The Art of Keeping Faith

by Anna Bloom

  We are disturbed three minutes later by Mum coming out to check where the gin was kept.

  Told you so.

  27th December

  “I can’t believe you have got to go tomorrow.”

  “I know, me neither,” he says kissing my neck.

  “Can’t you stay one more day?”

  There is a moment of silence.

  “I don’t think so, Lilah. We have a gig on New Year’s and I can’t let the others down.”

  I blow a big raspberry.

  “Anyway, let’s not think about it now. Can we just enjoy ourselves?”

  “What do you propose?”

  He leans up on one elbow. “Fire, wine and naked time?”

  I think about it for a whole two seconds. “Okay, go, go, go.” I leap from the bed grabbing the duvet and dash for the lounge.

  Obviously I stop for a brief moment to catch a glimpse of Ben left naked on the bed.

  I am only human after all.

  Later

  It’s been another amazing day, another perfect day spent with Ben.

  Even yesterday, to my complete surprise, turned out to be good. That’s just Ben though, isn’t it? Making it seem all normal and relaxed with his easy going approach to everything. He even managed to melt my mum’s ice queen act within about twenty minutes. He soon had her gushing about the new vicar and all his amazing plans, and how she wanted to go to Africa to help all the starving people.

  Dad and I sniggered into our wine at this point. Mum is known for her fads—they never last long. Once she tried to turn the acre of garden around our house in Guildford into an animal shelter. This was all cool until she found the long haired smelly animal rescue volunteer who had inspired her efforts in her ensuite shower with an afghan in need of a wash and a detangle.

  She won’t be going to Africa, of that I am pretty sure.

  Ben then had a long and very boring talk about Californian wine with my Dad. Dad hates American wine with a vengeance; he calls all the land they have wasted on their grapes a sacrilege to the art of fine wine making. Ben gave him some notes on some great ‘suggestions’ he had that may change his mind.

  Both Jack and Valerie McCannon were drooling over him by the time they tripped out of the front door. And well, so was I.

  Bev, who was heading back to their house for the night, just stopped at the door and squeezed his cheek. “That’s my boy,” she told him with so much pride she was close to bursting.

  “Don’t be daft, Mum,” he flushed, brushing her hand away but he did not let her get far before he swept her into a big hug. I had to turn away to hide the tears that were burning my eyes.

  Goddamn it. I hate goodbyes.

  “Sometimes you are so like your Dad,” she said glancing him over before offering a watery smile and wandering down the path to the waiting cab.

  Ben did not say anything, he just stiffened by my side. I did not say anything either. Ben’s dad is a subject even I am not brave enough to broach.

  Even later

  Or Ben’s Dad is a subject I am not liable to broach unless I have drunk the best part of two bottles of red wine.

  It’s pitch dark and we are snuggled under the duvet.

  “Ben?”

  “Mm.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Mm. If you have to when I am asleep.”

  “What did your mum mean yesterday when she said you are so like your dad?”

  There is silence in the darkness.

  “It’s just no one ever mentions your dad?” I ask him again, when the silence has stretched further than I can bear.

  “No one talks about my dad, Lilah, because he is a complete wanker.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  Ben rolls over onto his back and links his fingers under his head. “I mean, remember in January when you hated your dad because you thought he was trying to force you into things you did not want.”

  “Um, yeah?”

  “Well that was not hate you were feeling. Hate is something bitter and twisted, and it becomes a part of you that you can never escape.”

  Whoa.

  “So your dad left when you were three, and what you never saw him again?” This is the question I have most wanted to ask.

  “Nah, he turns up every so often, I heard from him just the other week. He always manages to find me and rock up, asking for something. Two weeks ago he needed money because he could not afford to pay his rent on his crummy bedsit.”

  And whoa again.

  There are so many things that I want to say and ask. Like, ‘why have you never told me?’ And, ‘what happened in the first place?’ But I don’t.

  Instead I say, “I’m sorry.”

  Rolling onto his side he slides a hand along my waist pulling me closer. “You always say sorry even when it is not your fault.”

  “That’s because I am always sorry when something hurts you, and I know this does.”

  “Well there is nothing you can do to help. My dad is a waste of space that I happen to share genes with, and that is all there is to it. I choose not to remember half the time. And the other times when I do, I just remind myself that he is there as a lesson for me to learn from and nothing else.”

  OH, MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED!?

