Love You Better

by Martin, Natalie K

  ‘Go.’ Effie smiled at her and held up her crossed fingers. ‘Good luck.’

  No sooner had Lou disappeared from the kitchen than Mickey came in, closely followed by Smith.

  ‘He doesn’t need an escort, surely?’ Effie said to Smith, but he shook his head, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘Claire’s lost. I’ve got to go and meet her.’

  Effie’s heart stopped as he walked past. ‘Claire? But I thought you said—’

  He’d walked too far to hear or he’d ignored her, but either way, he didn’t reply, and Effie was left standing in the middle of the kitchen with her stomach dropping like an apple from a tree. He’d said they were over, so why was she coming?

  From then on, Effie’s mood darkened, and by the time Smith and Claire returned, the rain had intensified. She watched as Claire waved hello to everyone and handed Smith a present – a fancy bottle of whisky. Effie scowled and poured another vodka and Coke. Big deal. At least Effie had put some thought into Smith’s gift. She sank her drink and poured another, her mood matched perfectly by the grey, dank weather outside.

  An hour later, she picked at the barbecued leftovers, trying to abate the effects of the vodka. She didn’t even like vodka, but she had to do something to block out the fact that Claire was there. It wasn’t that she wanted Smith for herself. It was just that Claire made her uncomfortable. She looked up as Lou came back into the kitchen and joined her by the sink. When Mickey followed her in and threw her a small smile, Effie turned to look at Lou.

  ‘How did it go?’ Effie asked. She went to lean against the sink but misjudged the distance, and her elbow slipped from its ceramic surface.

  ‘Whoa there.’ Lou steadied her. ‘How much have you had to drink?’

  Effie shrugged and nibbled on a piece of chicken breast. ‘It’s a party, isn’t it? Isn’t this what you’re meant to do?’

  ‘Get shit-faced?’ Lou raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, but you don’t look like you’re in the right mood to be getting drunk. How are you getting home?’

  ‘I’ll text Olly. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  Lou followed her gaze to see Claire across the room, chatting to Mickey. ‘When did Claire get here?’

  Effie shrugged, chewing her chicken. ‘Ages ago. She’s just come in and stood there looking all smug. What’s her game? Why hasn’t she mentioned anything about what she heard?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Lou took the glass from Effie’s hand before she had a chance to refill it. ‘Maybe it’s because she’s a nice person. Not everyone is out to try and screw you over. And why do you care anyway? You’re back with Horrible Oliver.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re standing here with a face like thunder, all because Smith’s brought another girl to his birthday party.’

  ‘Give it a rest, Lou. I’m not in the mood.’

  Lou sighed. ‘Why can’t you just admit you made a mistake and move on? There’s no shame in it, and it’s got to be better than going back to someone who—’

  Effie cut her off by grabbing her glass and the bottle of vodka and walking away. She didn’t look back as she stalked out into the garden and leaned against the wall. She poured herself another drink, refusing to cry. This was exactly what she’d expected to happen, but she’d fooled herself into thinking that she’d somehow escaped having to hear what they really thought. She pulled a cigarette from the box in her pocket and lit the tip before angrily expelling the smoke through her mouth and taking her phone from her bag. She texted Oliver with Smith’s parents’ address, asking him to pick her up sooner rather than later. At least Oliver had really changed. He’d been able to own up to his mistake and to try to be a better person, unlike Smith who only ever played games. She’d had enough, and all she wanted to do was go home, sleep and fast-forward to tomorrow.

  Laughter erupted from the kitchen, and she turned her head to look through the steamed-up windows. Through the haze, she saw Smith leaning his head against his arm on the fridge, bent over with laughter. She took another deep drag on her cigarette and flicked it away with pure disgust. She had to stop smoking. She didn’t even like it anymore, and Oliver was right – it was a disgusting habit. She’d smoked way too much over the weeks when he’d moved out, and now, standing outside in the rain while her friends joked about inside, she could see how much she was using it as a crutch. Any time she felt angry, confused or bored, she’d reached for her cigarettes. Enough was enough.

  ‘Jeez, anyone would think we’re in the Amazon with this,’ Claire said, closing the back door behind her.

  Effie kept her eyes fixed onto the puddle in the middle of the garden, caused by the rain rolling from the gazebo and down onto the ground.

  ‘I was wondering where you’d got to,’ Claire continued, undeterred by Effie’s silence.

  Why couldn’t she take the hint? Effie sipped her drink, trying her best to project her need to be alone in Claire’s direction, but when Claire sidled up next to her, it was clear that she’d failed.

  It was like Claire had no sense whatsoever about body language or how to read it. If Effie had approached someone who had her arms folded in defence and who ignored every word she said, she wouldn’t hang around trying to make conversation.

  ‘I’ve been dying to speak to you properly.’

  Effie looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Why?’

  Claire shrugged. ‘Because you seem cool, and you’re the only one I haven’t chatted to properly yet.’

  There’s a reason for that, silly cow.

  ‘Aren’t you meant to be thirty thousand feet somewhere? You’re an air hostess – always mile high.’

