Two Wrongs

by Rebecca Reid

  ‘Fine,’ she said, forcing her voice to sound calm. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘Does that mean that this ridiculous charade is over? Because I meant what I said earlier. I really do have a busy day.’

  ‘No,’ said Chloe, rearranging the cutlery on the table. She wasn’t sure who was speaking now. It didn’t feel like her. It felt like the kind of person who knew how to make a threat. Like the kind of person who knew how to scare someone so privileged, so perfect, they had never felt fear in their life before. ‘It means that I won’t tell Verity. I think, rather than doing that, I’ll tell the police.’

  There it was. A sunrise of horror etched across his face.

  She went on, revelling in his panic. She didn’t know where any of this was coming from, but finally, years and years later, he was getting what he deserved. ‘And I’ll make it clear quite how rough you were with me. How you tried to hurt me. I’ll tell them that I didn’t want to. That you forced me.’

  Max’s water glass slipped out of his hand. It hit the table and soaked the blue paper napkin. Various staff members came rushing over to pat the table down and sympathize with him. He ignored all of them. When the table was dry and they had retreated, he glared at her. He looked like he was going to vomit. Like he was going to cry.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you? This is ancient history. Zadie is dead. What do you think you’re going to achieve by pulling shit like this? You want to put her family through all this, while they’re still mourning? And if I don’t help you then – what? – you’re going to ruin my life?’

  ‘That’s about the size of it,’ Chloe said. She watched him try to wriggle his way out of the situation, the same way he’d worked his way out of every other tight corner he had ever found himself in. ‘I’ll give you until tomorrow to decide.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Because I know what you did to my best friend. And I am so fucking sick of you getting away with it. If it weren’t for what you did, she wouldn’t have had to leave university. She could have stayed. She wouldn’t be dead right now.’

  ‘What’s this really about? Revenge? “Closure?” Your sad little life doesn’t satisfy you any more, so now you’re trying to ruin mine over a crazy bitch who just saw you as a plaything?’

  She leaned in and hissed, ‘Call it whatever the fuck you want. I’ve told you my terms. Either you confess to what you did, or I will use everything on my phone to make your life a living hell.’

  She picked up her bag and walked away, praying he couldn’t see how much she was shaking.

  23

  Then

  It would have been nice to believe that she missed the parties, but the truth was Chloe loved the new pattern that she, Max and Zadie fell into in the weeks after Zadie’s ‘incident’, as Chloe had taken to calling it in her head. Max seemed to be around more, still playing rugby, but away less and almost never out of the house overnight. Zadie stopped inviting huge hordes of people over. Sometimes a few of her favourites, some girls from school, a few of the people she knew who were also studying History of Art, would mill around the kitchen drinking wine, but it had none of the nihilism of the previous parties, crowds of strangers wantonly destroying the house.

  Rav hadn’t been back. Every time Chloe heard people in the kitchen she both hoped it was him and prayed that it wasn’t. But of course it never was. He had sent her a couple of texts. One straight after he had come to the house, asking if she and Zadie were okay, and another a week later, asking if she wanted to go for a drink. She hadn’t replied to either, and she wasn’t sure why. She liked seeing him. Loved seeing him. But Max’s words were stamped on her brain. She knew that he had meant it as a warning against indulging Zadie, as a reminder that she needed to have other friends, other people in her life. But that wasn’t how it felt. It felt like a reminder that if she chose someone else over Zadie, all this might go away. And anyway, their new pattern was perfect. It didn’t need anyone else. Chloe would bring books over and work in the sitting room during the afternoon while Zadie painted or slept, and in the evening they would watch a film on the huge, comfortable sofa while Zadie lay on Max’s chest at the other end and talked over every single line.

  In short, it was all going so well, until Zadie remembered that it was almost Max’s birthday. The realization seemed to reignite some restlessness inside her.

  ‘Max,’ she said one evening, sitting in the garden with a coloured cigarette between two fingers, ‘you’re going to be twenty-one.’

