Drew.
He raised his hands in a protective stance, his mouth melting into an apologetic frown.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” I barked, shoving the mic pack into his chest. I didn’t wait around to listen to his excuses or apologies. I needed out. Out of the studio, out of the heat, the whole fucking building. I barged past crew members, blustered through mazes of corridors lined with framed photos of stars from the various TV shows produced here, until I found a set of exit doors.
The rush of air smacking me in the face as I pushed open the double doors felt like breaking the surface of the ocean. Finally, I could breathe again, after being pinned under water for almost an hour, splashing, screaming, begging, too far from the shore for anyone to notice. Outside, I leaned back against a wall, closed my eyes. I had about a minute before hyperventilation set in and I lost control of my senses.
Breathe, I told myself. One, two, three, four…hold… I inhaled slowly, focused on my diaphragm, the vision of it expanding a little more with every breath. One, two, three, four… Box breathing, a therapist had called it back in my high school days. Belly breathing, said another. Sometimes it worked, if I noticed myself slipping in time. Other times, the anxiety flourished so quickly it retained all the power, leaving me helpless. Scared.
“There you are.” I was vaguely aware of Helen’s voice, but I couldn’t distract myself enough to focus on it. “Hugo?”
One, two, three, four…
“It’s okay, Hugo. I’m right here.”
I heard her footsteps come closer. It made my heart rate spike, the nerves under my skin feel like barbed wire. She was getting too close. She was going to touch me. No. Not Helen. If I couldn’t bear Helen’s touch…where did that leave me?
Alone. Forever.
Eleven
Hugo
One, two, three, four…
“It’ll be over soon,” Helen whispered, cupping my cheek.
I felt the muscles freeze inside my body. Nausea tore through my stomach. Irritation tightened my lips. “Get off,” I mouthed, teeth gritted. I felt like a bastard, a useless and selfish motherfucker, but I couldn’t stand it. Her skin on my skin. The sound of her breath. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, because I was. Truly fucking sorry. I loved her…but I couldn’t be near her, couldn’t even look at her. Not yet.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said softly, footsteps retreating. She understood. She fucking understood.
Why? Why was she still here? She deserved better than this.
The end befell eventually. Always did. After what could’ve been several minutes or an hour, a sense of calm encircled me, floated from above like weightless chiffon and moulded itself to my body. Breathing became natural again. I could smell the brine from the canal that ran the length of the studios and beyond. I could hear Helen…and appreciate her.
My eyes peeled open. “Hey.”
She smiled, though her eyes looked heavy. Sad. “Hey.”
Sensing her wariness, I made the first move. I stepped forward, took her hands and brought them to my lips. “I’m sorry, Heli,” I said, sealing the words with a kiss. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I? I should’ve asked. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like that.”
I wished I coulda told her it’d been a while since I’d felt like it, too. “Where do you want to go?” I didn’t want to continue this conversation, not right now, maybe not ever. “It’s my only night off this week. Name a place. I’ll take you.”
Helen chuckled, but those sad eyes remained. “I don’t mind. Maybe we should just go back to the hotel. Talk. Rest.”
I didn’t want to talk. I wouldn’t have been able to rest. I needed Helen to enjoy life without worrying about me for a change. Almost every decision she’d ever made had been for my benefit. It wasn’t fair. “You’ve been stuck in hotels or following me around. I want you to choose something.”
“I…” She looked flustered as she blew a breath of air up her face. “I don’t know anywhere around here.”
“Doesn’t need to be here. Pick somewhere.” I kept a tight hold of her hands, gazed into her eyes, encouraged her. Like a hypnotist, almost.
Her eyes rolled back as if trying to find an answer in the back of her head. “Blackpool.”
“Blackpool?”
“Yeah.” She nodded assuredly, cementing the decision. “Blackpool. I’ve never been.”
I could have taken her anywhere. Paris. Prague. Amsterdam. “Blackpool it is,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. “I’ll call Ezra.” I sure as shit wasn’t about to call Drew. He could sweat for a bit. Maybe for the rest of his life. Motherfucker.
Blackpool was as loud and bright as I’d remembered it. I hadn’t been since I was a kid, back when my parents still, scarcely, liked each other and I’d been on holiday from school. I’d ruined that day, unsurprisingly. Had a meltdown in the middle of an arcade. I couldn’t remember why now, but I recalled lying on the floor, hiding my face in the hood of my coat while my parents urged me to move. I’d embarrassed them with my ‘tantrum’, my mother particularly. I could still hear her voice, how mortified she was.