tells me one call to give him what he needs won’t hurt, but I don’t call him. We need to leave this alone. We’re damaged.

  No sooner have I blown the air from my cheeks, the phone rings again. Same number. I ignore it and allow it to go to message bank.

  He leaves a message.

  “Fuck, Abi, please just answer. Please,” Marcus begs, and my heart begins to thump hard in my chest. “Just talk to me. I can’t lose you again. Don’t make me go through this again—it was hard enough the first time. You have no clue how much this is tearing me apart. I’ve had you now and I can’t—no, I fucking won’t let you go...I won’t walk away this time.”

  “Not your choice, Marcus!” I yell.

  “It’s Marcus…call me back.”

  Why does he have to end the call saying who he is? It’s not like I don’t know him now, or the sound of his flippin’ voice. Fuck, he pisses me off, and after this thought no more words follow. The message has finished.

  Throwing the phone onto the covers once more, I suck loud air through my teeth while shaking my head and just as before, the phone rings. The same number flashes across the screen when I wildly scrummage for it. I let it ring out, and he leaves another message. This time I don’t listen. This time I save the number as ‘M’ in my phone and turn the piece of shit to silent.

  Space.

  Closing my eyes after another fucked up moment in my life, I will for sleep to sweep me away. Nothing. Staring at the ceiling, I hopelessly encourage my mind to replay more of my forgotten past. Nothing. Then the red numbers shining brightly from the clock catch my attention…9:02 a.m. Rolling away, I grasp the blankets in my hands and scream, muffling my tortured sounds. “Why?” I scream, over and over in a battle with my own self.

  A heavy knock at my bedroom door stops me.

  “Go away,” I shout in fury.

  “Abigail, there’s someone here to see you.” It’s Mum.

  “Tell her to fuck off. You let Sammy in here, Mum, and I swear I’ll pack up and leave.” I’m past the point of anger.

  “It’s not Sammy.”

  “Well, who the hell is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Her words are delivered with a tremble.

  “Tell them I’m not interested in what they’re selling. Maybe another time, so fuck off.”

  “I’m not doing that, Abigail. Do it yourself,” she counters.

  “Whatever,” I say under my breath before leaping from the bed—stomping across the floor and then slamming the door in the most dramatic way after I’ve walked through it.

  “Get out of my way then.”

  “Really? Pompous adult throwing a temper tantrum is a pathetic look on you.”

  I stare hard at my mother, who returns the same stare back at me before moving to the side, allowing me through.

  The front door is wide open, so I continue my rampage until I’ve reached the opening. Long brown locks, flawless makeup, and a mesmerizing smile greet me.

  “Asher,” I whisper. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to make sure you’re okay.” Her smile fades, her eyes fill with worry, and it’s then I notice she’s dressed in uniform.

  She’s left work?

  “I’m fine.”

  “I can see that. Not.”

  “I will be. Please just leave.”

  “What happened in Sydney?” Her hands entwine nervously in front of her.

  I want to scream just piss off. But I can’t. Asher is too sweet for such language and disrespect.

  “Who sent you?” I growl, trying to rein in the level of anger I’m experiencing.

  “Marcus,” she mouths before her eye twitches.

  Taking a long inhale, my vision turns black as I try to block her expression from my sight behind closed eyelids. “Tell him I’m fine, I’m safe and to stop calling, please.” My tone is gentler in my deliverance this time.

  “But that would be a lie now, wouldn’t it?”

  “Nope.”

  “I think something is very wrong. I think you are not okay. I also think you don’t want Marcus to stop calling, but what I can’t figure out is why. What has he done to make you so upset?”

  My eyelids spring open when I hear her gasp, catching her just as she clutches her hand over her mouth. Suddenly, she drops her hand by her side.

  “Abigail, you and Marcus, did you sleep with him?” The shock in her tone is alarming.

  “Huh,” I say, because I’ve no idea how to answer this question.

  “You did. You two were together, like intimately. Did he hurt you, physically?” Before I can answer she shakes her head. “No. Marcus couldn’t…he wouldn’t do that. I don’t understand what’s going on.” Her arms fold defensively across her chest.

  “There’s nothing to understand. You need to go.” I try to close the door, but it’s blocked by her foot that stomps into the opening.

  “I can’t,” she demands, pushing it back open. Her head drops. “I can’t leave you like this.” Her eyes connect again. “You look like a frightful mess. Let me help you.”

  “Don’t need help. Nothing is wrong. Marcus and me are nothing—never have been. I didn’t like the job—it’s that simple and now I just want to lie down.”

  “All lies,” she tuts. “Don’t lie, Abigail, it’s an ugly shade on you.”

  “Please,” I beg shamelessly.

  “You need a friend. I can be that friend, if you let me.”

  Maybe I do. But Asher. She is too innocent to be plagued with the workings of my hex.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready. We’ll talk then, Asher. I’m tired.” I grasp the door handle in my hand.

  “I didn’t come here to be turned away. I heard the fear in Marcus’ voice. I’ve known him for some time and I’m
worried.”

  “If you know Marcus that well then you will already know who I am to him.”

  “But I don’t,” she cries out, worry etched across her face.

  “You don’t want to know. Please, just leave.”

  Asher takes a step forward and throws her shoulders back before lifting her chin upwards. “I’m coming in. Step to the side, Abigail.”

  I laugh. Why am I laughing? “Umm,” I say stepping back, breaking eye contact and letting air back into this suddenly tight space. Determination is reflected in her eyes.

  “Move,” she commands.

  “Really? You’re really going to force your way in?”

  “Yes.” Her throat quakes as she tries to maintain her composure.

  “Okay.” I laugh so hard I have no chance of holding back the snort I know will follow. It does.

  “It’s not that funny,” she responds before giggling herself.

  The kitchen table is bare except for a vase of freshly cut yellow roses sitting in the middle. Asher pulls out a chair and then sits twisting her neck. Tension.

  “Well, I’m all ears.” She sits posed.

  I slip out a small half chuckle.

  “Stop it.” She smirks.

  “You’re just so cute when you’re mad, Asher.”

  “Am not.” Her skin radiates a subtle pink. “Spill the beans, will you?”

  “What do you want to know, your demanding majesty?”

  “Why Marcus is completely beside himself. Why this morning when I took a call from him, he was sobbing, Abigail. He kept saying he was a bad person—he had done something very wrong and his life was ruined.” She stops and tips her chin as she goes deep into thought. “Check on Abigail. Go now and make sure she’s okay…do it now. He kept repeating those words.” Her eyes narrow before her head shakes. “Marcus, he—” she stutters. “Marcus is not the type of person to lose control. He’s not. He’s composed, compassionate, and kind. He’s also strong, enduring, and protective—”

  “He’s also the man I once loved with my entire heart, but then I forgot every part of my life with him. I had an accident a long time ago that stripped me of all the memories I deserved to know,” I force out from behind tight lips as I drop my head until my face rests against the table. “He asked me to marry him, Asher. I never answered, because I almost died.”