Painted Faces

by L.H. Cosway

  “Well, this is my way of outsmarting them. There's enough vodka in these babies to keep me and Harry going for a night or two. It'll save us spending extortionate amounts on awful pints of beer from the stalls at the festival. Plus, these are so juicy and more-ish.”

  “You're a genius,” I exclaim, laughing.

  “I'll let you have one when we get there,” he winks and goes in to Harry, who's calling him from the bedroom.

  It's then that I hear a flush coming from the bathroom and a second later Nicholas emerges. He's wearing hiking boots, jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. He looks amazing. I hate him. He stops in his tracks when he sees me sitting there.

  “Freda,” he breathes, his tongue lingering on the syllables, like he's been dying to say my name since he last saw me, which doesn't make any sense since he was the one who saw fit to drive me away. Time seems to slow down as we just stare at each other, drinking one another in.

  “Hi,” I croak out and look down at my short fingernails. He continues staring at me just as Nora, Anny, Richard, Colm and Colm's friend Eric come into the house, laughing their heads off about something.

  “What's so funny?” I ask, in an effort to ignore the fact that Nicholas is burning me with his gaze.

  “Oh, Anny fell over trying to squeeze her bag into the back of the van. It was hilarious,” says Nora.

  Anny slaps her on the arm. “Hey! I could have really hurt myself.”

  “That's what made it so funny,” Colm puts in and Anny gives him a flirty, half-hearted scowl.

  Harry and Sean come out of the bedroom then. “All right, is everybody ready to hit the road?” Harry asks, to which we all make noises in the affirmative.

  As we're making our way out to the van, I feel someone grab gently onto my elbow. I turn slightly to find myself looking up into Nicholas' gorgeous blue eyes and my icy heart melts just a little. I try to steel myself against the effect he has on me.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute Fred?” he asks quietly, eyes searching mine; taking in my every feature like a man dying of thirst. Again, he has no right to look at me like that after what he did.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I whisper.

  “Please,” he begs, some kind of desperation in his voice.

  “Come on you two,” Harry calls. “We need to get a move on if we want to snag a good camping spot.”

  I pull my arm away from Nicholas and hurry on out to the van, only to find that since he delayed me the only two seats left are side by side at the very back. I slide in next to Eric, who's occupying one of the window seats and Nicholas, the last to climb in, takes the final seat beside me. I'm piggy in the middle, sitting far too close to the man my heart is aching for.

  Sean, who's sitting in the front beside Harry, turns on the radio, which makes things a bit less awkward. Unfortunately, Nicholas has no such plans for making the hour long journey ahead of us comfortable in any way. He bends his head down, and I can feel his breath whisper across my neck.

  “You look great, by the way,” he says, moving his knee so that our legs touch.

  I ignore his comment, determined not to talk to him. I pull my leg away and turn my head to stare out the window.

  “I've really missed you Fred,” he says, so quietly that I'm the only one who can hear.

  I swallow back the tears that want to come out and glance back at him. “You didn't want me, so why would you miss me?” I ask, unable to help myself. I can never stick to a vow of silence, even when I'm really angry with someone.

  His eyes go sad. “I always want you.”

  “I can't talk about this now,” I snip at him, folding my arms over my chest.

  He doesn't argue, he simply replies, “Okay, maybe later then.”

  I pull my ipod out of my handbag and shove the earphones in my ears. I put Dead Kennedys on at full volume and make a concerted effort not to look in Nicholas' direction. He moves his knee again, touching his leg off mine. I don't bother to pull away, because he'll just keep moving closer if I do. And yes, some small part of me is soothed by the contact.

  I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I don't open them again until I've listened to at least five songs. When I do I find that Nicholas' gaze is focused on my chest. A blush colours my cheeks and I breathe heavily at the look in his eyes.

