by Jane Green
“Wow,” Jeff said eventually, hooking his arms round my waist, “you are hot stuff.” I didn’t want to hear his voice, didn’t even want to look at him so I just pulled him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.
Talk about aggressive. I pushed him back on the bed and he lay there, arms behind his head grinning at me as I undid the belt on my dressing gown and let it slip to the floor.
“Jesus, you are beautiful,” he said, reaching up to stroke my breasts, and then he didn’t say any more because I climbed on top of him and furiously unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his trousers, pulled his clothes off.
“Slow down,” he whispered, “there’s no hurry.” I moved down his body, down to where his cock stood erect and I knew I had to take him in my mouth. As I closed my mouth over his straining cock, I heard him gasp, and I knelt there, crouched over his body, head bobbing up and down as I swirled my tongue round the tip and took him all the way to the back of my throat.
I felt nothing. He moved his hand between my legs and started stroking me, and I felt nothing. I lay back and he climbed on top of me, gently pushing my legs apart and I expertly rolled a condom on and guided him inside me. He was kissing me all the time, kissing my eyes, my lips, my cheeks, my neck. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?” he whispered. And I felt nothing. Numb, numb, numb.
And then, as he was moving inside me, faster and faster, getting closer and closer, I felt a huge wave move up from my stomach, up through the tightness in my chest and I started sobbing. Like a fucking child. There I was, lying underneath this man who was practically a stranger and I was crying like a baby. Talk about passion-killer. Coitus interruptus by tears. All I kept thinking was, It’s not Simon. I want Simon.
But Jeff, and I have to say I was surprised, Jeff was absolutely amazing. He moved out of me, lay beside me and put his arms around me. I kept on sobbing and he didn’t say anything, he just cradled me in his arms, gently rubbing my back, and I carried on crying for the best part of an hour.
Eventually, when I had finished crying, and just lay there sniffing, Jeff got up, went to the bathroom and came back with a tissue. He held it under my nose like a child and said, “OK, blow.” And I blew and I smiled because although the sex was a complete waste of time, something in me had shifted. I can’t tell you everything was OK after that night, but everything started to get a little bit better.
You make slow progress when you come out of a relationship with a man you love. Every day is another step, and in the beginning there are so many setbacks you feel as if you won’t make it. But slowly you realize that every step backward is preceded by three steps forward, and one day they’re not just steps, you’re making huge bounds.
My first setback, not counting Jeff, was when Adam called me a week later.
“Hi, baby. I wanted to check you’re OK.”
I sighed. “I’m OK, Ad. Not much better than that, though. Have you spoken to Simon?”
“I spoke to him last night, he’s in a terrible state.”
My heart turned over, maybe it’s true what they say, give them some space and they realize what they’re missing, they realize they’ve made a huge mistake.
“Why, how?”
“Well, I shouldn’t tell you this, Tash, but he does miss you. He said he keeps wondering if he’s made a terrible mistake.”
“So he’s not with Tanya then?”
There was a silence. “Yes,” he said finally. “He is with Tanya but I think he’s confused. Tanya has somehow gotten under his skin, and he can’t let her go, but he also realizes what he’s lost in you. To tell you the truth, Tash, I don’t think he’s ever going to find another woman like you.” I wanted to put down the phone, grab my coat and go running into Simon’s arms. To put my arms around him and say, It’s OK, I’m here now, everything’s going to be OK.
But of course I couldn’t do that because everything was not going to be OK because right at that moment, while I was talking to Adam, Simon was probably sitting there with Tanya’s arms around him, and she was probably telling him that everything was going to be OK.
“Tash? Are you there, Tash? I’m sorry, have I made a mistake in telling you? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s OK, Ad. I’m fine, it just hurts to hear he’s hurting. Bastard.” I smile and I hear Adam laugh down the phone.
“That’s more like it, there’s the Tash we all know and love.”
“Do you love me, Ad?”
