This is a Love Story

by Thompson, Jessica

  Nick continued staring into the abyss. He looked pissed off.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ I leaned down and kissed my dad’s head gently. I knew he would be OK. It was a routine fall. We were quite used to all of this.

  What I wasn’t used to, though, was being caught out like this. It was my business. I was fiercely protective of my business. I touched Nick’s arm and he gripped his hand into a fist. I could feel his muscles contract under his skin. He flushed a deep red; he looked furious. Well, I was too.

  I pulled him towards me to lead him into my room so we could be alone. At first he resisted, but I pulled once more, a little harder this time, and this time he followed.

  ‘What on earth is wrong with your dad? Why didn’t you tell me about this, Sienna?’ he whispered aggressively as soon as the door was shut, tears welling up in his eyes.

  Goosebumps appeared all over my body, and I realised he was gripping my right arm tightly. I yanked it away. ‘You’re hurting me, Nick. Get your hands off me,’ I growled, shoving my index finger into his chest.

  I had never seen him cry before. In fact, I hadn’t really seen any man cry before, apart from my dad just a couple of times and that was under what seemed like exceptional circumstances. Why was he crying? He wasn’t the victim here. He had no right to cry. The fire inside me spread and I could hold it in no longer.

  ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ I said as my breath started to quicken in my chest. I could feel the panic rising. Anger I didn’t know I was capable of spread like wildfire.

  He looked at me like I was someone he’d never met before, his eyes as wide as satellite dishes. ‘What do you mean? I just popped round to say hi. What’s wrong with your dad?’ he repeated, his voice getting louder.

  ‘So you get the impression that there’s something going on here, because life’s a little complicated for me sometimes, and then you just come round without telling me? What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’ I hissed, suddenly aware of how defensive I was being.

  He flinched and stepped backwards again, almost knocking over my bedside table. My accusatory finger was trembling.

  ‘Sienna, you have no idea what I’ve just been through . . . I thought he had—’

  But I interrupted him again. ‘What you’ve been through? You’ve got to be kidding. I go through this, Nick, every day – not you. I’m the one who has to wash him, cook for him, clean. Don’t tell me about what you’ve just been through, OK?’ I was pacing across the small floor space now.

  Nick crossed his arms defensively, but I continued, shaking even more now. ‘Dad has narcolepsy, all right? And before you start asking lots of annoying questions, it’s a neurological disorder, which makes him fall asleep pretty much all the time. He also has cataplexy, which means that his episodes are triggered by emotions – happy, sad, you name it, and he’s gone. Passed out. It’s exhausting. You have no fucking idea, so how dare you cry!’ The words coming out of my mouth were ugly and distorted now. I could feel shame starting to kick in, but it was too late.

  ‘Jesus, Si. I didn’t even know, for fuck’s sake! You told me, if you actually remember, that you would be indoors today, watching films. Remember? I thought you would be here. I wasn’t trying to catch you out!’

  Suddenly a look of hurt overtook his anger and I felt a stab of guilt. Of course. That was what I’d told him. I flushed, but I was too far into my argument now to become the bad guy. There was no room for a U-turn now.

  ‘And what was the paramedic talking about when he said your dad could hear everything?’ he added, his voice a lot calmer now. He looked panicked.

  I took a deep breath and tried to stop my arms shaking by drawing in a fresh gulp of oxygen. ‘He passes out, but not in the normal way. He can hear everything that’s going on and he remembers it all, basically. He just can’t move his body. It’s kind of hard to explain,’ I responded, hating that I had to go over the details all the time for everyone. All the stupid questions. All the misplaced curiosity. I just wanted him to be away from me, and I knew I would have to be spiteful to achieve this.

  ‘You’re just like everybody else, Nick. Nosy. Sod off, get out of my house.’ Tears began to run down my face. The truth was, I was embarrassed now. I felt like a bitter, poisonous bitch.

  He rushed towards me and wrapped his arms around me tightly. I stood still as a rock, afraid to fall into him, because I could feel the tidal wave of emotion I’d held back for a decade building to a peak. I was scared of what might happen if I let it crash to the shore.

