Page 54 of Being Lost

“Was there anything in that safe deposit box?” I ask, not expecting a positive answer.

“I don’t know,” Beth complains. “Ink pushed me aside and looked through himself.”

“Talk to Lost,” Ink instructs again.

I hear a murmured discussion with Beth’s voice rising, but Ink’s clearly not giving in. With an audible huff, Beth addresses me again. “It’s been good to catch up with you, Mom.”

“You too, Beth. I’ll try to call again.” I’ll make sure of that before I move on. Something I think is inevitable, whatever help Lost was going to offer, the chance seems to have gone. “Look after yourself, and Ink? You treat her like glass.”

“Already doing that, Patsy,” Ink reassures me.

It’s then we start with the ‘I love yous’ over and over, both Beth and I renewing our tears over what should be happy news. I can’t be there at the exact time I want to be, and she, so used to sharing everything with her mom, wants.

I know Beth’s got other pregnant women around her, Ink by her side and his brothers too, but it’s not like having your mother with you. I’d always envisaged being at least close by, watching my daughter growing larger, helping her through any difficulties and sharing the joy as she puts together a nursery. Pregnancy is a strain for any woman, and I like to think I could have supported her. Now I’m not sure when I’ll even talk to her again. There’ll be a hundred things she’ll want to ask me, like how she and Dan were as babies.

I think it’s Ink who finally ends the call. Neither Beth nor I want to sever the connection.

I sit in Lost’s office, barely aware of where I am. Crying so hard, I don’t hear the door open or realise that someone’s come in until I feel strong masculine arms around me.

“Hush,” says Lost, stroking my hair and pulling me into his chest. “Hush, babe. It will be alright, I promise you.”

I don’t know whether I even like him right now, but that doesn’t seem to stop me taking the comfort he offers. I hold him tight and sob into his chest. He doesn’t seem to mind my tears soaking into his shirt.

He allows me to cry until I’m hiccuping and coming back to myself.

“She’s pregnant,” I sob. “I should be happy.”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I know, babe.”

“You know?” He knows I’m upset, or he already knew Beth’s expecting a baby?

“Yeah. Demon told me a few days ago. It wasn’t my place to tell you. Beth and Ink needed to share their news themselves.”

I suppose that makes sense, but I hate the thought of him knowing before me.

He passes me one final tissue, then waits for me to dab the last of my tears away and blow my nose in a very unladylike manner. Why do women cry? It never does anything but give you a headache and, in my case, blotched skin and red eyes which are sore for hours after. I’m not a pretty crier.

Lost stares at me as I do my mop up, refraining from commenting on how bad I look. Instead, his hand gently brushes my hair back from my face as he quietly says, “We need to talk.”

I’m wrung dry, unable to sustain my anger. He’s right, we do need a discussion, about what had happened between us and where that puts me now. About whether he’s still going to help me. The man who comforted me just then is not the man who I returned to the clubhouse with yesterday afternoon. His changing moods has my already aching head spinning. “I don’t understand what happened yesterday…” I turn my watery, swollen eyes toward him.

“Yesterday isn’t what we really need to talk about.” He sounds and looks serious. “But you’re right, we need to get that out of the way first.” His eyes close briefly. When he opens them again, they’re narrowed and full of pain. “I fucked up, Patsy. I took my past out on you. I’m sorry. I know I said some fuckin’ hateful things to you.” He huffs. “I don’t even know why I went there. It wasn’t you who should have borne the brunt of what I was feeling.”

I kind of felt that at the time. That I was being compared to someone else, someone who’d hurt him in the past. I could tell him he was a jerk and that I could no longer trust him. I could tell him I’m not interested because he’d hurt me too much, but I don’t. Instead I comment, “I said something that triggered you.”

He’s still stroking my hair, I like it. A little too much if I’m honest. I want to keep him talking so he doesn’t stop. As he looks like he’s gathering his thoughts, I tell him mine. While I’d been crying, I knew I couldn’t do this, either to me or to Beth. I couldn’t run from my problems, whatever they are. I need to face them head-on. I need to do everything possible so my future entwines with that of my daughter again.

“Lost,” I get in before he can start speaking, “you made me feel like a woman again. You made it sound like you cared. Then you lost it, and to me, there seemed to be no reason.” As he opens his mouth, I shake my head. “I need to be there for Beth. I need to be able to contact her whenever I want, even if I can’t physically be with her. Sure, she could do without me, but she’d do better with her mom’s support. If you think there’s a chance we can get the better of Alder, then that’s what I want to do. If you’re still prepared to help.”

He pulls away slightly and looks at me carefully. “You want to stay and fight? Stand up to him?”

“If that’s what I have to do, yes. I thought I could be content knowing Beth had Ink and she was happy, but I’m broken in two. I want to be there for Dan, but I need to have contact with Beth too. She needs me. She needs her mom.”

“They both need you.” His stare becomes intense. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power so you can have the life you want Patsy. I… I also want to be there for you.”

I shake my head. “How can I trust you after yesterday? You hurt me, Lost. Dangled something in front of me then snatched it away, and I don’t understand why. I can’t do this alone; I need your help, but I can’t depend on you. I can’t walk on eggshells wondering whether any word I say is going to be the wrong one.”

He stands, brushes his hands back through his hair, then tugs at his beard. “What I needed to talk to you about is about Alder. But I want you to trust me, babe. So first, I need to come clean with you.” His face becomes shuttered. “Perhaps I also ought to warn you that everything I touch turns sour, Patsy. Perhaps you’re better staying away from me. I have a track record of fuckin’ things up. It’s all I seem to do.” He’s berating himself, but something tells me he truly believes it.

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