  ‘We all are, eventually.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re going to be twenty-one next month, and we haven’t planned anything.’

  ‘Haven’t we?’

  ‘Have you?’ She turned to Chloe. ‘Has he? Do you know anything about this?’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘Nothing. What are you planning, Max?’

  Max looked incredibly pleased with himself – more so than usual. ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘I hate waiting,’ said Zadie. ‘It’s your birthday, we’re supposed to surprise you.’

  They didn’t have to wait long. A few days later Chloe woke up to find another envelope had been posted under her door, only this time it was something exciting. A pale cream envelope made of heavy paper. Inside was a proper, stiff card invitation with ‘Max’s 21st Birthday’ in gold calligraphy and a piece of paper with all the details. They were going to a house in the country for a weekend, and all they had to bring was black tie for Saturday night, swimwear and a bottle of champagne. Chloe smiled down at the invitation, glowing with pride at the fact that she’d been asked. How many other people had Max invited? Surely if they’d rented a house for the weekend, then it couldn’t be more than a handful. She had been chosen as one of his closest friends. She placed the invitation on her windowsill then re-read the information on the paper. But her excitement was punctured when her phone bleeped. It was Zadie.

  ‘I can’t believe it. Have you seen it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The invitation. For his damn party.’

  Chloe wanted to be on Zadie’s side, but she was struggling to see the problem. ‘I got mine this morning. What’s wrong?’

  ‘He didn’t even ask me. He just did it. He didn’t tell me, he didn’t want my opinion. You know he’s invited less than twenty people, including us? That’s tiny. How is it going to feel like a party with such a small group?’

  Chloe tried not to feel pleased. ‘It is his birthday, Zaid, I think we probably have to do what he wants.’

  ‘He’s invited the worst people, too. People from rugby. Their boring girlfriends.’

  ‘Maybe they won’t be as boring as we think they are.’

  ‘They’re on the netball team.’

  ‘Well, then, we can complain about them all weekend.’

  An exasperated noise came down the phone. ‘Stop being so reasonable. He knows I love parties. He knows I would have wanted to organize it.’

  ‘Maybe he’s trying to keep you on the straight and narrow. He likes this “new normal”, where we have a glass of wine and don’t invite everyone we’ve ever met to trash the house.’ Chloe sensed that she had said the wrong thing. She could feel the tension prickling down the line. ‘When it’s your twenty-first I promise we’ll have the party to end all parties,’ she added, trying to row back, trying to bury her previous comment as deep as possible so that she could escape Zadie’s disapproval. ‘It’ll be several days long. So much booze that no one leaves without throwing up. So loud that you can’t hear anyone’s name even if they’re screaming it.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  Max was proving difficult to buy a birthday present for, and Chloe wasn’t the only one who thought so. It was Sunday morning, a week before the party. Zadie and Chloe were lying on the sofa, searching for inspiration.

  ‘What about a rugby ball?’

  ‘I think that’s the worst suggestion so far.’

  ‘Okay, but what if it
was an old rugby ball. A vintage one.’

  ‘Would that make it any better?’

  Zadie sat up. ‘This is impossible. I’m just going to give him a blow job and have done with it.’

  ‘At least you’ve got that option.’ Chloe had meant the words to sound like a joke, but they had sounded almost envious. Zadie looked bemused.

  ‘I think we need more inspiration. Let’s go and look at the stuff he’s got, see if it makes us think of anything.’

  They ran up the stairs to the second bedroom, which Max kept his stuff in because Zadie’s astonishing wardrobe filled the master bedroom. Max was almost frighteningly tidy. His shirts were hung up with military precision, his physio equipment all laid out, weights stacked. Chloe had never spent any time in here, for obvious reasons. ‘My God, he’s tidy,’ she said, admiring the pile of clearly unopened textbooks on his desk.

  ‘I know. That’s boarding school for you.’

