Page 60 of Sorry, Not Sorry
Hearing the click of the lock being released, Delilah pushed open the door and stumbled inside. Her drenched clothes dripped water onto the stairs and her saturated trainers squeaked loudly as she dragged herself up to the first floor. When she reached the landing, Arne was standing inside the door to his office, and he stood aside to let her in. Although she knew she looked like a drowned rat, other than an initial exclamation in his language, Arne made no comment. Instead, he went into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a thick towel, silently handing it to her before turning up the electric heater and pulling it further into the room.
‘I wish I had some dry clothing to offer you,’ he said finally, his voice sounding apologetic as he watched Delilah wipe her dripping arms and rub the towel over her wet hair.
She shook her head and swallowed a sob, feeling calmer now she was safely inside the warm, tranquil office. She pressed the damp towel against her eyes, trying to staunch the flow of tears and sat in the familiar armchair, vaguely aware that the therapist had taken a seat across from her. The irony of being back in the chair in which she had so confidently insisted she was fine and had every faith in her relationship with Noah hit her like a body blow. Remembering her fury at Arne and her stubborn conviction that the past was done with set off a flood of fresh tears. Against all odds, she had found Noah again, but her past was destroying any chance of happiness. She had sworn to never return to Arne, but she needed him, and he was the only one she could trust to help her.
‘He’ll never forgive me!’ she mumbled brokenly. ‘Arne, I… I ran again. After everything we’ve been through. Noah left Zazie and came back for me. I thought I could do it, but I’ve let him down again. I’m a broken, awful, awful person and I don’t deserve anyone’s love!’
All she could see was Noah’s face filled with pain which, once again, she was responsible for, and it hurt so badly, she couldn’t bear it. Crushed with guilt, she buried her face in the towel as violent sobs racked her body. Why, why, why had she let Noah fall back in love with her when she wasn’t capable of making a relationship work? It’s all your fault, Del! You should have known better! She was so distraught and intent on berating herself that it took a moment to realise Arne was speaking.
‘Delilah, look at me.’
Trembling, she raised her head and stared at him through a veil of tears.
‘Where are you, Delilah?’
‘What… what do you mean?’ She gulped back a sob and gripped the towel in her fist so tightly, her knuckles ached.
‘Where are you?’ Arne repeated. ‘Right at this moment?’
‘In your office,’ she croaked, her expression mirroring her confusion.
‘Exactly.’ He sounded so satisfied that she stopped crying and stared at him, dumbfounded.
Arne held her gaze without wavering. ‘You didn’t run away, Delilah. Not this time.’
She started to protest, but he raised a hand and shook his head. ‘This time, you ran towards help. This time, when you felt scared, you made a different choice. If you didn’t want a different outcome this time, you wouldn’t be here.’
She absorbed his words in silence. Was Arne right? The last time she ran away from making a commitment to Noah, she had sought refuge in a cemetery, trying to justify her actions to a woman who had been dead for fifteen years and couldn’t force her to face the truth. This time, she had come to a man who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. A man who would make her confront the reason she had run – and had been running for so long.
Arne was studying her silently and, once again, it was as if he could read her thoughts. ‘In our first session together, I promised I would never push you to share anything with me, but that anything you chose to share would go no further than us. Delilah, do you remember when I told you that if we don’t acknowledge and deal with the unresolved issues from our past, we are setting ourselves up to repeat them?’
Delilah threaded shaking hands through her wet hair and twisted the towel in agitation. A part of her wanted so badly to say the words out loud, to tell Arne everything. But the other part – the part that had protected her for so long – was screaming at her. You can’t tell anyone, Del!
‘You are safe, Delilah. You can trust me. Talk to me. Tell me what happened to you.’
Arne’s warm, reassuring voice combined with the heat from the fire was slowly relaxing Delilah’s damp, chilled body. She drew in a long, deep breath and willed herself to speak. She had come here for a reason. Exhausted from the constant battle with herself, it was time to lay down the burden.
40
‘It was me who found her.’ Delilah’s voice emerged as a whisper.
‘Found who?’ Arne asked softly.
‘Mum. She was in the kitchen, on the floor. I’d just got home after my final college class before the Christmas break.’ As Delilah released herself to the memories, her voice dropped into a monotone.
‘It’s pouring with rain outside, and my coat is soaked, but I’m hungry and want to make a sandwich before I go up to my room. I drop my jacket onto the staircase and go into the kitchen. I don’t see her at first. I take some ham and cheese out of the fridge and put them on the counter and when I close the fridge door, I see red fabric on the floor behind the kitchen island. It’s Mum’s skirt. I walk around the island thinking she must have dropped it when she was doing the laundry – and then I see her lying there. For just a moment, I think she’s asleep and then… and then I see her head…’
The muted ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room.
‘Delilah, where are you?’ Arne’s voice sounded deeper than usual.
Her breath was emerging in shallow bursts, and she felt her heartbeat pounding painfully fast in her chest. She clasped her knees tightly. ‘I – I’m here.’
‘Where is that?’
‘In your office.’
‘Good. We’re in this together. I’m here with you, and you are safe. Take a couple of deep breaths and then tell me what you saw.’
