A Good Man
Copyright© 2011 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 47: Departure
I wasn’t completely on my own for the next couple of weeks. Emily made a point of visiting once or twice a week, as well as on weekends. But, again, I felt guilty about it.
She ought to have been making the most of her new life as a student, making new friends and having exciting new experiences. Instead, she was babysitting me. I felt like I was holding her back.
And on the third Saturday that she came to see me, I told her so. I was mobile by then, having been on a physiotherapy rehabilitation programme for my leg. It was gradually getting stronger, and I was feeling fitter every day. I’d even started walking a mile-long circuit around the housing estate—pushing myself a little bit further each time.
So I took Emily to Millie’s for lunch.
“Well, if you want me to stay away, you’re going to have to stop offering to bring me here for lunch. You know that your sister has the best restaurant in the whole of Westmouthshire, don’t you?”
“I’ll tell her that,” Jessica said as she passed on the way to the kitchen, having overheard.
“Does it mean I get vouchers for when he stops bringing me here?” Emily asked with a smile.
“A regular ‘friends and family’ discount, maybe,” Jessica said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Emily smiled as Jessica went through the door to the kitchen. “I like her,” she said, looking at me. “She’s nice.”
“Yeah. She’s lovely.”
Still smiling at me, Emily sighed. “You’re not holding me back, Paul. I am making new friends. It’s pretty much impossible not to when you live in Halls. We’re on top of each other all day, every day. I’m...” She sighed. “I’m not coming back to see you because I think you need it. I’m doing it because I need it. You’re like...”
She stopped and shook her head.
“Like what?”
“I have a new life in Westmouth, and it’s exciting and...” She sighed again. “It would be so easy to forget about this place. To forget about everything this place represents. To forget about Rissa. And I don’t want to forget about her.”
“So ... I’m your reminder of her?”
“You’re my reminder of what’s important. You’re my ... My anchor. My rock. I’m coming back to see you so that I don’t get so lost in my new life that I forget what matters.”
I nodded. I didn’t understand what she meant. But I couldn’t tell her that. She said she didn’t want to forget.
Well, I did.
I wanted to forget all about Micester. All about this awful place full of so many bad memories. So many ghosts.
But I couldn’t. I was stuck here.
That’s why I couldn’t understand Emily’s need to stay connected to the place. She had her way out. Her escape. An escape I wish I had.
It didn’t make sense to me.
I found myself alone again that evening, after Emily had returned to Westmouth. She was going out for a night out at the Students’ Union building with her new friends. She’d actually invited me to join her, but how could I?
How could I?
I wasn’t a student. I wasn’t a part of her new life. I was her ‘old life.’
So, I sat alone in the lounge, watching a movie. I couldn’t even say what movie it was because I wasn’t really watching it.
I was ‘thinking things over.’
Evaluating my life. My existence.
And I didn’t like what I saw.
I didn’t see the point of it. Didn’t see the point of anything. What was I doing? Why was I here?
These were dark thoughts. I knew that. And the longer I sat there, the darker the thoughts became.
I thought about my parents. I thought about Clarissa.
Why was I still here, all alone, while they were all gone?
Why had I survived that accident when Clarisa hadn’t?
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I survived and she didn’t.
It wasn’t fair that I was now left here, all alone, without her.
It wasn’t fair that I’d lost her in the same way I’d lost my parents.
Was the world punishing me? Why? What had I done to deserve all this?
Why me?
What was the point?
Surely it would just be better if...
I forced myself not to go down that road.
Instead, I thought about Will’s offer to work with him. It made a lot of sense. It would keep me occupied until I could start my course. Keep my mind occupied so I didn’t run the risk of these increasingly dark thoughts overwhelming me.
It would also be a valuable experience to include in my CV for the future.
But was it what I really wanted?
What I wanted was to escape Micester. To run from all these ghosts. If I spent the year working for Will, I might spend my days in Westmouth, but I’d still have to come here, to Micester, every night.
Or would I? Clarissa’s estate included rental properties. What if ... What if I asked Will if I could have one of them instead of cash? There had to be at least one in Westmouth, didn’t there?
No. That was a silly idea. They’d probably already put them all on the market and they were saying on the TV news that the housing market was starting to pick up again. They’d probably already sold any properties.
But it couldn’t hurt to ask.
I got up from the chair, turned off the TV and went upstairs. It was getting late. I’d have a shower, then get in bed and read something. I had about half a dozen novels that I’d bought on—
I froze.
I’d bought them on that final shopping trip with Clarissa.
In Westmouth.
I was halfway up the stairs. I tried to control my breathing. I was having to do that more and more.
This was ridiculous.
I needed to get out of here. Out of Micester. Out of Westmouthshire. Away from all these ... ghosts. They were everywhere. Everywhere I went.
I had to get out of here.
And that’s when the idea struck me.
I ran upstairs, two steps at a time. Into my bedroom. I pulled open the drawer in my bedside cabinet. They were still there. Two tickets. Two Visas. One Passport.
I needed to make some calls. I had some planning to do. Not now. Everything would be closed.
Monday.
I just had to get through tomorrow and make it to Monday, then I could make plans.
I had to get out of here. Get away. And I already had the means.
I spent the whole week making my plans and making calls. And by the weekend, I was ready. Everything was in place. I still needed a couple of things to fall into place, but that was about timing, nothing more.
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