“Of course I do, Tash. You’ve become one of my closest friends, and I hate to hear you in such pain. I shouldn’t say this because Simon’s such a good friend, but you know you really do deserve better, and you will find it.”
“I know,” I say, even though I don’t know at all, but it sounds better than thank you.
Jeff was my first step back to life after Simon, but he wasn’t the last, not by a long shot. It was almost as if I had to prove I was still lovable, still sexual, still human by sleeping with everyone who asked me.
I’m not proud of that time, although while I was going through it I stuck a big smile on my face and kept everyone amused with my latest stories.
There was Jamie, who was so good-looking and so crap in bed. Who wouldn’t stop until I faked five orgasms, and even then, even when I told him he had to stop because I was exhausted, even then asked, “Do you want to go to sleep or do you want some more cock?”
There was Tony, who I met at a party, who phoned and who I seduced, just for the hell of it. Yes, I fancied him, inasmuch as I could fancy anyone who wasn’t Simon, but the sex was rubbish. Not just with him, the sex was always crap because I didn’t care about them and they didn’t care about me.
Sure I made all the right noises, I pretended to be this wild, abandoned woman while feeling completely dead inside. But I knew that eventually I would stop, when I started to come back to life I would stop.
No one ever judged me, although I never heard what they said when I wasn’t around, but Mel used to try to talk me through it, try to explain that sex wasn’t love, and I didn’t have to do this, and that was when she recommended me going to see Louise.
The last time it happened was just after I started seeing Louise. I went to a party with Adam, Adam who knew all about it, Adam who didn’t judge, merely laughed with me as I regaled him with my ridiculous tales.
Adam who occasionally glimpsed through the pain, who would put his arms around me and give me a great big hug, while I buried my head in his shoulder and tried hard not to cry.
Adam saw me come back to life again, and he was there the night I said no. The night I realized that a stranger’s arms held nothing for me any longer.
The party was at a house in Fulham. A friend of a friend of a friend, and it was like the parties of my youth. A student party in a professional’s house, one of those terraced houses with a double reception room, a kitchen at the back and French doors opening onto the garden.
It was a french bread and pâté party, a cheap wine and trash can filled with ice and beer kind of party. As soon as we walked in it became clear that it was full of old friends Adam hadn’t seen in years.
“Ad,” shrieked pretty much everyone there, rushing up to slap him on the back and wrap their arms around him. “This is Tasha,” he tried to say, but they weren’t interested in me, only in their old friend.
Except for one bloke in the corner, just my type. Tall, short brown hair and big green eyes. He was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt and he was watching everyone greet Adam with a look of intense amusement in his eyes. Finally he sauntered over. “Jesus,” said Adam, “I thought you were living in America.”
“I was,” said Jesus, who turned out to be called Sam, “but I came back a couple of months ago.” His accent had a slight American drawl, and as he turned to look at me I knew that he was the only man at that party worth bothering with, and I knew from that first look we’d be going home together.
“You must be Adam’s girlfriend,” he said, shaking my
hand.
“No,” laughed Adam, “Tasha’s my friend who happens to be a girl. Unfortunately.”
“Are you anyone’s girlfriend?” asked Sam, and I mutely shook my head, wondering what he’d look like without his T-shirt, how his skin would feel, whether he’d groan with pleasure.
“I’m single, definitely single.” I raised an eyebrow.
“And searching?” His turn to raise an eyebrow.
“I’m always searching.”
“For your other half?”
“Wrong.” I laughed. “About as far away from the truth as you can get. No, just searching for fun, looking to enjoy myself.”
“Permanently or temporarily?”
“Permanently having fun, it’s just the people who are temporary.”
“Men, I presume.”
“Women aren’t my style.”
“So where do you meet these men?”
“Where do you think?”
“Parties like this?”
I smiled knowingly and looked into my beer before looking up again, looking him deep in the eyes and repeating slowly, “Parties like this.”
