Reasons Why

Chapter Eighteen

                “Nothing,” Chloe lied. It was all she could do to protect herself. “Just my father...he wants to scatter Owen’s ashes...suddenly it’s urgent!”

Luke looked puzzled, “so he wants you home?” He wasn’t convinced by her explanation. She’d looked terrified during the call, a reaction hardly warranted from a plea to come home. 

She was trying to gulp at air without being too obvious, wanting to regain control of her rolling brain, and the shifting room she seemed to be in, “they need to let go, move on, but I’ve put it off, for as long as I can.” 

                “Shit! Chloe, I didn’t even think...” 

She smiled, leading him back to the sofa and the film they were watching, sinking onto the seat gratefully. “It’s inevitable, not something I want to dwell on now, whilst I’m here. But I know I have to face the music when I go home.” 

It was a sobering thought, not just her leaving, but going home to that...he really wanted to say the right thing, do the right thing. But she was distracted and flighty since the call and he couldn’t help but note the anxiety and apprehension rising in him like a toxic illness.

He left that night and it was the first night in over a week that they’d slept apart, but she’d asked him to go, to give her some space. And whilst he didn’t want to, wanted to stay with her desperately, he had to respect her wishes, and give her a little space.

Chloe woke in a cold sweat; her dream was so vivid, sat in the court opposite that animal, facing accusations and questions that she couldn’t answer. Her parents sat shaking their heads, embarrassed, people judging her.

There was no chance of anymore sleep, so she got up and headed downstairs, thinking that just maybe a glass of milk, tea...anything might help her sleep. Sat on the sofa, she curled her legs up underneath her and flicked on the TV. At this time of night she had the choice of dubious made for TV movies, or European news, she opted for the latter, watching floods hit Cornwall in the UK, and a heat wave in the Mediterranean. Then there was the start of the football season. She was trying to sleep, but every time she got tired, she saw the ugly distorted face of her brother’s killer, and the nausea and fear returned.

                “Hey? You ok?” Chloe looked up to see Phil in the doorway. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, “no. I’m in a bad place tonight Phil, hoping the news of worse tragedies will brighten me up!”

                “What happened? Why are you so down?”

She sighed, “Dad phoned earlier. The trial date is set...” When he groaned and reached out to squeeze her shoulder, she added, “and I’ve been called as a witness for the defence!”

As she dissolved into a silent sob, he swore, louder than she’d ever heard him swear. “How the fuck did that happen?”

Shrugging she allowed him to pull her close and hug her. And they sat in silence for a moment, long moments.

Eventually Phil spoke again and they discussed the issue at length. Could she refuse? No. Could she be ambiguous in her answers, maybe? But she assured him that if she lied that it would disrespect and dishonour her brother’s memory. She just hoped that her testimony didn’t skew the jurors’ decision.

                “So is that why you sent Luke away?”

She nodded, “I can’t sully what we have with this Phil. He doesn’t need my shit.”

Phil shook his head, “the man is crazy about you. Relationships are all about the bad as well as the good times. He’ll understand, and maybe what you need is to be a little more honest, open...trust him!”