The Year of No Rules

by Rose McClelland

  Hold on. Back up. Back up. You’re finished? Sasha’s antennae sprang up immediately.

  “So, you guys are over completely, then?” Sasha voiced her thoughts.

  “Yep,” Kirk answered decisively, picking up another piece of pizza and popping it in his mouth.

  “Right…” Sasha said, trying to sound cool and detached whilst inwardly whooping. Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! They’re over. Woohoo! I knew he’d be back one day, I knew we were meant to be together!

  “And then I went round to see my sister…” Kirk carried on. “And she’s in a really bad way and it’s just so depressing to see her like that…”

  Sasha nodded understandingly but her mind was still stuck on the previous comments. Kirk and Denise had actually spilt up completely and now he was back up seeing her. That meant one thing and one thing only – Kirk and Sasha were getting back together again. After all this time, they were meant to be. She knew it. That’s why she couldn’t let go. That’s why he kept emailing her. That’s why she couldn’t move on. Because she and Kirk were soulmates and they were meant to be together. Forever.

  She could almost hear the tinkle of the church bells. She could almost see her sparkling wedding dress. She could imagine their happy-ever-after as they walked away into the sunset together.

  They didn’t discuss the Denise break-up any more after that. Nor did they discuss getting back together. But Sasha felt there was an unspoken agreement. That was why he was here. That was why he’d come back. It hadn’t worked with Denise because he’d missed Sasha so much.

  After the pizza, they lay on the sofa together, chatting, listening to music, kissing, having sex. Kirk had given her more of those tablets which gave her a lovely warm floaty feeling again, as though she had no cares in the world; as though she was wrapped in cotton wool.

  They were having fun together again; it was like a first date, as though they were falling for each other all over again.

  “I’m falling in love with you all over again,” Kirk blurted out suddenly.

  It was like music to Sasha’s ears. A full-blown orchestra of epic proportions, along with blaring trombones and clashing cymbals.

  This was what she had wanted. This was what she had dreamed of. That he would rock up on her doorstep and tell her that he was still in love with her. And now it was happening.

  They sat up late, talking and kissing and making love, as though they were in the first flushes of love, as though they were just getting to know each other, all over again.

  Falling in love, all over again.

  It all seemed so perfect; so meant to be; like the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle finally clicking into place.

  But then the next morning came around all too soon – and things started to go downhill all over again.

  Chapter Twenty

  The morning after the night before had started out so well. Kirk cuddled up to her, spooning her from behind; holding her in a lazy, comforting embrace that made her feel like she was floating effortlessly on a cloud. Heaven. That’s what it was. Heaven.

  “You look so cute,” he cooed. “Like a little hamster all curled up.”

  Sasha giggled.

  “Why aren’t you being adored twenty-four seven?” he went on, curling his arms tighter around her.

  Sasha’s thoughts whirred when she heard this comment. Why aren’t I being adored? Er… because you left me? You walked out the door, and I didn’t hear from you again for months, and my heart was broken into so many smithereens that I couldn’t contemplate the thought of cuddling up to someone again.

  But she quickly brushed that thought away. She didn’t want to be angry today. She didn’t want to be resentful. She wanted to glow in the love that he was showering on her. It was just like old times.

  The snuggling and cuddling led to petting, which led to lovely, lazy sex. And then they both drifted into another sleep. It was perfect.

  Waking from her slumber later, her stomach growled in angry impatience. She was starving. Climbing out of bed and letting Kirk sleep on, she padded into the kitchen and began to rustle up a big breakfast for them; sausages, beans, mushrooms, bacon, toast.

  Kirk, awoken by the tempting aroma, sleepily wandered into the kitchen, placing an arm around Sasha’s waist and planting a kiss on her forehead.

  “Wow, this smells gorgeous,” he sighed.

  They sat at the dining table; eating breakfast and watching TV. Later, they lay on the sofa watching rubbish TV, and then Sasha ran a bath.

