‘You can’t know how hard it is to leave someone,’ I echoed his earlier words.
‘Touché.’
‘You have to weigh up the risks,’ I said. ‘Together we would have both been miserable for the rest of our lives. He’ll get over me. He’ll get over me a lot quicker than he thinks.’
‘And what if he doesn’t?’
I didn’t know how to respond. The thought had never occurred to me. I was sure Barry would get over me. He would have to.
Adam disappeared after that. He stayed in the room but vanished into his mind, no doubt pondering the future for him and his girlfriend. Getting over her wasn’t an option; he wanted her back. And if his girlfriend felt for Adam the way I felt for Barry, they hadn’t a hope in hell.
‘So what do you do?’ he asked, as if suddenly realising he knew nothing about the woman who was intent on saving his life.
‘What do you think I do?’ I played his game.
He didn’t think for very long. ‘Work in a charity shop?’
I had to laugh. ‘That’s random.’ I looked down at my clothes, wondering if he thought my jeans, denim shirt and Converse trainers had come from a charity shop. They may have been casual but they were all brand new, and double denim was back in.
He smiled. ‘I don’t mean your clothes. It’s more … you seem the caring type. Maybe a vet, or something to do with rescued animals?’ He shrugged. ‘Am I close?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I’m in recruitment.’
His smile faded. His disappointment was palpable, his concern even more so. And he didn’t try to cover it up.
In a few hours I would have twelve days left. And so far I had achieved nothing.
7
How to Build Friendships and Develop Trust
I would have sworn to anyone who’d listen that I hadn’t slept all night, because I was sure I hadn’t, but instead of the realisation that morning had finally come upon me, it was the sound of running water that forced me out of sleep mode. Confused that I’d been asleep, it took me a moment to remember where I was. I was wide-awake and immediately alert; I didn’t do groggy. When I discovered the couch where Adam had been lying was empty I immediately jumped up, rushed into the bedroom, banging my knee on the coffee table and my elbow on the doorframe, not fully thinking things through, and barged into the bathroom where I was faced with a bare, very pert and muscular bottom which hadn’t seen the sun for a long time. Adam twisted his upper body around, his blond curls were flattened and darkened and dripping down along his face. I couldn’t stop staring.
‘Don’t worry, I’m alive,’ he said, amused again.
I quickly backed out of the bathroom, closed the door suppressing an awkward giggle, and hurried to the guest toilet to make myself look presentable after a night in double denim. When I emerged from the living room, the water continued to fall in the bathroom. After ten minutes it was still falling. I paced the bedroom wondering what to do. Walking in on him once was a mistake, a second time would be plain creepy but I wasn’t sure I could afford to be worried about my integrity when two nights ago he had attempted to kill himself, though apart from shrinking himself to death I wasn’t sure he could harm himself in there. I had removed the glasses from the sink area so he couldn’t hurt himself and I hadn’t heard any mirrors smash. I was about to push the bathroom door open again when I heard the sound. It was quiet at first, then it sounded choked, so full of hurt, so deep and longing I let go of the handle and rested my head against the door, wanting so much to comfort him. Feeling helpless, I listened to his sobs.
Then I remembered the suicide note. If I didn’t get my hands on it before he got out of the shower, I’d never see it. I looked around the room and saw his clothes discarded in the corner, his jeans strewn on top of his travel bag. I felt my way around each pocket and finally found the folded piece of paper. I opened it, hoping to gain more insight into the reasons of his attempted suicide, but instead found a series of scribbles, some crossed out, others underlined and I quickly learned that it wasn’t a suicide note at all; it was his proposal to Maria, practised over and over, rewritten until it was perfect.
A vibration from Adam’s phone stole my attention away. It was beside the fresh clothes he’d laid out to wear that day. The phone stopped ringing and the screen revealed seventeen missed calls. It rang again. Maria. I made a quick decision, one that didn’t involve much thinking through. I answered it.
I was mid conversation with her when I realised the shower had stopped running, in fact I hadn’t heard it in a while. I turned around, his phone still to my ear. Adam was standing at the bathroom door, as if he’d been there for a while, towel wrapped around his waist, his skin bone dry, anger on his face. I quickly made my excuses and ended the call. I spoke before he had the chance to attack me.
‘You had seventeen missed calls on your phone, I thought it might be important so I answered. Also, if this is going to work between us, then I need total access to your life. No holds barred. No secrets.’
I stopped to make sure he understood. He didn’t object.
‘That was Maria. She was worried about you. She was afraid you’d hurt yourself after last night, or worse. She’s been worried about you for a year now, extremely worried for nine months. She felt she wasn’t getting through to you so she went to Sean for help, so they could figure out what to do. She fought how she felt for him, but she fell for Sean. They didn’t want to hurt you. They’ve been together for six weeks. She didn’t know how to tell you. She thought your behaviour was down to your sister leaving Ireland, then you having to leave your job, and your father being sick. She said every time she wanted to talk to you, something bad happened. She wanted to tell you about her and Sean, but then the news about your father’s illness being terminal came. She said she’d arranged to meet with you last week to tell you finally, and instead you told her about being let go from your job. She wished you hadn’t found out the way you did.’
