Sam looked so dapper that night. He had obviously gone to special effort to dress up for the occasion. He wore a smart waistcoat and shoes, but then teamed them with skinny jeans to make the look a little less formal. His hair was coiffed to perfection and he looked neat and clean-shaven. He was also charm personified, making an extra effort to be smiley and chatty to her friends. This was, after all, the first time he was meeting many of her friends.
When Sasha’s friend Michelle arrived, she bounced into the kitchen with her usual zest and energy. Sam was now busying himself with cutting up slices of dessert. Sasha kept the conversation going between Sam and Michelle. She introduced them and suggested a topic they’d both be interested in.
“Sam, this is Michelle. Michelle was living in London for a few years. Sam lived in London for a while too.”
Of course, the moment Sasha suggested the conversation opener, she was sorry she’d said anything. The London chat turned into a full-blown conversation and the next thing she knew, Michelle had asked him, “Do you smoke? Do you want to go outside for smoke?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders casually. “Sure!” he piped up.
Despite herself, Sasha felt her hackles rising. She longed to go out for a smoke with them also, to keep a protective eye on Michelle and make sure she wasn’t flirting with Sam. But she knew that wasn’t feasible. It would hardly be appropriate for both hosts to clear off outside, someone would have to stay indoors and be sociable.
Sasha noticed her old friend jealousy raise its ugly head again. Oh, how she wanted to wrap Sam in cotton wool, to keep him away from any interested predators. But she knew that was ridiculous. It was old behaviour. Jealous, insecure, paranoid behaviour. And if she kept thinking the same way, she’d only get the same results.
“Your new man is lovely,” Michelle gushed. They were standing in the kitchen later on that night; Sam was in the living-room out of ear-shot. “He’s so chatty and friendly,” she went on. “And good-looking too,” she winked. “Oooh, lucky you!”
Sasha knew that Michelle was only trying to be complimentary, really she did, but it just seemed so… wrong. Michelle might as well have been saying, “Cor, I like the look of him. Good-looking and chatty. What a catch. I fancy him myself. It’s a shame you got in there first, otherwise I’d have snapped him up straight away.”
Sasha battled with the territorial feelings rattling around inside of her. She felt like she was a lioness and wanted to guard her young cub. Hands off, he’s mine. Don’t touch!
It was that same jealousy that she had battled with her whole life; jealousy that had even seen her physically push other women aside (but only when she was drunk, or when she was much younger).
Sasha’s tummy was tumbling like a washing machine on full speed. The dreaded ‘what if’s’ returned full-force:
• What if Michelle flirts her socks off with him?
• What if she shoves her breasts towards him in a ‘come and get me?’ manner?
What if Sam regrets picking me and wishes instead that he was still free and single, to avail himself of this floozy who is flinging herself in his direction?
This would have normally been the point where Sasha would have made a mental note to remove Michelle from her friends list and never contact her again. That old familiar streak of jealousy had returned full force.
But Sasha wanted things to be different this time.
Okay, breathe, she told herself. What’s the worst that could happen?
Worst that could happen is that he dumps me and chooses to be with Michelle.
Then what?
Well, if that was the case, then it wasn’t meant to be with Sam. She couldn’t wrap him up in cotton wool. She couldn’t keep him locked in a cage and not let him out again. She had to let him be free and if he returned, it was because he wanted to be with her, not because he was forced to be with her.
Then a magical, beautiful thing happened.
The door opened. Sam came over to join her. He placed a protective arm around Sasha’s shoulder.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Sasha nodded and smiled.
Michelle piped up from the corner. “I’ve just been telling Sasha what a lucky girl she is.” She smiled widely at Sam, possibly even in a flirtatious manner.
Sam smiled back and squeezed Sasha’s shoulder. “Well, I’m a very lucky guy,” he said, grinning at Sasha.
Sasha felt her heart hammer with joy. He was with her because he wanted to be with her.
