Page 105 of Toy Boy

“I’m sorry about your mum.”

People know, that she died. And it’ll only be a matter of time before they know why she died, too, but I’m not in any hurry to make that reason public knowledge. Let it trickle through, of its own accord, I don’t want to be the man who only came to this pretty seaside town because he wanted to punish the person he holds responsible for killing his mother, even if that’s exactly what – who – I am. Was. I’m not him anymore.

“I miss her. So much.”

“Of course you do!” She gently rubs my arm, in a friendly way, she doesn’t even attempt to take my hand. Probably best. The fewer mixed signals we send out the better. “But she wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, would she?”

She phrases that as a question, probably because she’s scared she’s saying something she shouldn’t, so I smile to let her know she isn’t. She’s being kind, and I’m glad she’s here. If I decide to stay in Beachcastle Bay –if, and it’s still a big one – I’d really like us to stay friends.

“No. No, she wouldn’t.”

She smiles, too, and we both go back to sipping coffee and staring out ahead, and it’s a comfortable, companiable silence. I’m comfortable here, in this quaint little town, and tonight, when I meet Megan, it’s quite possible I’ll have made my decision. Stay here, or go home. Australia, or Sweden, that’s another decision I’ll have to make, should I decide to leave here. And that, well, it all depends on her…

Scott

“Megan? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“Jesus, yes, of course!” I step aside to let her through, closing the heavy front door behind us. “Come into the living room. I’ll fix us a drink.”

“This isn’t really a social call, Scott. And I don’t intend to stay long, I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” I frown, because whilst part of me is thrilled she’s shown up here, and I’m trying to take that as a positive, her body language and general demeanour are screaming that she hasn’t come here with great news. I’m guessing it’s not even going to be mildly good, but at least she’s here. That’s a start. “Are you sure you don’t want to at least come into the kitchen? I can make us some coffee…”

“No, Scott. Just listen, please.”

“Alright. I’m listening.” I want to reach out and pull her into my arms, I want to tell her how sorry I am for being the man who fucked everything up, but I can only say that so many times, and have her reject me. Again. Is that what’s happening here? Is this the final nail in the coffin of any hope I might have had left?

She leans back against the wall and crosses her arms, but her eyes remain steadfastly fixed on mine. And I’m sure I’m starting to feel my heart slowly break. All those years I wasted, being an asshole. Because I think I was, an asshole. Everything she accused me of, back then, I think I really was that man. Arrogant beyond belief, safe in the knowledge that my status and reputation were enough to make sure she would stay with me. That, and the fact I saved her life. Did I honestly believe that she owed me? She owes me nothing. I think I owe her everything.

“I loved you, Scott. And I think there’s this little part of me that still does. Probably always will, because you gave me my life back. Literally.”

There’s a but coming. A huge, heart-breaking but, I can feel it hurtling towards me, ready to kick me in the solar plexus.

“We can’t go back.”

“Yes, Megan, we can. If that’s what we both want, we can do that. We can start again, knowing all the mistakes we made…”

“I didn’t make any mistakes, Scott. Or maybe I did. Maybe my mistake was marrying you.”

“Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.”

She can’t mean that. Jesus, we were in love! We fucking adored each other!

And maybe you adored yourself just a little more than you should’ve done.

More than you adored her…

“I did love you, Scott. I really want you to know that.”

“I still loveyou.”

She shakes her head, and there it is. The sound of my heart shattering.

Did you honestly believe she would come back to you…?

I’d hoped…

---