Avoidance

Thanks for all your comments on Anniversary. This is set the next day, following directly on from it.

Part 1

"Hurry up, Lee!" Peter shouted. They were already late for the memorial service, and he was feeling very tense. He paced again around the living room, mentally rehearsing the few words he'd prepared in case he had to make a speech. He dreaded having to talk about the tram crash, and he feared his memories might get even more vivid.

"Five minutes" Leanne shouted back.

He almost swore in frustration, but taking control, he forced himself to sit down. He needed his composure before facing the whole street. Burying his head in his hands, he wished he could be anywhere else, doing anything but this.

On top of his anxieties about the memorial, he was still shaken from his visit to Carla yesterday: feeling her arms around him, their conversation about the past, but mainly everything that went unsaid. Seeing her had opened up so many questions in his mind, and he was nowhere near resolving any of them.

One thing was certain though. He needed to talk to his wife, to open up to her, like he had to Carla. He owed it to her to share his worries and doubts. To give her the chance to rebuild the trust they once had.

But when he'd tried starting the conversation this afternoon, he knew almost immediately it was impossible. Over a coffee, he had asked Leanne how she felt about the memorial. She'd instantly become edgy, almost defensive, explaining how they should be thankful to have made it, saying that too many people look back rather than forward. Peter had told her about his flashbacks, but while she'd listened sympathetically, he could see she didn't understand, in the easy way Carla had, how it felt to be reliving his worst fears.

He shouldn't really have been surprised: all year she'd been trying to avoid any mention of the crash itself, and even more, the build-up to it, and her betrayal. When he'd tentatively introduced Nick's name he realised the conversation was over; her jaw clenching, her face a closed book. She'd picked up her cup, still half-full, and briskly washed it up, leaving him more isolated than ever.

So here they were, heading to the memorial. The happy couple, he thought ironically. Their wedding, his recovery, being paraded as a symbol of hope after the accident. Yet he'd rarely felt this hopeless. The cracks in his marriage seemed deeper than ever, and for the first time he wondered if the foundations were too broken to fix.

Finally Leanne appeared, and shrugging off his impatient glare, she headed downstairs. As he pulled himself together and followed her, he took a final look back. A year ago, he'd walked through this door to his stag night. It was months before he could walk again at all. Who could really predict anything in this life?

Part 2

Carla was also preparing for the memorial. Two empty glasses still stood on the table from last night. Somehow she'd needed to leave them out: solid proof that Peter had been there, that it wasn't just in her imagination.

In LA, she'd thought a lot about her and Peter, remembering her own words long ago, when she'd predicted it was 'one very doomed friendship'. That had been the night she first tried to kiss him, when he'd persuaded her to remain friends. Not that she'd taken much persuading.

The last year had been a disaster, and she had to take full responsibility. Maybe she'd fallen so hard for Peter because of Liam: losing him without fighting for him, before truly admitting her love for him. Whatever the excuse, she'd let her feelings for Peter get completely out of control, losing her perspective and almost everything else along the way. A bitter smile played across her lips: it wasn't like he'd even managed to stop her drinking.

Tragically her prediction had been more accurate than she could ever have known. But it was Carla that their friendship had doomed, while Peter's cosy domestic bliss had carried on virtually uninterrupted.

Or so she'd thought until last night. She'd sensed his unhappiness as soon as he arrived. Within a few minutes he was crying in her arms. Later had he almost admitted he wished he had chosen her over Leanne? He'd made no attempt to hide his desire for her, but it had never just been desire she wanted from him.

Yet nothing had really happened: technically he had stayed faithful to Leanne. Despite reliving the evening in her mind many times, she was no closer to understanding what had happened between them. But Peter was far more troubled than she'd realised, that much was clear.

She saw she was running late for the memorial. Sighing, she decided it would be best to avoid him completely tonight. For once she suspected Leanne would agree with her.

Part 3

Peter leaned back in his chair, feeling relieved and slightly light-headed now that the memorial evening had finished. Leanne had gone to pick up Simon from the childminder, and all he had to do was say his goodbyes and get back home.