I watched as he took all of this in. He was seething, the anger was bubbling beneath his skin but I could see the hurt too, he was really so fragile, so delicate, so heartbroken, a whisper away from breaking.
I continued, ‘She seemed put out that I answered the phone, upset, almost angry with me that she didn’t know who I was. She said in the six years you were together she thought she knew all of your friends. She was jealous.’
The anger seemed to lessen then, with thoughts of her jealousy of him and another woman like water over his burning rage.
I felt hesitant about adding the rest but took a gamble that I thought would pay off. ‘She said she doesn’t recognise you any more. That you used to be fun – funny and spontaneous. She said you’ve lost your spark.’
His eyes filled a little and he coughed and shook his head, macho man back.
‘We’re going to get you back to that way again, Adam, I promise. Who knows, maybe she’ll recognise the man she fell in love with and she’ll fall in love with him all over again. We’ll rediscover your spark.’
I gave him space to think about that and waited in the living room, nervously biting my nails. Twenty long minutes later he appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, eyes clear and hiding any proof of his despair.
‘Breakfast?’
The dining-room buffet had quite an array of food to choose from and customers went back and forth several times to avail of the all-you-can-eat menu. We sat with our backs to the display with cups of black coffee and empty placemats.
‘So you don’t eat, you don’t really sleep and we both like to rescue people. What else do we have in common?’ Adam said.
I had lost my appetite three months ago, the same time I’d realised I was not happy in my marriage. As a result of losing my appetite, I’d lost a lot of weight, though I was working on it through my How to Get Your Appetite Back One Bite at a Time book.
‘Broken relationships,’ I offered.
‘You left yours. I was left. Doesn’t count.’
‘Don
’t take my leaving my husband personally.’
‘I can if I want.’
I sighed. ‘So tell me about you. Maria said you’d lost your spark over a year ago, which was a comment that has really stayed with me.’
‘Yeah, that has stayed with me too,’ he interrupted, with false animation. ‘I’m wondering if she’d realised that before or after she fucked my best friend, or perhaps it was during. Now wouldn’t that be a fine thing?’
I didn’t respond to that, allowed him to have his moment. ‘What were you like when your mother passed away? How did you behave?’
Maria had also revealed that detail over the phone, disclosing much of Adam’s life and his problems as though I was a long and trusted friend who knew all of this information anyway. I’m sure she would have been far more careful with her words had she known the real situation, but she didn’t, it wasn’t her business, and so I’d let her talk; her rant an attempt to justify her actions and also a way for me to be enlightened on aspects of Adam’s life that perhaps he wouldn’t have shared with me himself.
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s helpful to me.’
‘Will it be helpful to me?’
‘Your mother passed away, your sister moved away, your father is sick, your girlfriend has met someone else. I think that your girlfriend leaving you was the trigger. Perhaps you can’t deal with people leaving. Perhaps you feel abandoned. You know, if you can recognise your triggers, it can help with being aware of those negative thoughts before you drop into the downward spiral. Maybe when someone leaves you now, you connect with how you felt when you were five years old.’
I was impressed with myself but I seemed to be the only one.
‘I think you should stop playing therapist.’
‘I think you should go and see a real one, but for some reason you won’t and I’m the best you’ve got.’
He was silenced by that. Whatever his reasons, that didn’t seem to be an option. Still, I was hoping I’d get him there eventually.
Adam sighed and sat back in the chair, looking up at the chandelier as if it was that which had asked him the question. ‘I was five years old, Lavinia was ten. Mum had cancer. It was all very sad for everyone, though I didn’t really understand. I didn’t feel sad, I only knew that it was. I didn’t know she had cancer, or if I did I didn’t know what it was. I just knew she was sick. There was a room downstairs in the house where she stayed that we weren’t allowed to go into. It was for a few weeks or a few months, I can’t really remember. It felt like for ever. We had to be very quiet around the door. Men would go in and out with their doctor’s bags, ruffle my hair as they passed. Father would rarely go in. Then one day the door to that room was open. I went in; it had a bed in it that never used to be there before. The bed was empty but apart from that the room looked exactly the same as it used to. The doctor who used to tap me on the head told me my mother was gone. I asked him where, he said Heaven. So I knew she wasn’t coming back. That’s where my grandfather went one day and he never came back. I thought it must have been a fun place to go to never want to come back. We went to the funeral. Everybody was very sad. I stayed with my aunt for a few days. Then I was packed off to boarding school.’ He spoke of it all devoid of emotion, totally disconnected as his defence mechanism kicked in to block out the overwhelming pain. I guessed for him to connect, to feel the pain, felt too much to bear. He seemed isolated and disengaged and I believed every word he said.
‘Your father didn’t discuss what was happening to your mother?’
‘My father doesn’t do emotion. After they told him he had weeks to live he asked for a fax machine to be put in his hospital room.’
‘Was your sister communicative? Could you talk about it together, in order to understand?’
