Lighthouse

She swallowed hard, twice.

"I was... lucky. There were some workmen nearby and a paramedic was parked literally ten yards away on a break between calls. They heard my screams. He only managed to... to do it... once and then ran when the men all came running over to intervene. Then..."

"Oh my God... Sue... I..."

I heard the breath catch in her throat, and I flinched.

"I'm not over... it," she added, huskily. "I can't even really talk about it. Not properly. I probably never will be able to. I moved here from... there... to get away from it. The spot where... where it happened. It was... close to where I... grew up, and I couldn't bear the idea of seeing it every day. I'm not strong enough for... for that as well."

"How... long..."

"A couple of minutes at most in all, maybe, I guess. I suppose... I wasn't really dead because they... managed to save me. Most of me, anyway. But it's all just a weird gap in my memory. No lights, no angels, no visions. Just... blank nothingness. Most of that... that day, and the immediate days afterwards are just... noise. I do have endless memories of a hospital ceiling... of being all alone in a cold room with nobody but the nurses to hold my hand when I cried..."

I watched a tear track down over her cheek.

I reached out, touched the back of her hand, and when she didn't snatch it away I took it in mine and held it tight.

Her fingers clenched hard.

"So... that night..."

"So... so when... when you did what you did... it brought all the bad back. Everything. All the stupid fear. It was totally irrational. You're not... him. You didn't do... you didn't do any of the... things he... did to me. That... others did. But... for a moment..."

"I'm so sorry, Sue."

"No. Don't be. It's... it's not your fault, you didn't know. You didn't know."

"I should have realised something was wrong. Something about how you were sometimes seemed so... off... but..."

"How could you have guessed? I try hard to hide it. I hide it from everyone. I don't want pity. You're the first I haven't been able to hide it from. Probably because..."

"Because..."

"Because of how I feel... about you. Around you. With you," she whispered.

"... Oh."

She pulled her hand free from me. "So. There. That's my terrible secret; my albatross. I'm a dead girl walking. A Corpse Bride. Battered and broken with the scars to show for it. So. Now's your chance to get away and abandon me just like everyone else has."

I'd never before heard anyone sound so bitter.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Off you go then," she rasped.

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

She gulped, scrubbed fiercely at her eyes. "Oh. Great. Got a thing for broken birds, do you? So what, you're going to fix me up, going to "save" me? I've heard that one before, Ian..."

I sighed.

"No." I said, slowly. "I've got more than enough wreckage in my past to not need to borrow pain from you. I'm neither a masochist nor a white knight. I'm just a guy who... who really likes a girl. And who would love to be liked back. Even if it's just as a friend."

She gulped down a sob and wiped her eyes again.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered, at last.

"Well... I was wondering when you're coming swimming with me again." I answered her as softly.

"Do you still... want me to?"

"Sue?"

I waited for her to look up at me again.

"Swimming with you is one of the few good things in my life. Getting to spend any time whatsoever with you is the best thing in my life. These past two weeks without you there have been... well, they've been shit, to be honest."

"I'm sorry," she breathed, after a moment. She drooped. "They've been really shit for me too. I'm sorry, Ian."

"So am I. But at least I now... know."

"So, what now?"

I managed to summon a smile for her.

"Well, for starters, next time I'm afraid you're going to have to tell me if you want me to kiss you. So... best you be prepared to take the initiative there."

She snorted and ducked her head, but I took heart from the way her lips curled ever-so-slightly upwards.

"And," I added, "you're going to have to let me make you dinner sometime."

"Why?"

"Because, unless I'm doing my usual thing and misinterpreting... you're into me. Are... are you? Just so we're clear?"

"Yes," she answered, softly.

"You are?"

"Yes," she repeated, slightly louder.

"OK... um... sorry, let me just get my train of thought back... so the logical next thing for me to do to capitalise on your mistake... and I've... I've heard cooking is good for that."

"Are you a decent cook?"

"No." I admitted. "I'm completely rubbish, but I've got a lot of enthusiasm and I haven't managed to poison myself yet."

"Then, perhaps, I should rather cook for you."

"I'd... like that. I mean, I don't want to force you or anything..."

"You aren't," she whispered.

She took a breath, let it out.

