my hands were covered in some mystery substance from the lid of the bin. I held my hands out by my sides, aware that they were trembling somewhat, and I just stared at him with my one exposed eye. I felt so stupid, but still special at the same time. He walked towards me and took the pink streak that hung across my face, tucking it behind my ear. Just like that, after all this time, he kissed me and I will never forget the look on his face when he pulled away from me. He looked dizzy; it was the first time I had seen his confidence shaken. I made him feel something, I knew I did.
People started to notice the chemistry between us and it wasn’t long before I could see the people I worked with getting excited at watching the romance unfold. There was something so completely inevitable about us. Me and Rocket. Together for ever.
Imogen was alone, bar a money spider crawling across her forearm. She watched as it climbed down and onto the sofa arm. She was facing the TV but it was off; the only thing to watch was her own reflection in the black mirror.
Two months ago, her boyfriend Dean had said he’d needed some time apart. The schism between them had seemed irreparable but he’d promised he just needed distance and that then they could talk properly. She hadn’t seen him for weeks, but this morning she’d received a text from him saying he wanted to see her again, today, if she was available. He must have known she had the day off. He always seemed to know. Nervous, she’d had a shower and then tried to dress in a way that seemed effortless, natural, not as if she had pained over it for two whole hours. She was angry, angry that he had gone and left her there alone in the first place. In the grand scheme of things though, she supposed she owed him.
During his last stint in prison, she hadn’t visited him. After that, when they were together, she had forced him to talk about his traumatic past during the course of an investigation. She had said things she could never take back, things that had been recorded. She knew that his leaving was about being alone, rather than without her; she knew he loved her still and that made her even angrier. It was a bit presumptuous of him to assume she would still want him after he had been gone so long – she could have moved on, or the chemistry between them might be out of whack now. You couldn’t go back, only forwards. All she hoped was that he didn’t hang onto the hurtful things she had said. The doorbell rang and she caught her breath.
‘Come in!’
She had left the door on the latch; even though he had a key, she knew he wouldn’t use it. She stayed on the sofa, waiting.
When she looked up, he was standing in the doorway. He smiled at her, a wide grin, like the time she had first met him, not the broken man she had said goodbye to all those weeks ago. That smile hit her like a hammer. The chemistry was still there.
‘Hey stranger.’ He smoothed his hair back nervously.
She stood up and walked over to him. Trying to read him was always impossible. He was such a contradiction, so completely open, but full of secrets. She could see up close how nervous he was; he was waiting for her to make the first move and she couldn’t bear to think of him in pain. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips; immediately, he pulled her into him, kissing her as though she were a tonic he needed to stay alive.
‘I missed you.’ She pulled away. ‘How are you?’
‘Better now. I just needed some space. I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t fair of me to disappear like that.’
She waved dismissively, she didn’t want to cry and make him feel bad. She wouldn’t have been crying because she was upset that he’d had left her, it was more the sheer relief of him being back. But she had a problem and she knew it. Essentially nothing had changed; he was still an ex-con and she was still a police officer. This was still completely unworkable. She couldn’t afford to not address that anymore. It really was him or the job.
‘We need to talk, Dean,’ she said.
‘Already? Don’t we even get today?’
‘We’ve had too many days. I just can’t ignore this anymore.’
He moved past her and sat on the sofa. She couldn’t quite believe she was about to do this. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to her place and put it on the table.
‘You don’t have to say it. I know.’
‘You can’t not be you, you tried. The truth is I love you for who you are. I don’t think you can change and if you did, I’m not sure I would feel the same,’ Imogen said, hoping he would tell her that she was being silly, that it would all be fine. Even if she knew it wasn’t true, maybe they could pretend.
‘Conditional love?’
‘That’s not it. Do you want me to change?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Well there you go then. One of us has to.’
‘It’s not because of what you know about me now?’
‘What do you mean?’ she said. She had found out a lot of questionable things about him during her last big case, just before he’d left. She’d discovered horrific things about his childhood, growing up in care home after care home, being abused by the owners. He had even admitted to killing someone for her. None of that changed how she felt about him.
Dean took a deep breath before speaking. ‘The sexual abuse.’
‘No! God … no, of course not.’
‘Not everyone wants to deal with someone who’s been broken in that way.’ He looked down.
‘You’re not broken! Don’t say that! Please don’t think that.’ The tears sprang out with as much surprise to her as to him. She hated the thought of him thinking of himself that way.
He patted the sofa next to him and she sat in the hollow. Putting out his arm, he pulled her towards him and they just sat there for a moment. Wondering what happened next. She felt heavy with sadness; knowing that this couldn’t continue was a feeling she was used to, but actually ending it was a different matter – she didn’t think she would have the guts. Part of her had wished he had never come back, so this moment could never happen.
‘What happens now?’ he asked, stroking her hair.
‘We go on with our lives, I suppose.’
‘Just like that?’
‘I kept thinking maybe you were right. Maybe if we had some time apart, then it might work out or at the very least all of this would be easier.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Dean said, his voice strained.
‘For being you?’
‘For not being able to change.’
‘I don’t want you to change. I need you to keep being you, just the way you are. There is something very perfect about you. I’m jealous, if I’m honest. Jealous that you can just be … so sure of who you are.’
Dean caught his breath for a moment before speaking, trying to