  ‘Come here, please, Si. Just come here,’ he whispered quietly in my ear, the bristle of his stubble scratching gently against my cheek. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. His gorgeousness still hadn’t faded. I still felt so in awe of him that his proximity terrified me. It made my chest tight and my adrenaline pump so hard I feared I would pass out. I started to cry. I tried to stop it but I couldn’t.

  ‘You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Why did you shut me out?’ he asked.

  It felt like years of tension coming to the surface, tension I never really knew existed. Eventually I gave in, and he pulled me into his neck. Still angry, I thumped a fist against his chest. I felt him swallow, hard.

  ‘It’s been so hard, Nick. You literally have no idea. I hate the way people treat me when they know. I never wanted you to look at me with pity. I didn’t want you to know. I wish you’d never come here!’ I hacked out the words between deep, overwhelming sobs. There were mascara smudges all over his neck.

  ‘Si,’ he said, holding my face with both hands and pulling it close to his. I hated this, hated the nakedness of this moment. There was nothing I could do to hide from him, the way I had hidden from so many others.

  ‘Sienna, please don’t ever keep things like this from me. You are literally the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to help you,’ he continued, one hand now running through my hair. I brushed it away and pulled my hair to the other side so he couldn’t touch it. I tried to look away; eye contact would mean the end of my guard and I was still angry.

  ‘Look at me,’ he whispered.

  I turned my eyes to his, which were red from all the upset. His pupils were small.

  ‘Sienna. I have to tell you something. I, I . . .’

  We were interrupted by one of the paramedics, who had decided to barge in without knocking. ‘Well, we’re all done here, guys. Just keep an eye on him for the rest of the day, OK? He’ll probably sleep for a while now. We had to deal with some slight burns on his leg, but they should heal in no time.’ He tilted his head and gave me that look of pity I knew so well.

  ‘Thanks so much – you’ve been fantastic, as always,’ I replied, wiping my eyes and stepping forward to start seeing them out.

  ‘No, don’t you worry about saying goodbye, love. Enjoy the rest of your weekend,’ he muttered, belatedly realising that maybe he had interrupted something rather important.

  Suddenly, the room was quiet. I turned to Nick. ‘Leave, please,’ I said, trying not to shout. Words were still coming out of my mouth that my brain didn’t really agree with. I was just so humiliated. I wanted him to be far away.

  ‘But Sienna, come on,’ he said, his hands reaching towards me.

  ‘Don’t make me shout, Nick. Go,’ I repeated, turning away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I heard the door click shut. I felt hollow inside. I wondered if we would ever be that close again. I wanted to run after him and beg him to stay, but I kept my mouth shut and my body still. Maybe it was just one of those moments when people come together like magnets, drawn into each other’s arms by heightened emotions, but it never happens again. It slowly dawned on me that I had been pretty damn nasty. That maybe we would never recover from this.

  After five minutes of silence I walked out into the living room and stood in front of my father, trying to take in the enormity of what had just happened.

  ‘He brought this for
you, Si,’ said Dad, waving a CD in the air and breaking my moment of reflection. It glinted sharply in my sore eyes, reflecting the glare from the ceiling light. ‘I think he likes you. You do know that, don’t you?’ he continued, looking more serious this time.

  ‘What gave you that impression?’ I asked.

  He paused before saying, ‘I can’t put my finger on it, darling. I just know love when I see it. Don’t be nasty to him. I heard you shouting, Sienna – that’s not good.’

  I looked at him with one eyebrow raised, and felt sick with guilt.

  That night I listened to the CD. Beautiful songs from a band I had never heard before. I listened to the lyrics and attempted to work out what he was trying to say to me, because I was still just too angry with him. I wanted to call him, to say sorry. But I couldn’t.

  Nick

  There was only one way to get through this. Beer. And copious amounts of it, too.

  It was time for a board meeting, and the venue of choice this evening was the beer garden at The Grand Union in Brixton.

