THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES(52)

He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me back down onto a chair. “Come on. We’ve got a beer to finish and hot chicks to get home to.”





I COULDN’T GET ALEX out of my mind. During the short drive from town to my place, I went over and over what had just happened. I think what hurt so much was the fact that he always knew just where to dig, just what to say. It was like some kind of sixth sense with him.


If I’d just listened to Em that night, would she still be here? Was it my fault?

I wanted to believe that it wasn’t, but there would always be a part of me that wondered. Maybe I would always wonder, maybe that would never go away. The thought of carrying that around inside me for the rest of my life made me feel sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough.

And now he’d dragged Maia into the sordid horror show that was his hatred of me. She didn’t deserve that. None of this had anything to do with her. It made my skin crawl to think of him sidling up to her somewhere, sometime, and having a go at her like he’d just had a go at me. I could take it, hell, part of me felt I deserved it, but she had nothing to do with this.

Unless she did.

Unless I made the same mistake with Maia that I had with Em.

Not caring enough. Not loving enough. Not doing enough.

I had to tell her. I had to tell Maia how I felt, and get her to open up to me. The only way I could be sure I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice was for us both to be completely honest with each other. It made what we had seem more fragile than ever.

I pulled up outside my house, and just seeing her car in the driveway seemed like a positive sign. Only days ago, the house had seemed empty. Now, it was the opposite. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, filling the shadows with light.

I walked up the front path, looking forward to taking her into my arms and kissing her until we were both breathless.

I opened the front door. “Maia?”

For several long moments, the house remained quiet.

Then, “I’m in here.”

She sounded strange. I closed the door behind me and walked down the hall towards the spare bedroom.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, the contents of Em’s box of memories scattered around her.

She looked up at me and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Judging by the look of despair on her face, they weren’t the first, either. My heart plummeted.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her cheek quickly. “I just opened the wardrobe, and I found all this stuff of hers.”

I should’ve thought about that, but it all happened so fast. “Jesus. I’m sorry, too – I should’ve moved it.”

She started to pick up all the photos and put them back into the box on the floor in front of her. I knelt on the floor to help her, trying to ignore Em’s face staring back at me. And mine. And both of ours, together.

I placed a handful of photos into the box. “Are you okay?”

Seemed like a stupid question really, considering the amount of tears that had obviously been liberated.

She sighed, wiping her cheeks again, looking down at the handful of photos in her hand. “It’s just so real, suddenly. Looking at all these photos of the two of you together. I just… I hurt for you, for losing her, for everything you must’ve been through. And I hurt for her, too. For losing you.”

I had been right. I knew it with a certainty that made the room spin.

I reached over for her hand. “Who did you lose?”

She stared at me, her hand twitching in mine, as if she wasn’t sure whether to let go of me or not.

“I can tell you’ve lost someone,” I said gently. “I recognise the signs. You don’t talk about anyone, you lock it all way. I just want you to know that if you want to talk about it – about anything – you can. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She didn’t answer me. That was all the proof I needed. If I was wrong, she’d have told me so. But she didn’t. She didn’t dispute it, she didn’t argue. She just nodded.

Then she withdrew her hand from mine and began collecting photos again, putting them back in the box. All I could do was offer to listen. I couldn’t make her talk, that was her mountain to climb. I just wanted her know that I was here, when she was ready. She was ready a lot sooner than I thought.

“I think I’m going crazy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at me, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.