  Sasha noted smugly that they must look like something out of a magazine; the lazy sexy Sunday couple.

  It’s just like old times, Sasha thought. It was as if they had clicked into couple mode straightaway. Sasha suddenly realised she kept calling him ‘love’ the way she used to. It just slipped out. “What’s that, love?” or “No problem, love.” It was like riding a bike. It was so natural.

  However, she could have sworn that Kirk bristled at the word ‘love’. It popped out of her mouth effortlessly, but she just sensed an awkwardness from him. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on – it was just a vibe. As though the ‘love’ comment unsettled him.

  Perhaps he thought she was taking liberties. Perhaps he thought that she was assuming everything was back to normal with them. She never said it again after that.

  “I want to take you out for dinner tonight,” Kirk announced.

  Sasha glowed with pleasure. “Aw… that’s really sweet but you really don’t have to…” Sasha began.

  “I want to,” Kirk insisted. “You’ve let me stay, you’ve cooked for me, this is my way of saying thanks.” He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, calm, composed. She felt a burst of love for him then. Everything was going to be okay. She busied herself looking for an outfit to wear. Unsure of which, she excitedly carried three dresses in to Kirk and held them up in front of him.

  “Which one do you think I should wear tonight, love?” she asked excitedly. Oops, the ‘love’ word had slipped out again.

  And that was when she noticed the shift in his demeanour. He looked awkward, and shrugged in a non-committal fashion.

  “I dunno.” he said. “Whichever you feel most comfortable in.”

  Sasha felt a hot flush of shame spread across her cheeks.

  “But which one do you think is nice?” she persisted, not wanting to make her little show just suddenly disappear. She was here now, she had to ride it out.

  “The middle one,” he responded, half-heartedly.

  “Grand. I’ll wear that one, then,” she said, trotting off to get ready and feeling mildly embarrassed.

  When she returned to the living-room, dressed in the outfit that he had expressed a preference on, she was expecting him to say, ‘you look nice’ or some other compliment, like he used to make. But no such comment was forthcoming. In fact, he cleared his throat and proceeded to make a little speech, which she could only imagine he had been thinking up whilst she was getting ready.

  “I was having a think about us going out for dinner,” he said. He had adopted that serious look, the one he used to have before his talk-a-thons.

  “Oh yeah…?” Sasha ventured, her heart quickening. Something felt wrong.

  “I was worried I was maybe giving you the wrong impression…” he began. “That maybe you’d see dinner as us being a couple; getting back together. But then I told myself, ‘no, it’s fine – Sasha will know I only mean dinner as friends’.”

  It felt like a slap in the face; a short, sharp slap. One that left her eyes stinging.

  It was as if he was pulling the shutters down; creating a barrier between them. A brick wall had suddenly been erected and he was pushing her out. He had gone from ‘twenty-four seven cuddles’ in the morning to ‘we’re just friends’ by dinner time.

  It was as if he was saying to her, ‘hold on, missy. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here. Just slow down a little. We are not getting back together. We are just going out for a friendly dinner. So
you can stop calling me love and assuming that we’re back together.’

  He even made a point of telling her that Denise had texted him; saying that she missed him.

  Sasha felt herself withdrawing into her shell. Had she assumed they had got back together? Of course she had. Would she have opened her home to him (never mind her heart and her legs) if she knew this was just a one night stand? Of course not.

  What she had mistaken for being a romantic weekend of realising that they couldn’t live without each other and had to get back together, was totally misguided.

  In fact, the reality was that he had had a fight with his current girlfriend. They were on a short break, and during that break he had nipped off to see his ex to have a quick shag and let off some steam.

  She felt humiliated. But pride prevented her from saying anything. Pride made her pretend that she had assumed it was the same set-up; just a quick shag for old time’s sake.

  The atmosphere between them was stilted. The chat descended into polite small talk. It was as if they were strangers who had only just met.

