“Julia and I broke up,” he blurted out, and my heart jolted at the hint of desperation in his tone. “Evie, I just want half an hour of your time. There are some things I… I just need to see you.”
Self-preservation, or understanding? I knew which one of those usually won out for me, especially with people I cared about. And I did still care about Jay. How could I not? But there was too much at stake for me to think about seeing him again. Seeing him would be a reminder of all the pain I’d fought so hard to get through. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do it again.
As tears pricked at my eyes, I whispered, “I’m sorry,” then hung up the phone and turned it off.
Blinking a few times and taking a breath to compose myself, I straightened up, turned around, and walked back into Ash’s room, closing the door behind me.
Ash looked up at me. “I’d ask how it went, but… I think it’s clear.”
I gave a brief nod before walking over and sitting beside him on the bed, still fighting an urge to cry that I didn’t fully understand.
I felt Ash’s hand cover mine for the briefest moment before he pulled it back quickly and placed it in his lap. As I glanced up at him, he said, “You’ve been here for me the last few days. Well, really since we met.” He let out a small laugh then continued. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you want to.”
“I might take you up on that sometime,” I said, offering him a gentle smile.
When the doctor told me I’d passed the mental evaluation they gave me, I almost laughed. I’d been sure I’d say something that meant they’d want to keep me under observation for a bit longer, but I’d been given the go ahead to leave hospital, armed with some anti-depressants and some appointments booked to see if the tablets helped, and to get my injuries checked over again.
I’d been in hospital for three long days. Evie had come both days, and she’d been amazing. She somehow seemed to know which times I wanted company and which times I didn’t. And when she was there, she’d somehow figured out when it was okay to try and push me to talk and when I didn’t want to.
It was a skill, because most of the time, I didn’t know what I wanted or needed. There were times when I wanted to lie still, unmoving, questioning my existence. Contemplating what a waste of space I was. Then I thought about Natalie. I knew what she’d done hadn’t been my fault, and yet, I still couldn’t stop telling myself it could have been avoided if I’d just let her do whatever she wanted that night. My mind kept taking me back to the good times, and I’d picked up my phone more than once and started to text her to tell her I was sorry for ruining everything. I was sorry I’d made her hate me. I never actually sent those messages, but I’d been close several times. What would have been the point, though? I was too much of a loser to get her back, and I didn’t want to go back. Not really. I’d told her to leave right before she’d attacked me, so why was I even reminiscing about the times when she wasn’t awful?
And then, other times, I just wanted to talk about something. Anything to stop the noise in my head. Evie had been a great distraction because, instead of trying to make me talk about my feelings, she’d talked to me about music, or we’d played Words With Friends—a game I’d gotten pretty damn good at—or we’d watched some stupid show on Netflix for half an hour. All of it helped, and I wasn’t sure what I would have done without her.
When the day came for me to leave hospital, she came through for me again. My mum had given me some money as promised and I’d found a cheap bed and breakfast, just like she’d wanted me to do.
But before that, I had to go back to the flat.
I didn’t have any clothes other than what I’d had when I went into hospital. I’d been in a hospital gown the whole time, and Evie had gone shopping for me and picked up a couple of things for me to go home in—including a shaving kit because my beard was getting out of control. A little bit of dye and I could have passed for Santa.
It felt a bit strange telling Evie what clothes sizes I wore, but she’d seen me at my worst already. At that point, what difference did it make if she knew what underwear size I needed? We’d actually laughed about it, and it broke any awkwardness I felt about it.
“So,” Evie said once I was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, “are you good to go?”
I glanced down at myself. My shoes were on, and I had my phone and charger stowed in my pocket. We still had to wait for the police to come as I didn’t have my key with me when I was brought into hospital, and that meant Natalie would be there when I went over. I didn’t want to be alone with her, so having the police there would make it a bit easier.
“I’m good,” I said, looking down at the floor before looking up at Evie. She was leaning against the wall by the door, waiting with me until the police arrived, while I sat on the edge of the bed. I was still in quite a lot of pain, especially from my ribs and the bruising all over me. My cuts were beginning to heal up, so the nurses had told me, but I hadn’t managed to look into a mirror since it had all happened. Didn’t want to see the scars I could feel on me. All it would have done was remind me of what she’d done.
Of what I’d caused her to do to me.
“Try again,” she said, her eyes fixed on mine, a knowing but kind expression on her face.
I shrugged. “I’m okay. Just not looking forward to coming face to face with Natalie.”
“Why couldn’t the police make her leave while you go in? Even if she went to the shops after she’d unlocked the door it would help.”
“I could have got a restraining order against her,” I said. “If I had, she would have had to leave. But I didn’t, so she’s perfectly entitled to be there.”
I’d considered the restraining order; I knew it wasn’t needed. She wasn’t going to know where I was, and since I was being escorted to my B&B by the police, she wouldn’t follow me. Even if she did find out, she’d made it pretty clear that I wasn’t wanted, so why the hell would she bother coming anywhere near me?
“Do you want to see her?” Evie asked quietly.
I looked away from her while I considered her question. This was the stupid part. I didn’t want to see her. Not after what she did. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still feel something for her. I just hadn’t analysed what it was. What it meant. I’d only had one break up before Natalie, and my feelings had been confusing then too. Just because something’s over, doesn’t mean the emotions go away.
But they should have gone away this time. She put you in fucking hospital.
“Can I ask you a question first?” I said, hoping my next words weren’t a step too far. When Evie nodded, I said, “I know you told your ex you don’t want to see him, but is there any part of you that still wants to?”
She raised her eyebrows slowly, as if she was thinking carefully about her answer. After a while, she said, “He was my husband. I was with him for a long time, and so… yeah. There’s a small part of me that wants to see him. But more of me doesn’t want to because I know he’ll want to discuss things that will hurt. And that probably sounds selfish because maybe he needs me, for whatever reason. It’s just… there comes a point when you have to close the door. You have to do the right thing to protect yourself. Since he left, that’s what I’ve had to do.”