Page 19 of Sorry, Not Sorry
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
No points for originality, she thought resignedly. This time, however, she’d come prepared, and she launched into a brief and heartfelt explanation, trying not to feel intimidated by the six feet and three inches of hostile ex-boyfriend looming over her. When she reached the part about asking his forgiveness for disappearing, Kwame’s expression darkened further.
‘Are you kidding me? You told me why you were breaking up with me!’
Delilah blinked in surprise. ‘Really?’
Their final conversation was a total blank, but there was no question that even after all these years, Kwame was still furious with her. She could only assume that being so ridiculously gorgeous, he wasn’t used to women leaving him, and she must have seriously dented his pride.
‘You were supposed to come up to Leicester with me to meet my family. You didn’t show up at the train station and I phoned your mobile,’ Kwame said stonily. ‘Does that ring a bell?’
Delilah had arrived ready to deliver her rehearsed apology and move on, but something in Kwame’s expression stopped her cold. Behind his anger was an emotion which, she suddenly recognised, wasn’t punctured pride at all, but a raw and intense hurt. Shaken, she forced herself to retrieve the buried memory.
‘Del, where are you? We’re going to miss the train!’
‘I… I’m not coming…’
‘What are you talking about? You promised. Mum and Dad are dying to meet you, and my grandparents are already waiting at the house!’
‘I’m sorry…’
Kwame must have seen realisation dawning in her face because he took a half step back and lowered his voice. ‘You accused me of being clingy and moving too fast. You said you felt suffocated – remember that? And now you show up asking me to forgive you…?’
He tailed off as a car drove into the car park and waited until the woman behind the wheel had exited her car and walked into the building before turning back to face Delilah.
‘I remember that day like it was yesterday,’ he said bitterly. ‘You were the first girl I’d ever wanted to take home, and yet somehow you thought it was okay to dump me in the middle of a packed train station. Do you have any idea how that felt?’
14
‘What happened next?’ With Sigmund curled up on his lap, Arne sat back in his chair, his blue eyes bright with interest.
Delilah stared silently at the patterned rug on the floor, too humiliated to recount the intense guilt and the self-disgust she had experienced during her exchange with Kwame.
‘Were you able to make peace with him?’
Delilah looked up to meet Arne’s gaze and gave a half-shrug, pulling her legs up under her in the cocoon of the armchair. It was only their second therapy session, and Delilah had already forgotten her game plan involved not giving away any more information than was necessary to get her job back.
‘We talked for a while. I let him vent and took all the blame and explained I was the one with commitment issues. In the end, I think he was just desperate to get rid of me. But yes, he said the magic words. So, I’m forgiven, apparently – even though he clearly still hates me.’ To her horror, her voice cracked, and she rubbed her hands over her face as she tried to regain control.
‘I do believe there is a path to redemption if someone makes amends and takes accountability, but Delilah, let me ask you again. Are you seeking this redemption for your own purposes or for the sake of those you have wronged?’ Arne’s neutral tone conveyed no judgement, and Delilah fixed her gaze on the slumbering cat while she considered the question. She hadn’t seen Kwame in ten years, and yet there was no denying the pain she had seen in his eyes.
‘You know, at first, Salome’s stupid challenge was just a big gesture to convince Polly I’ve become much more self-aware about my behaviour. But after seeing Des and Kwame, I’m starting to realise just how badly I’ve hurt other people and then not given them a second thought.’ Delilah shook her head and returned her gaze to the rug. ‘Sal warned me to take this seriously, and it’s so clear I’ve got work to do.’
‘You often talk about your sister,’ Arne observed, ‘but you don’t mention other family members. Can you tell me a bit about your family?’
Startled, Delilah jerked her head up and she looked at him guardedly. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Well, in therapy we explore our past so we can improve our present. Tell me about your mother. Are the two of you close?’
Delilah hesitated. ‘We were, but she died when I was seventeen.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Losing a mother is very painful at any age but even more difficult, I imagine, when one is so young. What about your father?’
‘He’s dead, too,’ she said shortly. ‘It’s just Salome and me – and Farhan and the kids, of course.’ Eager to change the subject, Delilah straightened her legs and bent to stroke Sigmund, who had left the comfort of Arne’s lap and was slinking past her chair. He responded to her half-hearted attempt to pet him with a disdainful miaow and hopped into his blanket-lined basket.
Arne waited until he had her full attention and then continued. ‘I’m sure you learned about attachment theory and styles in your studies, so you will know that our early childhood can shape how we subsequently build relationships, yes?’
Delilah nodded dumbly, and Arne went on. ‘Then you appreciate that childhood experiences can help us understand why we might choose to invest less emotion into a relationship or indeed put emotional distance between ourselves and our partner to avoid getting hurt. As adults, we often model our approach to relationships on what we saw as children – or indeed, what we didn’t see. What do you recall of your parents’ relationship?’