  The meal went on in excruciating silence. Sasha wished that Kirk would drink, but he chose only to have water. If he had a drink, she thought, at least he’d loosen up a bit. In fact, if he had any of those tablets, that’d be even better. But it seemed as if all the tablets were gone. Perhaps that was the reason for the downer. Perhaps he was hungover and on a comedown. When he had been cuddling her and kissing her, perhaps he was still under the influence of the drink and the tablets. Drugs were helping him to relax and be free and easy with his emotions. When sobriety kicked in again, perhaps he regretted his actions. In the cold light of day, perhaps he thought about Denise, about his security; about how he shouldn’t be visiting his ex.

  Sasha didn’t dare to think that perhaps this was all just a drunken mistake for him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  If Saturday night was awkward, Sunday was even worse.

  Kirk’s mood had dipped into an extreme low. He had suggested a short walk in the park before getting his train back to Dublin. The walk was awful. Quiet, sombre, absolutely nothing to talk about.

  Kirk seemed to be overcome with a depression so strong, it felt palpable.

  He put it down to his dread of going back to Dublin. Having to watch his sister sick in hospital, having to face the music with Denise.

  But Sasha couldn’t help but feel that his sadness was aimed at her. Had he regretted coming to see her? Had this just added more confusion to the mix?

  In a way, Sasha wanted him to leave. She couldn’t bear the silence, the pathetic attempts at small talk. She was ashamed to say, she preferred him when he was drunk or high on tablets. Drugs, she thought – perhaps that was the real problem. Now that they had worn off, he was back to his default setting – full of fear and worry.

  She waved him off that day, secretly glad to retreat to her sofa in quiet bliss. If Thursday to Sunday had been an unexpected roller-coaster of drama, now she was glad to lie down and rest after it all.

  She wasn’t thinking about what would happen now. She wasn’t thinking about if he’d get back with Denise or if she’d hear from him again.

  She was simply thinking about nothing. Letting the last four days germinate in the back of her mind to be analysed another day.

  So that was why it was a big surprise to hear from him later that evening.

  From: Kirk5@hotmail.com

  To: Sasha_babe@hotmail.com

  Hi Sasha, that’s me back home at my mum’s again. Thanks again for such a brilliant weekend. It was so lovely to be able to spend time with you. I’d love to come up again this weekend if that’s okay? I’ll bring some more of those tablets and this time I’ll bring some weed as well. We can smoke that.

  Is that okay with you?

  K x x

  So it really did seem like they were on the road to getting back together. Two weekends in a row!

  Sasha decided that she would just take it one weekend at a time; one day at a time to see what happened.

  But her brain immediately clicked into preparation mode. If he was coming up on Friday, she’d need to make a list of what to cook, what to buy, what to prepare. Thursday night would be pamper night, so Wednesday night would have to be Tesco night. Suddenly the week was filling up with busy plans and preparations.

  It was exciting. Gone was that awful emptiness she’d been feeling for months. She felt full.

  Until Tuesday night, that is.

  On Tuesday night, Kirk sent her an email that pulled the rug from underneath her feet in one fell swoop.

  From: Kirk5@hotmail.com

  To: Sasha_babe@hotmail.com

  Hi Sasha. I’m really sorry but I can’t come up this weekend. My sister is so sick and I need to be there for her. I need to concentrate on my family for the next while. I hope you understand.

  K x x

  Despite herself, she analysed between the lines.

  ‘I need to concentrate on my family for the next while’.

  For the next while.

  ‘For the next while’ meant ‘I won’t be contacting you for a while again. I’m pulling the shutters down again. I’m closing you out.’ Reading between the lines, Sasha imagined that his email actually read like this:

  From: Kirk5@hotmail.com

  To: Sasha_babe@hotmail.com

  Sasha, I’ve changed my mind about this weekend. I met up with Denise and I have decided to get back with her.