‘She was sent to a boarding school in Kildare and we saw each other for a few days each holiday. The first summer we were back at the house from boarding school she set up a stall in town and sold my mother’s shoes, bags, fur coats and jewellery and whatever else was of any value and made herself a fortune. Every single thing was sold and couldn’t be bought back by the time anyone realised what she’d done a few weeks later. She’d spent most of the money already. She was practically a stranger to me and even more so after that. She’s made of the same stuff my father is. She’s more intelligent than me, it’s just a pity she didn’t put her brains to better use. She should be taking Father’s place, not me.’
‘Did you make good friends at boarding school?’ I was hoping for some kind of circle where little Adam had love and friendship, I wanted a happy ending somewhere.
‘That’s where I met Sean.’
Which wasn’t the happy ending I was hoping for, as that trusted person had betrayed him. I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and placed my hand over his. The movement made him stiffen and so I quickly removed it.
He folded his arms. ‘So how about we drop all this mumbo jumbo talk and get straight to the problem?’
‘This isn’t mumbo jumbo. I think that your mother passing away when you were five years old is significant, it affects your past and current behaviour, your emotions, how you deal with things.’ That’s what the book said and I personally knew it to be true.
‘Unless your mother died when you were five years old, then I think it’s something you can’t learn from a book. I’m grand, let’s move on.’
‘She did.’
‘What?’
‘My mum died when I was four.’
He looked at me, surprised. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So how did it affect you?’ he asked gently.
‘I think I’m not the one who wants to kill myself on my thirty-fifth birthday, so let’s move on,’ I snapped, wanting to get back to talking about him. I could tell from his surprised expression that I had sounded a lot angrier than I had intended. I composed myself. ‘Sorry. What I meant was, if you don’t want to talk, what do you want from me, Adam? How do you expect me to help you?’
He leaned forward, lowered his voice, jabbed his finger on the table to emphasise each point. ‘It’s my thirty-fifth birthday on Saturday week, I don’t particularly want to have a party but for some reason that’s what’s being arranged for me by the family – and by family I do not mean my sister Lavinia, because the only way she can appear in Ireland without getting handcuffs slapped on her wrists is on Skype. I mean the company family. The party is in City Hall in Dublin, a big do, and I would rather not be there but I kind of have to be because the board have chosen that day to announce to everyone that I’m taking over the company while my father is alive, kind of like being given the seal of approval. That’s twelve days away. Because he’s so ill, they had a meeting last week to see if my birthday party could be moved forward. I told them it’s not happening. Firstly, I don’t want the job. I haven’t worked out how to fix it yet, but I’ll be announcing somebody else as the new head that night. And if I have to walk into that bloody room, I want Maria back, by my side, holding my hand the way it should be.’ His voice cracked and he took a moment to compose himself. ‘I thought about it and I understand. I changed. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, she was worried, she went to Sean and Sean took advantage of her. I went to Benidorm with him when we finished our Leaving Cert, and I’ve partied with him every weekend since I was thirteen – believe me, I know what he can be like with women. She doesn’t.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but Adam lifted a finger in warning and continued.
‘I’d also like to get my job at the coast guard back, and for everyone in my father’s company who’s worked there for the past one hundred years to get off my back because I was chosen to take Father’s place instead of them. If I had my way, I’d rather any of them got the bloody job. Right now it doesn’t look likely, but you’re going to help with that. We need to undo my grandfather’s wishes. Lavinia and I can’t take over the company, but it must not fall to my cousin Nigel. That would be the
end of the company. I have to work something out. If none of those things are fixed then I’ll drown myself in a bloody stream if I have to, because I’m not living with anything other than that right there.’ He jabbed the table with a butter knife to emphasise the final two words. He looked at me wide-eyed, wired, threatening, daring me to walk out, to give up on him.
It was tempting, to say the least. I stood up.
His expression turned to one of satisfaction; he’d managed to push another person away, leaving him free to get on with his plan to demolish himself.
‘Okay!’ I clapped my hands as if I was about to start a clear-up of the area. ‘We’ve a lot to do if we’re going to make this happen. Your apartment is out of bounds now, I assume, so you can stay with me. I need to go home and change, I need to get to the office to pick up some things and I need to get to a shop – I’ll explain what for later. First, I have to get my car. Are you coming?’
He looked at me in surprise, at my not leaving him in the way he thought I would, then he grabbed his coat and followed me.
Once we were in the taxi my phone beeped.
‘That’s the third one in a row. You never check your messages. Not very encouraging for me for when I’m hanging off a bridge somewhere looking for a pep talk.’
‘They’re not messages, they’re voicemails.’
‘How do you know?’
I knew because it was eight a.m. And there was only one thing that happened as soon as it hit eight a.m.
‘I just know.’
He studied me. ‘You said no secrets, remember?’
I thought about it and out of guilt for having read his ‘proposal’, which was currently in my pocket, handed him my phone.
He dialled and listened to the messages. Ten minutes later he handed the phone back to me.
I looked at him for a reaction.
‘That was your husband. But I think you already know that. He said he’s keeping the goldfish and he’s getting his solicitors to draw up paperwork to ensure you’re legally never allowed to own a fish again. He thinks he might be able to prevent you entering a pet shop too. He’s not sure about winning at funfairs but he’ll personally be there to beat you and make sure you don’t win.’