Page 42 of Deep Down
Chapter 16
Craig
Craig sauntered along the corridor to the lift after finishing his session with Amanda, eyes on the patterned floor tiles. Emotionally drained, he wheeled around, startled, when a voice called his name.
Craig cleared his throat. “Hey.”
“Long time, no see. How have you been?” Alex’s familiar cadence washed over Craig, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Good, thanks.”
“How’s the shoulder healing?”
Craig rotated his shoulder a couple of times before answering, “It’s good. Barely hurts now. Only when I twist wrong.”
Alex nodded. “Glad to hear it.”
“How are you?” Craig asked because it was socially acceptable to echo the question back.
“Good. Work’s crazy as usual. I’ve been covering for a doctor in A&E for a few days. Today is my first day back on the wards.” Alex hesitated, darting his gaze to Craig and around the space, frowning. “I’m heading for lunch. Would you like to join me?”
Craig’s initial reaction was “Hell, yes!” but figured out he was not at all bothered about being alone with Alex. That single reason had him tensing and declining.
“Maybe another time. Is everything okay?” Alex asked.
“Yep.”
Craig felt like he needed to speak with Amanda again. He was all kinds of jumbled up, worse than several minutes ago when he’d left Amanda’s office after trying to dissect his time with his parents. He said a brief goodbye to Alex and left, striding towards his parked car.
He’d come straight here from his parents’ house and hadn’t been home. He’d felt the need to speak with Amanda about it all before attempting to set foot in his own home. Was he going to be able to stay there on his own? He wasn’t sure, but he’d soon find out.
Craig parked on his driveway and stared up at the house, everything appeared the same. Four weeks seemed like a lifetime since he was last there. His heartbeat didn’t increase with anxiety like Amanda said it might, but he wasn’t empty either, which she said could be one emotion he experienced. Craig sighed. This was his. Regardless of what happened here, this was his home. No one could take that away from him.
Craig stalked to the front door, unlocking and opening it and stepped across the threshold. He closed the door behind him and stood, gazing around from his position, listening for any hint of movement. Satisfied he was alone, he wandered around, acknowledging small differences in his surroundings to what he was used to.
The large glass cabinet, containing his glass paperweights, had disappeared, along with its contents, as had the table by the wall and the coffee table which had been replaced with another. Scratches and gouges on the walls told stories of Darren’s violence, which hadn’t been covered up.
Drifting down the hallway towards the other rooms of the house, Craig catalogued the changes made. In his bedroom, there was an unknown duvet cover gracing the bed, new bedside lamps and a blank space where the wall-fitted TV used to be. He continued to his office, preparing to reacquaint himself with whatever items were left behind and was surprised to see it was mainly untouched. His computer was in one piece. In fact, the whole room appeared mostly intact, surprisingly.
Craig wandered back towards the front of the house and stalked to the kitchen to cook dinner. When the pasta was finished, he spooned himself some and whirled to sit but stared at Darren’s seat. He hesitated before walking out of the kitchen and to the sofa. As he sat, peering into his bowl, he realised he’d made a small portion, like he used to have with Darren. He didn’t need to do that anymore.
Tears dropped from his face to the bowl, and he fell to pieces, chest heaving with the air trying to circulate to his lungs, throat sore from the noises tearing through the restricted passage, eyes stinging from the barrage of saltwater. Craig wasn’t sure how long had passed before he finally regained control.
Leaving the bowl where it lay on the coffee table, he strode to the bedroom, undressed and tucked himself in with the sounds from outside the house and the usual inside creaks and drips keeping him company. And he slept.
****
Picking up the dirty bowl, he placed it in the sink and stepped back, staring at it. His instincts were telling him he needed to wash it up and put it away—right now—but Craig wanted to figure out if hemindedit being left there, or if hewantedit to be cleaned up. Darren had always wanted the house to be clean and tidy, and Craig had created a habit of washing and drying pots and cutlery as soon as they had been finished with. Now, he was trying to understand whathewanted for his house.
Craig stared at the bowl, shifting from foot to foot and biting his lip, his stomach quivering at the thought of leaving it there. From his counselling sessions, he acknowledged this was a behaviour he had learned from being with Darren. Craig walked himself through the scenario of leaving the bowl in the sink and washing it up before he went to bed instead of now and analysed his emotions.
“It doesn’t matter if the bowl is left there until later. I can save some water by waiting until I have more pots to wash after dinner,” he rationalised.
Although his forehead was sweating and his stomach churned, he retreated to his office, steps hesitant and slow. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it and stared up at the ceiling as his breath escaped in a rush, and a small smile crossed his face. It was such a little thing, but a victory, nonetheless.
Craig traipsed over to his desk chair and dropped into it, pulling out the notebook he had bought to do his counselling homework in. At the end of each session, Amanda said she would be giving him something to work towards that week. This week, it was discontinuing unnecessary learned habits.
He pulled out the sheet Amanda had given him, flipped to the first page of the notebook and wrote down what she wanted to know. Finished, Craig closed the notebook, replaced it on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his hands over his face and scooted his chair closer to his computer.
