All The Mixed Feelings (Van McCann)

Part 62

Abby

I was intending to travel to the gig with Michelle but Van had been insistent that he was going to pick me up now that he'd bought himself a car.

I was pleased but I knew that Emily would be travelling with us and that knowledge made me uncomfortable. Despite her friendly greeting and the fact that Michelle had obviously warmed to her, I decided to keep a bit of distance, keep my eye on her. I'd rather be proven wrong than end up letting my guard down and getting betrayed again by someone else. I'd seen her through the cafe window that morning, her eyes fixed on Van and I when he'd comforted me outside. I couldn't risk trusting her. I wasn't even sure if I trusted Van even though I desperately wanted to.

I showered and dried myself down, trying to channel my thoughts into getting excited about the night out with my friends, but my mind kept straying back to Chris's letter. Was his reaching out to me really just part of his recovery as Sheila had told me, or was it more than that? I realised that I'd made such an effort to push Chris from my mind since the night he'd attacked me that I'd practically convinced myself that I didn't need to deal with any emotions I had relating to the incident. Now they were all there, hanging over me like some ominous cloud, threatening to spill over me.

I was flicking through the hangers in my wardrobe to choose an outfit when I heard my phone ringing and shot over to the bed to grab it, noting an unknown mobile number.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end. It was probably just some junk call. I was about to end the call when I heard the voice.

"Abby..."

The shock of hearing Chris's voice was like ice running through my veins.

"Chris?" My voice sounded choked, practically a whisper.

Hang up! Get off the phone!  The voice in my head told me what I should be doing but my body betrayed me, I was frozen in shock, the phone pressed against my ear.

"Don't hang up!" He said hurriedly. "Please hear me out!"

He sounded desperate, pleading. I just stood there, waiting, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Did you get my letter?"

"Yes," I croaked.

"I need to see you. I've been trying, I really have, but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

His voice broke at the last line. He took a deep, shaky breath. It sounded like he was crying. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to picture Chris and what he might be doing. All I could see in my mind's eye was him hunched over, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with tears.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you..."

"The trial's next week," Chris interrupted. "My solicitor reckons I'll be looking at two years minimum... Two fucking years! I don't think I can do it..."

His words were punctuated with sobs but there was something else. I'd detected the slight slurring. I knew that sound too well.

"Have you been drinking Chris?"

Silence. Another sob.

"This is the first drink I've had in weeks. I can't do this... I need... I need to see you... please..."

"No Chris!" I said straight away, dread rising in me like icy flood waters. "I can't see you. I can't believe you're even asking me after all you've done!"

"I feel like I'm fucking falling apart! I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just need to see you. Please... one more time." A pause, then... "If I can't see you I'm going to end it."