"Sorry," she said. "Sorry for being so... difficult. And... thank you for not freaking out on me," she added. She reached out, took my hand again, and clutched it tightly in hers. "I... I want to... I want to kiss you. You make me feel... appreciated. Like I matter. I'm just... I'm just not sure I'm ready. For... for anything, really."

"So wait until you are. I promise to behave until then."

"I'll hold you to that promise," she whispered.

"So... we're good again?"

"Yes."

"Thank God. I've missed you terribly," I confessed. "Feeling like I'd lost you was..."

"Rubbish."

"Yeah. Very."

"Ditto," she breathed. "I'm glad we're OK. But... but now I should go. I'm... emotionally wrecked and I need to sleep. Perhaps now that... now that I know you're still here for me... maybe now I'll get a proper night's sleep again. The nightmares truly sucked. Being alone again was... awful," she said, staring up at me.

"Come. I'll walk you to your car."

So I did, and I hugged her until she squeaked, then flushed hot as she rose up on her toes to give me a quick little farewell peck that would have been entirely chaste but for the way that she clung to me afterwards.

I was pretty sure she felt the way my body responded to her, but she said nothing, and did nothing other than to push herself slightly more firmly against me.

"Sleep well, Sue," I breathed, eventually.

"You too, babe," she answered me, with a strange shivery note in her voice.

She gave me one long look before she drove away.

And, as had become my habit, I stood there like an idiot for quite some time after she was gone.

.:.

She pulled on her swimming cap and eased down into the water beside me and clung to the wall as she adjusted to the temperature.

"Fuck. It feels so cold tonight," she muttered.

Then she fiddled and faffed with her goggles, seating and reseating them, clearly uncomfortable. It was our first time back in the pool together, and I for one felt nervous as hell.

"Oh for God's sake," she sighed. "I'm a complete child today. Completely useless. Ian, can you please..."

"Sure. Hold still."

I helped her get them positioned, and she sighed as I let go.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome."

"So... are you going to chase me or vice versa?" she said, voice dripping sudden innocence. Then she grinned, and with that I knew for sure that we were good again.

We set off, her on the left of the lane and me on the right, and I averaged nearly two lengths at moderate pace to each of hers. She tapped out at twenty and lifted herself out of the water. She perched on the side like the world's prettiest gargoyle as she peered down at my comings and goings.

I finished my final lap and hung from the wall; she smiled down at me.

"Watching you is like having my own personal Zen garden," she said.

"Is my head the large boulder in the middle?"

"Perhaps," she said, amused. "It's just... like, I'm starting to understand the art of swimming, right, but I'm a four year old's scribbles and you're..."

"Salvador Dali?" I guessed.

"I like Dali, so you can be him if you like."

"I'll take that," I said.

"So..."

"So?"

"So... Ian... um... do you feel like coming home with me? Tonight, after this? Back to... to my flat?"

"Er... what?"

" I owe you dinner, remember?"

"You really do love messing with me."

"It's one of my favourite pastimes," she agreed. "So... is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes," I said. "Lets just get dry and decent."

"Dry, yes, but you'll never be decent," she teased me.

"Touché."

"Meet you outside? You can follow me home. Or I can... give you a lift and bring you back... after?"

"I'll follow you. That way you can kick me out if you need to."

"OK. Thanks. I... appreciate that."

She flushed and looked away from me as I lifted myself out of the pool, and was uncommonly quiet as we made our way to the showers.

.:.

"Well. This is home. Come in," she said. She held the door open as I squeezed past her. "It's not much, but it has a balcony at least. We can sit out there if you like. There's a nice view of the street..."

"Ooh, you toff, a view of the street. Nice. All I have is the back of someone else's house."

"In a few years I might be able to upgrade to a glimpse of the ocean."

"It's important to have goals," I said, and I caught the flash of her grin. "Where can I put my stuff?"

"Anywhere where we won't trip over it is fine. There will do. I basically just come here to sleep and eat."

I put my bag down near the door and kicked it out of the way. "Done," I announced.

"Um... so... would you like something to drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Wine, mainly. Vodka for emergencies."

"Are you going to have a glass of wine?"

"I think I will," she admitted.

"Well then I'll keep you company. Can I snoop?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I don't store anything incriminating here. Open the balcony door while you're at it, will you? It sticks a bit so you'll need to apply some force... yeah, like that. Good job, babe."

I grinned. "Percussive maintenance is my forte."

