Just the Way You Are

by Lynsey James

  ‘OK, I know things don’t look great right now, but please just let me explain things to you. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll get lost,’ said Max.

  Without answering him, I sat down on the sofa and waited to hear his speech. A little voice whispered you can’t believe him now; not when he’s already lied so much.

  ‘Right, so I’m the one who’s been sending you the letters all this time; I gather you’ve worked that out?’

  I nodded, fixing my gaze to the floor. That bombshell was taking a while to sink in.

  ‘Your name at the bottom was a bit of a giveaway!’ I let out a hollow laugh that seemed to jar with the atmosphere building in the room. This wasn’t a time for laughing, it was a time for answers.

  ‘OK, so how do you feel about that?’ he asked. ‘Did you ever think it was me or…?’ He trailed off and looked all round the room, before fixing me with a hopeful stare.

  ‘No, I never, ever thought it was you.’ My voice was small and meek and I sounded like I had a throat infection.

  ‘I see… OK, this might take a minute to explain then. I-I decided to write the letters after the second time we kissed. For the second time, I’d passed it off as a drunken mistake when it wasn’t. I wanted to kiss you Ava, I’d wanted to for years but I was just too shy to admit it. I didn’t think I was your type or that it might ruin our friendship. So, I decided to write to you instead; it took me another few years to actually work up the courage to write down how I felt about you. I only intended to do it a couple of times then tell you, but things got…complicated. I saw how happy the letters were making you and it gave me a connection to you I could never have hoped to have otherwise. Plus, I’d created this persona who was so much better than me. When I was writing to you, I could pretend I was the kind of guy who deserved you; the kind who didn’t drop out of uni after a year with no career plan, who was confident in his ability to make you happy and knew how to express his feelings for you. I could stop being me for a bit and at the time, that was exactly what I needed. It gave me a way to communicate with you, tell you how I felt and an escape route from being me.’

  He looked up at me with pleading eyes to see if I was still listening. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Max continued. ‘I’ll always regret that day I was supposed to meet you but didn’t. I wanted to Ava, really I did, but when it came to the crunch I couldn’t. You were expecting to meet this amazing guy who’d been writing to you for the past couple of months and instead you were gonna get me. Quite a comedown right? So I left it, convinced myself I’d done the right thing and tried to forget how in love with you I was. I went for girls like Amira who didn’t demand that much from me: just banter and the occasional home-cooked meal, and for a while that was enough. It didn’t last long though because I couldn’t forget you. I knew I wanted something more than those girls, more than Amira and Gwen; I wanted you and I always have. Please believe me Ava, I never wanted to give up on you. That letter was written when everything was awkward between us; I-I thought I was doing you a favour by letting you go again, but I realised how wrong I was! I stuck that letter in my pocket and wrote the one telling you I wanted to meet you. Please Ava, I swear I was going to throw that other one away.’

  I badly wanted to jump into his arms, forget what the final letter had said and create something beautiful with him but I couldn’t. So many things were holding me back; my faith in him and Mr Writer was shattered beyond repair. The words I’d just read would never really go away. I’d always know that it had at least crossed his mind to give up on me and that would make me wonder if he’d see it through one day.

  ‘What I don’t get is how you could write those amazing letters, make me feel special then bottle out of telling me it was you at the last minute. For ages afterwards, I thought Mr Writer had just stopped caring about me or thought I wasn’t worth writing to any more. You watched me go through all of that and you didn’t say anything. You could’ve stopped me feeling like I wasn’t enough for yet another person but you didn’t. Why? Was it embarrassment or self-preservation or something else?’

  Huge wracking sobs burst out of me. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so sad and worthless. I hugged my knees to my chest and wept as hard as my quivering body would allow. Max tried to bring my face level with his but I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t even bear to look at him. He put his hands on either side of my head and stared deep into my eyes.

