Heaven Isn't Missing An Angel

“He’s over an hour late,” Ellie said to herself. “Where is he?”

She had arrived at the cafe an hour and a half ago, and had sat in their favourite leather chair by the front window so that they could watch the hustle and bustle of life while they talked. She had drunk seven skinny lattes and eaten five skinny blueberry muffins. She had called him one hundred times and left fifty voicemails. She had called his work, his mobile and his home phone. She had chewed her nails in between all of this and had nearly succeeded in removing all of them.

He had arranged the date and it wasn’t their first. They had been dating for six months. Six months of bliss and peacefulness and laughter, and in every way she was lucky. He was not the easiest person to get on with, but by some strength she stuck by him. He leaned on her. Oh how he leaned on her and had used her. But oh how she loved him. He was beautiful.
He had never stood her up before and she knew that he never would do that. She knew him too well and her head was playing out all the worst case scenarios.

Ellie remembered the day before and how he had run to her and had sat there in her apartment crying for an hour. She had spoken to her best friend Holly about it. Holly always pretended that she knew everything and Ellie sometimes liked to pretend that Holly always knew everything too.

“He’s only attention seeking,” Holly had said last night. “Haven’t you noticed how miserable he is all the time? He wants you so that you can be his mother, because he hasn’t got one. I would know, I’ve read psychology books.”

“Reading psychology books doesn’t make you an expert,” Ellie had said. “And what books did you read that told you that crap?”

“It isn’t crap,” Holly said. “He needs to see a therapist. He’s attention seeking.”

“I don’t care if he is needy,” Ellie said.

“You’re desperate,” Holly had told her.

Ellie ran that conversation over in her head and watched the world dance past outside. Her heart was banging against her chest and she knew he wasn’t coming and she bought another skinny blueberry muffin and ran out of the cafe and down the street, not caring that people were staring at her. She rang the bell on his apartment block, clutching a stitch in her side and gasping for breath. “Damn it, Reuben,” she said, pushing the button repeatedly. “Why are you ignoring me?”

Someone left the apartment block and she ran through the door and took the lift. She didn’t bother to knock on his door and pushed it open, and found him lying in the middle of his floor in a pool of vomit and millions of beer cans and alcohol all over the place. His eyes were spinning slightly and he was ghost white and sweaty. “Reuben!” she screamed. “What have you done?!”

“Sorry,” Reuben murmured, his head spinning and throbbing. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was flying away, swiftly over a calm lake, and that Ellie was holding him.

“Oh sweetie,” Ellie said, tears rolling down her face.

“I tried to die,” Reuben said in an innocent tone. Ellie nodded and bit her lip and went to get a bowl of water and a cloth.

“Open your eyes for me, darling,” she said through her tears. “You need to move away so that I can clean this up.”

“Don’t want to,” he said, his eyes still closed. His head had been blown into a million pieces. He had never felt so bad in his life. Maybe he was dying. It seemed that way. He hoped he was. He didn’t want to fail.

“Please, it’s not that hard is it?” she said.

“Feel sick,” he said.

“With that amount of alcohol I’m not surprised,” she said, trying to smile. She picked up a few of the beer cans and discovered a packet of paracetamol on the floor. Half of it was missing. She tried to shield her tears from him, even though he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness and probably didn’t realise that she was crying. She put the packet on the sofa and went over to him, and at her touch he staggered and lay on the sofa. As she went to clean up he drifted into sleep. She watched him, caressing his forehead and smiling at him. He looked so peaceful in sleep. There was no care on his face. He reminded her of a child.
She could not hide the confusion and fear and pain rising in her heart as she watched him. When she had stepped into his apartment and had seen him sprawled out on the floor she had immediately known what he had tried to do. He had been saying to her for a while that he had wanted to die but she had never thought to take him seriously. Why did he want to die? What could possibly push him so far over the edge that he would try to take his life? Her love for him suddenly exploded.

She went to the kitchen and made a strong cup of tea and sneaked a couple of biscuits from his biscuit tin. She stood there for a while, and then rung Holly.

“Holly,” she said, crying. “I’m in his apartment. He never turned up for coffee.”

“Why?” she said. “Ellie, what happened? Why are you crying?”

“Let me talk!” she said. “Listen, I found him on the floor. He’d got himself stupidly drunk and said...he said that he.....he wanted to...well, he tried to kill himself.”

“He’s just attention seeking,” Holly said.

“I don’t think he is,” she said. “He seems really depressed. What do I do?”

"Leave him,” she said. “He’s too needy.”

“I don’t think I want to leave him,” she said. “I...I love him.”

“I don’t think you do,” Holly said. “I just think you’re desperate.”

She put the phone down without saying goodbye and went to the living room. Reuben was lying awake. She went back to him and sat on the edge of the sofa. His eyes were distant and rolling slightly and he sighed. His body was shaking. Ellie wrapped her arms round his delicate body and wished that she knew what to do, what to say. Holly had been no help.

“How are you doing?” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, breaking down, and falling into her. He was being hit by a storm and he was confused by his hatred of life and his sudden pain. Ellie’s warmth filled him with peace and he craved her. She kissed his forehead. Reuben’s brokenness drove her up the wall and she wanted to hit him but she didn’t want to and her heart confused her. Yet her desire to mother him was also boiling up, and the battle made her scream out.

“Are you OK?” he asked her.

She gritted her teeth and smiled. “Mmmhmm,” she said. He wiped his eyes and yawned and stayed in her arms.

“Why did you do that?” she blurted out.

“What?” he asked.

“Drink that much,” Ellie said. “Swallow all those tablets.”

Reuben shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I...I tried to kill myself.”