"I'll remember that next time my car needs a thumping. Pink glass or green?"

"Pink. I'll spare you," I said.

She snorted, and poured me a glass of white. "It's going to be fish," she said, "because that's all I've got. I hope you're not allergic or anything."

"That sounds amazing. Anything I can do to help?"

"Talk to me," she said softly. "That's... that what I need from you right now. Just talking, like I'm... normal."

"OK."

I glanced around the Spartan living space, looking for inspiration and noting the lack of photographs. Two muted abstract prints hung behind her tiny couch, and a small watercolour of a canal and boats and ornate buildings dangled from a nail near her small kitchenette.

"Is that... Venice?" I asked, pointing to the watercolour.

"It's Ghent, in Belgium. I was going to go there... once."

"Really? I thought... well, you mentioned the tropics, so I assumed you'd..."

"I had a lot of big dreams about things that... never came true."

"Oh."

She glanced up at me. "Don't mind me. I'm not bitter... well... maybe I am, but... life."

She shrugged, and I nodded sympathetically.

"Never been to Ghent myself. Or Venice," I added.

"You should go sometime. You can tell me what it's like."

"Why not go yourself?"

She busied herself with battered fish and a baking pan. Then she sighed, slid it into the oven and let the door slam closed.

"I've learned to dream small," she answered, not looking at me. "That way there's a chance they might sometimes come true. Big dreams are for other people. I've... accepted that."

I glanced at the watercolour again.

"So..." I began.

"Can we lay some ground rules?" she interrupted me.

"Um... yes?"

"Please don't ask about where I'm from. Please don't ask about my... family. It's not something I want to tell you... not now. Maybe not ever. Just... leave it be, OK?"

"Sure, Sue. I'll do that. Er... not do that... um... you know what I mean."

"Thanks," she whispered. "Sorry. I'm a massive fucking downer..."

"Hey. No you aren't. Not at all. It's helpful..."

"Helpful?" she repeated, puzzled.

"To know the boundaries. I'm... I don't feel like one of the sharpest tools in the shed, especially when it comes to girls and knowing what's... safe to ask. So... this is useful for me. This directness."

"You seem so happy and spontaneous... how could you possibly be bad at girls? You're really lovely. You're so easy to talk to. So easy to... be with."

I flushed.

"Can you write that down somewhere? Because at some point I'm going to want to be able to point at it and remind you that you said it, freely and without compulsion."

She gave me a shy smile. "Is it really that bad?"

"Oh, wow, you're in for a ride," I said. I laughed. "I... well, lets just say that if wedging one's foot in one's mouth was a competitive sport, I'd be an Olympian. I think there are still craters the size of moons marking the sites of my failed attempts to... um... engage with women in a social setting."

"Mm."

I leaned against her fridge, watching as she organised some greens for us. Then she picked up her wineglass and took up station against her counter; near me but not too near. She sipped her wine, watching me over the rim of her glass as she did so.

"So," she said.

"So..."

"Is your past off limits too? Or can I dig?"

"Dig as much as you like. It's pretty ordinary stuff," I said. "No skeletons that I know of. Just a whole lot of self-inflicted shame," I added sourly.

"Where are your parents?"

"Amesbury."

"Where on God's green Earth is that?"

"Stand at the northern end of Salisbury and lob a brick northwards and you'll kill or hopefully at least maim someone from Amesbury. Mum runs a tourist trap that sells dragon and fairy tat to tourists who come to see the stones."

"The... stones?"

"Stonehenge."

"Oh. Right, now I have a fix on where it is. OK. And your dad? What does he do?"

"Dad was a forester; he retired a few years back. Now he just goes rambling with the dog. Probably poaches a bit too, knowing him."

"How'd you end up here then, so far away from them?"

I stared at my wine.

"We... drifted apart," I answered, after I'd given it some thought.

"Oh. You should fix that, you know..."

"Mm. The years have done a good job on making that a very hard thing to do."

"It's never too late to fix something. You should try, Ian. While you still can. Family's precious..."

She stopped talking and took a sudden gulp of wine. And for once I had the sense to leave well enough alone.

"I used to spend hours swimming," I said, mouth running on autopilot as I tried to distract her from whatever memory she'd just relived. "Mum would take me. I guess it was her that I resented the most. I felt like I didn't have a choice but to go. She'd have to pay someone to watch the shop, so I felt I had to do it because I owed it to her. So swimming became a chore. I'd act out, fuck around, backchat my coaches..."

