my motherly instinct anchors these abstract and fleeting thoughts so commonsense can prevail. My children. My life isn’t just about me any more; there are consequences for my actions. The guilt … the betrayal … Robert …. My stomach is in knots. How can I feel such anticipation and remorse simultaneously? It doesn’t make sense to me. My clinical mind quickly shifts a gear and makes a mental note to explore the psychology around such intense emotions and the resulting change in my physiology. My immediate situation renders my clinical experience redundant. God, what am I doing, thinking, feeling? Jeremy still has his hands on my knees as his eyes bore into my soul. Moments pass until, as if reading my thoughts, he releases his hold on my eyes and withdraws his touch, rising to step toward the panoramic view.
I immediately inhale as if I have been released from a spell. I must have been holding my breath for quite some time. As he continues to stare out toward the harbour, he says, in a bemused voice: ‘Let me guess. You are currently analysing every angle of this situation.’ He turns to look into my eyes once again before returning his gaze outward and nods, as if to confirm for himself that he is on the right track before continuing.
‘You are weighing up the pros and cons of accepting my offer. One side of you is excited, enticed almost, about the possibilities of the experience, the other is fully grounded in the responsibilities of your existing life, giving rise to endless questions and what-if scenarios and which mean you need more time for consideration and reflection. Truly, Alex, it would take many lifetimes’ worth of experience to answer your questions and even then, never reach a satisfactory conclusion. Am I right?’ Once again, looking toward me for confirmation.
All I can do is nod my head in agreement. He is reading me like a book. Actually, if I’m truly honest about it, he is reading me better than I can read myself, which disturbs me no end. The accuracy of his words catches me off-guard, his summary both measured and precise. Am I that easy to read or does he really know me that well? I thought he would have forgotten over the years … but if I haven’t, how could I naively assume he had? That is a truly scary consideration given my current predicament. He continues with his barrage of my presumed concerns.
‘What about your family? Do you really want this? What will it mean if you stay? What would your friends think? How would you justify your decision? Could you live with yourself? And dare I say it, what would happen if you truly let yourself go, even if it were just for one weekend?’
I sit before him, embarrassed at the truth behind his take on my questions, by the depth of his knowledge of my thought processes. But I also know he isn’t playing fair now and is deliberately pushing my personal boundaries.
His last question was the summation of many of our conversations throughout our relationship. He knows I put others before myself and always castigated me about it, particularly if I chose paths he could see ending badly for me. He always made me ponder the question of ‘what if’? What if, just once, I didn’t try to control or orchestrate myself and others, didn’t play it safe? What if it was a good thing to not know what was going to happen next or how someone was going to feel about it? Could it still be worth the risk?
My immediate concerns were, unfortunately, way too easy to summarise given the moral dilemma I faced. The real issue for me is, in reality, quite simple — can I say no to Jeremy?
He is playing me well. I know it and he certainly knows it. Even though I try to erase any distinctive emotion, he can read my face intuitively, see through any mask I put on. His understated smirk causes me greater anxiety than the myriad other feelings I am filtering through my head.
My voice arrives quietly but firmly.
‘That’s really not fair, Jeremy. Do we have to have this conversation right now? Can’t we just catch up and see how things go?’ My voice trails off at these words. He knows I’m trying to hedge my bets and he can easily see through my attempted poker face, never a good position to be in with him. I unconsciously brace myself for our battle of minds, knowing that my brain is in a boxing ring with the right side fighting with the left, both deftly defending their position without understanding they are both on the same team — not helpful.
He walks slowly and deliberately away from the glass panels over to the champagne bucket, carefully picks up the bottle and walks back toward me. He silently notices my hands trembling as he slides his hand down along my fingers and removes the glass I’m holding, refills it and places it carefully on the side table next to the lounge. He kneels in front of me, holding both my hands in his and lets out a sigh. The power and presence emanating from him is in stark contrast to his apparently submissive position on the floor. I can barely breathe the air between us it is so thick with tension. I feel like a deer caught in headlights.
‘Now Alex, listen to me, and please listen carefully.’ His voice is slow, firm, commanding. ‘You and I go a long way back and I want to spend the next forty-eight hours with you. I don’t want to have a few drinks and have you disappear into the universe again.
‘I know it has been tense between us since you arrived and that’s because we’re constrained by time. If we know we have two full days together, we will be able to really get to know each other again. Let it be just about us, no one else — just this once. It’s important to me, Alex, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t. I don’t want to argue with you, I don’t want to scare you, I just need to know now that we will have this time together, time we haven’t had for many years.’
My ears are ringing in confusion, as is my heart. The electric current running from his hand into mine lands straight between my legs, so much so, that I almost believe he can feel it.
He wraps his fingers around my wrists, his eyes pleading with mine. ‘Please. Alex, I’m begging you … forty-eight hours? Tell me you’ll stay.’
My mind has gone AWOL. I can barely breathe, let alone speak. What is he doing to me? I have never heard him sound like this, so needy, so longing. I think to myself that maybe he is in some type of trouble or pain and needs to talk about it. My heart says, Yes that’s it, he is my best friend and he needs me. Of course, I should have picked up on it before. Why else would he sound so beseeching? He probably doesn’t have too many close friends he can talk to like he can with me, particularly given the pressure and responsibility of his job and research commitments. He obviously needs to talk otherwise he wouldn’t be putting me in this situation. And here I am, contemplating not being there for my friend, my best friend, just when he needs me.
Needless to say, I lose the battle as my voice concurs with my heart’s logic. And I hear myself say ever so softly, ‘I suppose … I could …’ I can barely get the words out of my constricted throat as they form an almost inaudible whisper.
But because Jeremy is still so close, he hears them. With eagerness written all over his face he asks, ‘Did you say what I think you said?’
Is he really trying to make me say it again? It was hard enough the first time.
‘I need to know you’re committed. You have no idea how important this is to me.’
I take a deep breath.
‘Yes, I will stay for the weekend,’ I confirm, a little more clearly.
A smile instantly washes over his face as he releases my wrists, sweeps me off the lounge and embraces me tightly as he spins me around the room. I can’t help but laugh as the tension vanishes between us.
‘Thank you, Alexandra. You won’t regret it, I promise.’
He excitedly reaches for the waiting glasses of champagne. ‘Let’s toast. To the next forty-eight
