The sand seeps between my toes, my feet sinking into the soft white powder as Dean and I walk along the beach together. The day, as ever, is beautiful. Not a cloud in the clear blue sky. The sea off the coast of Auckland has a greener tinge than the sea that surrounds the South Island, but the sun still bounces off its surface just as brightly, while gentle waves roll shorewards before slinking back into the ocean. I turn and look out towards the horizon, shading my eyes from the bright sun with the flat of my hand, wanting to burn this scene permanently into the back of my retinas, knowing that in a few hours I will leave this stunning country, potentially forever.
“I can’t thank you and Lisa enough for providing me with sanctuary.”
Dean shuffles from bare foot to bare foot, scooping sand over the arches of his feet. “Well it wasn’t an easy decision, Vicky. Chris is my brother after all. But you needed our help and we know you had no one else to turn to.”
“Yes, Lisa was the third person I called, after calling the airline, then my mum and finally a taxi to take me to the airport. But I’ll be forever grateful to you both, you must know that.”
We fall into a comfortable silence. The beauty of the peaceful surroundings draining away any awkwardness from our conversation.
“I don’t hate him you know, Dean. In fact, probably the complete opposite. A part of me still loves your brother. In fact I love all of you. That is why this is doubly hard. I’m not just leaving him, I have to leave all of you as well. Your brother and your family have claimed a special place in my heart, but I just couldn’t stay a moment longer.”
“Well I don’t know all the details, but you and my little brother seemed to have a complex love/hate relationship going on. One day you’d be like lovesick teenagers pawing all over each other, then the next moment you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.”
“Exactly. It was unhealthy, and I simply couldn’t see a way out of the cycle. I had to leave before one of us did something really bad to the other.”
He raises a questioning eyebrow at my last comment.
“Look, Dean. It’s my all fault really. Please don’t blame Chris for this.”
“It’s not my place to judge, Vicky. I don’t blame either of you. I just feel sad that you couldn’t make it work.”
“I know. Nobody wanted it to work more than I, but I was the one that destroyed it all.”
We walk in silence for a while as I internally grapple with how much to share with Dean. Neither I, nor indeed Chris, are entirely blameless in this whole situation, but finally telling someone the truth may help others understand some of the reasons why our relationship was destined to fail.
“You see. I was unfaithful.”
“What?!” Dean’s shock evident in his tone of voice as he turns and looks at me sharply. “Sorry that sounded very accusatory and I didn’t mean it to be. It’s just that if I’d had to put a bet on which of you two was more likely to stray, it would definitely not be you!”
“Oh, God. This is so hard.” The shame of my admission in no way diminished despite the passing of time.
“It happened not long after I met Chris. When he returned back home here the first time with his first shipment of cars a few months after we met in that first summer. I have no excuse really, although I do know why it happened. It was just a one- time thing. An office party. I was drunk and one thing led to another.”
“You see, Dean, I’ve had a lot of bad relationships in the past, and I mean really bad and even though I know I’m totally fallible when men pay me any attention, I seem to lose any form of clear judgement in these situations. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve naively thought someone was being genuinely nice, interested in me, when it turns out they just wanted me for sex. This was just another one of those situations and before I knew it, I’d let things go too far.”
We’ve sat down on the beach now, side by side. Looking out towards the horizon, I continue, “I didn’t seek it out. It’s not like I went out that night looking to score. When it came down to it I didn’t even want to be there. But I’ve developed this ability to disconnect my mind from my body which, in the past has served me well when I’ve been tangled up with the wrong men. However, in this instance I should have been stronger. I knew then what Chris and I had was special, but in the moment, I simply wasn’t strong enough, or experienced enough, to stop it.”
“It sounds to me more like you were raped.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” I say out loud, while inside I think to myself, if only you knew, Dean. If only you knew. No one knows about the events of that night at college. Not even Chris. The shame enslaving me into an eternal continued silence. It’s because of this horror in my past that I sadly know the difference, which makes my mistake even more shameful.
“No I wasn’t raped. Taken advantage of, perhaps. But there was a point I should have stopped it and I didn’t. I kept it a secret - obviously. I would have loved to have talked to Melanie about it, but I couldn’t risk her telling your brother. Anyway, the rookie mistake I made was pouring out my guilt and writing my confession into my diary and then Chris read it.”
Dean turns to look at my profile, taking in all that I’m saying, clearly taken aback at what he’s hearing. The spider web of secrets unravelling as I pour my heart out in the hope that he will be able to help his brother after I’m gone.