  I want to slap him right now, because he knows what his looks are doing to me. He gives me a very subtle grin. My mouth opens involuntarily, but a second later I clamp it shut. Nicholas trails a finger over my hand and then grips it in his own. I squeeze my eyes closed, pushing away the emotion. He twines his fingers with mine and I just lose it. I rip my hand out of his hold and pull my earphones out.

  “Stop it,” I grit my teeth. “Stop making this difficult.”

  “You won't talk to me. What do you want me to do?”

  The others are chatting, not noticing our row, but I think Eric knows that there's some sort of tension between us and I feel bad for making things uncomfortable for him. However, since he's a friend of Colm's he probably deserves it.

  “I just want you to leave me alone. You've done enough damage.”

  “I know that,” he whispers. “Believe me, I've been hating myself ever since the night you left. But I've been thinking a lot too, and I have some things that I need to say to you. But I can't do that if you won't hear me out.”

  The sadness in his expression is what softens me. As I might have mentioned before, I'm a bit of a pushover when it comes to feuds.

  I let out a long sigh. “Fine. We can talk later, somewhere private after we get to the festival. Good enough?”

  His face goes all soft and he nods. “Yes, that's good enough,” he says, and then turns his face away from me.

  We sit out the rest of the journey in silence, the radio and everybody else's voices filling the van.

  When we get to the camp site we all get to work setting up our tents. Well, everybody else gets to work, while Nora and I sit on Harry's fold out chairs and eat one of Sean's vodka enhanced oranges. I'd feel bad about leaving Anny to put up our tent all by herself, but I don't because she's practically getting Colm and Eric to do all the work for her anyway.

  Nicholas has a tent of his own, and I can't help myself but to watch him as he works to set it up. The movement of his shoulders beneath his long sleeved t-shirt is the part that I (grudgingly) like the most.

  “What was going on between you and Nicholas in the van?” Nora asks in a hushed voice.

  “Oh yeah, did I not thank you for that yet?” I reply sweetly. “You and Harry know that things are strained between us, yet you leave us with no other option but to sit bumper to fucking bumper in the back seat.”

  Nora gives me a sheepish look. “Oh. Sorry about that. I didn't think.”

  “Of course you didn't, you were too busy slobbering all over Richard, who by the way, is a poser as it turns out.” I tell her sourly. Since I'm in a bad mood, Richard is just going to have to bear the brunt of my bitchiness.

  “He's not a poser. You'd realise that he's actually really cool if you bothered to get to know him.” Nora sucks on her half of the orange.

  I gesture with my hand over to where Richard is shoving a length of pipe inside the lining of their tent. “Is he or is he not wearing a black wife-beater and camouflage army pants over there?”

  “It's sunny. Men wear wife-beaters when it's sunny out,” Nora defends his choice of outfit.

  “Poser men who want to show off their muscles do. And the only people who should be wearing army pants are people who are in the actual army.”

  “Jesus, you are not in a good mood today Fred, are you? Can't you just tell me what happened with Nicholas and quit criticising my boyfriend?”

  I huff and give in. “He wants to talk. I told him I'd hear him out later, somewhere away from prying ears,” I say, reaching over and tugging on Nora's ear lobe.

  She slaps my hand away and laughs. “Hey, stop that. Your hands are all sticky from t
he orange.”

  I pretend I'm going to shove my hand in her face just to tease her and she pulls her chair another few inches away from mine. Anny comes over and sits down on the grass by our feet, tying her straight blond hair up in a pony tail.

  “I'm thinking I might shag that Eric guy. He's hot,” she states.

  Typical Anny, mind always set at the lowest common denominator. If she knew how condescendingly I think of her in my head, I don't think she'd want to be my friend anymore.

  “Oh yeah, hot to trot, go for it,” Nora encourages her.

  “Just make sure you do it in his tent,” I put in. “I don't want any unsavoury liquids getting onto my sleeping bag.”

  Anny lets out a loud hoot of a laugh and Nora giggles. It garners Nicholas' attention, who glances over in our direction.

  “What are you three giggling about?” he asks with a smirk.