  She couldn’t help but make a dig and refer to Claire’s Tinder profile, but instead of showing any signs of embarrassment, Claire tipped her head back and laughed, a laugh that seemed to take over the entire garden.

  ‘Smith told me he’d shown you my profile. But in answer to your question, no. It was my baby niece’s christening this week, so I made sure I’d be around. They’ve got another on the way, so it’s always nice to get home and spend some family time. Smith told me about the barbecue, and I thought I’d come along.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Effie mumbled, but she couldn’t have cared less. She just wanted her to go away.

  ‘Look, Effie,’ – Claire turned to face her and put her hand on Effie’s arm – ‘I just wanted to say that you don’t have anything to worry about from me.’

  Effie looked down at Claire’s hand on her arm. On what level did she think that was okay? Talk about overstepping boundaries.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘What you said that night at the launch party. About Smith.’

  Effie shrugged and moved her arm away from Claire’s hand. ‘I was drunk.’

  ‘I get it.’ Claire nodded. ‘It sounded like things were complicated for you, to say the least. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything. I haven’t said anything about it, and I won’t.’

  Effie took a gulp of her drink. Thank god for that. Still, she could do without Claire hanging around. Whether she said anything or not was irrelevant – she simply reminded Effie of what had happened that night, how Smith had been inches away from kissing her and how she’d very nearly let him. It reminded her of the way her heart had been crushed when she’d seen him with Claire afterwards.

  ‘I’ve got to say, though,’ Claire said, looking through the kitchen window, ‘I can see why you like him. He’s a super cool guy.’

  Effie rolled her eyes as Claire continued to look through the window. So not only was she trying to make Effie feel better about the admission she’d made, she was apparently cool enough to talk about how she understood why another woman was hung up on her boyfriend. God, could she get any more sickly sweet? And the worst thing was that Smith had been right when they’d argu
ed about Claire going to Effie’s birthday drinks. Claire seemed like a nice person. Under other circumstances, Effie would have welcomed her in as a friend, but these weren’t other circumstances, and to make it worse, Smith had lied to her. He’d said they’d split up, but clearly, the opposite was true. He’d reeled her in and then spat her out, yet again.

  ‘Yeah. He is,’ Effie replied.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s done as much crazy stuff as him. Though sometimes he does seem to take things a step too far.’ Claire winked.

  How much had he told her? Surely he hadn’t told her the real reason he’d left to go travelling? Smith wasn’t the type to tell his life story to just anyone, and if he had told her, it clearly meant he liked her far more than he’d let on. It was a depressing thought.

  ‘That’s Smith. He likes to live dangerously,’ Effie said.

  Claire laughed. ‘I’ll say. The thing in Thailand sounded like something from The Hangover.’

  What thing in Thailand? From what he’d told her, Thailand had been idyllic. How did Claire know more about it than she did?

  ‘I know,’ Effie replied, hoping that Claire would elaborate and at the same time, wanting her to keep quiet because she knew by the way her heart was racing that it wouldn’t be anything good. She looked at him through the window. ‘Did he tell you everything?’

  ‘About the Russian gangsters in Bangkok?’ Claire nodded. ‘I have to admit, I did wonder who I was mixing with when he told me. I mean, seriously, who gets run out of Thailand by a group of thugs in real life?’

  Russian gangsters? And not just any Russian gangsters, but gangsters who could run him out of the country. The alcohol Effie had drunk seemed to leave her body in one fell swoop as she sobered up. She looked at him drinking a beer. He’d lied. Again. How many times was she going to be fooled by him? There was only one reason he’d ended up mixed up in something like that. Drugs.

  Claire was talking, but Effie couldn’t hear a word she was saying, with her pulse beating loudly in her ears. He’d said he came back for her and that he’d changed, but it was all lies. Every single thing he’d said and done since he got back – it was all lies. She pushed past Claire and swung the back door open. As the handle hit the wall, the laughter in the kitchen stopped.

  ‘You lying pig.’

  Smith’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as a hush fell in the kitchen. ‘Who, me?’

  ‘Yes, you. You’re a fucking liar.’

  Smith frowned as Lou and Mickey looked at each other, then at Smith and finally at Effie.

  ‘Do you ever tell the truth? Do you even know how to?’

  ‘Do you want to tell me what it is I’ve supposedly lied about?’

  Effie had to grip the glass in her hand to stop herself from throwing it at him. ‘Everything.’

  She slammed the glass on the side and picked up her bag hanging on the chair.

  ‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’ Lou tried to take her hand, but Effie shrugged her off.

  ‘No, I am not okay. I have to leave. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.’ She looked at Smith, seeing past his good looks and his stupid grey eyes to the person he’d shown himself to be.

  Her chest finally caved under the weight of her tears as she barged past him into the hallway. He put his beer on the side and followed her out, grabbing her hand as she pulled open the front door. Outside, the headlights of Oliver’s BMW shone as he parked up outside the house, lighting her way home, and she yanked her hand from Smith’s.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what the hell it is I’m meant to have done wrong?’

  ‘You lied.’ Effie spat the words from her mouth, hating the fact that she was having to say them, that any of what Claire had said could possibly be true. ‘You showed up at my wedding and ruined the happiest day of my life, telling me you came back for me.’