“I came home from work as normal, only 24 hours after Chris had arrived back and instead of his warm open arms waiting for me, which is what I was expecting, he’d spent the entire day working himself up into a right tizz. I’d left my journal out on my bedside table and although he once promised me he would never read it, I suspect curiosity got the better of him. I guess he was expecting to read pages and pages of my love and devotion for him, when instead he came face to face to a secret confession. He was absolutely distraught that I’d gone and broken his trust and done something so horrific. Think about it. He’s just flown halfway back around the world to the woman he loves only to discover by reading in my journal that I’d been unfaithful. I pleaded with him to forgive me, which he did eventually. Partly because he could also read how remorseful I was, even before he’d uncovered my secret. He read how much I knew instantly it was a terrible mistake, something that I would never do again and how I never wanted him to find out in case it broke us up.
“It physically pains me knowing how much I hurt him. It was only that night when there was a real possibility he was going to leave me that I realised how much I really did love him. I was absolutely petrified he would leave me. I was prepared to do anything to stop him leaving. I love him. I just made a stupid mistake. A momentarily lapse in concentration fuelled ironically not by sexual desire, but by loneliness and by missing him so god- damn much. Looking back, on some level I suppose feeling wanted, even if it was by someone else and for all the wrong reasons, made the pain of being parted from Chris just a tiny bit less. In that moment at least. That doesn’t justify any of it mind you … but at least now, looking back I can understand how I let it happen. Sorry Dean. I don’t expect you to understand. It was such a stupid mistake.”
I drop my head in my hands, the raw wretched feelings washing over me again as vividly as they did the day I came home from work to discover Chris sitting on the edge of the bed holding my journal in his hands.
I remember the cold realisation hitting me like someone throwing a bucket of ice cold water in my face when I locked eyes with him. Eyes that were puffy, red and swollen clearly from hours and hours of crying tears of disbelief, confusion and incredulity. I couldn’t go to him in that moment, instead I’d had to run to the bathroom and physically vomit. The guilt and remorse in my gut overwhelming me so much that I had to rid my body of the acid. Eventually, once empty, I’d stood up, turned around and walked back into the bedroom to face Chris and take responsibility for my mistake.
Dean reaches over and gives me a supportive rub in the centre of my back.
“He must have really loved you to forgive you, and you him. To forgive him for breaking your trust as well.”
“Humm. I’d never really thought about that. I was just so desperate for him to stay that I never really thought about how he’d broken my trust by reading my diary. But yes, I believe he does love me.”
“However, I can trace all of our problems back to that pivotal moment. He instantly became more possessive and jealous, especially of any male friendships I had. He started to become more and more controlling. Dictating who I could see, who I couldn’t. I’ve had to let go of so many friends to keep him happy. He can be so insanely jealous. Even though he says he trusts me, it’s like he needs to isolate me from any other potential temptation. To possess me, in every sense of the word, in order to feel safe and loved.”
“That day everything shifted in our relationship. The power balance changed, and it’s never regained its equilibrium. Because I begged him to stay, and obviously he did, and even though he said he forgave me there’s always been this underlying threat in our relationship that he might leave me at any time, and that uncertainty has kept me on a knife edge ever since, but over time it has also made him become inattentive. Sometimes, even unintentionally cruel. He stopped having to try so hard. To really take my needs into account. It allowed him to take me for granted. Like, for example, when he just decided without even consulting me that we would change our plans to go to America and postpone it a year. Not a second thought of how that would affect me. Our relationship is littered with examples like that. Some of them fairly major. And each time I keep forgiving him, starting afresh, hoping that this next time we’ll regain that elusive equilibrium. But it’s a cycle that just keeps continuing. It’s simply not healthy, Dean.”
“I agree,” he says quietly.
“I’ve tried so hard to make it right.” I’m properly crying now, my shoulders shaking as tears roll down my cheeks. “It’s so hard when I know that we both love each other. But I just can’t make it right. Make it healthy. I know that this is going to be impossibly hard on him …” I wipe away heavy wet tears from my cheeks with the pads of my fingers, “but do you see now, why I have to leave? I have to go in order to save us both.”
“I do.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “I think the best thing you can do for him now, is to leave and never look back. Don’t keep him hanging on. We’ll catch him and look after him. Make sure he’s OK. He’ll come through this with his family around him. But you need to do what’s right for you, Vicky. Nobody will blame you.”
I turn and hug Dean tightly. I’m so very grateful to him for not judging me, and for giving me the reassurance that he will support his brother after I’ve gone. It’s the first platonic physical contact I’ve had from another male in a very long while and I suddenly realise how much I’ve missed the support of my friends and family from home.
“God if I had a brother, Dean, I’d want him to be just like you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that now,” he laughs, rubbing my back fondly as we continue to embrace. “It would be a very different story if you’d actually grown up with me. I’d have pulled your pigtails and given you so many wedgies, you’d have hated me really.”
“Come on, let’s go,” he says holding out his hand for me, to help me up. “We’d better get back. You’ve got a plane to catch.”