by Holly Bourne
Eden giggled and Eden fitted right in and Eden was one of the gang already. Good for fucking Eden! “So, it was you who came up with it?” she asked him, and I swear to god and baby Jesus and everything in between that she was most certainly flirting with him, right in front of me. She was leaning forward and making full-on eye contact.
“Yes, it was me. We did come up with it in Chicken House, but it was all me.”
She asked question after question about the band, and Reese answered most of them, though the whole band seemed equally pleased to be the centre of this attractive girl’s attention. I kept opening my mouth to try and join in but found I didn’t have one useful thing to say. I had no personality to contribute. Because everything I thought about saying, I weighed up in my head beforehand and then decided it would probably piss Reese off, and I didn’t want to piss him off when he was sitting next to a pretty girl. So I just sat like a goldfish, gawping, as she laughed at his jokes and he turned on his charm, and it was like watching the start of a romance film – one where a couple instantly clicks – and that would’ve been great, except I was his girlfriend and I was sitting right there. Trying not to cry.
Always, always, trying not to cry.
The bell rang, signalling the start of the afternoon and my formulaic music lesson. But Reese had one parting shot for me as we all gathered up our bags.
“Eden, you should totally come to rehearsal tonight,” he told her. “I have a soundproof garage at the back of my garden. We can show the guys the songs we worked on?”
She shrugged. “Sounds great.”
SHE SHRUGGED? I wanted to shake her. Did she not realize how hard it was to get into rehearsal? It was easier to get into that London nightclub all the royals go to. Did she have any idea, ANY IDEA, what a big deal this was? And she just shrugged? I wanted to go to the garage! I SHOULD have been going to the garage. I was the one who was his GIRLFRIEND.
“Great. It starts at eight. I’ll message you my address.”
“Cool. I’ll see you later. It was great to meet you guys.” Eden didn’t even have a bag. She just carried some leather-bound notepad with her, and slipped her phone into the bony arse of her jeans. “You too, Amelie,” she added as an afterthought.
I didn’t cry that day. I held it in. I know, who would’ve thought I was capable? I swear to god, Reese, if you knew how many times I’d wanted to cry and managed to stop myself… Well, if I’d cried all the tears I’d wanted to, some bloke called Noah would’ve turned up in a large boat in preparation.
I don’t really want to bore you again with the conversations we had about Eden, as you found them so boring to begin with.
But they all went a bit like this….
“Eden is so chill. I’ve never met a girl so chill.”
“Are you saying I’m not chill?”
“Whoa. And, listen to what you just said. That’s pretty unchill.”
And…
“Eden’s completely opening my mind up to how to write a song.”
“Really? How?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain. But we had such a good session last night. I learned so much.”
“Oh…”
…
“And Eden also said…”
And…
“Eden’s got so many friends, you know? I’ve met so many people since I met her.”
…
“It’s nice, isn’t it? When you’ve got other things going on in your life?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh god. Calm down.”
“I have friends…”
“I wasn’t saying you didn’t. I was just saying, Eden… Anyway, no offence, but you don’t have any friends really, do you, littlie? Don’t get upset! I’m not being mean. It’s true! It is though, isn’t it? Oh god, I can’t believe you’re crying again. You’re always fucking crying. What is it now? What have I done now? I can’t be around you when you’re like this. It’s not healthy. I’m worried about you. You need to be more chill.”
“Oh, like Eden?”
“You’re mental. You’re actually fucking mental.”
And…
“So what are you doing tonight?”
*Sigh* “You know what I’m doing. Band rehearsal.”
…
…
“Is…she coming?”
“I knew it! I knew you were about to ask that.”
“Well, is she?”
“Yes, she’s coming. I’ve told you. She’s helping us write some really great stuff.”
…
“You’re going to let your jealousy get in the way of my band succeeding? Is that what you want? For me to stay with you always and not do anything or have any life or write any songs because you’re too jealous and needy?”
“I’m not jealous. It’s just…you see her a lot, Reese.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t know.”
“I’m not allowed to have friends now? Is that it? Just because you don’t have any fucking friends doesn’t mean… Oh, what a surprise. You’re crying again. Have you thought that maybe you don’t have any friends because you literally just whinge all the damn time?”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Sometimes I don’t either.”
One day, not long after I met Eden, a miracle occurred. Reese agreed to spend time with me. Actual time with me. He was even the one who suggested it.
All the terribleness of the previous weeks vanished the moment he said, “How about we sack off lessons and I treat you to a trip to BoJangles?”
“Really?” My voice squeaked with hope. God, I was pathetic. I was so, so pathetic.
He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Yes, really, you wotsit! You’re my girlfriend! Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?” He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his coat as he steered me away from my English lesson. Reese was being so nice again, just like at the beginning.
I’d made myself not message him first or call him first or bring up Eden in any way, for an entire week. It had been a huge challenge, and my heart hurt every morning as I woke up, checked my phone, and saw he hadn’t messaged. But it had finally paid off! Maybe I was too needy. He clearly just needed more space, like he said. And love is about giving people what they need. I’d cracked the code, the code of how to get him to love me again, and it felt fantastic.