The memorial had gone well, and everyone was saying it had been a fitting tribute. He'd made a quick speech, had spoken to most of his neighbours, and mainly avoided Leanne. It had been emotional, but nothing he'd not been able to deal with in his own way. Nobody had made a scene, a miracle on this street. And Ken had handled everything perfectly: his dad seemed to relish this kind of occasion.

Peter had the impression though that Carla seemed upset with him after yesterday. He'd tried to catch her eye several times, and although she'd smiled, she'd looked away quickly. Hopefully it was just because Leanne was there, but he couldn't be sure.

He yawned, suddenly feeling everything catch up with him, then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carla heading for the exit. Wearily he walked over and caught up with her just outside. She seemed guarded, but allowed him to walk with her.

"What did you make of the memorial?" he asked, his hands fumbling in the icy December air as he lit a cigarette.

"Bearable once a year, I guess. Wouldn't want one every day" she replied, trying to lighten his mood.

"Last year's been enough drama for me. Time now for a simple life".

"The mundane is definitely under-rated" she replied dryly.

"Mmm." He sighed. "Just predictable and ordinary is fine".

She smiled, catching his eye. "I'd give you a month before you were bored out of your mind".

He laughed slowly. "Make that a week, eh".

They came to a bench, and Peter sat down, hoping she'd join him. She hesitated, but after a quick glance to check they were alone, she sat by his side.

Despite herself, she was enjoying being near to him. In his dark suit, he looked undeniably good tonight, leaning back, his arms stretched out. But there was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite place. He seemed almost defeated.

He took a long breath. "You know Carla, this time last year I'd have given anything just to survive another hour."

He spoke with such emotion. She felt deeply ashamed that she'd let herself get as low as to try to take her own life, when Peter had fought so hard for his.

Peter continued. "I'd have done any deal in the world to make me healthy again. Forget Leanne – I'd have married Mary or Audrey just to live another couple of days." He smiled. "Hell, I'd have devoted myself to Norris if it was that or death."

"Well I'm sure you'd both have been very happy together." She laughed.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and sighed again. "It's strange" he said, very slowly, staring into the distance. "I thought when I could walk again I'd be the happiest man alive. Now I can walk, I just want to run away."

She glanced at him, concerned. This didn't seem like Peter at all.

He looked amused at her unease. "Tell me about LA then – what's it like?"

"Well…. The sun shines almost every day. Miles of sandy beaches. Lots of nice food. Amazing cocktails". Guiltily, she caught herself – "virgin cocktails of course."

"Well I'd hope so" he replied, almost dreamily. "Maybe you could take me there some day..?"

"Oh, back in fantasy-land are we?" she replied sharply. She was getting angry now with his confused messages. "I'm afraid some of us have to live in the real world. I shouldn't even be here..."

She moved to leave, but he reached his hand over, stroked her arm, trying to persuade her to stay. At his touch, she relented, sitting down again.

"This could be real life." he said, looking into her eyes now. She knew she should look away, but she couldn't move.

He leaned even closer to her, so near she could feel his body heat, his soft breath against her face. Then suddenly she realised what was different about him tonight.

"Have you been drinking Peter?"

"What if I have..?", he answered lazily, tilting his head slightly towards her.

He refused to let himself feel ashamed. His memories and his guilt had been building for days, even weeks. This evening they'd just become too much to bear. But at the first cool drop of vodka they'd started to fade. Each illicit sip had taken him closer to the numbness that he craved.

And even better, the alcohol, blurring his mind and his conscience, had suddenly brought into sharp focus what he really wanted. While he still felt empty, it was no longer the emptiness of hollow lies, but of possibility.

But his heart sank as Carla backed away from him, her expression shocked.

"Does Leanne know you've been drinking?"

He laughed, a wild look flashing in his eyes.

"Does Leanne know me at all? Now that's the real question…"

Carla was lost for what to do. All she could think was to ask back:

"So what's the real answer?"

…