on my bed… Dexter is there – on all of them.
No. I can’t face seeing those things without him. So yes, I know it’s
selfish and gutless, but I will text Chris from the airport.
“He’s here, Emily,” Sarah said dolefully, peering her head around the
kitchen door while I was making up some sandwiches for my journey. Immediately
I turned to follow her into the living room but she put one hand on my
shoulder, the heavy bangles she always wore jangling against her wrist as she
did, and stopped me. “Don’t expect a rational conversation with him. He’s
completely out of it.”
Forcing the obtrusive lumps of guilt and nerves down my throat, I nodded
weakly.
It seemed Dexter had come straight home and collapsed onto the couch. He
was unrecognisable. He hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was ruffled far beyond
the point of intentional style and his face was thinning to the point of being
almost gaunt. The edges of his nose were red and bordering on painful looking
and his eyes… they were empty. Lifeless. He glanced up at me briefly, his
expression vacant – void of all emotion. Then he rolled onto his side and
fell instantaneously to sleep.
“It’ll wear off soon,” Sarah said, noticing my concern. I couldn’t
exactly talk to him in this state and I was still adamant I wouldn’t leave
without doing so. “Give him half an hour to sleep the latest hit off and you
stand a chance of getting some sense out of him.” Nodding, I reluctantly turned
back to the kitchen to finish making up my sandwiches.
Dexter stirred around forty minutes later, just like Sarah said. I was
both relieved and saddened that she knew exactly what to expect of him when he
was like this. I couldn’t sit in the living room, watching him fade away from
me, so I busied myself in the kitchen – wiping the sides down and mopping
the floor.
“What are these?” I heard Dexter say, presumably to Sarah. My heart
quickened at the sound of his voice and I warily made my way to join them.
I walked over to him slowly, cautiously… fighting against the urge to
cry. Then I cupped his rough, unshaven face in my hands and stared into his
haunted blue eyes.
“You’re boiling,” I noted, possibly inconsequentially.
“I’m um, running a bit of a fever. I’ll be fine.”
“Stop it, Dexter. You haven’t got a fever… you’re coming down, that’s
all.” Flashing Sarah a revolted glare he turned his focus back to me. In that
moment a horn sounded outside. My taxi. We all looked towards the noise and
Dexter’s breathing hitched.
“Your bags. Why are they here? What’s going on, doll?” I moved my now
trembling hands from his face and placed them on his firm chest, lightly
fisting the white fabric of his cowl-neck jumper.
“I’m going home.”
I felt Dexter’s heart start to pound against his chest – the
vibrations entering my body through my fingertips and darting straight into my
own heart. For the excruciatingly long seconds that followed, the silence
screamed at me – deafening me… terrifying me.
“No,” he breathed. “No.”
“I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore, baby. It’s killing me.”
“Please,” he repeated, staring to the ground. “No…”
“Goodbye, Dexter.” Resting a light kiss on the tip of his nose I added,
“don’t ever forget that I love you.”
When I pulled away he tried to grab on to me by the sleeve of my jacket
but his body was too weak to grip me tight enough and I slipped free easily. My
eyes were burning when I reached the door so I closed them for a second to trap
the tears inside, knowing if I let one fall – I wouldn’t be able to stop
for a very long time.
Reaching the porch, I turned to Sarah and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Take care of him for me,” I whispered into her ear.
“You know I will,” she replied, squeezing me a little tighter.
After putting my case in the boot of the car, the driver got in and
brought the engine to life. I caught a glimpse of
No. I can’t face seeing those things without him. So yes, I know it’s
selfish and gutless, but I will text Chris from the airport.
“He’s here, Emily,” Sarah said dolefully, peering her head around the
kitchen door while I was making up some sandwiches for my journey. Immediately
I turned to follow her into the living room but she put one hand on my
shoulder, the heavy bangles she always wore jangling against her wrist as she
did, and stopped me. “Don’t expect a rational conversation with him. He’s
completely out of it.”
Forcing the obtrusive lumps of guilt and nerves down my throat, I nodded
weakly.
It seemed Dexter had come straight home and collapsed onto the couch. He
was unrecognisable. He hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was ruffled far beyond
the point of intentional style and his face was thinning to the point of being
almost gaunt. The edges of his nose were red and bordering on painful looking
and his eyes… they were empty. Lifeless. He glanced up at me briefly, his
expression vacant – void of all emotion. Then he rolled onto his side and
fell instantaneously to sleep.
“It’ll wear off soon,” Sarah said, noticing my concern. I couldn’t
exactly talk to him in this state and I was still adamant I wouldn’t leave
without doing so. “Give him half an hour to sleep the latest hit off and you
stand a chance of getting some sense out of him.” Nodding, I reluctantly turned
back to the kitchen to finish making up my sandwiches.
Dexter stirred around forty minutes later, just like Sarah said. I was
both relieved and saddened that she knew exactly what to expect of him when he
was like this. I couldn’t sit in the living room, watching him fade away from
me, so I busied myself in the kitchen – wiping the sides down and mopping
the floor.
“What are these?” I heard Dexter say, presumably to Sarah. My heart
quickened at the sound of his voice and I warily made my way to join them.
I walked over to him slowly, cautiously… fighting against the urge to
cry. Then I cupped his rough, unshaven face in my hands and stared into his
haunted blue eyes.
“You’re boiling,” I noted, possibly inconsequentially.
“I’m um, running a bit of a fever. I’ll be fine.”
“Stop it, Dexter. You haven’t got a fever… you’re coming down, that’s
all.” Flashing Sarah a revolted glare he turned his focus back to me. In that
moment a horn sounded outside. My taxi. We all looked towards the noise and
Dexter’s breathing hitched.
“Your bags. Why are they here? What’s going on, doll?” I moved my now
trembling hands from his face and placed them on his firm chest, lightly
fisting the white fabric of his cowl-neck jumper.
“I’m going home.”
I felt Dexter’s heart start to pound against his chest – the
vibrations entering my body through my fingertips and darting straight into my
own heart. For the excruciatingly long seconds that followed, the silence
screamed at me – deafening me… terrifying me.
“No,” he breathed. “No.”
“I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore, baby. It’s killing me.”
“Please,” he repeated, staring to the ground. “No…”
“Goodbye, Dexter.” Resting a light kiss on the tip of his nose I added,
“don’t ever forget that I love you.”
When I pulled away he tried to grab on to me by the sleeve of my jacket
but his body was too weak to grip me tight enough and I slipped free easily. My
eyes were burning when I reached the door so I closed them for a second to trap
the tears inside, knowing if I let one fall – I wouldn’t be able to stop
for a very long time.
Reaching the porch, I turned to Sarah and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Take care of him for me,” I whispered into her ear.
“You know I will,” she replied, squeezing me a little tighter.
After putting my case in the boot of the car, the driver got in and
brought the engine to life. I caught a glimpse of
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