Take My Hand (23 page)

“I love you, Dexter.”

“Thank you,” he whispered under his breath before taking a long, deep
breath as he inhaled the scent of my hair. Thank you? I couldn’t help feeling a
little disheartened that he didn’t say it back, but then I instantly felt
guilty with selfishness because I knew he felt it – he was just going
through one of the most difficult times of his life.

I jumped from the bed and kissed the top of Dexter’s head before heading
into the tiny en-suite to shower. My face crumpled as I eyed-up the mildew
infested tiles and the toilet that looked like it’d never even seen a bottle of
bleach. After fiddling with the rusty knobs for at least five minutes I finally
managed to get some lukewarm water flowing. Then I remembered I’d forgotten my
toiletry bag from the suitcase containing shampoo and body-wash so, stripped
down to just my knickers, I opened the door to go out and fetch it.

I paused in my tracks immediately when I hear the sound of Dexter’s
muffled voice, worried in case someone was in the room who might catch an eyeful
of my boobs. After a few seconds it quickly became apparent that he was on the
phone however, but still I didn’t enter the room completely because I didn’t
want to interrupt what may well have been a difficult conversation for him.

Standing there, cold and almost naked, I prayed he wasn’t too late
getting here.

“I told you I was coming alone – nothing’s changed… You know me,
sweet cheeks, I don’t need anyone else…”
Sweet
cheeks?
“Bullshit… I’ve got you… Don’t… Not now. We’ll talk when I get
there… Can’t wait to see you either. I’ll be there within the hour… I know you
do… I love you too.”

My mouth was locked open but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem
to drag any air through it. Sweet cheeks? I love you? I was overreacting. I
had
to be. Stepping back inside the
bathroom and closing the door gently behind I sat on the toilet and threw my
head in hands, remembering how much I
knew
Dexter loved me. Remembering the way he told me, how
he
showed
me… replaying
all the intimate moments we’ve shared. No one was that good an actor and I was
a selfish cow for even thinking he could lie to me.

Not when we were here to wait for one of his oldest friends to die.

Just as quickly memories of the day he told me he needed to go home
flooded my overwhelmed mind. I remembered how reluctant he seemed for me to go
with him and for a fleeting moment I believed he only agreed because I guilt
tripped him into it. But then he assured me he needed me and blah de blah and I
forgot all about it. Just like I was prepared to forget his drunken ‘losing
her’ comment.

Then there’s the fact he’s never even spoken about this ‘friend’. He’s
never told me what’s wrong with him or even his name. What if the dying friend
thing is all just a cover?

Damn it!

I mentally cursed myself - disgusted with the heartless direction my
thoughts were going. Dexter is devastated – I’ve witnessed the
unadulterated
pain
oozing from his
eyes on numerous occasions this last few weeks. In that moment I’d never felt
so self-centred. How the hell could I doubt him even for a second? I’ve never
been the clingy or possessive type so what the hell had gotten into me? Maybe
the jetlag was distorting my thought process. There would undoubtedly be a
perfectly rational explanation for the conversation I just overheard and I was
sure if I just went out there and asked him, he could explain easily.

But when I did, he was already gone.

**********

Me: Miss u xxx

I texted Rachel when I got out of the shower, for no other reason than because
I really did miss her already. Before Dexter left this morning I had plans to
explore the city - maybe do a spot of window shopping. But now I was alone I
felt a little lost and as wimpy as it sounds, I was kind of scared too. It felt
similar to when I first moved to London – fear of the unknown alongside
having the social skills of a diarrhoea stain made for quite a nervous Emily.

But this was a million times worse. I didn’t have Rachel by my side
telling me to grow some balls.

Rachel: Miss u too
ho. I’d prob miss u more if it wasn’t 5 o’clock in the fuckin morning! ;-) U
okay ho? X

Crap. I’d forgotten the time difference. Ah well, seeing her words light
up my phone made me smile, which was just what I needed right now so she’d just
have to get over it.

Me: Sure. Just feels
weird without u xx

It was only a half lie. I was okay compared to Dexter, and more
importantly the person Dexter was probably sitting with right now. But deep in
the back of mind, a tiny (think miniscule – smaller than a fraction of a
grain of sand) part of me regretted coming. I’d only been here a matter of
hours and I already felt like a bit of a spare part. Dexter seems determined to
do this – whatever this is – alone, leaving me sat here worried
sick about him.

There I go again being so self-bloody-important. It’s tiredness. It must
be. I’ve never been this whiny in my life and I certainly won’t ever be this
whiny out loud. As long as it all stays in my head, I can deal with it.

Rachel didn’t reply again and I suspected it was probably because she
fell back to sleep the second she sent her first. I dressed quickly into my
indigo skinny jeans and a light-knit jumper before scraping my hair back into a
bun and braving going outside.

I found it strange how ‘normal’ everything seemed. I know that sounds
stupid and I don’t know what I was expecting but nothing seemed very different
from being at home. Obviously if you inspected closely enough there were small
things like different traffic lights and cars travelling on the wrong side of
the road etc., but overall I could’ve been shopping in the centre of London.
Not that I could afford to
actually
shop.
But I did see a fair few things I
wished
I
could buy through the window.

I was on my way back to the hotel when a window I mustn’t have looked
through on my way out caught my attention. Just inside there was a large glass
shelf housing an array of model cars and bikes. Dexter – like most men
– is an engine fanatic with a special love for all things bikes. I
remember him mentioning once how, as much as he loved Jenny - his Yamaha - he
was settling because that’s all he could afford. His real passion lay with
Harley Davidson’s and it was his ultimate goal to own one someday.

