The Year of No Rules

by Rose McClelland

  However, she hardly had time to digest this information because Kirk, who was now hyper (as well as drunk), was talking at a million miles per hour.

  “Are we really sure about this?” he was saying. “Do we really want to do this?”

  Looking back, she supposed that this was the point where she could have said, “Yeah, actually, let’s not. Let’s call you a cab again and you clear off back to Dublin.” But, of course, it was far too late for that. The wheels were already in motion. Just like an alcoholic who has taken the first sip and simply cannot stop drinking; so too was she powerless over Kirk. The arrangement was made, they were standing here outside her apartment and pretty soon they would go inside and have sex and that would be that.

  Sasha laughed. “It’s a bit late for that – we’re here now. Come on!” She pulled him playfully in the direction of her home.

  Going inside, his dramatic side continued to flourish. He took a tour around every room, holding his hand up to his mouth, reminiscing about old times in every room he went into.

  “The blue room!” he exclaimed, when he entered her bedroom and realised that it looked exactly the same as it did a year ago. Sasha smiled, watching him with interest; entertained and surprised all at the same time.

  “I want to give you something,” Kirk announced then, out of the blue. Sasha assumed he was talking about something sexual; a kiss, a kiss down below, something dirty. But no, he was talking about drugs. “They are tablets, strong painkillers. The doctors gave them to me. They’ll make you feel all floaty and woozy.”

  Of course there should have been alarm bells. Loud, clanging alarm bells. Alarm bells that would have cried, ‘Drugs? He’s wanting to give you drugs? Sasha! Wise up! Tablets to relax you? For God’s sake! It could be a date rape drug! Don’t take it!’

  But all sense had gone out of the window long ago, back when she agreed to meet up with him in the first place.

  Sasha simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “Cool!” She was partial to a little painkiller at times, especially at that time of the month when her tummy was a bit crampy. So what harm was there in a wee floaty tablet to take the edge off things?

  Sasha was amazed at how quickly they worked. Only half an hour later, she could feel them kicking in. She felt as though she was stepping gently on bouncy clouds; as though cotton wool was hugging her warmly.

  “I love this!” she exclaimed. Kirk grinned in recognition. “We need music,” he declared. “The tablets feel even better when there’s music”

  “Music!” she repeated, opening her laptop so she could use Spotify.

  “What’s that song that always used to come up first on your Spotify?” Kirk asked, taking another walk down memory lane. “Ellie Goulding, that’s the one.”

  So Sasha played that song and Kirk danced with her; transporting themselves back to that happy place, when they had just fallen in love and everything was new, and magical, and sparkly, and the world felt like an amazing place.

  Soon he was kissing her, pulling her top up, devouring her, licking every inch of her, pulling her legs apart and lapping inside her.

  And in that moment, Sasha really didn’t care. Didn’t care if it was the wrong thing. Didn’t care that he had plied her with drugs. Didn’t care that he might disappear the next day, and she might never hear from him again. All there was, right now, was Kirk’s face, in between her legs, licking every inch of her, swallowing her whole; devouring her.

  That wasn’t the only time they did it that night. They had sex many times, stopping for intervals in between. During the intervals, they would sit out on the porch and smoke fags. Kirk would drink beer, Sasha would sip wine. They would chat and reminisce. The drug made everything easier. Gone was the resentment; the hard feelings. In its place was understanding, calmness; an ability to talk about their situation calmly.

  “I’m still in love with you, you know.” Kirk told her. “I mean, I love Denise, but I’m not in love with her. She’s kind, caring, gentle; she’s a nice person. But I don’t feel about her the way I felt about you.”

  Sasha smiled, “I still love you too,” she said quietly.

  This was the point where she should have said, ‘So what are we doing then? Why are we wasting time? Why are you down there with her and I’m up here alone? If we still love each other?’

  But they were too woozy for that. Too woozy and floaty and carefree; as though nothing really mattered. As though the only thing that was important was right here, right now, spending time with each other.

  They ordered takeaway. They sat side by side at the table. Kirk generously loaded up her plate with prawn crackers and chicken balls. They talked animatedly.

  They played games; games that they used to play when they first got together. Where she would pretend to be a sick patient and he would pretend to be the doctor. She would visit him at his surgery and explain her symptoms. He’d put on that dramatic side that he played so well. He’d say he’d have to investigate her tummy, use his finger to probe around her lower belly, then his fingers would investigate further down and further down still, until she was opening her legs for him and they’d be having sex all over again. All the games that they used to play in those early days of their relationship, when everything was new and fresh and exciting; unspoiled by arguments and talk-a-thons and one month breaks.

  “I’m falling in love with you all over again,” he said. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she replied.

  A year later, after months of absence. “I love you too.”

  She knew that this was it. That they had confessed their love to each other. That they would surely end up getting back together again. That he would go back down to Dublin and break things off with Denise once and for all. That he would return to Sasha in Belfast, making plans for the future. Everything was going to be okay.

  When he left the next morning, he hugged her tight.

  “This is the bit I hate,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her. “I hate saying goodbye.”

