Part 11

Since they broke up – again – they've hardly seen each other – deliberately so. She's kept out his way as much as possible during his orphanage rounds, he's kept away from David's house. But he's not getting much sleep, going over and over their talk, or row, or fight, whatever you want to call it. So many times he's almost gone over to beg her to reconsider, to tell her that he loves her, that they could try again. But something has held him back. He misses her so much though, in every way, and he can't bear to think what things will be like when she's gone, when he can't even see her every day.

And he can't bear to think how Zach will react. In fact, from the clinic's office, he spots them on their way back from the beach, where Olivia took Zach earlier this afternoon to talk to him about the fact that she is going back to the US tomorrow. He goes outside to meet them. It's obvious they've both been crying. As Zach runs to him and throws himself in his arms, their eyes meet: she's the first to look away.

"Zach", she calls out softly, "Zach, when you wake up tomorrow, I'll be gone. But I'll be thinking of you. And you won't forget what I told you, OK?"

He shakes his head, chin trembling. She turns to Fitz: "Fitz, if I don't see you before…"

"You'll see me. I know David is driving you to the airport, but I'll… I'll see you off. I'll drop by at around 6, I know you'll be up by then. If that's OK."

As she nods and walks away, Zach is gripping Fitz's hand so tightly that it hurts, but he doesn't care. "Zach, come on little man, let's go and get some dinner. Just the two of us. And then you're sleeping at my flat tonight, OK?"

They're both very subdued that evening. But later on, he can hear Zach crying softly in his bed. So he goes to him and pulls him in his arms, saying small, inconsequential things, things which are meant to comfort and soothe. When Zach has calmed down, he asks, very gently: "Zach, can you tell me what she told you, earlier, on the beach?"

"She promised she'd write, and phone and send photos and stuff…", he gulps, "and she said she'll always love me, always…" After a very long pause, he says, in a very low voice, "I love her too. I tried not to 'cause she is leaving but…"

"Oh, Zach…" What can he say to assuage the grief of a little boy who has lost everything already? Nothing, so he simply stays there with him for a long time, holding him, waiting for him to fall asleep.

He himself doesn't get a wink, and at crack of dawn, having carried Zach off to the orphanage, he goes over to David's house. David and Abby tactfully stay in the kitchen to give them some privacy and she takes him to her bedroom.

"Don't go", he blurts out, grabbing her hands, "please don't go. Let's try again. I…"

She shakes her head and moves away from him. "I can't", she whispers…

"But why?! It could be so good between us… Please, Livvie."

"Fitz… tell me this. Have you forgiven me for the way I behaved after Josh died? Do you really feel you can trust me?"

He swallows and looks away. "Liv, I need more time, but can't we work on this together?"

She closes her eyes. "No. We can't. Because you see, Fitz, I know you too well. If I stay, you'll slip back into not wanting to talk about Josh and us, you'll carry on sitting back and just… drift… and I can't do this! I can't be with you, make love with you and all the time wonder whether tonight is the night when you can finally tell me you love me – because, you still haven't said it by the way… I'd always be second-guessing you, and myself: am I being too forward, too affectionate, is he as committed as I am… is he finally trusting me… I just can't do this!" She adds, more quietly, eyes glistening with tears: "It would destroy me. And that's why I have to go…"

There's something so final in her words, in her voice, that he knows he's lost. "Can I at least phone you, from time to time, to see how you are?"

"Please, no…", she whispers, shakily. "I won't be able to move on if you do. Don't get in touch unless… unless you're sure, deep down, that you can give me your love, your trust, and your forgiveness. Now if you don't mind, David is waiting for me…"

She knows she's as good as dismissing him, but she can't take much more of this: even as he leaves the room, looking distraught, she has to exercise enormous self-control not to run after him and take him back. Even as she is waiting for her flight to be called, a couple of hours later, after David wrapped her into a bearhug and said goodbye, she keeps telling herself that she mustn't get up and go back to the clinic, and that she must hold on to her resolve and go home.

And sadly, as it stands home is pretty much anywhere where Fitz is not.

-x-

He counted the days again this morning: 57 since she's left. Or maybe 55. He's finding hard to count so he has to try again and again. He's so tired. He keeps waking up at night with these horrible dreams, and it's hard to go back to sleep, but he doesn't want to go and talk to the nurse at the orphanage, or to Fitz when he stays over at his flat. Because Fitz is so tired too. There're big, dark circles under his eyes, and he can tell that he isn't eating much: he used to finish off his pizza, always, but he doesn't now.

It's so sad now that Olivia has gone. Even looking at the sea isn't as good. And OK, Olivia rings and talks to him on the phone (it was really odd at first because he'd never talked on the phone before and talking to someone without seeing them, it's not the same), and she's sent pictures of America, and the place where she lives, it's called Washington, but it's not the same.

He'd love to talk about Olivia to Fitz. He's so scared he'll forget what she sounds like when she laughs, or what she looks like when she smiles. But Fitz never says her name. Never. So he doesn't say her name around Fitz either. It's like… it's as if whenever someone says Olivia's name, one of the nurses, or David, Fitz sorts of hides behind a wall. His eyes go all funny, like they're not seeing things, like there's no light in them.

And the thing is, he's got this funny feeling in his stomach that there's something really bad going on, something the grown ups don't want him and the other kids to know about. It's because a few times David and Abby were talking, and then they stopped as soon as they saw he was there. And Fitz looks very worried all the time. He knows because he looks at Fitz a lot. He really, really, really loves Fitz. And he knows Fitz loves him, 'cause when he hugs him, he hugs him really, really tight. But he knows that something is going on, and he hates that feeling of not knowing what exactly. Because he needs to know exactly.

And now, Fitz often goes off to the big city, for a day or two, and he doesn't know why. And, OK, grown-ups don't have to tell kids every little thing they do, but every time Fitz comes back from the big city, he looks even more worried.

He hopes Fitz won't have to go too. Before he wasn't even thinking about Fitz leaving. But the other day he heard David say to him "look you can always go back to the US and deal with it from there." He thinks those were the exact words, and Fitz didn't say anything, and that really, really scared him. The thought that Fitz was maybe thinking of leaving.

So, if he is extra good all the time and does his homework, and does everything he's asked to do, if he's a good boy, as the nurses say, then maybe Fitz will love him even more and won't leave. But it's so hard to be very, very, very good all the time.

It's all so hard.