“I’ve missed you.” He kissed the top of my head, making love ooze out of every fibre of my body. “We need to spend more time together.”
I nodded – the epitome of cool and chill. “Shall we get the truffle crumpets?” I suggested.
“I mean, that is just one of the best ideas in the whole goddamned world.”
We wandered into town, arm in arm, bodies entwined. If you’d have walked past us and you were in a lonely place in your life, we would’ve made you feel lonelier. We were that couple. We walked through icy patches and Reese got obsessed with sliding on them like he was a kid. “It’s the most satisfying feeling ever,” he cried, while I laughed and hugged him so hard.
We arrived at the cafe and he picked the table with a squishy sofa, pulling me into him after we ordered melted truffle chocolates on crumpets. He talked a lot about his band, but I didn’t mind because he was stroking my hair and in love with me again. He could’ve been talking about paint drying and trainspotting and Antiques Roadshow and it would’ve still felt like gold was tumbling out of his mouth.
“I’m really into this new direction we’re taking…” he said. “The others are reluctant, but they just can’t see what I see. It’s not a risk…”
I nodded and agreed, because he loved it when I nodded and agreed.
The crumpets arrived with a big teapot, and he took them without thanking the waiter.
We stuffed our faces and moaned about how good it all tasted, swapping crumpets halfway through because we’d picked different flavoured truffles.
“I definitely picked the best flavour
,” he confirmed, after taking a bite of mine. I nodded in agreement. I would order his flavour next time.
It was all going so well, and I was so, so happy, and I really thought it would last for ever. And if not for ever, then maybe for more than an hour, at the very least. But then I messed it up again, as I always did.
“So, yeah.” Reese pushed away his unfinished crumpet. “We have a gig on Saturday. At the Jeeves and Wooster. It’s going to be the perfect opportunity to try out this new sound.”
I clapped my hands together in pure happiness for him. “Reese, that’s great news!” The Jeeves and Wooster was a cute little venue I’d played a month or so before. The room only fitted around fifty people, but the crowd was amazing – really engaged. It had been full of slightly older music obsessives who couldn’t always get the train into London on week nights. I’d felt horrible all the way through my set there though, unable to focus on the applause, because Reese had sent a message right beforehand, saying he couldn’t make it. Not even giving me a reason why.
“I know, right? It’s about time they bloody had us, to be fair. But I went around with Eden, who knows the manager, and we sang them two of our new songs and he really liked them.”
Hang on.
A new Eden bomb had just exploded.
He’d been out with her? Again? He’d been pitching himself as a musical act with just her? Green, sharp jealousy zipped through my bloodstream, alongside white-hot rage. I knew I shouldn’t say anything. I knew that would make things worse.
“You didn’t tell me you and Eden were gigging together now,” I said quietly into my mug of cold tea, and Reese’s whole body stiffened with annoyance.
“Don’t do this.” His voice was firm. “Not when we’re having such a nice time.”
I couldn’t accept it. My insecurity writhed inside my body, like a squirming toddler on the cusp of a tantrum. I sipped more cold tea to try and quell it, but my instincts were yelling, WHAT’S GOING ON? SOMETHING IS GOING ON WITH HER. YOU ARE RIGHT ABOUT THIS. I PROMISE YOU, YOU’RE NOT BEING CRAZY, YOU ARE RIGHT ABOUT THIS.
“Do you fancy her, Reese?” I asked, even quieter. But the way he erupted suggested I’d thrown a pint over his face and demanded a paternity test.
“Are you actually kidding me?” He shook his head. “Are we really going here? Again? When we’re having such a nice time?”
I knew I should apologize. I knew I should say I didn’t mean it. But the itch was so itchy and the need to scratch so desperate. I’d rather be splattered with blood than swallow down all these feelings.
“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable,” I started.
“You never think you’re being unreasonable. However, here we go again.”
I sighed and put my palms over my eyes. “Reese, are you honestly saying you wouldn’t be upset if I suddenly started spending all my time with another guy and started a band with them without telling you? And never called you? Or messaged you back? And when I did speak to you, all I could speak about was how amazing this other guy was?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said. His face was getting redder but his voice was cold and controlled. “Because I’m not fucking mental!” He crossed his arms and stared at me like I’d shat myself. “You’re the one who went up to see your ex and didn’t even fucking tell him about me. And I’M the one who is in the wrong?”
This argument again. He always brought that up when I got sad, which always threw me because that was the night it happened. The tears. They were coming. Here we go again… But I blinked them away because they only ever made things worse.
“Have you thought about why I spend so much time with Eden?” he asked.
I shook my head, waiting for the insult, my hands trembling around my cup.
“Because she doesn’t put all this pressure on me like you do! Because I can RELAX around her. Do you have any idea how much hard work you are?”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“When we first got together, you were so relaxed and happy and…attractive. Now you’re just…” He let me fill in the blanks.