  Seeing you was nice but it served a purpose for me. It scratched an itch. I had always reminisced about you and it was nice to dip my toe back in and experience what it was like again. It made me remember why we broke up. Yes, it was nice sleeping with you but that train journey up and down to Belfast is a nightmare. I knew you’d never move down here and I’d never move up there so it was going nowhere. Denise is easy. She’s just there. She’s easy to live with. There’s no drama. No, I don’t fancy her as much, but that’s not everything. Security is what I need.

  I also have to give the drugs up. I took drugs because I was sad about you but now that I’ve had closure with you, I need to get off the drugs.

  I have to stop reminiscing about you. It’s over and that’s that.

  K x x

  Of course that wasn’t the actual email Kirk had sent but it might as well have been, in Sasha’s opinion. That was what he was basically saying between the lines. Sasha felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. As though he’d kicked her and then repeatedly kept coming back to kick her another time to make sure that she was completely beaten to the ground. How many times would she be fucked over by this guy? How many times would he keep turning up on her doorstep every time he had a row with Denise?

  It had to stop. And it had to stop right here. She decided to write him one last email, telling him to leave her alone.

  From: Sasha_babe@hotmail.com

  To: Kirk5@hotmail.com

  I am so angry. I feel completely used. Don’t ever contact me again. If you do contact me, I will email Denise and tell her everything about last weekend. How you told me that you love her but you’re not ‘in love’ with her. How you’re still in love with me. How that the sex with her is nothing like the sex you have with me. I will tell her all that, Kirk, if you try to mess with my head one more time. I am sick of this. For months you’ve been dragging this out with emails, songs and a visit.

  One more email from you, and I will forward everything to Denise.

  She pressed send with an angry flourish. She really had had enough this time.

  Perhaps it was her pride; he had chosen Denise over her. Or perhaps it was her anger; he had used her for sex just because he’d had a row with his girlfriend. Or perhaps it was just sheer frustration; he had strung her along for so long.

  She wondered. If it was so easy to fall in love with someone, was it also easy to fall out of love? To wake up one morning and realise that you’ve simply had enough? Enough trying, enough hoping, enough waiting. She had fin
ally fallen out of love with Kirk. She no longer hoped for a reconciliation – she knew it would never come. And it wasn’t her fault. He was messed up in the head; drink and drugs clouding his judgement. She wished she knew what the magic potion was for suddenly falling out of love with him. She wished she’d taken it ages ago.

  Was it the cold hard shock of what he had just done? How he had just treated her with such a lack of respect? Or was it just time?

  Time, the great healer.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There was something empowering about writing that threatening email to Kirk, Sasha thought. Yes, it was blackmail. Yes, it was childish, but it felt great.

  She imagined Kirk sitting over a pint with a close friend, confiding about what had happened; regaling him with boastful tales of how he’d wangled another shag out of his ex, then moaning about how she had turned round and blackmailed him. ‘She said she was going to email Denise; going to tell her everything that happened.’ His mate would let out a low whistle and say, ‘That’s you in the shit, then. She’s on to you.’

  Kirk would be looking over his shoulder the whole time, wondering when the bomb would drop; wondering if this would be the day that Denise would find out. Every time Denise’s face clouded over or when she was in a bad mood, Kirk would be convinced this is it. She’s found out. Or if Denise said, ‘we need to talk,’ Kirk would brace himself for the accusations. ‘Did you cheat on me? Did you go to see Sasha?’

  Of course he’d deny everything. Of course he’d charm his way around her; tell her that Sasha was ‘nuts’; mentally unstable. But it would still be a hassle; a bridge that he didn’t want to have to cross.

  So yes, it was blackmail. Yes, it was nasty. But where had being nice got her? Being nice got her treated as a doormat. She may as well have said, ‘Hold on and I’ll lie down so you can stamp all over me. Oh, and then come back and stamp on me one more time.’