Falling Walls (III)

Chapter 38

Leaning against Tom's shoulder on the train to Basel, I felt happier than I had at any time during the past weeks. Thinking back of my insecurities, self-pity and irrational behaviour, I felt like the teenager I used to be: Not a year older and not a tad wiser. I didn't bring it up until we were on the train to Frankfurt. I just needed to soak in every bit of the man I knew belonged by my side. When I finally brought myself to address the past two weeks, I noticed Tom's hand lingering on my tummy. I knew it was a coincidence and probably the last thing on his mind, but it was one of the main things on mine. On the train, however, was not the right time. We were alone in our carriage and so I decided to tell Tom about how I felt after he left and how I felt in hind-side about my behaviour. "You know what, Lisa," Tom responded while brushing my hair back in rhythmical strokes, "I was so consumed by the hope and the fear that that woman on the stage represented, that I did't know what to do with myself. When I was alone and had time to reflect on everything, I realised that I need to fill a hole that's always been there. I know now that I need help, darling. Professional help. I'll do that for you. For us."

I let his words soak in for a while. They made sense, and I was glad that he had come to the realisation that he needed to process his past. The more I thought about his words though, the more I realised how funny they sounded. The little, inner chuckle soon turned into a loud, roaring laugh. "What's so funny,' Tom asked, apparently alienated, while leaning over my face from the side.

"Which book did you get that answer from?"
It only took Tom a second or two to join in my laughter, the best laughter I've had in a long time. My tummy hurt from laughing so much when the carriage door behind us opened and two older couples, probably in their fifties, slid into the first seat, sitting across from each other. We both immediately fell quiet. I turned back around to face Tom, the smell of warm tea lingering in the air, as I heard the sound of liquid being poured behind us.

We had to talk, I thought, looking at Tom dreamily. I had so many questions for Tom, so much information to share with him. While I enjoyed being in the bubble I built around us, I knew we had to start talking. I decided to leave the serious conversations for later though, when we weren't in a public place.

"I'm sorry for having been so harsh earlier, Tom," I whispered, making sure the couples behind us wouldn't follow our conversation.

"I deserved it," Tom smiled at me, nudging me gently with his nose against my cheek, the beard hair scratching slightly.  "I'm just glad I did find you and you're talking to me now," Tom continued, whispering in my ear. His warm breath sent tingles over my skin.

"It took you quite a while catching up with me. You went home first," I protested, making sure he could hear the playfulness in my complaint. Tom moved back from me, the distance allowing us to look into each other's eyes. I had to scratch the spot where his beard had left my skin itchy and I hoped he would shave it off sooner rather than later.
"I had to go back home. I had nothing on me. I followed you onto the train but I had no ticket, no money to buy one, not even any ID for crossing the border. think I did quite well catching up with you in Chur.

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Once in Frankfurt, we decided to take a hotel.  I was going to fly straight back to Australia, getting my luggage shipped from Hamburg, but now I knew that we needed a few more days.  I rescheduled my flight and Tom booked himself onto the same one.

I used to love staying in hotels. It was always relaxing, adventurous and refreshing.  Now, I couldn't wait to be back at home, living our life in its new routine. Staying in Frankfurt for the night, however, would allow us some more time in our bubble and to talk through a lot of things that need to be said.

After I dropped my small travel bag into the room, and Tom his shopping bag with clothes he bought in one of shops just outside the train station, we had dinner at the hotel restaurant. We were laughing and kissing, just like in the first days after we had been a couple, but somehow it was like we were both avoiding the serious conversations, prolonging our time out in public. I knew I had to talk to Tom about Eva, and how we were to move on from here. The if was out of the question but the how was still followed by a shouty large question mark. The pregnancy announcement, I had decided, could wait a few more days. I didn't want to overload Tom with more emotional turmoil.  My morning sickness was increasing, but if I stuck to plain foods in the morning and ate straight after getting up,  I was usually fine, and Tom would hopefully not notice anything. 

Back in the hotel room, and all alone, the air between us had become awkward. I had imagined us falling over each other, passion and all that, but instead neither of us seemed to know what to do, so I opened my bag and took my pair of used pajamas out, then walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me to take a shower. I never used to lock the door, and while the steamy water encased me, I wondered if the weirdness between us would remain. We have to talk. We have to talk tonight. We were fine on the train, hugging and kissing, but now it's like we're strangers. We need to talk. I took my time in the shower, going over the words I would say to him again and again, until I decided that no preparation of words would make this any better or easier. 

In my pajamas and my hair still wet, I walked out of the bathroom. Tom was sitting in front of the window, staring out into the night. He turned towards me and smiled shyly. He seemed to be looking for words too, then he wriggled on the chair and asked, "Would you like some wine now?" I had declined all through dinner, and now again shook my head no. He never asked me for an explanation. 

"We need to talk, Tom." I finally said, and the relief and fear both showing on his face. 

"I know." Tom walked towards me, stroking his hand along my cheek. "I'll just have a shower, okay?" This was going to be a long night.

We were sitting on the bed, the fresh smell of the spring fragrance of the hotel shampoo and body wash filling my nose. It was nothing like Tom's usual smell, but I guessed it was his first shower since returning from his adventure, and it was better then before. He hadn't shaved though and he looked unusual with his facial hair. Not bad, just different, although I was beginning to get used to it. I kept on thinking how to start the conversation, when Tom took the decision off me. "I need you to know, darling, that I will never do this again. I promise." And Tom apologised over and over, holding my hands in his. It was good to hear him feel sorry, but it was getting enough. 

"Hey," I pressed my cheek against his beard, testing out the unfamiliar prickle. "I know you're sorry and so am I." We spoke everything through, our feelings, our thoughts and our expectations, and finally came to the conclusion that in the end, we both did what we thought had been best for the other. If only we would have asked each other. "We both made mistakes, but I need to tell you something else," I began the probably most difficult part of tonight. It felt good lying in Tom's arms again, and I truly hoped bringing up Eva wouldn't destroy this. "After you left that evening," I commenced and felt Tom's deep inhalation as I brought back the memory of that night. "Eva came out and talked to me." I made a short pause, allowing Tom to get used to the topic and sorting my thoughts. He remained silent. "She asked about you." More worry lines appeared on his forehead, the pressure from his grip on my hand got stronger and stronger, and I got concerned he was going to tell me to stop any moment, so I decided to save him the details. "I asked her for a DNA test." Tom's hand loosened from mine and he moved up on the bed, his hands wiping over his eyes. I knew this gesture. He was stressed. "I'm sorry, Tom, but I..."

"What's the result?"