by Maria Goodin
“So…?” Libby asks, as if she’s still needed somewhere else.
“Look,” I say, taking a deep breath, my heart starting to race, “I wanted to tell you why I said what I said before… about not wanting you around, I mean. Because when I tried to explain before—”
“It’s fine. I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I know me being here must bring stuff up for you—”
“Yes, but not the stuff you think. I mean, maybe, a bit, but that’s not—”
“It’s brought stuff up for me, too. Memories and… well, I haven’t found it easy either. But I’m just here until the baby comes, and then I’m out of Timpton. I’m sure that for a few weeks, for Irena and Stu’s sake, we can—”
“No, I know all that, but that’s not—”
“I’m pleased we met up again despite everything, and maybe you don’t feel that way, but I really am pleased, even if it has been… unsettling. I always thought about you and wondered if you were okay and I didn’t just stop caring—”
“Neither did I.”
“—but you and me, trying to be friends… it was probably a bit ambitious. I mean, it took me a long time to get over you and perhaps some things are better left alone. And obviously it’s brought stuff up for you—”
“No, but that’s what I want to tell you—”
“—I think bringing the past up again, it can get complicated and confusing, and I totally understand—”
“Libby, will you just stop talking for a minute!” I interrupt, a little more harshly than I intend, nerves making me agitated.
She stares at me, wide-eyed, clutching her glass of water in front of her.
“Look,” I say, deciding to take a different route in. “I… Do you… do you have feelings for me?”
The second it’s out I feel foolish; vulnerable and exposed. She stares at me, the whites of her eyes shining like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
She shakes her head slightly, and with a sinking heart I’m immediately convinced that Irena was wrong, that I was wrong…
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I just… A few times I’ve had a feeling that maybe… between us, there was… something. And Irena told me…”
Even in the dim light I can see the flush rise up Libby’s neck, colouring her cheeks. She quickly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t know what Irena said, but she shouldn’t… she really… I mean, of course I have feelings for you… or about you… It’s confusing, seeing you again, that’s what I just said, I think maybe coming back here—”
“So then you do have feelings for me?” I ask, desperate for some clarity.
“What… I mean, why? Why does it even matter?” she asks, looking flustered. “I know it’s not like you and I… I mean, you have this thing with Rachel and—”
“There’s nothing between me and Rachel.”
“Really?” she scoffs, clearly thinking she knows better. “That’s not what it looked like when you were kissing her earlier—”
“She kissed me! It was a kiss goodbye. She’s leaving.”
“Or when you walked out of here wrapped round each other a few weeks ago—”
“When? The night Will was here? No, that… Nothing happened. It wasn’t—”
“Whatever, anyway, I don’t care,” she insists, shaking her head dismissively.
“Well, it kind of… seems like you do care.”
“No, I absolutely don’t,” she says firmly, “that’s your business—”
“So why are you even bringing Rachel into it?”
She looks stumped.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t. I mean, I’m not.”
I stare at her, confused. I don’t know how I thought this was going to go, but it definitely wasn’t like this.
“Look,” I say, running my hand over my head, realising I am making a terrible job of this. “I just wanted to know if you felt anything. For me. Because it seemed like maybe—”
“Okay, I’m not going to lie,” she interrupts, “I’ve had a lot of complicated feelings going on, and seeing you again—” Her voice cracks and she stops abruptly. She stares at the ground silently, recovering her composure.
And in that moment I know.
I know that I’m not wrong.
“What does it even matter to you how I feel?” she asks, her voice having lost its strength.
“Because it does,” I tell her, suddenly desperate for her to understand. “Because I have feelings. For you. And if you feel anything like the same…”
I watch her carefully, waiting for confirmation of what I’m suddenly sure I know, but she seems to have frozen, her wide eyes staring at me. It’s hard to tell in the poor light, but if I had to guess at her expression, I’d say shocked confusion mixed with a hint of fear.
“Okay, listen,” I say, wishing I could start this afresh, “the thing is—”
“Why are you doing this?” she asks abruptly, her voice quivering with emotion.
“Why? Because you and I—”
“There is no you and I!” she snaps, raising her voice. “How could there ever be a you and I? We want totally different things. We want different futures and… and asking me to suddenly declare how I feel about you—”
“I wasn’t—”
“Although it seems like Irena’s already repeated everything I told her in confidence anyway! And telling me you have feelings… What does that even mean, that you have feelings? And where has this suddenly come from, because until now you have given me absolutely no indication. I mean, one minute I think we’re friends and then a couple of weeks ago it became perfectly clear that you couldn’t even stand to have me around—”
“That wasn’t—”
“I mean, your behaviour towards me has been totally confusing, I have wasted literally hours of my life agonising over it, and now you’re telling me what? That you have feelings? I mean, do you think this is okay? To mess with me like this? Because I am sick and tired of men messing with me—”
“I’m not messing with you! How am I messing…?”
“—telling me that you have feelings for me and asking if I have feelings for you when you know perfectly well that we want completely different things.”