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Okay, you two are sickening me now.”
They all laughed in unison, but Michelle walked off to try to find another smoking partner.
Sasha grinned at Sam and he pulled her close; planting a kiss on her head. They stood like that for a while, hugging, Sasha feeling like this was the best birthday ever.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sasha didn’t want to be falling for Sam. Falling for him meant trouble. It meant a lack of control. It meant the possibility of getting hurt. It meant getting into that car, as she had done with Kirk, and risking a metaphorical car accident again. One that could leave her paralysed with pain and depression. In short, she was scared.
It didn’t help that the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head again, jumping about with a mischievous grimace and gloating, ‘Hey, it’s me. I’m jealousy. Back to muck up your life and torture you again!’
The green-eyed monster had visited briefly in the form of Michelle, but then along came Tara, a close friend of Sam’s; one whose presence evoked all the irrational fears Sasha had. Tara pushed every button.
It didn’t help that Tara was gorgeous. Ridiculously thin. The type of thin that was an effortless skill; one that didn’t require any dieting or obsessing or hours of calorie-counting torture. She was naturally thin.
Then there was the hair; long, sleek, impeccable condition. A glossy shine that hinted at hours of heat wraps and conditioning oil. She flicked it over her shoulder with the effortless abandon of a model in a shampoo ad.
But most of all, it was the relationship that Sam and Tara had. They told each other everything. Sam had known Tara since they were toddlers – having been united as family friends. Their mothers were best friends, so Sam and Tara spent most of their childhood together; playing school and house and doctors and nurses; Tara dressing Sam up in her mother’s shoes and feather boas.
“She’s like my wee sister,” Sam had said once.
“Er, you mean your big sister,” Tara had corrected him, teasing.
It made Sasha uncomfortable. She knew it shouldn’t. She knew it was her problem – that she was a jealous, insecure, heap of pathetic fear. But she couldn’t help it.
It was as if there was a nasty voice on her shoulder – jibing her the whole time.
• Yeah, right. So you think those two are like brother and sister? Come on. Have you seen her? She’s like a model. Of course he’s going to be attracted to her
What will happen is that they’ll both wake up one day and realise, ‘God! What have I been doing all this time? The person I love has been right under my nose. I have been wasting so much time!’
Sasha tried to shake the negative thoughts away. God, it’s no fun having my head, she thought. Why can’t I just be secure in myself?
She tried to brush thoughts away; really she did. But then something happened which made them impossible to ignore.
Sam had sounded so blasé about it, too. As though it was no big deal.
“Oh, I can’t meet you on Friday, babe. I’m heading to Dublin with Tara.”
What? Her insides screeched. On the outside, she managed to stay calm. She managed to seem okay about it. “Oh?” she asked, the slight tilt in her voice acting as an invitation. Please tell me why you are going to Dublin? What on earth is this about?
He looked up at her, realising she was waiting for an explanation.
“Tara’s got an audition,” he explained. “It’s a big one, apparently, for som
e TV series. She wants a bit of support.”
Sasha noticed how her stomach flipped in double jealousy. Not only was Tara getting Sam’s undivided attention for the day but she had an audition for a huge TV series; she was mega talented.
“Oh right,” Sasha said, trying to sound cool and flippant. But her stomach was doing cartwheels, her shoulders felt hunched around her ear lobes and a tension headache was starting to hammer at her temples.
“Excuse me a sec; must visit the ladies.”
They were in a fancy restaurant. Sam was treating her. “No reason,” he’d said. “Just because.”
She tried to pull herself together in the toilets. Come on now, Sasha. For the love of God, wise up. Don’t spoil this evening by being moody and suspicious.
But all the talking to herself in the world would not help. She was powerless. Powerless over her jealousy.
“Are you okay tonight?” Sam asked later in the evening, when he had noticed a dip in her energy levels.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He gave her that look again. The look that said, I know you’re not fine. Please tell me what’s wrong?