  ‘Ava listen to me. Hurting you was never part of the plan; all along, I wanted to tell you it was me who’d been writing to you. I built up to it but I convinced myself you’d be disappointed because it wasn’t some amazing guy who was successful and confident and all the things I’m not. I loved you so much, but I didn’t think I’d be able to make you happy. So I did the only thing I could do and took myself out of the equation. I told myself you’d find someone better than me and that letting you go was the right thing, but it wasn’t. I know that now; that’s why I started writing to you again. Only I haven’t changed quite as much as I thought. When things started to go a bit wrong after we kissed, I thought I’d end up hurting you again by bottling out of revealing myself. I thought the best thing to do was stop the letters. That’s the only reason I wrote that letter Ava, not because I don’t love you any more or because you’re not enough. I was trying to stop history from repeating itself.’

  I sat up and wiped my nose and eyes. ‘You don’t get it, do you? The fact it even crossed Mr W… your mind to give up on me hurts me more than anything. All I’ve ever wanted is to be enough for someone. Nobody ever stuck around before; not my dad, not my stepdads or Dave. When I first started getting the letters, I was amazed that someone took the time to write such beautiful things about me. Nobody had ever made me feel so special before. You’re right, when you were supposed to meet me that day and didn’t, I was devastated. I couldn’t understand why the person writing to me had just given up and just assumed I hadn’t been enough again. Then when the letters started again, I thought I finally was but…I’m not. I couldn’t believe my secret admirer had been thinking about me all that time; I thought I might finally be worth something to someone, worth fighting for. Then when I read that letter, it reminded me that I’m not and never will be.’

  I felt so exposed and vulnerable. Last night had been the first time in a long time that I’d let my guard down with someone and now I needed to rebuild my defences. I needed to push Max away before he had the chance to give up on me a second time.

  He stroked my face and tried to pull me into him but I shrugged him off. Out the corner of my eye, I watched his shoulders slump.

  ‘You are enough, Ava; you’re more than enough.’ It sounded like he was about to cry. ‘I never meant for you to see that letter; I put it in my pocket so nobody would find it then I was going to chuck it away… You know, I’m wondering if this is about more than just a daft letter I didn’t even send. I’m starting to think you might be disappointed that I’m Mr Writer. God knows I know you had your fantasies about what he would be like; don’t suppose I live up to much of them, do I?’

  As much as I hated myself for it, I decided to use the opportunity Max had given me to its full advantage. I turned away from him and folded myself into a ball.

  ‘No, no you don’t. You’re nothing like I imagined him to be and I just don’t think I can live with that.’

  I bit down hard on my lip and screwed my eyes shut to stop myself from crying. Max was silent and I couldn’t bear to look at him. I could picture the look on his face: utterly devastated. All I could do was whisper to myself over and over again that I was doing the right thing. No matter how many times Max tried to reassure me, I couldn’t trust him not to turn his back on me if things got too much or he thought he wasn’t good enough. Instead of talking to me about it like he should, he’d take off and break my heart. I couldn’t have it.

  ‘Fair enough. Just remember one thing though, Ava: whatever daft fa
ntasies you had about this guy, it was me sitting writing those letters to you. It was me pouring my heart out to you the only way I knew how.’ Max’s voice wavered dangerously and I could see him fighting back tears. ‘You’ve made it really clear how disappointed you are that it turned out to be me, but it was a different story when you thought it was this Bradley Cooper lookalike who loved animals and Romantic poetry! Before you knew it was me sending them, those letters were the most beautiful things you’d ever read. You know something, this is your own bloody fault! You were so hell bent on Mr Writer being everything you ever wanted that the reality was always going to be a big disappointment.’ By the time he finished speaking, his hands were balled into fists and his face was expressionless. It was as though he was detaching himself from what was happening and from me.

  He pulled his clothes back on and stormed to the front door, stopping just short of walking out. He turned back to face me, breathing deeply and trying to hold his emotions in.

  ‘Last night was the best night of my life and not just because of the sex. For once in my life, I was finally being honest with you about how I felt. I told you the truth last night Ava, even if you don’t want to believe it.’