  Confusion spread across Smith’s face. ‘Yes, and? What is it I’m supposed to have lied about?’

  Even now, as she stood in front of him, telling him she knew he was lying, he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.

  ‘You know what really hurts? You told Claire the real reason why you left Thailand, and yet you couldn’t tell me. Because if you did, you’d have had to admit that you haven’t changed at all.’

  Smith’s shoulders sagged as realisation dawned and he shook his head. ‘Effie, I—’

  ‘Effie, nothing. You’ve lied from the minute you got back. Even what you said about you and Claire splitting up – it was all bullshit. I don’t want to hear your lies anymore.’

  ‘Eff, if you’d just hear me out—’ Smith moved towards her, but she stepped back outside onto the garden path and shook her head, blinking against the tears.

  ‘I mean it. I am done.’

  27.

  She turned and ran down the path, onto the pavement, and swung open the car door before throwing herself inside.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Oliver asked, leaning across Effie to look at the house. Smith had his back to them, shaking his head and talking to someone in the house.

  ‘Just drive.’ Effie slammed the car door, but Oliver didn’t move.

  ‘What happened? It looked like you were arguing.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I just want to go home.’ She looked at him with tears streaking down her face, her eyes pleading with him to get her away from Smith as fast as the BMW could take them.

  He looked back at the house and nodded, putting the car into gear. ‘Okay.’

  The street lights bounced off the slick pavement, and Effie’s tears silently rolled down her face. With the rain still falling, it was as if everything in the world had turned sour, and even the sky was feeling her pain. Smith had lied, and Effie’s heart was breaking all over again. She couldn’t contain the sobs as Oliver ferried her away from Smith, and after flashing concerned looks her way and repeatedly asking if she was okay, he pulled over.

  He reached over and put his hand on her knee. ‘Effie? Baby, what happened?’

  She couldn’t speak, even if she wanted to. Finding out the truth about Smith had killed her inside. It was all a mess. If Smith hadn’t come back, spouting his lies, she’d have carried on with her life and been all the better for being ignorant instead of thinking that he’d changed.

  ‘Look at me.’ Oliver tilted her head to face his and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. ‘What happened? It was Smith you were arguing with, wasn’t it? I saw from the car. What were you arguing about?’

  She shook her head and tried to look away, but Oliver held her face where it was. ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘Why were you arguing?’

  Effie shoved his hand away. ‘Just leave it. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course it does. You ask me to come and get you, and you run out of his house drunk and hysterical. What am I supposed to think?’

  ‘I don’t care what you think. Think whatever the hell you want. You always do – you’re all the same.’

  ‘Who’s all the same?’ Oliver’s eyebrows pulled together. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

  Effie tilted her head back against the headrest and looked up, trying to stop the tears in their tracks. She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She couldn’t. Her head was a jumbled mess.

  ‘Can we please just go home?’

  ‘Not until you tell me what’s going on,’ Oliver said and killed the engine.

  ‘No questions asked, remember? I can see my friends, and there’ll be no questions asked.’

  ‘You can’t throw that at me. Look at the state of you,’ Oliver said, and Effie didn’t need to look at him to hear his voice straining. ‘Now tell me what happened.’

  She shook her head and half laughed. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t ask any questions, but it was a lie. You’ve always lied, b
oth of you. You act like you love me, and then you just lie and make me feel like an idiot. You’re all the bloody same.’

  The smell of the leather seats was making her stomach turn, and the windows were steaming up. With every breath she dragged in between her sobs, the car seemed to get smaller, and the sobriety that had hit her when Claire had told her the real reason Smith had come back disappeared as her head swam under the effects of the vodka.

  ‘You ruined everything,’ she sobbed, holding her head in her hands.

  If Oliver hadn’t beaten her up, she’d never have kicked him out, and Smith wouldn’t have been able to worm his way in, acting like he gave a damn.

  ‘Effie, baby, I’ve apologised over and over. I’m trying, but right now, you’re not making it easy.’

  ‘I don’t even know who you are. I don’t know your essence.’

  ‘My essence?’ Oliver shook his head. ‘What are you talking about?’

  She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, and he shook his head again.

  ‘You need to sleep this off,’ he said. ‘You’re talking gibberish.’

  Oliver started the car again and sped down the quiet street. She was drunk and upset, but she wasn’t talking gibberish. She’d spent days thinking about what Izzy had said, and now it was time that she finally admitted it to herself: she didn’t know what Oliver’s essence was. She didn’t know why she loved him or why she’d married him.

  I don’t even think I love him.

  If Izzy’s comment had been like giving her a jumbled-up Rubik’s cube, then it was suddenly as if she was a square away from solving it. If she really loved Oliver, really truly loved him, would she be as cut up about Smith’s lies as she was? The truth was, Smith had just hurt her in a way Oliver never could. Even when he’d beaten her up, it was nothing compared to the wrenching pain in her stomach now that she knew the truth about Smith.

  She didn’t love him.

  ‘It’s over.’

  The words tumbled quietly from her mouth before she’d even had a chance to think about whether she wanted to say it out loud.