“Honestly, I’m fine,” she lied again.
If this was Kirk, he’d be fuming by now, she thought. He’d be sitting me down and having a talk-a-thon of epic proportions.
But Sam stayed calm and quiet. He seemed to have an understanding – that perhaps she had PMT. Or perhaps she was just tired. Or he just understood that people can’t be upbeat all of the time.
“It’s something to do with Tara, isn’t it?” Sam asked. When they were back home, sitting on the sofa, blanket wrapped around them, glass of wine in hand, chatting.
“What?” Sasha asked, surprised, as if the subject of Tara was alien to her.
Sam dipped his head and gave her a raised eyebrow. It wasn’t an aggressive look. It was a look that said, It’s okay. I understand.
Sasha sank her shoulders.
“Okay, yes. I guess I feel a bit threated by her. I’m silly. I know.”
Sam gave her a warm and sympathetic smile.
“You’re not silly,” he soothed. “You’re just the same as every other woman on the planet.”
She looked at him inquisitively, wondering what he meant.
“Every woman gets jealous at some stage,” he reasoned. “It shows you care.” He nudged her and teased, “I’m flattered.”
She giggled despite herself. My God, this was totally different to Kirk. He wasn’t screaming or shouting or blaming her. He wasn’t telling her to change. He was accepting her as she was.
She felt her heart open and expand towards him; like a hungry sunflower reaching towards the sun.
“Thank you,” she said, softly. “Thank you so much.”
She dug her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He curled his arms around her and rested his head on hers.
They sat like that for a while; silent, hugging. She felt safe, like a little bird; cosy in her mother’s nest.
“I have a suggestion,” he whispered.
She cocked her head up towards him slightly. “What?”
“Why don’t you come with us?”
Sasha sat upright and looked at him with surprise. “Me? Really?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Why not? She wants the support. She wants the company. There’ll be a lot of hanging around waiting, which is why she doesn’t want to go on her own.”
Sasha bit her lip. “That’s really kind of you but… won’t she mind?”
Sam shook his head. “No way! She won’t mind at all. The more, the merrier.”
Sasha felt her emotions whirl inside her. On the one hand, she was so utterly grateful; for Sam opening his heart and his life to her, for doing anything to help her to trust him.
But on the other – God, what if Tara thought she was the most annoying girlfriend from hell? The complete cling-on? Won’t let her boyfriend out of her sight for one day? Sasha took a deep breath.
“Well then, I’d love to come,” she smiled. “If it’s okay with Tara, I’d love to come along.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The alarm screeched at 5am. As Sasha’s eyes adjusted to the light, took in the blinds, the sight of Sam stirring gently beside her, she remembered that today was the day. Today was the day that she and Sam would be accompanying Tara on her day trip to Dublin; moral support for her audition.
Sasha wondered why she had volunteered to go on this Dublin trip with such an early start. Sam reached over and rested an arm around her.
“Remind me why the fuck we’re doing this trip?” he moaned.
“To support your friend.” Sasha reminded him gently. Inwardly, her negative critical voice jibed at her. He might be supporting his friend, but you are tagging along to keep an eye on him. You’re being the jealous, over-protective girlfriend.
Brushing away the negative inner voice, Sasha jumped out of bed and got ready in super-quick time. Despite their limited time frame, Sasha was determined to look presentable. She knew how drop-dead gorgeous Tara was, and she’d be damned if she was going to look a mess next to her.
Donning a mini skirt, tights, Ugg boots and her favourite top and waistcoat, she felt casual yet trendy. Applying a little make-up and styling her hair, she was good to go.
Arriving at the station, she expected a vision of beauty to arrive, in the form of Tara. Instead, cowering away from the rain and hastily inhaling on a cigarette, they spotted Tara waving frantically at them.
Without a scrap of make-up, Tara was looking bleary-eyed and exhausted. This confirmed to Sasha that in fact, yes, there was a God, and today he was clearly on her side.