  As I sat on the sofa, head in my hands, I knew I should beg him not to go. That I should sort things out, put the final letter behind me and let myself be happy with Max. But I couldn’t; instead I was going to revert to type and let him walk away.

  A quick slam of the door and he was gone.

  Chapter 22

  December progressed and soon it was only three weeks before Christmas. I hadn’t spoken to Max since I’d pushed him away and Dr Ian Browning still hadn’t got back to me. I was beginning to think he’d either forgotten or decided not to tell Leo about Ivy. This meant my “quirky Valentine’s story” had ground to a pretty unspectacular halt with under a month to go until the Kiss and Tell Ball. With every day that passed, it looked more and more like Maddie’s story would grace the cover of the Valentine’s issue.

  The one good thing was that Nate had cooled off. Since our last date, there had been no more grand gestures or requests for dates. A part of me missed it but I was mostly glad not to have the drama. A mystery still lingered in the back of my mind, however. If Max was the real Mr Writer, who the hell was the guy MistySparkles27 knew? She’d claimed he was on a business trip but since Max was a chef, he didn’t go away a lot. The emails had strangely died down but part of me really wanted to solve the puzzle.

  There was a very dramatic event in the office one bleak Monday morning. I wasn’t in a working mood, partly due to the weather and partly because I couldn’t find the right words for the article I was writing. I was making another attempt at my quirky Valentine’s Day story but because I didn’t have a happy ending to report, I could only write so much.

  ‘Why don’t you give that Dr Browning guy a call?’ Fran suggested. ‘Maybe he’s been really busy recently and he’s just forgotten to phone you.’

  I shook my head. ‘Nah, maybe I should just try and find another topic to write about. If he was going to phone, he’d have done it by now.’

  Me a month ago would’ve taken the bull by the horns, grabbed the phone and dialled Dr Browning’s number. However, me now didn’t have any fighting spirit. Pushing Max away had knocked it all out of me. I felt terrible about the way I’d treated him; I’d had a lifetime of people giving up on me and now I’d done it to him. However, maybe it was for the best. Neither of us was particularly confident where relationships were concerned and in our desperation not to hurt each other, we’d probably end up doing just that. He’d think he wasn’t good enough and think I was better off without him, I’d assume I just wasn’t enough for him and shut him out to protect myself.

  ‘The Kiss and Tell Ball’s in February babe. You don’t have time to choose a new topic, research it, interview your primary sources, lay it out and…’

  ‘All right Fran, maybe I’ll just let Maddie win like she always bloody does!’ I got up and stormed over to the water cooler.

  My heart sank as I saw Nate waiting there for me.

  ‘I think I’m going to have to take a hint where you’re concerned, aren’t I?’ he said as I poured myself some water.

  ‘Sorry, it’s –’

  ‘Let me guess; it’s not me it’s you, I deserve so much better than you and you’re sure I’ll find someone amazing one day. The right person’s out there for me but it’s just not you. How am I doing?’

  I blushed. ‘Pretty good actually. Look Nate, I’m really sorry, it’s just not the right time for me to be dating someone. I had a good time with you but I think we’re better off being friends.’

  Being honest with Nate was the first decent thing I’d done in months. I’d mucked him around, not given him a proper go so the least I could do was put him out of his misery.

  ‘No worries; plenty more fish in the sea and all that, eh? If you don’t mind, send that bear that sings You Are My Sunshine back to me. There’s a girl in Accounting who’ll go crazy over that.’

  I gave a little nod and watched him walk away. He was pretty much the perfect guy, just not the perfect guy for me.

  A little while later, a guy dressed as an old-fashioned town crier walked into the middle of the office. He was decked out in a white shirt, red pantaloons, a huge red coat with gold detailing on the lapels and cuffs, and a fancy black hat decorated with a white feather.

  He rang his bell to attract everyone’s attention then unfurled an ancient-looking scroll.

  ‘OYEZ, OYEZ, OYEZ, I HEREBY ANNOUNCE THE ENTRANCE OF MR CRAIG KIRKWOOD!’