  “Unsavoury liquids,” Anny answers. “Fred doesn't want me getting any on her sleeping bag when I shag Eric.” She nods her head in Eric's direction, who thankfully is too far away to hear her.

  I pinch Anny on the arm. Nicholas laughs and shakes his head.

  “So he's a foregone conclusion is he?”

  Anny gets a predatory look on her face. “Of course, who could resist all this?” she says, running her hand down her hip.

  “Who indeed,” Nicholas agrees, just before his eyes land on me.

  “You can share my sleeping bag if anything happens to yours,” he says, his hot gaze locked on mine.

  “I'll survive, thanks,” I reply cuttingly.

  “Have it your way,” he mutters, turning to finish putting up his tent.

  Once everyone's done setting up camp, I stick my ruck sack and sleeping bag inside mine and Anny's tent and then set off to do some exploring. The great thing about this festival is that it's small enough, so it's not as stressful as the big ones. I mosey around the stalls selling various bits and bobs; jewellery, band t-shirts and the like. There's even one where you can get a henna tattoo done.

  I get a sandwich and a beer and sit down on a patch of grass to eat. I wasn't in the mood to stick around the others, because I'm sombre and they're all full of excitement for getting drunk and seeing the bands. When a pair of boots stop in front of me, I glance up and find Nicholas standing there holding a hot dog and a Coke.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asks, smiling, but it's not his usual carefree smile, it's an insecure one.

  “Do I have a choice?” I grunt and sip my beer.

  “You always have a choice Fred,” he answers in a low voice.

  I look back at him and gesture at the spot of grass before me. “Fine, sit. It's a free country.”

  He sits down, all grace and lithe muscles, placing his Coke on the grass.

  I eye the beverage. “No alcohol for you huh?”

  “I'm trying to avoid it to be honest. It's never been something I could enjoy in moderation anyway.”

  I remember what Phil told me, about Nicholas wasting away in some dive in Berlin, drinking himself into a stupor every day.

  “That's good then, that you're avoiding it.” I whisper quietly.

  “It is,” he agrees. “Is this a good time for us to talk?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

  I just haven't got it in me to be mean to him right now. I'm too emotionally exhausted. Mum always told me that even when someone puts you down, you should always try to be the better person and kill them with kindness. So that's what I'm trying for now, to kill Nicholas with kindness, let him feel guilty for how he rejected me.

  “When you said what you said to me Freda,” he begins, “you have to understand, despite the way I reacted, it was the happiest moment of my life.”

  He's referring to when I told him I loved him in the hotel room in Edinburgh. “Seemed more like it was the saddest,” I mutter. “You didn't look happy at all.”

  He puts down his hot dog and takes my hand into his. “I was sad because I was sad for you Fred. I know I joke about wanting to corrupt you, but that's all that it is, a joke. You are so pure and clean and I felt like I was soiling you by being the person you fell in love with. Women have told me they loved me before, but it wasn't real, it was just momentary lust mistaken for love. When you said it to me I could tell that you truly felt it and it terrified me. That's why I sang that song to you when you came to the gig to see me; I needed to drive you away somehow. I've never had a time in my life when I've been consistently balanced. I've gone from being on top of the world for months, performing in amazing night clubs the world over, to living in my own filth and losing myself in a bottle of whiskey. I was scared that if you fell any deeper in love with me that I'd end up reverting back to one of my low points and dragging you down with me.”

  I bat away my tears. His words lacerate my insides, because they are so heart-wrenchingly honest. I don't want him to be honest with me, I want him to be a bastard so that hating him is easier. I'm torn between forgiving him and shouting at him that being afraid isn't a good enough excuse for what he did. I mean, I was terrified too. Sometimes feeling fear is an indicator that you're really living life.

  “Phil visited me. He told me about what you were like before he brought you to Dublin.” I say, my voice comes out jittery, portraying how difficult it is for me to hold in my emotions. Having Nicholas sitting right beside me is actually painful, because I haven't seen his face in weeks. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful he is.

