Between Before and After Page 8

  He was beginning to realise that he had signed up for an all-nighter. Max stood at the window, staring out silently into the darkness. He had been quiet and withdrawn since he had woken up. He had even tried to insist that he and Kate should go back to bed, but that didn’t wash. Finn was hoping they might get a chance to talk at last, but he now realised that wasn’t going to happen. He could talk, but clearly Max didn’t intend on joining in. Regardless, he wasn’t letting Max’s sombre mood chase him away. He was in this for the long-haul. If he wasn’t able to help with anything practical, then he would keep him company. It was the least he could do.

  Copious cups of coffee later and Max had more or less sobered up. Finn, on the other hand, was exhausted. The couple of hours sleep he had under his belt was a shoddy buffer and now he could feel his body crying out for more. Instead, he dragged himself up off the sofa, picking up his empty mug as he stood.

  “Another coffee?” he asked, staring at Max’s reflection in the window. He had lost count of how many cups of coffee they had had, but he knew they had to be close to double figures by now.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Max didn’t turn around, just shuffled slightly and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his board shorts. Finn collected Max’s empty coffee mug as he trudged wearily through to the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and switched it on, his mind wandering, lulled by fatigue. He was exhausted, in body and mind.

  He was so tired of watching Kate and trying to figure out what she was thinking; tired of trying to figure out exactly when and how he had failed Danny; tired of watching Max slowly destroy himself in front of his eyes. He was sick of watching out for everyone. Who would watch out for him? Kelly had tried, but it was more than she could handle and he couldn’t blame her for wanting out. Their relationship had ended mutually – that part was certainly true. What he was ashamed to tell anyone was that she had told him she couldn’t handle it anymore. His grief and guilt was so much a part of him, it had barricaded him behind a wall, blocking everyone else out. Ultimately, it had driven her away. She deserved more. She deserved someone decent, someone capable of loving her whole-heartedly. She said he deserved to be with someone who understood him, even though he didn’t understand himself. He had no argument for that. He didn’t have a solution for it either.

  He had met Kelly after Danny’s death. She had tried to help him through his grief, but he hadn’t really let her in. It might have been different if she had known Danny. She might have understood. But with Kate, it was different. She had been there with him throughout all of it, and vice versa. While she had taken her time to deal with it, he had pushed it to the side and tried to gallop forward. For all the good that did him. As much as it hurt to admit, he was only just beginning to realise that he and Max were in the same boat. Three years later, and they were still struggling.

  Not for the first time, he could feel the anger brewing from somewhere deep down inside. What was Danny thinking, leaving them to deal with the fallout like this? Didn’t he give a shit – about any of them? So much for the bonds of friendship.

  His jaw was clamped together so tightly his teeth ached. He consciously took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, as the kettle switched itself off. Reluctantly, he spooned instant coffee into the mugs in front of him and filled them with freshly-boiled water, adding sugar and stirring. Within a few minutes, the smell of coffee and the fact he was moving around had roused him slightly.

  He cleared his throat quietly and walked past Max, setting both their cups down on the coffee table and sinking into the sofa again. Max didn’t move. Finn stared at his reflection, trying to read him. The moonlit night was obliterated by the lamplight inside. All he could see was Max’s face in the window, but what could Max see? What was going on inside his head?

  Finn could feel his energy waning and his heart felt weary once again. It was no good. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, no matter how hard he pushed things away, he was tired. He was tired and he was angry and he wished – he wished – he understood what had happened that day. Maybe then, they could all forget about how Danny died, just for a while – just long enough to heal. Would they all be here – screwed up, feeling guilty, feeling responsible somehow – if Danny had died in a car accident, or dropped dead from a heart attack? Probably not. But because he had shot himself in the head, here they were. Danny’s decision haunted them more than any twist of fate or act of God. It seemed grossly unfair.

  Wearily, he glanced over at Kate. She looked so tranquil. It was like all the worries of the world fell away from her and she was free to just be herself again. Like she had been before.

  “You should tell her.”

  Finn’s head snapped up. Max had turned around and was watching him, his arms folded across his chest, his face maddeningly blank.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Over the last few hours, whatever hangover Max had been heading for had disintegrated, swallowed up by the nightmare and the buckets of caffeine that followed. He wasn’t stone cold sober, but he didn’t appear to be ridiculously worse for wear either.

  Finn reached for his coffee, his heart racing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit. I’ve seen how you look at her.”

  Finn was out of his depth. He was so tired, he could barely think straight - and he wasn’t ready for this conversation, not by a long shot.

  He tried to shrug casually, feigning ignorance. “Mate, you’re way off – “

  “It’s different now. You should tell her, before you miss your window.”

  Finn stared up at him. “I don’t… what do you mean, miss my window?”

  “Before we all bugger off and everything goes back to the way it was before.”

  He was right. Once they all went their separate ways again, it would be harder to talk to her. If he was going to do this at all, it had to be here – and soon. He groaned softly and fell back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

  “Was I that obvious?”