I focused so hard on not crying that I almost forgot how to breathe.
A tiny part of me had a thought. And that thought was: I was relaxed and happy and attractive because you were treating me well. I was chilled out because I trusted you to do and say the things you said you were going to do. I was happy because I felt like you loved me for exactly who I was and didn’t need to hide any parts of myself in order to win affection. I was attractive because I felt attractive, because I wasn’t being ignored or undermined or put down or made to feel that, whatever I did, it was never enough. If only YOU would go back to the way YOU were, then I could easily go back to the way I was. I swear it’s not all on me. I swear, I swear.
But I blinked back tears and allowed his character assassination to continue, because I believed I was the mess he saw in me.
“You’re so paranoid. I swear I worry about your mental health. Nothing is going on. Nothing!” He took off his hat in exasperation. “Though if there was – I mean, the way you are right now – could you blame me?”
I shook my head. No, I couldn’t blame him.
“I tried to take us out and have a nice time, and now you’ve just ruined it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Reese.” My voice was more squeak than voice.
He rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes.
“Maybe it’s better if you don’t come to the gig.” He looked out the window as he said it, so he didn’t have to watch the heart he was smashing.
My mouth fell open. “What?”
“I won’t be able to concentrate on my music if I’m worrying about you being all psycho.”
“But…” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “But we always go to each other’s gigs.”
“Yes, well, maybe we shouldn’t,” he told the window.
I felt I’d reached a whole new realm of nauseous. I was so angry at myself, hating myself so much. Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why didn’t I just eat the freaking crumpets and enjoy us being back to how we were? I must be crazy, and I must be jealous, and I didn’t know why he put up with me. Why would anyone put up with me?
His face was totally blank while I fell apart, lacking any expression at all. “I do need a bit of space from you, Amelie. You’re too much, you know? It’s not fair on me.”
“You want to break up?”
No.
No no no no no.
“I’m not saying that – god! Stop being so dramatic. I just need space…”
Space? More space?! I hardly ever saw him. I considered how truly terrible I must be, that he needed space from me after only one crumpet together. I must be the most annoying human in the universe.
“If that’s what you need,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Don’t start crying again, will you? It’s so manipulative of you.”
I gulped. I pressed my lips together. I blinked upwards. I did exactly what was asked of me.
“Okay.”
“Stop crying!”
“I’m not crying.”
“Look, it’s fine. I’ll call you, alright?”
“Okay.”
“Are you being snippy now?”
I pressed my lips together harder. I shook my head. “No,” I said robotically. “You need space. It makes sense.”
He reached over and patted the top of my hair like I was a dog. “I do. Cheers, littlie. I do love you, you know. You’re so cute.”
He said it as he was already getting up and leaving, already on his phone, checking his messages from Eden. “Gotta dash – bye.”
I watched him leave and kept breathing deeply before I checked the time with shaking hands. Ten minutes until my music lesson.
Get off the sofa, I told myself. And I managed it. Leave the shop, I told myself. And I managed it. I didn’t cry. I just broke the journey from BoJangles to college into teeny tiny segments of ste
ps to get through. Can you get to that streetlight without crying? Yes, yes you can, well done. Can you get to the post office without screaming at the top of your lungs? Yes, just about – congratulations. Look, there are the college gates. I dare you to make it all the way to them without your knees buckling and you crumbling to the floor. Dare accepted, you say? Well done. You did it. High fives. Now, here’s another dare: sit through your music lesson without falling apart.
I collapsed into this very corner, except the classroom wasn’t empty then. Mrs Clarke streamed in and started explaining our coursework to us, and I tried to lose myself in the lesson. I’d always been able to escape into music, but you eclipsed my brain, you eclipsed that capacity. In fact, I’ve started to realize that you eclipsed every single part of me that made me me. There is nothing in this story that isn’t about you. I have been eroded away – my friends, my hobbies, my quirks – anything that made me interesting or happy or someone you would want to know, it’s all gone. I’ve been smoothed down to a flat stone that just has your name carved onto it.
I sniffed. I snuffled. I blinked at the ceiling. I muttered under my breath to get a grip on myself. I held my breath. I did every possible thing you can think of to not cry but the floodgates were determined to open, the dam was determined to burst.
“Now, the hardest part of the composition will be…” Mrs Clarke said, just as a lone tear plopped down my cheek. I rubbed it away, hoping no one would notice. But another one plopped out the other eye. I couldn’t stop sniffing. People started to look. I rubbed my nose on my cardigan and kept swiping the tears as they arrived.
Please stop crying, I begged myself. Not here, not in front of everyone. Not again.
But plop, plop, plop. Soon I couldn’t stem them. They splashed onto my exercise book, making the ink swirl and smudge and the paper bubble.
“You’ll be marked not only on the quality of your composition but…”
The conversation kept replaying in my head.
“You’re a bit too much, you know?”
“I just need space.”