  He used to say that to her every Sunday, when he had to head back to Dublin. And now here he was, saying it all this time later.

  She smiled bravely. She knew it wouldn’t be the end. She knew that this was just the beginning; that they would certainly be back together again. It was as if a jigsaw puzzle piece had been clicked into place. All those months of silence, all those months of no contact; yet all along he had been thinking about her. All along he still loved her. She was so relieved to know that she hadn’t been going mad. She knew all along. She knew he’d be back.

  “I’ll contact you,” he said. And then he was walking off, turning the corner. She stood and watched him and he looked back to wave goodbye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sasha stood at the doorway and waved him off. As she watched his figure walk further and further away, she noticed that she wasn’t as sad as she should be feeling.

  This was the end, wasn’t it?

  This was the last moment that she’d see him. The final goodbye. The moment she’d look back on. Except that she didn’t feel sad. It didn’t feel like the end. Something told her he’d be back. Like a boomerang that keeps coming back, she knew this wasn’t the end.

  Perhaps that was why she glided softly into her day at work. She glowed; with Kirk’s arrival, his confession, the sex, feeling loved, feeling wanted. And, most importantly, feeling like the last piece of the jigsaw had finally clicked into place. All that time she had been wondering; his sudden disappearance, his sporadic emails, the songs that had hinted at warm memories. It was like a ghost that had been hanging in limbo; unable to move on to the next world, so haunting the present.

  But now. Now was different. Everything had clicked into place. He had been missing her this whole time. He did still love her. All those songs and emails did mean something; that he was sitting around, thinking about her, missing her.

  With her new-found knowledge, she had a spring in her step. She wasn’t mad or
deluded. She was loved. And somehow, somewhere deep down, she knew he’d be back. Even if he wasn’t physically with her; his heart was with her. And he’d be back.

  However, she didn’t realise she’d hear from him so soon.

  Only a couple of hours later, at lunchtime that very same day, she noticed her phone had several missed calls. Swiping her screen to check the details, she saw they were from Kirk. Pleasantly surprised, yet intrigued as to why he was phoning so quickly, she wondered if he’d maybe left something behind. A jumper, his favourite gloves, something he’d need her to post to him?

  As the boss was in the office with her, she made a mental note to phone Kirk back the first minute she got a chance.

  However, with her phone on silent, she noticed that the screen continued to light up impatiently.

  “Incoming call: Kirk”

  She would have to drop him a text to explain why she couldn’t talk.

  But before she even had a chance to text him, an email pinged through from him.

  From: Kirk5@hotmail.com

  To: Sasha_babe@hotmail.com

  Hey Sasha, been trying to call you. Can you call me back when you get a chance?

  Kirk X

  Goodness me, she thought. A feast or a famine. No contact for nigh on a year and then a sudden barrage of phoning, texting, and emailing. Suddenly, she began to worry that something really bad had happened. Had someone died? Excusing herself from her boss, she told a white lie.

  “Sorry, I just have to take this call. Bear with me – I won’t be long.”

  Dialling Kirk’s number, she waited only a matter of seconds before he picked up the call.

  “Sasha,” he announced, sounding relieved. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

  “It’s fine,” she said softly. “Is everything okay? I thought maybe something…”

  “Oh no, it’s fine,” Kirk interrupted. “I just wanted to talk to you…”

  Sasha’s inner critic raised its ugly head at this point.

  You see? This is where you went wrong with Kirk. Jumping to his every whim. You should play it cool. Let him wait a couple of hours before you get back to him. Like a dream-girl would do. None of this jumping through hoops for him.

  But it was a bit late for that now. She had phoned him back and it turned out there was no major panic at all.

  “Well, yes and no…” Kirk quavered. “You see, the thing is…” he went on. “The thing is, I was getting the bus back down to Dublin this morning and I thought, I can’t face this. I can’t face the problems with Denise. And I can’t face my sister being sick. And I’m still in love with Sasha, and yet I’m travelling one hundred miles away from her…”

  Still in love with Sasha. The words were music to her ears. Loud, orchestral, beat-booming, triumphant music that clashed and banged with every fibre of her body.

  He was still in love with her.

  “And I’m still in love with Sasha but I’m going back down to face all the madness.”

  Sasha was so stunned, she could hardly think of anything to say. But she managed to soothe gently, “I understand hon, it must be so difficult. I feel the same.”

  She wanted to cry, “So turn back! Turn back and fuck them all and come and see me!”

  “And then Denise phoned me,” Kirk went on. “And she just started moaning about this and that, and I just lost it with her. I said, ‘I don’t care about the break, in fact let’s break up completely,’ and then I hung the phone up on her.”

  Sasha gulped. Wow. This was really happening. After months of hoping and praying and wondering, this was happening. He was coming back. Just as her sister predicted. ‘What would you do if Kirk landed on your doorstep…?’

  “So I was wondering…” Kirk went on, oblivious to the thoughts spinning around Sasha’s head at fifty miles an hour. “I was wondering if I could come back up tonight?” he asked. “If I could stay for the weekend?”