"That's hard," Sue said, not looking at me.

"And then I hit my mid-teens and moved on from skirmishes to full-blown senseless rebellion."

"The good old right of passage."

"Mum and I had a massive row over it. Called each other all sorts of vile names; the works. It's only now..."

"It's only now... that?"

"That I realise that... my parents never had the opportunity to be really good at something. It was a different time back then when they were growing up. So they did everything they could to give me the chances they never had. And I... I guess I didn't appreciate it. Not back then."

"You should tell them that."

I shrugged.

"It's too late to make any difference now," I said softly. "Too much damage, too much time. I could have swum for the county. Maybe even for the United Kingdom if I'd put the work in. Now... now I'm just someone who's reasonably quick in the water, and my parents will never forgive me for pissing on the grave of all their effort and sacrifices. Well.. Dad might, he's always been pretty even-keeled and realistic and unflappable about stuff that doesn't involve people actually dying. But Mum, on the other hand... "

I sighed.

"So... why did you start swimming again, then?"

I sipped my wine, sloshed it back and forward as I considered her question.

"I missed the water. I remembered how I felt when I was in it. Balanced. Calm. Even happy, sometimes. I didn't have that in my life once I stopped. It's... it's my element. It's part of me. It just took me a long, long time to get over my own stubbornness."

"It's hard when you miss something..."

"What is it that you miss, Sue?"

"To feel loved," she said, after a moment's silence when I feared I'd overstepped. "To know that I'm wanted..."

"And... aren't you? Isn't there anyone..."

"No."

"That's... hard," I breathed.

"Yes."

"Being alone. Having to do everything yourself. Nobody to talk to when you're scared. Nobody to share your small victories with, nobody to sympathise over your wounds. Nobody to hold you hand and tell you the little lie that it will be OK, even if it won't..."

She looked away.

"Want to see my scar?" she said, voice suddenly flat and emotionless.

"Um... what?"

"My scar. Don't worry. It's nowhere that will embarrass you. It's just flesh..."

"Um... sure..."

She put her wineglass down and, still not looking at me, slowly pulled the hem of her tee shirt upwards until the faded red bra that sheathed her small, wonderful breasts just peeked out from under it.

I stared at her flat, stunning midriff, beautiful and perfect... bar the horrific puckered Frankenstinian slash that ran diagonally upwards to the left of her navel.

"Right, you officially have bragging rights for life," I said, once I'd stared for what felt like an age. I swallowed, suddenly feeling cold and ill. "That... that is quite a thing you have there."

"Not a bad keepsake for kicking the bucket, right?"

Her voice sounded infinitely cold and distant...

"Sue?" I said, softly. "You can put that away. If you were trying to scare me off, it's not going to work. I'm still here, and I'm staying."

She let go of her shirt and buried her face in her hands.

The noise she made was soft, and all the worse for it.

I fought down the urge to go to her; I stayed right where I was, hardly daring to breathe in case I scared her off.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she eventually managed. "It's...it's like something compels me to push you away. I have to keep you away, I have to... but I don't want to. I don't want you to go...and I don't know what to do, Ian. I just don't. I... want you to stay here with me. I want... I want you, I want you near me like this, to be with me... but I'm... I'm really, really scared," she finished, voice jagged and trembling.

"Sue, something you'll have to make peace with about me is that there's donkey in my ancestry when it comes to how stubborn I can be. So until you tell me to fuck off in no uncertain terms, I'm afraid that you're stuck with me."

She let out a shuddering breath.

"Do you... like me?" she said, after some time.

"Yes, Sue. Very much."

"You're not just saying in the belief that you'll get to fuck me?"

"No, Sue, I'm not."

"How am I supposed to believe you when you say that?" she wailed.

And that was when I moved to her, and wrapped her in my arms and simply held her as she shuddered and gulped through whatever darkness had taken her.

"I can't answer that for you," I breathed into her ear when she'd calmed down. "All I can tell you is that I love spending time with you, and that I need you to be happy more than I need sunlight on my face or water on my skin. I can't explain why. It's... it's just how it is."

The oven alarm started to beep, and I let her go.

She turned away from me to wipe her eyes once more.