in recovery after your surgery when we got there, so we just waited. It took so long, but finally they brought you back, still sleeping. I never want to feel like that again, you looked…I just never want to see you like that again.” I sigh.
“You were there?” she asks in disbelief.
“For a while, Max didn’t think I should be there when you woke up because he didn’t want to stress you out. So Connie and I left. We came back here and fixed this place up ready for you.” I say, gesturing at the remotes. Her eyes follow my hand and she stares at the remotes and then back at me.
“You did all this?” she asks, her tone softening slightly.
I nod and offer a small smile.
“And you’ve been working…in my bar?” she says slowly.
I nod again, afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“Why?” she whispers.
I hesitate. “Because, I had to do something. You wouldn’t talk to me. They are flat out downstairs and I thought…I thought it would show you I’m committed.” I sigh. “I love you, Liv. I will do anything to make you see that.”
Fresh tears spring from her eyes and she looks away. She tries to compose herself and silently shakes her head in disbelief.
“So you’ve been here this whole time?…and everyone knows?” she asks, slowly piecing it all together.
“Yes,” I admit, reluctantly.
Liv shakes her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“But only because I didn’t want to push you while you were going through so much.” I almost touch her again, I don’t think she notices. It feels so wrong not to comfort her and find out how she is doing after the accident. I feel like it’s none of my business, but I have to ask. “How are you?” I glance at her leg, which is still propped up and wrapped in a big bandage.
She looks at it too. “It’s okay, I just have to keep it up as much as possible and I’m not allowed to put any weight on it at all…wait, I can’t do this.” She says putting her hands through her hair in frustration, revealing a huge bruise and a run of stitches close to her hairline. I wince. “We can’t just sit here and have a normal conversation, we're not talking, we broke up.” She sighs.
I wait, because if I say the wrong thing now, I could be finished. She finally looks at me again, so I seize my chance. Sitting forward, I look her straight in the eye. “If you tell me to go, I will.” It’s a gamble. But it will force her hand. She maintains my stare, but says nothing. All I can hear is the sound of my heart pounding as I wait for her to respond. She almost scoffs as if she thinks I have some nerve, but still, she says nothing. Then I decide she’s had enough time to throw me out, I take the lead. “I’ll get us some drinks then,” I say with as much confidence as I can find. Then without looking at her I walk out the door.
As the door shuts behind me, I let out the breath that I’ve been holding. FUCK! I mouth. I’m playing with fire. But I thought a short break would do us both good before we talk. She needs to process this and I could do with some air. Pull yourself together Danny. I start down the stairs, a smile growing on my face and by the time I get to the door, I’m grinning from ear to ear. I head across the garden, resisting the temptation to whistle as I go. I collect some glasses that are in my path and drop them in the kitchen as I pass.
“Where have you been?” asks Max as I arrive behind the bar.
“Upstairs,” I say, casually and watch with satisfaction as the disbelief engulfs his face.
His mouth drops open and while he deals with the information, I reach past him and take two glasses, fill them with ice and drop a wedge of lime in each. When I glance back at Max, he smiles an uncertain smile.
“How is she taking it?” he asks.
“Okay, well she hasn’t told me to leave yet. I thought I would get us a drink so we can talk and I think she needed a break to process the fact that I’m here.” I grab a bottle of rum from beneath the bar. “She can drink now, right?” I check, holding up the bottle for approval.
“Uh-huh.” He nods and hands me two bottles of Coke, which I tuck into my pockets, I pick up a bottle opener and tuck it in with one of the bottles, then take two more Cokes and the rum in one hand and the glasses in the other.
“Can you manage without me?” I ask, knowing he wouldn’t stop me even if they couldn’t.
A huge smile erupts on his face. “Go!” he commands.
I roll my eyes at the suggestion he’s making. “It’s just talking Max, we are a long way from that.”
The nerves set in again as I make my way up the stairs. I hope she’ll talk to me. When I open the door, she is no longer sitting on the sofa. “Liv?” I call out, concerned that she’s left. The bathroom door opens and Liv emerges looking more composed. She has straightened herself out, but I pretend not to notice.
I put the drinks down on the coffee table and get the bottles out of my pocket.
“Here, let me help you,” I say, pulling her footstool aside so that she can sit down.
“It’s fine, I can manage.” She sulks. That’s my Liv, she hates being fussed over. I remember when she had her tonsils removed when we were kids. She was a terrible patient.
“Took a guess,” I say, showing her the rum.
“I haven’t had a drink in two weeks,” she says.
“Just a Coke then?’
“No, I’ll have one.”
While I pour, she says nothing, just watches, then I hand her the drink. She takes it without a word and takes a long sip. A satisfied sigh escapes as she enjoys the warmth of the rum so, for a moment, I just let her relax. This is absurd, we can’t do small talk, but I don’t know how or where to start. She hasn’t even said I’m welcome as such. I’m just going by the fact that she hasn’t thrown me out yet.
She surprises me by opening the conversation. “So why didn’t you say you knew about this?” she asks, pointing at her leg.
I look down at my glass. “Because you made Max promise not to tell me, even though it was too late. He didn’t want you to be upset with him too, with all you had going on.”
Liv makes a sound, like pft. Shaking her head. “But you could have said something in one of your hundreds of messages.” She accentuates the word ‘hundreds’ and rolls her eyes.
“By then I was already here and I knew you wouldn’t let me help you. I thought it would be better you didn’t know, so I could do stuff to help behind the scenes. Then I guess I just held out, hoping I could convince you to talk to me.'
'So you think you've convinced me?'
'I'm not assuming anything, but you didn't throw me out...yet.”
“Well the night is young,” she says with this tiniest hint of humor in her voice. Then she forces a smile, which makes me laugh.
We sit for a while in silence, I was expecting a screaming match or something, but there is nothing.
“This isn’t how I was expecting this to go,” I admit quietly. She looks confused, so I continue. “I thought there would be yelling.”
She kind of laughs. “I didn’t think this would ever even happen.” She shrugs. “So I really had no preconceived idea of how it should ‘go’.” The sarcasm oozes from her as she spits the words at me.
The silence once again descends. This is so frustrating.
“Seeing as you have the advantage and you have thought it all through, perhaps you ought to do the talking.”
“How do I have the advantage?” I ask, mystified as to how she could think that I’m somehow winning in this situation.
“Well you at least knew you were here. I’ve been kept in the dark,” she snaps.
I sigh. “I wasn’t keeping you in the dark to get the advantage. I was waiting for the right time so that you didn’t feel cornered.”
“Well, just so that you know,” she says, “you failed.”
“Listen, you could tell me to leave.” I remind her, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. She shakes her head at me and scoffs, she knows I wouldn’t leave without a fight now that I’m here, but I’m trying to make her feel like she’s in control of how and when we talk.
She stares at an arbitrary point on the wall. Then she looks back to me. “You thought there would be