  Sasha’s heart soared. “Of course!” she replied. “Of course you can come up!”

  There was no thought of Denise – of how that would affect her, should she ever find out. There was just the thought that this was her soulmate, and he was coming back. Once and for all – back where he belonged. This would be the start of their happy ending; confessing their undying love for each other, realising that they couldn’t live without each other and that they needed to be with each other for ever, till death did them part. Just like in the movies and the romantic novels.

  It was finally happening.

  “Great!” Kirk said, relieved. “So I’ll see you at about ten then, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Sasha smiled simply. The phone clicked dead and Sasha’s mind went into overdrive.

  Okay, it was now 2pm. Kirk would be arriving at 10pm. He’d be staying for the weekend so she’d need to do a food shop.

  Breakfasts: sausages, eggs, bacon, beans.

  Lunches: wraps, salads, chips.

  Dinner: perhaps they’d order in a takeaway.

  She’d need to have a bath, shave her legs, wash her hair, style it. The apartment could also do with a bit of a clean. Goodness! So much to sort out and so little time to do it!

  But she loved it; the adrenalin, the excitement, the buzz. After months and months of feeling empty, depressed, down, numb, now, now there was excitement. There was hope. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kirk landed on her doorstep that night. One year, one month, one week later, he was back.

  Perhaps, if someone had said to her immediately after the break-up, ‘don’t worry, he’ll be back. It might take him one year, one month and one week to come to his senses, but he’ll be back,’ would that have made things any easier?

  In those early days, when she had sobbed her heart out, devastated at his sudden departure, feeling like a limb had been ripped off, it would have given her comfort to know that he’d be back.

  Much of the pain had been that sudden shock, the immediate departure; he was fine one day and the next day he was gone.

  Sasha opened the door to see him standing there, with a smile on his face that was almost apologetic; a smile that said, ‘Sorry, me again! I know I was here last night but here I am again, back already.’

  His train journey home and then his train journey straight back up again was like something that happened in a romantic movie; not something that happened in real life.

  “Come in, come in,” Sasha ushered gently; pushing the door wide open and letting the soft glow of the living-room lamps light up his face.

  He set foot over the threshold; immediately commenting on the delicious aroma that greeted his nostrils.

  “Smells gorgeous. You’ve been cooking.”

  Sasha smiled warmly. “Just some pizza. Thought you might be hungry after a long day?”

  Kirk’s face swamped with relief. “Starving,” he agreed.

  Sasha pointed towards the bedroom. “Settle yourself – your coat and bag and so on – I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

  “Brilliant!” he gushed.

  She was aware she was like something out of a fifties woman’s magazine. She was practically bringing him his papers and slippers the minute he arrived home from work. Where this inner domestic goddess had come from, she did not know. She knew that, really, he didn’t deserve any of it. That a year ago he had stormed out of the door, slamming it behind him, and now he was back, like a cherished husband.

  They sat at the dining-room table, candles flickering and soft music playing as they tucked into the pizza and sipped the wine.

  “So, you’ve had quite a day of it, then…?” Sasha ventured, filling the silence of the room that had previously only been broken by the glug-glug-glug of the wine bottle.

  Kirk’s face fell into a dramatic roll-eye coupled with a sigh.

  “My God, Sasha, you would not believe the day I’ve had.” His face looked frazzled and harassed; his shoulders hunched and stressed.

  Sasha listen
ed quietly. In an odd, non-feminist way, she was quite enjoying this; being his oasis of calm, the quiet place that he could retreat to at the end of a long day.

  “I was on the train on the way home this morning…” Kirk began.

  Sasha nodded, listening intently, lifting her glass for another sip of wine.

  “And I was sitting there and I just felt so… depressed.”

  Sasha tilted her head sympathetically.

  “It was just such a wet miserable day…” he went on. “And I was on the train going away from you, and that would be the last time I’d see you, and I was going home to reality. My sister sick, my mum sick… me and Denise on a break. It was just all so depressing…”

  Sasha nodded again in sympathy, letting the words ‘on the train away from you…’ settle into her mind.

  “We had such a lovely comforting time at yours, and then I was heading back to the reality of Dublin, and it just seemed so cold and bleak and depressing.”

  Sasha smiled softly, liking the part where her home seemed comforting.

  “And then Denise phoned me,” Kirk sighed. “And she started giving off at me. ‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?’ Kirk contorted his voice into snide mimicry as he recalled Denise’s words.

  Sasha couldn’t ignore the voice of her inner critic, chiding her. So, this is what it’s like to be the other woman. This is what it’s like to be the bit on the side, yet tell yourself that you’re the priority. This is what it’s like to feel an ounce of glee when you know they’ve had a row; it means that he’s one step closer to you.

  She hated herself for it; didn’t recognise herself. When had she turned into that woman?

  “And she started giving off about ‘why didn’t you call me back?’ and ‘why weren’t you picking up your phone?’ and blah-blah-blah. And I just snapped and said ‘Fine! Let’s break up completely then!’ and I hung up. So that was just another thing on top of everything else…”