  He stood aside and a medium-height, skinny man in his early twenties walked in. He was dressed in a charcoal morning suit, complete with hat and tails, and looked like he was about to face a firing squad.

  ‘I-is Maddie about?’ he asked the room.

  ‘She’s at the desk up the top,’ Fran replied, jabbing her thumb towards the back of the room.

  Someone ran up to get her while Craig waited nervously in the middle of the room. Everyone was looking at him. After all, it wasn’t every day someone dressed like an extra on Downton Abbey came to visit Sleek. He muttered something to the town crier, who went outside for a minute and came back with what looked like a glass slipper nestled on a red velvet cushion.

  I badly wanted to think this gesture was cheesy because it was, but secretly I was impressed. This was the kind of fairy tale moment Maddie and every other girl would love.

  She walked down the room, her high heels clumping on the worn hessian carpet. Her mouth slowly opened to form a perfect O as she saw Craig and the town crier.

  ‘What’s all this?’

  For once she looked genuinely surprised. Fran whispered that she was probably just late having her Botox done.

  ‘There comes a time in every man’s life where he finds the perfect princess to spend the rest of his life with. For me, that time’s now. I love you Maddie; you make me happier than I ever thought was possible and I want us to spend the rest of our lives loving each other. So…’

  He paused for a minute as he got down on one knee. He held the velvet cushion in both hands and presented it to her.

  ‘Madeleine Ethel McQueen, will you do me the honour of becoming my Cinderella?’

  A ripple of laughter resonated round the room when we heard Maddie’s middle name. It confirmed what we all knew: she wasn’t as glamorous as she’d have us believe. She took the cushion and replaced one of her leopard-print pumps with the glass slipper.

  ‘Yes, yes I will!’ She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him passionately.

  As our colleagues gathered round to congratulate them, I hung back a second to watch them. As much as I hated Maddie, it was nice to see her happy. She’d obviously landed a good one with Craig, who’d gone all out to make the proposal special and memorable. Guys like him were about as rare as hen’s teeth, I said to myself. Then again, a guy like him had been right under my nose and I’d pushed him awa
y.

  ***

  After work that night, I drove round to Ivy’s. I’d been a frequent visitor since her diagnosis and had struck up a real bond with her. She had the most fascinating stories to tell about her life back in New Orleans and the adventures she’d had.

  I arrived at Ivy’s house as a heavy drizzle began to pour down, soaking me to the skin as I made my way to her front door. She took a minute to answer it, due to her increasing frailty, but I received a great beaming smile when she did.

  ‘Child, how lovely to see you!’ She opened her arms and took me in for a hug.

  ‘Thanks Ivy, how are you feeling?’ I handed her a bag of pastries from her favourite bakery in the city centre.

  As she thanked me and took them through to the kitchen, I watched her. She had a vibrant purple headscarf tied round her head and she was walking with a noticeable limp. It was about as far away from the Ivy I’d met as it was possible to be, but she still radiated an energy brighter than I’d ever seen in anyone else.

  ‘Coffee and cake, perfect for a rainy day!’ She came through carrying a tray with a plate of pastries and two cups of coffee.

  I took the tray from her and set it down on the long, low coffee table. She grabbed a walking stick resting against an armchair and used it to walk to her favourite seat.

  ‘How are you doing anyway?’ I asked. I felt stupid for asking; chemo was never easy on anyone.

  ‘Oh you know…’ Ivy trailed off while she selected a pastry from the tray in front of us. ‘I’m tired all the time so I can’t go to my Ladies’ Guild meetings, food doesn’t have no taste so I can’t enjoy a Danish pastry like I used to, I bruise all the time. Cancer’s getting to be a real inconvenience!’

  She laughed but I could tell from the look in her eyes that things were getting her down. Ivy was used to living a rich, active life full of music, friends and socialising. The treatment was taking its toll on her and it was quite heart-breaking to see.

  ‘Have they said how long they’ll continue the treatment for?’