Best Life

Chapter 45

Adam

Two weeks.
Three days.
I'm not counting.
The days.
Or the weeks.
I'm counting the hours.

Sam and I have had a lovely time at our sanctuary here at Point Henry. The house is amazing, the weather has been spectacular and we have had some time together and some time apart. Some mornings we get up early for a walk along the beach, sometimes it's coffee in town or even a lazy sleep in and we just make it in time for brunch. Sam is relaxed, comfortable and her health is steadily improving every day. Her mental resolve has never wavered, and her physical strength is visibly better. The fresh air and the lack of any real schedule has done wonders, much more than anything a hospital stay could possibly accomplish. I'm glad we went with our first instinct to come here to rest and recover together.

Only there's someone missing.

I have blown up her phone... probably ten times over.

Not one reply.

I have apologised, vowed to do better with my words and actions, I have grovelled and begged and pleaded.

I have sent flowers and cards, praying that she'll give me another chance to prove to her how much she means to me. That I feel unsettled and lonely and lost without her. That I fucked up and that I never intended to hurt her... but I know I did. And that I'll never stop being sorry for what happened and making her feel less than a priority in my life. Sorry that I ever made her feel like I was toying with her emotions because I didn't expect to fall in love so fast and I should've just been honest. And above all else, that I was so damn sorry to have pushed her so far into a corner that the only option she felt like she had... was to run.

And stupidly... I let her.

Now she has such a massive head start on me, I don't know if I'll ever be able to catch her.

To repair the damage I caused and convince her to let me love her how I desperately want to.

I know that she has been struggling after the massive revelation of what happened to our parents. The shared tragedy and grief was overwhelming at times, but having each other to lean on was a huge part of all of our ongoing recovery. I know she turned to the bottle a few times. Between Lizzy, Jax and I, we all subtly kept a close watch on her when that happened. Carefully dancing the line of caring for her, watching for more serious self destructive behaviour, and allowing her the space to occasionally drown her sorrows. She has managed to keep things under control and I believe that has everything to do with Sam. Their relationship has changed and flourished in a way that I can hardly describe. The bond between them is incredibly strong, the respect is mutual and the love is absolutely abundant. After dealing with so much, the last thing Katie needed was for me to not step up and inadvertently damage all the relationships that we had worked on together. United in our grief and now divided by my own stupidity.

I did put a call into Dr Braxton and interestingly enough, he had received a couple of reports from other sources at the hospital about breaches of privacy. He was distressed about what happened with Jodie. He apologised that a staff member of his team had ever made me feel uncomfortable and that I should never have felt that Sam's level of care was dependent on my reactions to Jodie's advances.

She's been put on permanent suspension from the hospital pending further enquires. Her nursing license has been revoked, meaning she can't just up and go to another facility and work.

I'm not really sure how I feel about that right now. All actions have consequences I guess, but I can't help but think that if I shut her behaviour down straight away, it may never have come to this point for her either. A feeling of blame and guilt simmers away in my gut, a knowing that I am far from innocent in this whole mess.

Another slow day is coming to an end. I've spent the last hour or two wandering along the beach. Enjoying the view, the quiet and the calm smells and sounds of the ocean. The salty air and the fresh breeze and the colours of the sky as the sun begins to set. I eventually wander toward the stairs that lead from the beach up to the house, and grab the railing, pulling myself up from the soft sand and onto the solid planks.

My thoughts drift towards the coming evening, lighting the fire pit and firing up the brick oven to cook one of Sam's specialty pizzas. I smile at the memory of that first night at our place, when I had to leave to pick up Sam, and she insisted on stopping for damn pizza, not knowing that I had left Katie behind. That incredible relief I felt when we finally got home and she was still there, curled up on the couch, sleeping so peacefully, looking so unbelievably perfect.

My heart twists with hurt that I might have truly lost my happily ever after... and I have no idea how I'm going to survive this. I don't know how to go back and fix it. I don't know how to go forward and fix it either. I feel like I'm in some fucked up suspended animation, frozen in a constant state of fear and despair and guilt.

I have tried to shield Sam from my more disheartened thoughts. Her health and recovery is so important and the very reason why we are here. I absolutely refuse to project my pessimistic attitude towards her and in any way jeopardise her progress. But, she is more intuitive than I give her credit for sometimes. I have often found her, squinting her eyes and scrutinising me with a scowling expression and tapping her fingers on her chin, deep in thought. It's like she knows more about me than I do. She stays scarily silent though, and I wonder and wait for her honest advice or criticism of my actions. But it never comes.

I reach the house and light the fire pit and oven, straightening some of the couch pillows and flicking on the outside fairy lights. We had already prepared the pizza ingredients so all we need to do is throw everything together and cook them, which shouldn't take too long. I head inside for a shower, to wash away the ocean salt and sand from my skin.

The warm water feels good on my skin, the sud's washing away the dirt from the day. I'm looking forward to a relaxing dinner, perhaps roast some marshmallows and throw down a couple of whiskeys in some vain hope that it might mean a long, peaceful night of sleep. The hope that my brain will switch off for a while instead of replaying a steady reel of memories that are both torturous and wonderful at the same time.

I towel off dry and hoist on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt. I don't bother too much with my hair and just dry it quickly and run my fingers through it as a shit attempt at brushing the knots out. I sigh heavily as I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, not particularly liking what I see. Guilt and sadness are taking a toll and it shows in my darkened eyes and the tiredness in my somewhat sunken cheeks. I turn away and walk back into the bedroom. Perhaps tomorrow I'll refocus my energy into some work. Open the laptop and check some emails and the status of a few ongoing projects. Maybe then a trip into town for Sam to get her nails done and follow that up with...

My thoughts come to a complete stop.

My heartbeat pounds and kicks into overdrive.

My lungs feel constricted, straining to drag in enough air.

I stare at the object lying delicately on my bed and wonder if it's real or just my imagination.

If this is a joke, I'm seriously not laughing.

And if this is real, I'm also not laughing.