  ‘You went to boarding school.’

  Zadie opened Max’s wardrobe, flicking through it absent-mindedly. ‘I went to a special kind of boarding school where they encourage you to find your inner self and you can wear whatever you want. Max went to one where they make you run around the rugby pitch in your shorts even when it’s minus one, and all the teachers talk about how much they miss caning. He hated it.’

  ‘Why didn’t he leave?’

  ‘His parents thought it was the way to give him a “better” life, or some nonsense like that. They grew up with nothing, wanted better for Max, all that stuff people do when they’re trying to convince themselves it’s okay for their kid to be miserable.’

  ‘It was that bad?’

  ‘Absolutely. We were only allowed to talk on the phone once a week. He’d be standing in some freezing-cold corridor, trying not to cry because he was so unhappy. I hated him knowing that I was having such a lovely time. Sometimes I used to lie in my letters.’

  Chloe realized that she’d never asked Zadie, in all their talks, how she and Max had met.

  ‘It’s nothing very exciting,’ Zadie told her now. ‘My school was a few miles from his and they used to bring us in to do plays. I was drafted in to be Cordelia in King Lear.’ Chloe listened to the story as she opened the drawers of Max’s desk.

  ‘Was Max in it, too?’

  ‘God, no, you couldn’t pay him to act. I saw him coming off the rugby pitch and he was the best-looking boy I had ever seen in my life so I ran over and gave him my phone number. Everyone else was horrified that I’d made the first move, but then here we are.’

  ‘Zadie,’ said Chloe, slowly. ‘What’s this?’ She held up a small leather box.

  Zadie looked stunned. It was the first time Chloe had ever seen her lost for words.

  ‘Open it.’

  Puncturing the velvet cushion was a ring with a square port-red ruby flanked by two blinding diamonds. Chloe gave a long, low sigh. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  ‘It’s a ring,’ said Zadie, but her voice couldn’t hide her excitement.

  ‘It’s an engagement ring …’

  ‘He’s not going to propose – we’re still students!’

  ‘Why is it in here, then? Try it on.’

  Zadie looked as if she was going to say no, but clearly couldn’t resist. She slid the ring on to her long finger. It was too big, the heavy stone swivelling around to the back of her hand. She twisted it back around, clamped her fingers together and held out her hand. The girls both squealed. ‘Will you be my bridesmaid?’ Zadie asked.

  Chloe’s heart swelled. ‘Of course!’

  They jumped up and down, staring at the ring, until the slamming of the front door punctured their revelling. Zadie slipped the ring back in the box, Chloe replaced it in the drawer and they went back downstairs, pretending that nothing had happened.

  Zadie

  Max was splayed on the sofa, beautiful as he always was, but his face was twisted in an expression of complete concentration, a video-game controller between his hands. Zadie smacked a bottle down on the kitchen counter, hoping he would notice. He didn’t. She did it again.

  ‘If you want to have an argument, then you need to come in here!’ Max called from the living room. Zadie almost laughed, teetering on the edge of being amused by him. She went through, watching her bare feet on the wooden floorboards as she walked. ‘I don’t want to fight.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You always do that slamming-around thing when you’re building up to a big row.’ He sat up and held his arms out to her. ‘How about we try this? You come here and tell me what’s wrong.’

  Zadie wanted to stay cross, but his body was so warm and firm. She rested her head on his chest and felt her shoulders unfurl as he stroked her hair, a gesture that always thawed her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘The party?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re upset that I didn’t consult you about it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, maybe a bit. I’m good at parties. Parties are my thing. And you’re my boyfriend. Isn’t it my job to throw you a party?’

  ‘You’ve thrown me a hundred parties. And they’ve all been wonderful. But I wanted to do something for myself. I should have talked to you about it first. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m sorry I lost my temper.’

  ‘It’s going to be great, though, I promise.’

  Zadie made a non-committal noise.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Come on, tell me.’

