One Little Lie. Sam Carrington
it’s a lie.
Marcie’s words played over in my mind all weekend. They wouldn’t stop. I’ve flipped between full-on anger and complete helplessness and now, standing at the top of Berry Head, I just feel utterly lost. This seemed the best place to come – something drew me here.
The waves smash loudly against the rocks below. I watch the tiny droplets of water as they fly upwards, but I can’t feel the spray on my face as I’m too far above. Must be a two-hundred-foot drop.
Enough to kill me.
Put me out of this misery.
Nathan would be all right. He’s got his job, his overbearing mother, his precious golf buddies. I’m fairly sure he has a mistress, too. He’d do fine without me.
I teeter on the edge; the grass is slippery with dew. The intermittent gusts of wind shake my body – push me ever closer to the sheer drop. It really wouldn’t take much.
The nerve of that woman. Sitting there, spouting on about how she misses her son. The nerve of Marcie, making me take time off work. The pity in her perfectly line-free face. Why now? I know I’ve been a bit more distracted recently – it is coming up to the anniversary. However, it’s nothing she, or any of my colleagues, should take issue with. Others are worse. Colin, now he is one lazy shit – he’s the one they should be telling to have time off. He’s the one who delegates all his work to others while he wanks off in the loos in a vain attempt to compensate for his marriage break-up a year ago. Why isn’t anyone bringing that to Marcie’s attention? They’re ganging up on me, picking faults, trying to get enough on me to get rid of me permanently. What have I done that’s so wrong?
Surely it’s enough that I lost my son. I don’t think I should be punished further. Not me. I’m not the one needing punishment.
I catch my breath. The clarity of that thought hits me, like a short, sharp punch to the stomach.
I look down. I don’t deserve those rocks, the crashing waves, the deep, dark, cold water as my grave. I shouldn’t be the one to suffer that fate.
I take a step back.
I shouldn’t be the one to suffer at all.
Maybe it was a blessing, Marcie forcing me to take leave. I have time now.
Time to put a few things straight.
The Alice standing opposite Connie was not the same calm and collected Alice she’d seen two weeks ago. She was now red-faced, flustered, and appeared agitated.
‘So sorry I’m late,’ she said, her breathing laboured. ‘I had to … practically run … up the hill.’
‘Please, Alice, don’t worry. Take your time, there’s no rush – you’re my last client of the day.’
She took some deep breaths, then slumped, relaxing into the chair. Connie took her seat and waited for her to recover. After a few minutes, her colour had returned to normal.
‘How have you been since our last meeting, Alice?’
Connie noted Alice’s rapid blinking and how she was rubbing her hands together, and wondered what had happened to alter her demeanour. She waited for a response, but Alice remained silent.
‘Maybe you could begin by telling me something you felt was positive?’ Connie coaxed.
Alice’s face broke into a wide smile. Connie gave an inward sigh of relief. At least there was something good to give her a starting point for this session.
‘Positive, yes – there have been some good things since I last saw you. Some progression.’
‘That’s excellent, Alice. Let’s begin with that then, shall we?’
‘I found someone like me, someone who’s going through the same issues as me. It’s given me a purpose; some motivation.’
‘It can be very helpful to know others have experienced similar situations to yourself, showing you that you’re not alone in your struggles. Is it someone from your support group?’
Alice’s mouth twitched; she took a while before she nodded.
‘And you began the group, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. It was just online at first, but I decided it was more important to have proper face-to-face meetings.’
‘That’s such a positive step, and a really good outcome that you’ve bonded with someone else so early on in the group sessions. You must feel proud of your achievement?’
‘I do, actually. The group is the best thing I’ve ever done,’ Alice said, her face glowing. ‘I feel as though I’ve met a kindred spirit.’
‘Ah, that’s great,’ Connie said, nodding her head encouragingly. ‘How has it helped you, in your everyday life?’
‘It’s given me hope. A focus. The group as a whole has obviously helped, but this one person is the key, I think.’
‘The key? To what?’
‘To me forgiving myself,’ Alice said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
Guilt was one of the biggest obstacles Connie had picked up on during her sessions with Alice. The fact she recognised she needed to forgive herself was a huge step. But that being said, Connie had a niggling feeling about Alice’s part in all of this. Maybe she had good reason to blame herself. But that wasn’t really Connie’s role – to apportion blame, dig into someone’s life and play detective. That was Lindsay’s area of expertise. If she did unpick Alice’s reason for guilt, and she was somehow to blame, Connie had to deal with it in a totally different way. Alice was her client. She had to help Alice. It was her job.
Now Connie had found out some of the positive things, she wanted to explore the reason for her earlier agitation.
‘When you arrived today, it seemed like you were flustered. I know you were late and had rushed, but there was something else. What caused that?’
‘Oh, it was nothing much. Stupid, really.’ She flicked her hand dismissively.
‘It didn’t appear to be nothing, and I’m sure it wasn’t stupid.’
Alice dropped her head, then snapped it back up, her intense eyes boring into Connie’s.
‘I had a shock, is all. Saw my ex-husband in town when I wasn’t expecting it. I suppose it rattled me, made me panic.’
‘Why would seeing him cause you to panic?’
‘He’s not a very nice man, Connie. Not someone I would want to have confronting me, especially as I was with someone from the group, too – and I didn’t want her to see him. Meet him.’
‘The woman you were talking about? The one you feel you have a lot in common with?’
‘Um …’ Alice looked confused for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, yes – that one.’
‘If you felt a connection with her, had things in common, maybe she would’ve understood if you’d confided in her?’
‘Maybe. But I couldn’t take the chance. I didn’t want