Love Me, Love Me Not: An addictive psychological suspense with a twist you won’t see coming. Katherine Debona
alongside corporate bankers, tourists and thieves. Each of us drawn to the ocean in our own way. From the balcony of my high-rise apartment I could see both sides of the city – jutting shards of brick that rose from the ground like stalagmites, the stretch of ocean that cut through its centre. I would sit and watch the passage of ships, windows open to the sky and breathing in the night. Wondering what they were up to. If they, too, looked upon the stars and the moon and thought of me.
It had taken me so long to allow myself to simply be. Not to compete, not to worry about fitting in. It took so long to be forgiven by my brother for running away, to justify that it was what I needed both personally and professionally. It took me so long to start spending all the money I was making, to start creating a life for myself that didn’t include them.
And it worked. The darkness that used to consume me every night slowly subsided. The cuts on my skin healed because I chose to forgive myself for what had happened. Because I had pursued him. I had been the one to bring Patrick into our lives and it all would have been so much better if I had never met him.
For the first time in so many years I would wake in the morning and not wonder where he was. If he was happy. If Elle had replaced me too. For the first time I allowed myself to believe my father would be proud of who I had become.
We are our own worst enemies. Looking back, looking forward, brings nothing but sorrow and regret. I had learnt to live in the here and now, but one phone call from him and it was like an earthquake had gone off in my soul.
I arrived at the restaurant early. Sat with flushed cheeks and jittery limbs as I gazed across the harbour. There was so much opulence, so much money to be won and lost. But despite my capabilities, I didn’t quite fit. Single, rich and attractive, but not looking for a husband. The native women were as mistrustful as the ex-pats, sheltering their own conquests from me, drawing rank, keeping me at the very periphery of the circle.
So I took a lover. Then some more. Hiding my loneliness in the arms of faceless men, none of whom ever brought me either comfort or peace. All of whom disappointed when my eyes opened to discover they were not who I still dreamt of night after night when exhaustion finally won.
I found Patrick in the periphery of my vision, watched as he strode past the maître d’ to lift me from my chair and into an embrace I had tried to recreate with strangers. He was there. Real. Bone and flesh. So why did I taste remorse instead of joy?
‘You look really well. Life out here is clearly suiting you.’
‘So do you, Patrick.’ He didn’t – he looked like a well-trodden doormat, all sallow skin and melancholy eyes. I accepted the plate of scallops the waiter put in front of me, the sweet aroma of ginger and lemongrass reaching my taste buds.
‘I hear you’ve been climbing the ladder faster than they can carve the rungs,’ he said, and I watched as he dipped his head to inspect his own meal, revealing the curl of hair against his collar. ‘You made a great decision coming out here.’
‘It was a fantastic opportunity.’ Which was true. Hong Kong had provided me with a job I never would have secured in London. It’s amazing what you can achieve when you’re desperately hiding from your past. No distractions, no ties, just mathematical formulae I was able to translate into bucketloads of cash.
Money makes the world go round, and while Elle was trying to fill her womb with chubby offspring, I’d been adding zeroes to my bank balance.
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?’
‘Fear can do that to a person.’ I wanted it to be more. So much more. But the voice inside my head, telling me I wasn’t like her, that I wouldn’t be chosen, forbade me from taking that risk.
‘I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.’
He was so far from right it was almost laughable. But fear wasn’t my only torment, not anymore. It was like I could feel the devil on my shoulder, trying to claw his way back in. Part of me had missed his taunts, his malevolent ways. Part of me understood I could no more resist him than I could stop my heart constricting whenever Patrick looked at me. Part of me knew that to ignore my darkness only gave it strength.
‘How’s Elle?’
‘She can’t get pregnant. We’ve tried everything and, as much as I want to support her, it’s becoming a definite issue.’
There was more to this visit, this meeting of minds, than first suggested. But was he simply the messenger, the go-between, or something more?
‘You’re having problems?’ She hadn’t mentioned anything in her emails. It was all sunshine, hearts and flowers as far as she was concerned. Or at least that was what I was supposed to think, even though I could see through her carefully constructed comments all too easily. The observations about how many of her friends were now mothers, how her social circle seemed obsessed with the benefits of co-sleeping versus controlled crying. How dull their evenings out were now, as everyone was worried about pumping and dumping or the increasing cost of childcare.
How she tried not to think about creeping ever closer to thirty and wondering at the way her life had turned out. As if thirty were some kind of barometer by which we should set our goals in life.
But I forbade myself from ever asking, because all it took was one slither of doubt, a single step back towards being her support system, and my escape would have been for nothing.
‘There’s still time, surely?’
‘If only it were that simple.’
‘I’m assuming you’ve had the tests?’
He took a long sip of his drink, refilled his glass before the waiter could do so for him. ‘I don’t think there’s a single test I haven’t been subjected to.’ He said this without meeting my eye and I could only imagine the horror he must have felt at being interrogated about his personal habits. About having to fill a cup with his seed and hand it over to a nurse for examination.
‘And?’
‘They can’t find anything wrong with either of us.’
‘What about IVF?’
‘Two rounds already. Costs an absolute fortune, but Elle says it’s not about the money.’
Easy to say when there was no limit to how much she would be willing to spend in order to get the picture-perfect family. It would have been killing her, the inability to do what came so naturally to others. To watch as, all around her, people were delighting the world with yet another screaming child. It should have given me nothing but pleasure to learn she was being denied something she craved with every part of her soul.
So why couldn’t I help but feel sorry for her? Wonder why didn’t she confide in me?
‘What about alternative therapies? Chinese medicine has been used for centuries to treat all sorts of issues. I’m sure I could find out about local clinics if you had time during your stay?’ I wanted to help. I wanted to be the one to provide the solution to their little problem. I wanted to be the one who could do more.
But I could tell by the look on his face that she had already tried it all. Anything and everything to prove that she too could be a mother.
‘Like I said. She can’t get pregnant and Elle isn’t used to things not working out as she expects.’
Surely we all have our limits? Surely we all reach a point when we wake up and realise we’re no longer the person we aspired to be when we were young enough to still have dreams?
‘You do know children are a dealbreaker for her?’ I said it even though he already knew, already understood that without the requisite heir to the family fortune, Elle would never be content.
He changed the subject then. Something about an expedition to Guatemala where a new species of bat had been discovered in the Lanquin caves. His face relaxed back into itself as he spoke, the excitement fizzing away, the promise of carrying out his own wishes for once instead of following