  Ben starts to chuckle at my side. “You want to know what happened, don’t you?”

  “No. Not unless you want to tell me.”

  “You are a terrible liar, Delilah McCannon.”

  “Oh, I know. Just tell me!”

  He pulls me closer and leans his chin on my shoulder like he is about to impart some massive secret, which I guess he kind of is.

  “There is not much to tell I’m afraid. Mum and Dad met when they were young. They had the girls and then me. And then one day Dad, who used to be a singer, got offered a job on a cruise ship.”

  “A cruise ship?” I can’t keep the incredulous tone out of my voice. That sounds ridiculous even to me, the Queen of Ridiculous.

  “Yep, a cruise ship. Anyway he did not really talk it through with Mum or anything he just said it was an opportunity that he could not miss and went. Just like that.” Ben’s voice, although barely more than a whisper, is as bitter as fresh squeezed lemon juice.

  “So what? He just left?”

  “Yes, and he never came back. To begin with he sent money home and then one month that stopped as well. Mum was left alone with the three of us and I started to hate him. I was only tiny but I just remember hating him more than anything. I still do.”

  “But you said you spoke to him the other day.”

  “Oh yeah. He did come back eventually, but not until I was about seventeen and Sound Box were starting to get some good reviews. He came back and tried to take all the glory for having a talented son. I told him to fuck off, obviously. But he still pitches up every so often with a guilt trip about how poor he is and how he could have been doing the same as me if he’d not had us kids.”

  “What a wanker.”

  “Yep.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I give him money and then tell him to fuck off again.”

  I roll over and tighten my arms around Ben’s waist like I don’t ever want to let him go, which I don’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again for lack of anything better to say.

  In response his hands loosen my grasp and he slides me up so we are level, our noses touching.

  “Lilah, I just have to hope that I am stronger than him and that when the time comes I make the right decisions.”

  He kisses me again, with a fierce determination that eats into my very soul.

  Just before things get too far and I know I am passed the point of talking I pull away.

  “I know you will, Ben.”

  He looks at me in the darkness, we can barely see each other but I know he is reading me.

  “I hope so, Lilah.”

  I pull his mouth down to mine, conversation over for now.

  29th
December

  “Beeeennnn!!! Wake up you’ve over slept.”

  He should be gone, but he is not. He is still lying curled around me, gripping me in a vice-like hug as he has the whole night since our chat in the darkness.

  “I’m not going.”

  What, like, ever?

  Fuck it.

  “What, like, ever?”

  He kisses under my ear.

  “No, I am just not going today. Screw the band and screw the New Year’s gig. I am staying here with you, for a couple more days at least.”

  I sit up and am about to pounce on him when he continues with, “Last year I sat by myself the whole night wondering what you were doing to bring in the New Year. I don’t want to be thinking the same thing this year. I just want to be with you.”

  Nope, that does it. I am up off the bed and running around the bedroom in a stark naked streak of excitement.

  “Oh, my God, Ben. You have just made my year.”

  “What this year or next year?” he smiles, freckles crinkling.

  “Both. Bloody both.” I shout and then I do pounce on him.

  Later

  “For the record, last year I sat by myself, sober, wondering what you were doing.”

  “Well, then. It will be a pleasant change for you, too.”

  Naked streak number two.

  30th December

  Meredith and Tristan are back.

  Well Tristan is back. He has brought along with him a crispy piece of skin which is peeling all over the floor and furniture.

  Supposedly Meredith got so badly sunburned on Christmas day that she has been unable to leave the hotel room since. She even had to hide under an umbrella on the short run from the front door of the hotel to the minibus taking them to the airport and then again from the bus to the air conditioned sanctuary of the departures terminal.

  Tristan does not look impressed.

  Luckily they have been distracted from their holiday woes by Ben still being here. There was major excitement and screaming, mainly from Meredith who showered us all with dead skin while giving us a hug.

  Yummy.

  Now they are planning a New Year’s ‘to remember.’ This leaves me a bit worried. I have a feeling that unlike the last New Year when I awoke refreshed and ready for the gym the next day this time I will be nursing a hangover and more than likely throwing up.

  I’d better write my resolution list now instead of leaving it for the last moment.

  Later

  Beth and Jayne have confirmed their attendance at our soiree. Ben is going to cook us all a civilised dinner party and then he has promised us all some tunes.

  Earlier, Ben spoke to his manager Alan. There was shouting involved. I don’t think the news of his delayed return went down very well.