“I thought you and Adam were together. Are you really just friends?”
I frowned. “Why would you think we were together, just because we arrived together?”
“No, there seemed to be some chemistry between you.”
“Very perceptive,” I smiled. “But very wrong. I went out with one of Adam’s friends once, that was how we met, and we’ve become friends ever since.”
“Good. I’m glad that happened or we wouldn’t have met.”
“Good.”
Adam walked back up to us and put his big arms around my waist. “I hope you’re not chatting up my friend,” he said to Sam, who just smiled. “Careful of him,” he said to me, “the biggest heartbreaker at school, not to mention university.”
“You’ve known each other that long?” I looked at Adam in amazement, and he nodded with a grin.
“Yup, we used to beat each other up on the rugby field.”
“Oh God,” groaned Sam. “Don’t remind me. He was a complete rugger bugger. Thank God that’s changed.”
“Careful,” said Adam, “it doesn’t take much to get on my bad side, and rugby tackling is still my specialty.” We all laugh.
“So what was Adam like at school?” I say to Sam.
“Well,” he smiles at Adam. “No, I can’t lie. The teachers dreaded teaching him but you could always tell they had a real soft spot for him.”
“Why did they dread teaching him?”
Adam groans. “Oh please, not the old school stories.”
“No no,” says Sam. “I’ve started so I’ll finish. He was always clever, but he didn’t, what was that phrase, he didn’t apply himself. He used to sit at the back of the class and drop stinkbombs. I remember one time he got hold of a can of mace and squirted it during a math lesson.”
“Jesus, I’d forgotten that.”
“Mrs. Jenkins didn’t. The whole class had to be evacuated and they had a huge investigation but they never found out who it was. That was one of his better tricks. Although in terms of popularity it worked, he was infamous for years afterward. Now, what else can I tell you about Adam?”
“Stop it now,” warns Adam, but this is all new to me, I’m dying to hear about Adam’s schooldays.
“What about that time you sneaked that girl into the dorm and she had to hide under the bed when Matron came in?”
“I’d hoped you had forgotten that,” says Adam, but he’s smiling.
“This poor girl had to dive under the bed while we all stood in front to hide her.”
“Did she get caught?” I’m fascinated.
“Luckily no,” laughs Adam. “She was really nice,” he says dreamily, obviously thinking back to memories he hadn’t thought about in years.
“But what were you planning to do with her in a crowded dorm, Ad?”
“I don’t think even I knew that,” he laughs. “I just wanted to get her up there to give the boys something to talk about. Anyway, Sam was the real heartbreaker, especially at university.”
“I’ve changed,” said Sam. “University was a long time ago.”
“Do people really change?” I said. “I don’t think they do, not that much, leopards not changing their spots and all that. I suspect you probably are still a heartbreaker, and I suspect you probably enjoy it.”
“What about Adam then?” says Sam with a wicked grin. “Is he still dropping stinkbombs and sneaking girls into his bedroom?”
“I haven’t dropped a stinkbomb in at least ten days,” says Adam, laughing, “and as for the girls, I rarely get to sneak them anywhere these days. Unfortunately.”
“Oh, Ad.” I reach up and give him a friendly squeeze. If only he could find a woman, but right at this moment in time I’m more concerned with me finding a man. Or to be more precise, Sam, who is once again holding my gaze so steadily I have to look away.
Adam was aware of the chemistry, how could he have missed it as it hung heavy in the air between the three of us as we stood there not saying anything? “Right, I’m off to get another beer,” said Adam, moving away. “Anyone want anything?” and we both shook our heads as he walked off.
Sam looked at me and asked, “What were we talking about?”
“You. Being a heartbreaker.”
“Oh yes. And you’re so different? I don’t think so. Why do you think we’re talking? You’re the female version of me.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Don’t take offense, please, we’ve only just met, but I could tell as soon as I saw you. You’re a hedonist, taking pleasure wherever you find it and there’s nothing wrong with that, believe me. Nothing wrong at all.”