Sasha had presumed that Tara would be stand-offish with her. After all, what friend doesn’t mind when suddenly their friend’s new girlfriend or boyfriend tags along?
However, on the contrary, Tara was warm and welcoming.
“Thanks for coming,” she smiled warmly at Sasha. “These trips can be so boring on my own.”
Immediately Sasha was struck by her friendliness. Brushing away her early morning start in her head, she replied gushingly, “My pleasure.”
“Let’s grab some coffee,” Tara declared. “I seriously need to wake up.”
“Good idea,” Sam agreed.
The three of them bundled to the coffee shop, stocking up on caffeine, then buying their bus tickets; not saying much as they waited for their energy levels to rise and for the caffeine to kick in.
Getting on the bus, Tara looked at the rows of double seats. Pointing to the one long row at the back of the bus, she asked, “Shall we all sit in the back together?”
Sasha realised, in a sudden sympathetic moment, that perhaps Tara felt like a bit of a gooseberry. Rather than Sasha and Sam sitting together in a two-sitter with Tara behind them, she was suggesting that they all sit together.
“Sure,” Sasha agreed.
For the first leg of the journey, there was little chat. In fact, Tara put on her headphones, listened to music and fell asleep. Sasha rested her head on Sam’s shoulder and slept also.
When they arrived, there was the usual commotion of trying to find where they were going. This is when Sasha realised that yes, Sam really was like a big brother to Tara. It was Sam who took charge of the map, held her audition letter, checked where they were going. Tara seemed lost and confused.
Occasionally Sam would poke jibes at Tara, taking the piss out of her for being ‘blonde’. But it wasn’t in a flirty way; more like a brotherly way.
Sasha felt her shoulders relax as she began to realise the dynamic between these two – purely platonic.
In fact, she even started to pity Tara. Sam ripped the piss out of her so much that Sasha found herself defending her at times.
“Aw, Sam… don’t be mean…” Sasha said gently when Sam was criticising Tara for having smoker’s breath.
“What?” Sam said defensively. “I’m just warning her. She doesn’t want the directors to see her as Fag Ash
Lil, does she?”
Sasha looked sympathetically at Tara, who was perched on a step, smoking a fag. To be fair, she did look very nervous. Obviously the audition butterflies were starting to kick in.
“I’m sure the directors won’t care,” Sasha defended her. “They’re probably smoking much stronger drugs in their spare time.”
Tara smiled at her, grateful for her humour and support.
The wait was long, and boring, and tedious. Tara was nervous, although Sasha could tell that she was trying desperately to appear confident.
Finally, she was called, and they wished her luck as she went off behind the blue double doors.
She returned with a relieved smile on her face.
“Did you do okay?” Sasha asked.
“As well as I could,” Tara replied. “Just have to wait and see now.”
Sasha smiled. “I bet you were fab.”
“C’mon,” Tara said, linking her arm in Sasha’s in a gesture that was both intimate and friendly. “Let’s go and get pissed.”
Sasha giggled. “You’re on!”
The three of them headed to a restaurant in Temple Bar that served cold beer and hot chicken wings.
As they sat in the window seat, tucking into the delicious chicken and knocking back the cold beer, Sasha prayed that she didn’t bump into Kirk. Please God, no. Of all the people in Dublin. Please do not let him walk past me on this day.
As the beer settled and the food filled their tummies, Sasha could feel their earlier tension dissipate. The shoulders had sunk; the atmosphere had relaxed. Tara’s nerves had gone. It was time to party.
The chat flowed effortlessly; Tara regaling Sasha with stories from their childhood – embarrassing tales of Sam’s youth; wetting himself in the classroom, threatening to jump off the window sill, proclaiming with earnest that he had seen Santa on his sleigh.
Sam hung his head in mock embarrassment. Sasha laughed uproariously at Tara’s stories and Tara revelled in having a fresh pair of ears to hear them.
The Year of No Rules Page 17