  Max smiled then and Finn noticed how much younger he looked when he did that. Personally, he was feeling quite the opposite. He looked at Kate now, scared suddenly that she may have woken up and was lying there staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Luckily, she wasn’t.

  “No, not really. Little things gave it away. I guess it’s what happens when you just sit back and watch the world go by.”

  Max sank into the nearest armchair, reaching over to pick up his coffee mug. Most of the time, Max gave him the impression that he was walking a tightrope, stretched between reality and some corner of his mind that he went to to hide from everything. Regardless, there was no doubt that his insight was staggering. Maybe there was something in that – stepping back, watching the world go by.

  “You really think she’s ready for that?” he asked, afraid to hope. “I talked to her about that earlier – just in general terms, I mean – and I just don’t know. She’s bloody hard to read sometimes.”

  Max rested his coffee mug on the arm of the chair, staring down at it thoughtfully. “She seems different, but in a good way. More like her old self.”

  “Yeah, I kind of thought that too. At New Years, we had this – I don’t know what the hell it was. I kept putting it down to the booze, but I just couldn’t get it out of my head. It was just the way she looked at me, and we nearly...” He cleared his throat lightly, shaking his head at the memory. “And then when Kelly and I called it quits, I was kinda relieved, to be honest. She deserves a hell of a lot more than I’ve got to offer.”

  “Who, Kate?”

  “Kelly.”

  “Ah.”

  “I don’t know, though.” He glanced over at Kate again. “It’s complicated.”

  “No one said it was gonna be easy.”

  “Well aren’t you just chock full of wisdom tonight?” Finn grumbled sarcastically, shaking his head. “You’ve hardly said two words in the past couple of hours, and n
ow all of a sudden you’re Dr Phil? What’s up with that?”

  Max’s face fell. He flashed a quick smile, shrugging his shoulders as the shutters came down.

  “You’re right. I don’t know shit about this stuff.” he said. “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I had a relationship that lasted longer than one night.” He glanced over at Kate, still sleeping on the couch. “We should wake her up, send her to bed. She needs to get some proper sleep.”

  “You know as well as I do that she won’t go. She’s worried about you. We all are.”

  Max just shrugged, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Finn decided to dive in, boots and all. “What’s with the drinking?”

  The heavy darkness around the house seemed to encroach on them, pushing against the window panes. Finn felt the pressure inside the room building as the silence stretched out.

  “Seriously – you can tell me. I’m not an idiot, I can see what’s going on here. You turn up here and suddenly you’re main-lining beer. It’s the nightmares again isn’t it? That’s why you’re drinking like this.”

  Max seemed to withdraw into himself and Finn’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure if he was on the right track or not, but it seemed like he had to do something.

  “I’m gonna take that as a yes, then. Can we just talk about that for a minute?” Finn leaned forward, setting his coffee mug on the table between them.

  “Nothing to talk about. Let’s not drag this up again.”

  “So you don’t want to talk to me about it, or you don’t want to talk to anyone about it?”

  Max ignored him but the train had already left the station.

  “Maybe if you talked about it, they’d stop.”

  Max huffed, one corner of his mouth tilting into a wry smile. Just moments ago, he had looked younger. Now, he looked older, wiser – just plain weathered.

  “It’d be cool if it was that easy, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe it is that easy,” Finn insisted. “Look, I don’t know if it’s the same one or a whole lot of different ones, but maybe if you told me –“

  “No.”

  “Just try it. You never know,” Finn lowered his voice, his heart pounding as anger bubbled up to the surface from out of nowhere. “It’s been three years and things are getting worse, not better. Do you really want to go through the rest of your life like this? You really want Danny in there, messing with your head like this? You need to get it out – talk about it, tell me what you saw. Come on, mate – you owe it to yourself.”

  “You don’t get it.” The words spilled out from between clenched teeth.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “No,” Max shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  Why couldn’t he see what this was doing to him? Why was he letting Danny’s decision ruin the rest of his own life? He wanted his friend back. It was bad enough losing Danny, but losing Max like this, slowly and painfully and right in front of his face, was completely within his control. He wasn’t going to sit back this time. Not again.

  “Don’t push me on this,” Max pleaded.

  “Why not, Max?”

  “Because you don’t really want to know, that’s why not!” he spat icily, frustration spilling over. “Do you really think I want to share this with you – with anyone? It fucking sucks, having this shit in your head. So, no, I’m not going to talk to you about it so you can carry it around too – what kind of mate would I be if I did that? I’ll deal with it my own way, and if that doesn’t sit well with you, tough. You should be thanking me, not hassling me about it. Jesus, give me a break okay?”

  Max’s breathing was ragged as he stared over the coffee table at him, clearly hanging on tight.

  “You think you’re protecting me?” Finn’s pulse raced.

  “I know I am. Just leave it alone, okay?”

  The look of desperation on Max’s face turned Finn’s stomach.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lacey woke up slowly, stretching out in bed and feeling behind her for Gavin. When she couldn’t find him, she rolled over to find she was alone. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room blearily. It was early, and the sun was still rising, slowly illuminating the slice of paradise outside the window. After a week of early starts, her body clock had apparently re-set itself.