Well today his dream was about to come true because amongst the toy cars
sat a tiny replica of the kind of Harley Dexter had once described to me.
Grinning widely, proud of my find, I walked into the shop and picked it
straight out without a second thought. As I walked back to the hotel with
Dexter’s gift tucked safely away inside my handbag, I wasn’t sure when I
planned to give it to him. I wanted him to be happy with it – see that it
was simply a taster of the future I knew he could achieve. Realistically I
probably wouldn’t get that reaction from him during this trip. I doubted the
future would be easy to think about when your friend didn’t have one at all.

So, when I reached our room and tossed my bag onto the lumpy mattress, I
decided I’d give it to him when we got home.

Lunch time had been and gone by the time Dexter came back to me. In all
honesty I was starving after munching on nothing but a bag of crisps since
breakfast but of course I didn’t dare say anything. I just hoped my stomach
would keep quiet about it too.

Dexter walked straight towards the bed, sat himself down on the edge and
slumped forward with his eyes fixed onto the stained, green carpet between his
feet. I lowered myself down next to him, respecting his silence and placing a
reassuring hand on his knee. Cocking his head to the side he glanced up at me
briefly, offering the weakest of smiles, before resting his own hand over mine
and squeezing it gently.

The pain he was so obviously feeling in his heart radiated from his
entire body and in that moment the reality of the situation slapped me in the
face, making me angrier than I’d ever been with myself for doubting him this
morning. Feeling guilty and overwhelmingly sad for the man I loved more than
anything, I crawled onto my knees and threw my arms around his huddled body
– holding him in perfect silence for what seemed like a lifetime.

**********

Three days in and my newfound selfishness reared its ugly head.
Understandably Dexter had been quiet, but it was getting to the point where he
was becoming all out withdrawn. I was starting to feel like he was locking me
out – maybe even like I was a burden. I understood his need to visit his
friend alone the first time but if I’m honest I suppose I expected to get the
opportunity to meet him too. Not out of nosiness or some kind of morbid
curiosity, but because I looked forward to meeting someone from Dexter’s past
– someone who knew him long before me. Someone who could share stories
and insights – swap tales and antics.

Plus I wanted to support Dexter – that’s why I’m here after all.
But he’d closed down so much we’d barely spoken a full sentence since we
arrived. It was hitting him so hard. Harder than I expected. I hope to God this
doesn’t make me sound like the most heartless bitch ever to walk the planet,
but the grief Dexter was already experiencing seemed so powerful –
too
powerful - for a friend he’d never
even mentioned before. A friend he
still
hasn’t
mentioned.

Crap. That really
does
sound
heartless.

Still, I had to work with what I was given and if all Dexter needed was
a cuddle at the end of each day, then that’s what I’d do. I’d do anything he
asked to help him through this time. Possibly naïvely, the way I saw it was, if
he had me to turn to he wouldn’t need to find any other ‘outlets’. So, I
decided I needed to get over myself and stop focusing on what
I
needed and concentrate on Dexter. That
was all going swimmingly until I came back from grabbing us some lunch at the
café just outside our hotel today.

When I approached our door I could hear the unmistakeable sound of
Dexter’s laugh. I recognised it instantly because it’s one of my favourite
sounds in the world. Plus it’s also a sound I’d not heard for what seemed like
a very long time. I pushed the door open as gently as the precarious hinges
would allow and listened intently. The laughing had stopped but he still
sounded… himself. If that even makes sense. Whoever was on the other end of the
line was on the receiving end of ‘normal’ Dexter… content, comfortable, at ease
Dexter.

Whoever it was, sure as hell wasn’t being pushed aside.

And then it came – crashing down on me like a tonne of bricks and
knocking the wind from my lungs. I felt agitated. Then frustrated. Then
downright annoyed… Then of course I felt guilty for it. Was it…
jealousy
I was feeling? I couldn’t be
sure seeing as I’d no experience in the green-eyed-monster department, but if I
was
jealous, then I was sure I’d be
going straight to hell.

“I’ll be round again this evening, sweet cheeks… Try not to miss me
too
much… You know I will… I-I…I can’t
think about that right now… I know… Maybe later… Okay…”

 
When Dexter ended the call I
closed the door loudly behind me – announcing my arrival.

“Who was that?” I asked casually, as if I’d just walked in as he was
saying goodbye.

“Just a friend,” he answered passively after a second too long for my
liking. A friend huh? Vague much?

“I’ve got a headache,” I complained – only
half
lying. There was definitely a twinge. “I’m going to lie down
for a while.” Dexter strolled over to me and kissed my forehead and then I
didn’t know whether to feel angry or yet again, guilty. What the hell was wrong
with me?

When I thought about things rationally, I’d overheard just a couple of
one-sided conversations and I’d turned all raging-jealous-bitch on his arse.
But as hard as I tried there was just something inexplicable niggling away
inside my head. A feeling that I was being lied to, even though I had no right
or reason to. It’s a bit like when your back is turned and you get that sense
of someone watching you, then you turn around and what’d ya know… someone is
right there behind you.

I lay wide awake with my eyes closed for what must’ve been a couple of
hours. I could hear Dexter pottering around the room the whole time – the
crinkling of crisp packets, the tapping of buttons on his phone, the pages of a
magazine being flipped… Every so often the mattress would sink and he would lie
down next to me and softly rub my back or sweep the hair from my neck.

My mind
was in turmoil and the twinge I felt earlier soon turned into a full-blown
mother of a migraine as I tried to figure out why. I considered texting Rachel
because she always knows what to do about everything. Granted it usually has
something to do with sex but still, I’ve always gone to her with all my
troubles. She never fails to know what to say to cheer me up.

But then I
decided I was wrong to mistrust Dexter and that I was actually pretty disgusted
with myself for ever doing so. Therefore I didn’t need to text Rachel for
advice – because I was going to forget all about my stupid and unfounded
suspicions and start supporting Dexter like I was supposed to be doing.