  ‘It’s the guest list. It’s so …’

  ‘Full of people I actually know and like?’

  ‘Those girls are so dull. And the boys are so – rugby.’

  ‘I like rugby.’

  ‘And you invited Rav.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Rav?’

  ‘I can’t stand him. The way he’s always hanging around here, desperate to be near you. It’s pathetic. And he completely fucked Chloe over.’

  ‘What did he do to Chloe?’

  ‘He’s been messing her around for weeks. He slept with her. Took her virginity, actually.’

  ‘Chloe lost her virginity to Rav?’

  ‘Oh, what? Jealous you didn’t get to do the deed yourself?’

  ‘No. I’m just surprised. You wait that long, you’d think she would want to do it with someone special.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks Rav is special.’ Zadie paused. ‘I don’t know why she would. But she really liked him. And I’m pretty sure he’s lost interest now they’ve slept together.’

  ‘Really? I thought he seemed serious about her.’

  Zadie tried to keep her voice calm. ‘Why would you think that? When have you ever seen them together?’

  ‘We talked about her the other day. Seemed like he had it bad. That’s mostly why I invited him along, so Chloe would have someone. I feel bad for her being third wheel with us all the time, thought it might be nice if she got a boyfriend of her own.’

  ‘Max, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to talk her out of seeing Rav for weeks, because he treats her like shit, and you’ve just undone all my work. This is why we’re supposed to plan this stuff together. Please, please, uninvite him. Tell him he can’t come.’

  The blood was thumping in Zadie’s temples. She tried to calm herself, to stop herself from saying something she would regret.

  Max shook his head. ‘I’ve already asked him. It’s fine. Don’t interfere between them. Leave it alone.’

  Zadie got up. ‘I’ve got work to do, I’m going to the library,’ she huffed.

  Max snorted. ‘Do you need me to draw you a map? It’s the big building near the park.’

  Zadie slammed the front door, feeling the force shake the glass. She stood on the step, feeling the cool spring breeze move her hair, trying to make herself breathe slowly.

  24

  Now

  Chloe decided she would give Max twenty-four hours to consider his options. Rav
was due home soon and she couldn’t imagine hiding all this from him. She hoped against hope, though she had tried not to let it show when they met, that he would do as she asked. Admit to it. Tell Zadie’s family. Let them understand that the thing that ended her university career, saw her move home and run out of steam in her attempts to be a real adult, was not her fault. She had no doubt they would have assumed that Zadie had got herself into trouble, that the bruises she would have come home with – if she hadn’t covered them up and hidden them – were somehow her own fault. They deserved to know that their daughter was good, and kind, that she was a victim of what Max did to her, just as she was really, truly trying to get her life back together, to get on track and move forward.

  But if he didn’t confess, she would have to do it. She would have to go through with it. She would have to make good on the threat she had made, to tell one of the worst lies a person could tell. She had watched a parenting programme once – she must have been hung over, or cleaning the house, or on the sofa with a cold. The nanny had told the parents that as soon as you threaten to do something you had to follow through. If you didn’t take away the toy or cancel the party or whatever it was you had said you were intent upon doing, you would teach the child not to respect you. It was like that now. She had told Max that she would ruin his life if he didn’t do as he was told, and now she was going to have to follow through on that threat, no matter how much the prospect of it scared her. She wished she could find that feeling she had had sitting across the table from him, that she could summon the strength the rage had given her, the power that came with needing to hurt him.

  That evening, as she was preparing for her first day back at school, she planned a welcome-home celebration for Rav. He was due back the following evening. She had been a bad wife since he had been away, claiming that she was in the shower or about to eat dinner when he called, avoiding his texts and sending scant replies to his emails. She had claimed that she was feeling inspired, that she was finally working on the play she had been talking about writing for the last ten years and never done anything about. But in fact she was trying to pretend that he wasn’t real, or at least that the plan she had been so pleased with didn’t involve betraying him.