  Yawning, she threw the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hand found its way to her stomach and she rubbed it tenderly, staring blankly out the window. She still felt empty. It was as if her baby, when it left her body, had taken a piece of her with it, leaving a cavernous hole inside of her. She tried not to dwell on it because it made the ache worse, but it hurt nonetheless.

  Standing up, she grabbed one of Gavin’s t-shirts to throw over her lightweight cotton nightdress. It was too early in the day to be thinking about this. She needed to use the bathroom first, then she needed coffee.

  Taking care of the more urgent need first, she shuffled out of the bathroom and down the hall, the smell of cooking bacon wafting up to meet her. Poking her nose around the corner into the kitchen, she found Finn busy making breakfast.

  “Morning,” she yawned, leaning her head against the doorframe.

  Finn turned to smile at her. “Morning, gorgeous. Hungry?”

  “It’s kinda early for breakfast isn’t it? How long have you been up?”

  He turned his back to her again. “A while now. I was keeping Max company.”

  The bacon didn’t smell so good all of a sudden. She recalled Kate’s birthday party and the screams that had woken them all in the middle of the night. “Nightmares again?”

  He nodded.

  “How is he?”

  Finn kept his eye on the eggs he was scrambling. “Let’s just say it was a long night.”

  “I bet.” She heaved a sigh that seemed to well up from the soles of her feet. “Where’s Gav?”

  “Outside.” He peered over his shoulder at her. “You sleep okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. I was out like a light.”

  He turned back to the eggs. She watched him, zoning out for a few moments, before giving herself a mental shake and shuffling through into the living room. The birds were just waking up now too, and the dead silence of the darkness was being replaced by the rising cacophony of birdsong. Danny had complained on more than one occasion that the birds had woken him up. It was the one thing he hated about the beach house. Anything that messed with the fact that he liked to sleep late was, in his own words, “not cool”.

  Ignoring her heavy heart, she crossed her arms over her chest and gazed out through the open French doors. Gavin and Kate were sitting out on the rustic wooden bench at the end of the lawn, taking in the sunrise. Max sat on the wooden steps leading down onto the lawn, his back to her. She walked out onto the deck, shivering slightly in the cool morning air.

  “Morning,” she said tentatively.

  He looked up at her. The hollows under his eyes seemed even deeper, if that were possible. “Morning.”

  He gave her a quick once-over, clearly noting Gavin’s three-sizes-too-big t-shirt over her nightdress, which was just peeking out beneath it.

  “That’s a mighty fetching outfit you have there.”

  She took hold of the bottom of Gavin’s t-shirt and pulled it taut. “Why thank you, kind sir. It’s straight off the catwalk.”

  He raised his eyebrows but she got a smile out of him – a genuine one too, as rare as they were. A wave of sadness overcame her for the friend she had lost. Not Danny, but Max. The old Max, the one who used to crack jokes and always had a ready smile. The Max who was fearless and reckless and had a dry sense of humour that she loved. She hadn’t seen him in a long time and she missed him. Impulsively, she sat down next to him and draped an arm around his waist, leaning her head against him.

  “You alright?” he asked warily.

  She nodded into his shoulder. “Just needed a hug.”

  She felt him turning towards her to return the embrace properly. He pulle
d her in closer and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. Did he miss the old Max as much as she did? She felt, rather than heard, his body sigh, as if relinquishing something quietly into the cool morning air.

  “I’ve missed that, y’know,” she said, pulling away from him.

  “What?”

  “Just having a laugh with you. We don’t do it so much lately, not like we used to.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  She reached up to squeeze his earlobe teasingly and smiled at him through the tears that had somehow managed to gather in her eyes.

  He swatted her away with a shy grin. “Enough with the ears, woman.”

  She sniffed back the tears and laughed, elbowing him playfully. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone. I think breakfast’s gonna be ready soon.” She nodded towards Gavin and Kate at the water’s edge, standing up. “I’ll round up the troops.”

  “Lace, wait.” He reached up to grab her hand and she sank back down beside him.

  “What?”

  He seemed speechless for a moment and she waited, her stomach sinking as she recognised that look.

  “I’m sorry – about the baby,” he said. “I didn’t know. I wish I had – I’d have called, or something. I just didn’t want you to think… shit, I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think that I don’t care. I do. I just don’t know what to say.”

  She draped her arms around him again. She let him pull her close, sensing he needed it as much as she did.

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled into his shirt. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  Afraid to let herself sink into her grief any deeper, she pulled away, pasting a smile onto her face in an effort to set him at ease. “I better go grab those two.”

  She stood up, pulling Gavin’s t-shirt around her thighs to keep out the morning chill. She padded down the steps and across the lawn, sniffing back tears. One day, she hoped that instead of this feeling of emptiness inside her, there would be a baby in her arms. And when there was, she would love it twice as much.