_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

I called Kamal just after six. The silence was right on top of me and I
was starting to panic. I thought about ringing Tara—I knew she’d come
running—but I didn’t think I could stand it, she’d be all clingy and
overprotective. Kamal was the only person I could think of. I called him
at home. I told him I was in trouble, I didn’t know what to do, I was
freaking out. He came over right away. Not quite without question, but
almost. Perhaps I made things sound worse than they are. Perhaps he was
afraid I was going to Do Something Stupid.
We’re in the kitchen. It’s still early, just after seven thirty. He has to
leave soon if he’s going to make his first appointment. I look at him,
sitting there across from me at our kitchen table, his hands folded
together neatly in front of him, his deep doe eyes on mine, and I feel
love. I do. He’s been so good to me, despite the crap way I’ve behaved.
Everything that went before, he’s forgiven, just liked I hoped he
would. He wiped everything away, all my sins. He told me that unless I
forgave myself this would go on and on and I would never be able to
stop running. And I can’t run anymore, can I? Not now she’s here.
“I’m scared,” I tell him. “What if I do it all wrong again? What if
there’s something wrong with me? What if things go wrong with Scott?
What if I end up on my own again? I don’t know if I can do it, I’m so
afraid of being on my own again—I mean, on my own with a child . . .”
He leans forward and puts his hand over mine. “You won’t do
anything wrong. You won’t. You’re not some grieving, lost child any
longer. You’re a completely different person. You’re stronger. You’re an
adult now. You don’t have to be afraid of being alone. It’s not the worst
thing, is it?”
I don’t say anything, but I can’t help wondering whether it is, because
if I close my eyes I can conjure up the feeling that comes to me when
I’m on the edge of sleep, which jolts me back into wakefulness. It’s the
feeling of being alone in a dark house, listening for her cries, waiting to
hear Mac’s football on the wooden floors downstairs and knowing that
they’re never going to come.
“I can’t tell you what to do about Scott. Your relationship with
him . . . Well, I’ve expressed my concerns, but you have to decide what
to do for yourself. Decide whether you trust him, whether you want him
to take care of you and your child. That must be your decision. But I
think you can trust yourself, Megan. You can trust yourself to do the
right thing.”
Outside, on the lawn, he brings me a cup of coffee. I put it down and
put my arms around him, pulling him closer. Behind us a train is