Page 36 of Escape to Starshine Cove
“Wow,” he says, clamping his eyes shut as though he is trying not to cry, “if that was you trying not to be cruel, I’d hate to be around you when you’re making an effort…”
“I’m sorry,” I say gently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s over, and you know it as well as I do. It’s nobody’s fault, it just…”
“It was after we lost the baby,” he says quietly, “I know. Nothing prepares you for something like that, does it? I didn’t know how to behave around you. You seemed so…together. After that initial few weeks, the procedure, you seemed…like you forgot about it. I know you didn’t, Ella – I know that. But I didn’t feel it. You just pulled yourself up and went back to work and stayed calm while the whole bloody world was exploding around us. Our loss felt like it was…sucked up into everyone else’s. We never got the chance to deal with it.”
I close my own eyes, for exactly the same reason, feeling the sudden sharp sting of tears. He is right. That is exactly what happened – there were ongoing lockdowns, and a media frenzy, and so much conflict. So much fear and hate. And in the middle of all that, we were just two people, trying to cope with a new reality we didn’t understand. At a time when we should have come together, we stood apart. I wasn’t calm – I was comatose.
“I know,” I say finally. “And I wish it had been different. I wish I’d been different.”
“Maybe it still can be,” he replies, looking into my eyes. “Maybe it’s not too late. I don’t think it is, Ella. I’ve been thinking about you all the time, hating myself for what I did to us. I can be better. We can be better – come home and give us a chance. I still love you. I don’t think it’s over yet – if it was, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have spent so long missing you.”
I look at this man, this man who I once loved enough to build a life with, start a family with, and all I feel is sadness. All I feel is an empty place where that love used to live. I have spent years in the ghost of a relationship, and I don’t want to be haunted by it any longer. I want to be free.
“It is, Mark,” I answer. “And I think you understand that, too. It might seem like the solution right now, for us to try again, but it’s not. It’s just putting off the inevitable, and at some point, further down the line, we’ll have to face up to that. I don’t want us to be enemies, and I’m truly sorry for everything that’s happened – but it’s too late. I think it was too late a long time ago. We’re different people than we were back then, and we need to lead different lives.”
“That’s just not true!” he says fervently, sitting up and spilling his wine. “It was just a glitch. It was a mistake. We can fix it, Ella – we were together for a very long time, and I’m not ready to throw that away.”
He sounds determined, and I know that in this moment, he means every word he is saying. I let myself play with the idea for a moment – imagine going back to London with him. Imagine a simpler world with less choices and less complications. I realise that world comes with less of everything, including happiness.
“You can bring the dog!” he adds, obviously unsettled by my silence.
“No, Mark,” I say simply. “I…don’t want to.”
Mark is not a person who takes well to being told no. He has always been the same; it is part of the package – part of what makes him him.
“You don’t want to?” he repeats, frowning. I see emotion flicker over his face, and he clenches his fists.
“What about what I want, what I need?” he asks, his tone quiet but bordering on angry. “I know I’m the one who had the affair, Ella. I know that, and I am willing to own that mistake. But it wasn’t just me, was it? You backed away years before Kim. We lived together but we were apart. I was hurting too, and every time I tried to reach out, you shut me down, pretended everything was fine, that we were fine, that the whole fucking world was fine…”
The fact that he is swearing tells me how upset he is. That this is real, not just him attempting to manipulate me and get his own way. That he has suffered too, that he still is.
“I know, Mark,” I say soothingly. “It wasn’t just you. I wish I’d handled it all better. I wish I’d been less selfish, more able to cope with it all. But that time has gone, and nothing we say or do now can change it.”
“You make that sound very easy,” he replies, staring past me at the wall. “Like you’ve just flicked a switch and I’m gone…”
“No,” I answer, reaching out to touch his hand. “It wasn’t easy. It isn’t easy. But it is right – we only get one life, Mark, and I don’t want to spend it regretting the past. I need to move forward, and so do you.”
He opens his mouth as though he is going to disagree, then seems to change his mind. A dejected smile plays on his lips, and instead he says: “But I miss you so much, Ella. I really think you should come home – at least see what that looks like. Give us a chance. Give me a chance.”
“Mark, I can’t. I won’t. I have to givemyselfa chance… I don’t know how things will work out for me, I don’t know where life is going to lead me, but I do know that going back to what we had isn’t it. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”
He nods, and says: “Right. Just like that? You don’t want to talk about it? To know about why I had the affair, about how I felt the last few years, about my life without you?”
“Maybe,” I reply, “one day. Maybe one day I will want to know all of that. Maybe one day, we will sit down with a bottle of wine, and share all of that. But right now, I can’t – and I’m not going to drive myself crazy, take a step back, just because you want me to, Mark. That might make me sound ruthless, but I think I need to be alone – I need to sort myself out, and I won’t do that if we just slide back into our old lives. I don’t think that would be good for either of us. It’s not really what you need either.”
He rubs his eyes and shakes his head and lets out a frustrated growl that makes Larry’s ears pop up.
“You don’t get to make that decision for me!” he says, angrily.
“No, I don’t. But I do get to make it for myself. Nothing you say is going to change my mind, Mark – so either leave, or accept that.”
He stares at me as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing, as though he is preparing his counter-argument. Something in the set of my face must tell him that it would be wasted.
He sighs, and flops back down onto the bed. He is quiet, still, as though someone has taken his batteries out.
“Okay,” he says eventually. “Fine. I convinced myself that I’d talk you into it. I wish I had. But you’ve changed, Ella, and…God, maybe that’s a good thing. For you at least. But I had to see you. Had to find out for sure. On the drive, I was sure I’d get you back – then I walked in here, looking for you, and there you were – looking the happiest I’ve seen you for years. I’m glad, really I am. Even if you did steal my car.”
I recognise this for what it is – an attempt to back down, to lighten the mood, to outrun the cloud of intensity that is hovering around us. I recognise it, and I grab hold of it.