  The lads realised it was serious. I texted Ross first, hoping he hadn’t planned an evening of staring into his wife’s eyes in the bath and feeding her spring rolls with his toes. Of course he hadn’t. He may have got married, but he was still Ross. My mate: dependable and always up for a beer. He successfully rounded up the troops and we gathered for an important discussion about how I was going to handle this situation.

  To my disappointment, however, it started with a detailed analysis of just how much of an idiot I was.

  ‘So wait, wait. Hold on a minute,’ Ross exclaimed after a swig of his drink, commanding the attention of the assembled party like an army officer. He was definitely the ringleader of the group. A well-built man with square shoulders and a square jaw. A bit like a human Ken doll.

  ‘What you’re telling me is that Sienna’s dad passed out and you thought he was dead and told him that you love his daughter?’ he went on, his strong, hairy arms crossed over his chest.

  ‘Well, it’s not quite as simple as—’ I tried to defend myself weakly.

  ‘As what, Nick? ’Cause that’s how it sounds to me!’ shrieked my supposed best friend through now uncontrollable laughter, slamming his fist onto the table and spraying my face with London’s finest ale.

  Wanker.

  The rest of the lads bowed their heads and sniggered like schoolboys. I was becoming the evening’s entertainment. I might as well set up a podcast featuring daily updates of my romantic misdemeanours, complete with voting tool so we can decide exactly which point was my lowest. Maybe geeky Jon could map them out on charts for me, just to rub it in a bit further.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, you lot! You’re supposed to be helping!’ I shouted, secretly smiling to myself and throwing a peanut at Phil. He batted it away with his right arm. Those were some good reflexes. You had to hand it to them; they always made me laugh, even if it was at my own expense.

  ‘No, honestly boys, I need some help.’ I changed my tone so they would realise I was being serious. I hoped that now we were in our late twenties and early thirties we could discuss stuff like this. I was mistaken.

  ‘Do I tell her before her dad does? If he hasn’t already? Or do I hope that somehow he forgot that part?’ The questions came spilling from my mouth between drags on a Marlboro Light.

  ‘So what’s wrong with him again?’ said Simon, a thirty-five-year-old accountant with a penchant for fishing and smoking weed.

  ‘Narcolepsy or something. It means he falls asleep a lot and can’t control it,’ I answered irritably. I was getting a little bit bored of explaining this. God knows how Sienna must feel.

  ‘And he can hear every word you say?’ Simon probed further, like some sort of heartbreak scientist.

  ‘Yes, everything, apparently. The paramedic said so, Sienna said so and I Googled it too.’

  ‘Wow! This is a crazy situation. Shots, boys?’ said Ross, already starting to make his way to the bar, his attention returning to the small matter of getting pissed. A group of girls in the far corner pointed at him and giggled cheekily. He still had this incredible knack with women, despite being well and truly spoken for.

  I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat; the humid evening air combined with my sticky predicament was making me sweat. Fake palm trees stood between the tables, fairy lights threaded through their plastic leaves. I wanted to climb into one and hide, just like I did at work once, but not in a ‘ha ha’ kind of way this time.

  ‘What’s the big deal about this girl anyway, Nick? This has been going on for ages and there are plenty of women registering an interest in you.’ This unhelpful input came from Richard. Richard who has never met Sienna. Richard who recently grew a handlebar moustache ‘just for a laugh’.

  ‘What about that fit girl who works in that recruitment office near me? Oh God, what’s her name, Dave?’ he added.

  ‘Sophie,’ replied Dave with a knowing smile, gesturing with his hands to emulate a curvy female shape.

  ‘Yeah, Sophie. She fancies the tiny, chequered pants off you, Nick, and she is smoking hot,’ Rich continued. The lads nodded in unison.

  I wasn’t going to listen. If they had it their way, I’d be frolicking with strippers and writhing in pools of unsuitable women at album launch parties. They’re nearly all in serious relationships or married now and they seem to live through me, hooking me up with the various women they secretly want to do themselves.

  ‘Hey, Nick, look at that girl over there . . . She keeps looking at you,’ declared Simon, pointing towards a leggy blonde smoking a cigarette. She quickly swished her head in the other direction, layers of shining hair flying through the air.