“No, but just listen—”
“—And unless that ever changed there could never be any future for us. But if you think I could just give up on everything I’ve ever wanted – my own family, my own children – that I could just cast that aside just because you suddenly decide—”
“I haven’t suddenly decided anything! I’ve been thinking about nothing else for weeks, and if I wasn’t sure that I could be on board with what you want for your future, I would never be saying this to you!”
“But what are you even saying to me? I don’t understand! Do you think this has been easy for me? Coming back here? Seeing you again? Do you know how long it took me to move on? Do you know how hard it’s been realising that I never actually moved on at all?! I thought – I really thought – that if I could be around you…I… Do you… And now you’re telling me… What do you even want from me?!”
“Libby,” I say, holding my hands up in defence, stunned by her reaction, “I don’t know what the hell’s going on here. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just wanted to tell you…” I trail off, searching desperately for the words that might somehow set this right.
“Just leave me alone! Please!” she snaps, shoving past me so forcefully that her water splashes all over my T-shirt.
“Wait!” I call, grabbing for her, but she slips from my hand and bolts down the alley.
I’m left wet, shocked and utterly bewildered.
I re-join the party just as a massive cheer – the biggest of the night – fills the air. Everyone’s on their feet so that I’m barely able to squeeze through all the bodies crammed onto the terrace. People are chanting, hollering, whistling…
I hear Michael’s voice
on the microphone, offering a brief greeting to the crowd, who almost drown him out with their whoops of appreciation. I try to find a path through, searching desperately for any sign of Libby. I don’t know where I’m going or why, all I know is I can’t leave things as they are. As I search, I see Laura with her arms around Mark, the mechanic she once thought was a dick but now seems to have won her over. I see Amber, the girl with the dragon tattoo, putting her fingers in her mouth and emitting a shrill whistle, supporting her ex-boyfriend on stage while happily entwined with her new one. I see Tom and his wife, Kim, holding hands. I see Tyler and Theo with their respective partners. And I see Rob gazing proudly and adoringly towards the stage. It feels like everybody has someone tonight.
The music starts up to another loud cheer, and Michael’s strong, familiar voice fills the sky with an upbeat number that has the crowd jumping and pumping their hands in the air. All around me, people are singing along to his words, rocking their heads in time to his music.
“Dad!” I hear a call. “Dad!”
I spy Josh at the side of the terrace, desperately waving me over, looking stressed. I’ve been so distracted, I’d almost forgotten he was here.
I force my way through the crowd, wondering what the hell’s happened now.
When I reach him, he shouts something at me, but I can’t make it out.
“What?” I shout back, putting my arm around his neck and pulling him in close.
“I can’t do this!” he yells in my ear.
I look quizzically at his face, and then I curse myself and my own self-centredness. In my fluster over Libby, I’d momentarily forgotten: tonight’s his first time performing on stage. He looks anxious, his eyes searching mine, looking for me to rescue him.
My first instinct is to wring his neck. He can’t do this? After all the hassle he gave me about being allowed to perform?!
“What do you mean you can’t do it?” I shout in his ear. “Of course you can do it!”
He shakes his head, grimacing like the very idea is causing him pain.
I clutch the back of his neck and steer him towards the far end of the terrace where there’s a small patch of space.
“Listen,” I shout, taking his face in my hands and forcing him to look at me, “you are incredible!”
“I’m totally crapping myself! I feel sick!”
“That’s fine. It’s okay to be scared. Do you remember what Michael said? That he feels like that every time he gets up there?”
“Yeah, but people love him—”
“They’ll love you.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then fuck them!”
He stares at me as if he can’t believe I just said that, and for a second it seems to shock him out of his state of fear. But it doesn’t take long for his anxiety to set back in.
“I can’t do it, Dad,” he says, looking distressed, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to let anyone down, but I can’t get up there!”
“You can!”
“I can’t!
“Josh, listen to me!” I shout in his ear. “Sometimes you just have to face your fears. Otherwise you’ll never know what could have been.”
The music crashes to an end and the crowd cheers and hollers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I hear Michael say over the microphone, sounding slightly breathless, “tonight I want to welcome on stage with me a very special guest—”
“Shit! I can’t do it!” shouts Josh, grabbing at his hair.
“—he’s a young, talented singer and musician—”
“Listen!” I shout, grabbing Josh by the shoulders, deciding to go out on a limb. “I’m in love with Libby. I have been for ages, and I think perhaps you already know that. It seems like everyone knows that. But I’ve been standing in the shadows, too scared to do anything about it. I’m still scared. I’m terrified. But I’m gonna tell her everything. Tonight. And you’re gonna get up on that stage, okay? Because if we don’t do these things, neither of us will ever know how good it might have been.”
He stares at me, stunned. And then a smile creeps across his lips.
“I knew it!” he shouts.
I thrust my hand out.
“Do we have a deal?”
For a moment he hesitates.