  His eyes widen and he drops my hand momentarily. “He told you that? When?”

  “About two days ago. He came to my apartment trying to play cupid and urged me to go talk to you because you'd lost your spark, as he put it,” I reply.

  He shakes his head, silently cursing Phil for interfering. “I'm sorry he bothered you like that. I promise I didn't send him with a sob story to try and win you over. I didn't want you to ever know about any of that.”

  “So it's true then, what Phil said?” I prompt.

  He scratches his head. “Yeah. Phil's rescued me from shit situations my whole life, and I've returned the favour for him a few times too.”

  “I understand why you get down,” I say to him, meeting his eyes even though it hurts. “But don't you think that maybe if you allowed yourself to be with someone then you wouldn't be so sad anymore? Human beings aren't designed to be alone. And I know that you're hardly alone when you're performing for clubs full of people every night, but sometimes you can be in a room packed with others and still feel absolutely isolated.” I stop to take a breath.

  He takes my hand back into his. “I know that now Freda. That's what I've come to understand. These past three weeks without you have been the worst of my life. Even worse than when I'd been a comatose drunk. I'm not going to ask if you'll take me back, because we were hardly together long enough to properly define what we were. But if you could just find it in yourself to give me another chance I promise I won't let you down again. If you think you can't forgive me enough to be with me the way we were in Edinburgh, then please consider just being my friend again. My life is shit without you in it.”

  I pull my hand away. “You seriously fucking hurt me Nicholas,” I whisper, my throat getting full with tears.

  He reaches forward and caresses my cheek. “God I know I did, and I hate myself for it.” He searches my face, trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.

  “Listen,” Nicholas finally speaks. “You don't have to give me an answer right now. I'll go away and you can think on it. Come to me when you know what you want.”

  His voice is gentle. I love how his mouth moves when he talks. I look at him and nod; time to think seems like a good option. He nods back, gives my cheek one last caress, picks up his food and walks away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zen Gardens and Buddhist Monks

  My phone starts ringing. It's Nora. She's probably wondering where I've gotten to. I'm not really in the mood for company though, because m
y brain is filled with Nicholas telling me his life is shit without me in it. Nobody can have something like that said to them and not feel at least a tiny bit special afterwards. Did he tell me he didn't care about me through that song back in Edinburgh to try and disguise the fact that he really does care?

  I let my phone ring out and then get up to have a wander about. I'm lost in thought. I find myself standing watching some drama group put on an art installation, while a bunch of people stand by and watch. Some guy right behind me sidles up and tries flirting. I can't even rally up the energy to be polite. I just shake my head at him and walk away.

  After that I bump into Harry and Sean, who pull me along to some place called the Zen Gardens, which are, in my opinion, an effort to replicate the whole Woodstock hippy thing. At first I'm wary, but after a while I find myself taking part in a yoga session and having a great time relaxing. I end up sitting drinking chai tea and talking about life with a guy who may or may not be a Buddhist monk. I'm not sure whether or not it would be rude to ask.

  I spill my guts to him, telling him all about Nicholas and my broken little heart. At the end of my rant he simply gives me a serene smile, says something in Chinese, and then walks off to refill his teacup. A fat lot of good that did me. Then again, it did feel relieving to get it all out.

  It's around ten-thirty by the time we get back to the camp site. It's relatively quiet since most people haven't started making their way back for the night yet. Harry and Sean have started to get all lovey-dovey, so I leave them to it and head over to the tent I'm sharing with Anny. It's only when I get close to it that I realise I'm hearing sex noises. Just great. I warned her to go to another tent with Eric, but did she listen me? No she bloody well didn't.

  I sit down on the grass in the dark and drop my head into my hands. I let out a little manic laugh and rub at my temples. All the calm I took away from the Zen Gardens is quickly dissipating.

  I hear somebody zip open their tent just before Nicholas' voice asks, “Fred, are you okay?”

  I turn around to find him sticking his head out of his tent; his hair is messy and it looks like he'd been sleeping.