To a rowdy round of applause, Trassa was helped back to terra firma. As everyone else dived on the cake, Trassa came to me.
‘Thank you for asking me that question.’ Her mouth trembled. ‘You know … that day.’
‘Thank you.’ She’d never know how grateful I was to her: that despite my relapse, I’d still been able to help her.
‘You’ll go to regular meetings?’ I checked. ‘You’ll make friends with other people in recovery? Take on a service commitment and find some sort of higher power?’
‘I will.’ She nodded vigorously. ‘I certainly will.’
I’d let all of that fall away in the days and weeks after Yara had died. No wonder things had gone sideways.
‘You’ve been unbelievably brave,’ I told her.
We hugged each other fiercely, then I had to leave – to try to make things right with Luke.
It was almost six by the time, following the babbling stream, I broke through the trees at Morrigan’s. Luke was at a wooden bench, spotlit by sunlight. Dappled shadows of branches shifted over the table.
When he saw me, he got to his feet.
‘Sorry I’m late.’ I was so anxious – keen yet afraid to admit my failings. ‘Work.’
‘It’s really okay.’ He actually smiled. ‘It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. Sit down. Make sure you’re in the light.’
‘July in the sun,’ I managed, ‘January in the shade.’
‘What would you like?’ He gestured towards the café interior. ‘Mint tea? Something to eat?’
I shaded my eyes to look up at him. He was in dark jeans and a loose white shirt which seemed to be missing half of its buttons. ‘Just mint tea.’
The angst, fury and sorrow of our last conversation outside my house seemed to have gone.
This will be okay.
A cup and a plate arrived on the table. ‘I got you a rocky road,’ he said and swung back into his place opposite me.
Right. Off you go.
‘Luke, I want to apologize. What I mean is, I actually am apologizing. I’m deeply sorry. I see it now. I relapsed, with all the dishonesty that goes with it. It was hell for you.’
He seemed slightly stunned. ‘Oh. I see, I, ah, thank you …’
‘It was my fault,’ I said. ‘You leaving – it was all my fault. But it’s only in the last day or so that I’ve seen it. I honestly thought that because a doctor had prescribed the pills, they were legitimate.’
He was still and focused, listening intently.
‘I knew the facts. I did, Luke. But the picture they formed wasn’t a problem: my baby had died and I couldn’t sleep. I thought it was a temporary thing, taking the tablets. That I’d stop when the loss got more bearable. I genuinely thought it was a choice … it sounds mad but I never saw it as a relapse.’
‘Ahhh, okay, just give me a –’ He took a breath. Then another. ‘I’ve spent so long waiting to hear this and now I don’t know what to say … Okay, answer this – why did you think I left you?’
‘I thought you blamed me for Yara.’
‘How could you –’
‘Because I blamed me, Luke.’
‘God. Okay.’ A long pause followed. ‘Thing is,’ he eventually said, ‘I’m sorry, too. I was too hard on you. When I left I was so angry and like, hurt, that you’d choose drugs over me. But I’d forgotten how powerful addiction is. After I’d been gone – a year? More? – long enough to get some distance on it I started wondering, if I hadn’t been such a mess over Yara would I have handled things differently?’
Oh?
‘My first couple of years in Denver, I was drinking too much. Then it stopped working, I couldn’t get any relief. There was one night, I remember thinking, I’d give anything to make this stop. I should have got it then – how it had been for you. You were in agony, there was something that eased it and you took it.’
‘No. You’re being too nice. And I believe you about Mia –’
‘I’d never have done that. You know what I was like. So, I dunno, square.’
‘“Steady”， I was going to say, Luke. Or “loyal”。 You were a decent man.’ My heart felt swollen and sore. ‘I’m sorry, Luke, we were happy and I ruined it.’
‘But our baby still died.’ Gently, he shook his head. ‘Nothing could fix that.’
‘Maybe we could have got past it? People do.’ I stopped because thinking that way wasn’t helpful.