  Jesus, it was like Sixth Form. Men never grow up. Fact. Yeah, she was gorgeous, had legs that went on forever and probably kissed like a fallen angel, but there was only one thing I wanted. Sienna.

  ‘Here you go, pal, get this down your neck.’ Ross was back with a tray of shots, the neon-green liquid on the verge of spilling over the lip of the glasses.

  I was drinking hideous amounts of alcohol, very quickly. Half of me thought I should stop, the other half wanted to continue, so I went with the latter. I threw it down my neck, wiping the viscous liquid from my fingers onto my jeans.

  ‘Look, guys. This isn’t funny. It’s getting to me. Should I get a new job? Cut her out? Leave the country?’ I was being dramatic now, but it was necessary to get their attention.

  Silence descended on the group. Ross leaned back, his lumberjack shirt pulling at the middle where the buttons were. He had been working out lately and was starting to resemble a wrestler. ‘OK, how do you feel about her?’ he said, a lot more serious this time.

  This was awkward for a pack of drunken men. Feelings had come to the table – real, raw feelings. My feelings. It was terrifying, but I had consumed enough alcohol to be able to spill the beans. They knew I was a soppy git now anyway, so there was no point trying to claw back my floundering reputation.

  ‘She’s perfection. I’ve never felt like this. I can’t imagine anything I want more than having her by my side every day. It actually scares me.’

  ‘Well, you need to tell her, dude – but properly tell her. As in don’t tell her comatose father, yeah?’ said Simon, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  ‘Ross. When you met Sarah . . . How did you know you loved her? How did you know she was . . . well, the one?’ I turned my gaze towards my best friend, hoping I could find the answers behind the thick veil of his drunken stupor.

  The alpha male shuffled awkwardly and paused for a moment. He knew that I knew he was a secret ball of goo. I’d never told the lads that I walked in on him sitting in his underpants, writing a poem for his wife with Ronan Keating on in the background just a few months ago. I’ve certainly learned that I should knock from now on . . . It had remained a secret between us, and it was my greatest weapon when his piss-taking reached annoying levels. A simple pen movement with my right hand was enough to shut
him up.

  ‘Well, er . . . I just knew, I guess,’ he responded quietly, running his index finger around the top of his pint.

  ‘What do you mean, just knew?’ asked Simon. He was clearly fascinated by this too.

  ‘I just felt like everything was right with her, and the thought of being without her made me feel totally lost,’ he finished, opening out his hands on the wooden table. ‘It’s just a gut feeling, you can’t really explain it.’ His big bear-like features softened and he smiled from ear to ear.

  ‘Well, that’s how I feel about Sienna,’ I said bluntly. ‘But then again, the fact that she kept that secret from me for so long is a bad sign. She can’t feel the same, there’s just no way. Then I face the humiliation of my office and the loss of a great friendship . . .’

  ‘Friendship, my arse,’ Ross blurted out. ‘Guys and girls are never just friends, not like you two are anyway. There’s always one person who wants to jump the other one,’ he continued, like some kind of love guru in a pub garden, dishing out advice and cigarettes to his crowd of desperate disciples.

  Even men who weren’t drinking with us were perking up their ears and leaning in our direction. One scruffy-looking lad had given up pretending to be polite and perched himself on the end of the table. He can’t have been much older than nineteen.

  A bad feeling washed over me and it wasn’t just alcohol-induced nausea. I felt that I needed to get real and get over this. I, Nick Redland, was turning into a pathetic individual and I didn’t like it. My friends were laughing at me. Instead of making me want to run out of the pub, bribe a taxi driver and rush to Sienna’s house to declare my undying love for her, I wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

  The heavy beat of house music disturbed my thoughts and Ross rose to his feet, waving his beer in the air like an Olympic torch. ‘This is a tune, lads! Remember this one from Ibiza?’ he shouted, wiggling his hips to the track. It was tragic. So tragic I had to join in.

  Next thing I knew we were all at it, as if my love life was so impossible to solve that the only thing to do was dance it out. Badly. We were men. This came more naturally to us than talking about how we felt.