“I’m glad you think that there’s nothing wrong with it. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression about me.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you? What kind of impression would you want me to have of you?”
“What kind of impression would you want?”
It was that kind of meaningless, ridiculous conversation that is endlessly going round and round in flirtatious circles, and can only end up in one place . . . the bedroom.
“How about the kind of impression that lingers in the sheets?” It was his turn for the questioning look.
“How about it?” said I, Tasha on self-destruct, Tasha who didn’t care.
“Can you leave Adam?”
“I can leave anyone.”
“Let’s go. I’ll get my coat.”
Sam walked upstairs to get his jacket, and suddenly I knew this was wrong. I didn’t want another stranger, I didn’t need to spend the night in a bed I didn’t know, with a man I didn’t want to know. I wanted to go to sleep in my bed, in my house, alone.
“Adam, we have to go, quickly. I’m sorry.” Adam didn’t question me, he heard the urgency in my voice and he just pushed me out the front door before Sam had even reappeared downstairs.
We got in the car and as we drove off I started laughing. Adam looked at me strangely, carried on driving, and then eventually, while I was wiping the tears of laughter from my cheeks, said, “What the hell is going on?”
“Oh Adam, I’m sorry, I’m sorry to drag you away, but I had to go. Sam was about to whisk me home and I couldn’t go, I can’t do this anymore. Adam, I’m happy. I’m really, really fine. I’m fine without Simon and I’m fine on my own. This feels amazing.”
Adam should have been royally pissed off with me for pulling him away from friends he hadn’t seen for years, but I knew he’d do this for me, and he stopped the car and gave me a big hug. “I knew you’d make it, Tash,” he said, and I could hear he was smiling deep in my hair.
Then he sat back and said, “Let’s go and find somewhere to drink champagne. We need to celebrate and it’s on me.”
12
“So what did Adam do?” Andy’s leaning forward, trying to get every last bit of the anecdote out of me. We’r
e all here at lunch again, our Saturday ritual, and I’m telling them all about Andrew.
“I don’t know, he seems a bit funny about it, and I can’t really talk to him about it, I just don’t feel comfortable but I don’t know why.”
“Tash, have you ever thought that maybe Adam has a soft spot for you?” asks Mel.
“I’ve always thought that,” says Andy, as Emma adds, “Yeah, me too.”
“Are you all serious?” I look around the scrubbed pine table and see that they are. And don’t you start too. Adam and me? No way.
“Why not?” says Mel. “He’s your best male friend. He’s a good man, he’s honorable, he’s decent and he’s good-looking, what more could a girl ask for?”
“Yeah but he’s Adam,” I say, “and there isn’t anything between us, you’re all wrong, I know he feels the same way as me, that we’re just friends.”
“I think you’re wrong,” says Emma. “I don’t know him well but when I have seen you two together he does seem to adore you.”
“Of course he does, in the same way that I adore him, the platonic way.”
They all smile knowingly but they don’t know, I know and they’re wrong.
“But anyway, we’re not here to talk about Adam, we’re talking about Andrew, what do you think?”
“You know what we think,” says Mel. “He’s gorgeous but he’s a total shit, and he’ll hurt you, no two ways about it.”
“I know,” I sigh, “but I don’t know what to do, I’m not sure whether I can stop myself.”
“Of course you can,” says Andy, the woman who wouldn’t know how to stop if all the red lights in the world were flashing, “you just say no. Anyway, there are plenty more where he came from.”
A silence falls on the table as we all contemplate her last statement. We’ve all said it, but none of us really believes it. How easy is it to find a man, I think. A good, kind, decent man who has the required amounts of good looks, charisma, and chemistry?
It’s not easy, not easy at all. Yes there are always men around, but how often do we get it right? How often do we feel the same way as they feel about us?