“—please welcome on stage—”
“Deal!” he shouts, grabbing my hand.
I pull him in for a squeeze.
“—Josh Lewis! Where are you, Josh? Get yourself up here!”
“Go!” I yell, shoving him in the general direction of the stage.
There are moments in life when you can barely breathe, and it’s not because you’re scared or stressed or believe you don’t even deserve the air in your lungs. It’s because the moment is so special you don’t want to disturb it with even the slightest movement.
I gaze at my best friend and my son on the stage, framed by strings of white lights, playing guitar and singing together, and I’m blown away. They sound so good. They look so good; smiling at each other as they belt out the lyrics, nerves overcome, lost in the beat of the music, spurred on by the love of the crowd.
For a moment I can’t believe how far we’ve come, any of us. All the doubts and fears about whether I’ve been a good enough dad, they all disintegrate in that moment. Because he’s amazing. He’s flawed and imperfect and bloody annoying just like we all are, but he’s also incredible. Bright, kind, funny, talented… I couldn’t want for anything more. And it’s not all down to me, of course. It’s down to a whole mixture of things. But I’m in there, a huge part of it, and whatever I did, there’s no way it could have been wrong. Because just look at him now.
As their second song ends, Michael grabs Josh’s arm, holds it high in the air and commands the crowd to give it up. As his new fans whistle and applaud, Josh glows with happiness, and I know that if this is the route he wants to take in life, then I’ll support him all the way. For too long I’ve stifled him in my bid to protect him. But the fact is you can’t stop them falling. All you can do is offer a soft place to land if they do.
As soon as he jumps off stage, I make a move towards him, but his friends get in there first, enveloping him in a giant hug. I see Sam and Alex ruffling his hair and patting him on the back, Chloe squeezing him tight and kissing him on the cheek. He grins shyly, modestly enjoying their praise, that cocky charade melted away. But it’s also clear he’s got somewhere else to be. He extricates himself from the group, stepping towards Becky, who’s waiting patiently, the outsider. She wraps her arms around his neck and he kisses her for what seems like an unfeasibly long time while his friends return to their banter and chat.
I decide to leave Josh to his friends and his new girlfriend. As the music starts up again, I begin weaving my way back through the crowd, when suddenly I’m grabbed from behind, arms wrapping themselves around my shoulders with such strength I can’t believe this is my child. I turn and pull him in for a hug.
“You were amazing!” I shout in his ear. “I am so proud of you!”
“You were right!” he yells above the music, putting his arm around my neck and pulling me down slightly – but only slightly – to his height. “It was so worth taking the risk! Now it’s your turn!”
He slaps me on the arm and winks at me – actually winks at me, the cheeky git! – before rushing away, and for a second I catch a glimpse of the relationship we’ll have in the not-so-distant future, when my son is more of a man than a boy.
I search the crowd, knowing what I have to do next. Butterflies rise in my stomach, but I feel stronger, more resolute than ever before. Because they were wrong – my mum, Harmonie, the teachers – all the people that said I wasn’t good enough to be with her, raise a child, pass my exams – all the people who doubted me. Because I am good enough, and I always was.
Just then I feel a warm hand grasp my wrist and just as quickly let go. I turn and see Libby stepping away, beckoning me out of the crowd. I follow her through the rocking, jigging bodies, tow
ards the steps that lead down to the canal.
Once on the towpath, she strides quickly, in silence. I keep up with her, waiting for her to stop and turn around. The thud of the music recedes, the bright chaos of the Canal House left behind. Away from the heat of the crowd, the night air feels chill against my bare arms. We pass narrowboats, one after the other, the windows dark, most of the residents out enjoying the party. The moon reflects off the water’s surface, and the lamps dotted along our way shed their eerie white light.
“Stop,” I tell her eventually, grabbing her by the arm.
“What you were saying earlier,” she blurts out, spinning around and shaking me off, “you caught me off guard. You surprised me.”
“I know.”
We stare at each other, searching each other’s faces in the dim light. I can hear her breathing, short and rapid.
“But it shouldn’t have surprised you,” I tell her, “because it turns out everybody knows how I feel about you. How I’ve felt about you since…” Since I saw you again in Camden? Since you came back to Timpton? “…since forever.”
I swallow, willing my beating heart to quiet down.
“I haven’t been honest with you,” I continue, “but I want to be honest with you now. I didn’t just come to find you again so that I could say sorry for how I behaved in the past. I also came to find you so that I could move on from you. Because I hadn’t moved on. You and I, that was the closest, most meaningful relationship I ever had, and since then nothing’s been able to touch it. Nothing’s even come close. And I’d given up. I’d stopped trying. I thought that maybe if I saw you again, saw that you’d changed, that you’d grown up and moved on and weren’t the same person anymore, then I could move on, too. But instead I just fell in love with you all over again. That’s the real reason I didn’t want you around. Not because you brought up bad memories, but because you brought up so many good ones. Because it was just too bloody hard, seeing you all the time, knowing you were with someone else.”