  I feel bad that he is changing all this stuff for me, but at the same time I can’t help to be thrilled that he actually wants to do it. He really does love me, doesn’t he?

  I am going to have to work out a payback system.

  Even Later

  “What did you say to Alan?”

  Ben pulls me in toward him. We have escaped from the wafts of Meredith’s dead skin by hiding in our room. I am about to initiate the payback but I feel we should do that talking thing first.

  “I told him I had a sore throat and did not feel well enough to travel and sing.”

  I clamber onto his lap. “Oh you poor thing, do you need some looking after?”

  “Well I have heard that blow jobs are very good at healing sore throats.”

  I think about this. “Nope, I don’t think so; I don’t have a sore throat so I don’t think that’s going to work.” Ha. Like I’m not going to anyway.

  “Damn it.”

  “But we could find out…”

  I can’t help but laugh as I wiggle myself down under the duvet to conduct a medical experiment to find out if blow jobs really do fix sore throats, even imaginary ones.

  Even Later

  “Lilah, your phone.”

  “Huh, what?”

  “Your phone, it’s beeping.”

  I sit and reach for my phone and spot a text notification.

  Richard: hey, how was Christmas? Suitably depressing? Mine was shit. What you doing tomorrow? My plans have fallen through.

  Ah.

  I have no reason to feel guilty but I do.

  Guilty for not contacting Rich. Guilty for having another guy texting me when I am in bed with Ben.

  A whole job lot of guilty.

  “Who is it?” Ben murmurs into my ear. “And why are they waking me up?”

  “Uh, Richard, he wanted to know what I am doing tomorrow. I guess he doesn’t know you are home.”

  “Guess not.”

  “I’m going to reply, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Ben’s tone is guarded and it makes me feel very awkward.

  “Actually,” he puts a hand over mine to stop me texting. “Why don’t you invite him along? That would be the politest thing to do. He is your jogging, karaoke buddy.”

  “Um. Okay,” I say hesitating for a moment. Ben’s tone is confusing so I shoot a quick glance his way. He has his cocky smirk plastered all over his face. What to do? Don’t text and look like I may be keeping secrets or text and let Ben hash out whatever plan he is currently cooking up.

  Okay text.

  “Yep, that sounds like a lot of fun,” says Ben as he settles back down again to sleep.

  I scrunch my face in the darkness.

  Call me a pessimist but that does not sound like fun at all.

  January

  1st January

  Shit.

  My head is killing me and I can’t stop being sick.

  New Year’s Eve 2013 = an unmitigated disaster.

  New Years Eve 2013

  It wasn’t the best New Years I have ever survived. I am just grateful that out of all the rows that took place that night, Ben and I were not the ones to have them.

  Meredith decided to start early. At three yesterday afternoon she decided to announce that she was bored of waiting for New Year’s Eve to start properly and that she was going to have a glass of wine. Although Tristan tried to blame me for this, I took no part in it at all. In fact if I recall correctly, I actually made a cup of tea at this point.

  Ben was playing guitar and I was loving it. It was like the old days, him sitting there looking outrageously sexy whilst playing the Gibson; me lying next to him pretending to read books but really just trying to read and memorise him.

  At this point I was still optimistic that we could still have a grown up, civilised evening. However, as Meredith’s glass soon turned into a bottle my optimism was short lived; especially when at seven Richard texted to say there had been another change of plan and Fiona was now going to be at home and could they both come?

  Great, Meredith is battered. I had about twelve hours left with Ben. And now Richard wanted to bring around his super-duper high achieving girlfriend to meet all us down-and-out student types.

  Or not.

  Fi is a bouncy brunette and I am not talking mousy brown locks like mine. Her espresso dark curls hung in perfect glossy ringlets down her back, bouncing and swishing with every bouncy step she took.

  Bouncy. Bouncy. Bouncy.

  Bouncy boobs as well.

  Fi also has a major crush on my boyfriend. As we all found out when she bounced across the room to give him a bouncy hug with her bouncy boobs somehow squished into his face.

  I think she actually launched herself at him, grabbed him around the neck, pulled him down to her level (five foot four) and managed to end the whole maneuver with his face firmly wedged between her breasts.

  Not a bad trick! I may have to learn that one myself.

  Anyway it was embarrassing and incredibly uncomfortable, but for the whole evening Fiona made a deliberate and determined play for Ben.