“How can you even say that?” she said, letting go of him and jumping off the sofa. “Why would you want to do that? We have a happy relationship, right? I make you happy, don’t I? Do you know how much you frightened me, when you didn’t come to the cafe like we’d planned? I thought you’d gone and walked out on me or something. Then I come here and find you sprawled out on the floor covered in sick and drunk out of your head. I’m sick of cleaning up after you and being your mother. I’m so sick of you.”

Reuben said nothing. He looked at Ellie and remembered the first day he had met her in the bookshop and how her glowing beauty had struck him. She had been his light but he had been falling ever so further into darkness since the day they had met and he was drowning in his selfishness. Reuben rubbed his head and ran to the bathroom. Ellie sat back down on the sofa and put her head in her hands and burst into tears wishing she could rewind time and erase all that she had said. He staggered out of the bathroom and fell on the sofa. She realised how beautiful she thought he was.

“Poor sweetie,” Ellie said. “I’m so sorry for all that I said, I don’t mean it.”

“That’s OK,” Reuben said.

“I’m worried about you,” she said.

He shrugged. She sighed and took a deep breath. She didn’t care whether it was the right moment or not, after all when was it the right moment to say these things?

“I love you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. His beauty was shinning. He stared at the floor for a while and the room was spinning faster now than it had done a few seconds ago because his life had been turned upside down. She was the most amazing girl he had ever been with but she mothered him too much. Yet how she mothered him was like an addiction and he loved it. He tried to speak but the words got stuck in his throat and he took her hand.

“Me too,” he managed to say.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” she said in a flat tone. “I’ll stay here tonight so that I can keep an eye on you.”

Reuben’s response had stabbed her in her heart. Why could he not say that he loved her, why could he not say the word love? She remembered how beautiful she found him and followed him to the bedroom. She tucked him in and kissed his cheek. “Shut your eyes and go to sleep,” she said. He shut his eyes and made a wish and fell into a deep sleep and she watched over him for a while. She then went to the kitchen and baked a cake and ate half of it.

It still bothered her that he hadn’t said “I love you” back. She wondered if she was making a big deal over nothing.

“I told him I loved him,” she said to Holly on the phone.

“Do you love him?” Holly said.

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

“Did he say it back? Can you really stand him for another day?” Holly said. “He’s tried to kill himself, who knows if he’ll try to do it again.”

“He said ‘Me too’,” she said. “And you know what; I can stand him for another day. I can’t leave him because if I leave him he might really kill himself. I love him.”

“He‘s such a baby,” Holly said. “I think he’s just with you to use you. How many times do I have to repeat that? He wants you to be his mother and he’s getting his way. You should’ve left him ages ago.”

“I’m not leaving him,” she said.

“Why do you keep coming to me for advice?” she said. “You are desperate. You’re attention seeking.”

“I’m not!” she said. “I really love him!”

“Sure,” said Holly. “I have to go.” She put the phone down.

Time passed. She didn’t know how much time passed but her love for him seemed to grow and her hatred for him seemed to grow and she went to his bedroom and got onto his bed and slept a while. The stench of alcohol and vomit in his breath made her gag and her lingering desire to stab him began to rise. She had to get up and lie on the sofa but sleep would never come and she had a panic attack. She went and lay back on his bed because her loneliness was torturing her and she needed him. She kept tossing and turning and she had a dream. She dreamt that she saw him halfway down a staircase dressed in a suit and a bowtie and he was covered in blood. She touched him and he was ice cold. She screamed and she jerked awake, covered in sweat and breathing rapidly. She rolled over and he was still there, still sleeping. She put her hand on his face and it was still warm and she sighed. Her panic left her. She got up and ate more cake and sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Her head was swimming in confusion and she battled with herself.

“Do you love him?” she heard Holly say in her head.

“Yes,” she said to herself. “Yes.”

“Do you really, though?” she heard Holly say.

“I don’t know,” she said to herself. “Why am I even saying this? I know I love him!”

The dream had seemed so vivid and she could still see him lying there covered in blood, white and cold. She shook herself. “He is beautiful,” she said. “He is beautiful inside too.”

An explosion happened in her head and she slammed her fist on the table. The vividness of the dream was frightening and she had to see him. She went back to his bedroom and he had vomited all over his bed and the smell bowled her over. He was fast asleep with his mouth wide open. She went and lied down on the sofa and fell asleep again.

She woke up at some unearthly hour and went in to check on him. He was still asleep, though she thought he looked paler than what he had a while ago. She laid her hand on his cheek and he was still warm. She sighed.  She knew she loved him, but the pain was too much. She shut the door carefully and went to the front door. She went to open it but pulled her hand back and watched the front door, as if trying to open it with some secret power. She went to her handbag and pulled out a notebook and pen and began to scribble a note to him but she scribbled it out again.

“I love him,” she said to herself again. She was drowning in her love for him and her hatred for him and she went to the kitchen to finish the cake. She glanced out of the window and watched the weak winter sunrise.

He woke and stretched. The sunrise washed him in an angelic light and cleared his head and he turned over. She was gone. He sighed and put his hand over his head. “What have I done?” he said. In his heart he was fighting against his desire to die and his desire to be. His darkness was powerful and blinding but she was his light. He was alive when he had thought last night he would never wake up again. But he was alive - and he had been given a second chance. Something about this thrilled him when just twelve hours ago it would have angered him. How strange was this new zest, even if it was as weak as the winter sunshine? He walked to the kitchen and his footsteps made her jump. She was still there. She turned to him and looked into his grey eyes and he came and rested his hand on her shoulder.

“I love you,” he said.