This is a Love Story

by Thompson, Jessica

  We reached the stairs.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Stage.

  ‘Ah, here he is,’ said Mr Legend as he walked towards me and took my arm gently. Everyone clapped. Gosh he was handsome.

  ‘What’s your name, bro?’ he asked before turning the microphone towards my quivering mouth. I wanted to bite it so it would stop working, but that would have been a bit weird. I’d have definitely ended up in the papers for that. I imagined a picture of me on the front page, a mouth full of metal and blood, frayed wire poking out from between my lips.

  ‘Nick,’ I replied moodily.

  ‘Well, everyone, this is Nick. Say hello to Nick.’

  The whole crowd shouted my name back to him. Oh shit. They knew my name now and everything.

  He pulled me in front of the piano and kneeled down towards the people gathered below him, his eyes scanning back to where we had been standing.

  ‘Now that lady there, in the black T-shirt and jeans, is your girl, right?’ he asked, pointing towards Sienna who was probably also soiling herself.

  A huge spotlight swung across the audience, making her the centre of attention and plunging my frantic head-shaking into inky, unnoticed darkness. Damn it.

  I mopped my brow quickly and whispered in his ear, ‘Mate, there’s been a mistake, she’s just a—’ and would you believe it, I was interrupted again.

  ‘What’s your name, beautiful?’ he asked, holding his right hand to his ear.

  Her mouth was still open and she stared at him in fear and wonder. Speak, Sienna! Speak! Tell him we’re just friends, for God’s sake. I was hoping I could transmit these messages to her telepathically.

  ‘I can’t hear you,’ said Legend, looking a little panicked that he might have chosen the most socially inept non-couple in the room.

  ‘Sienna!’ she shouted out, shrugging her shoulders at me.

  ‘Now, Nick, I’m going to play this next one for you and Sienna.’ His face was very close to mine now.

  This was being filmed for his live DVD, which would be for sale all over the world. The globe. That would mean people in China, Canada, Africa, France would be able to watch me, onstage, wondering if it might be possible to pack my own body into a suitcase and carry myself off. A fake smile spread across my face.

  ‘Sienna, come up here, girl!’ he yelled, raising both arms towards the blistering lights.

  Oh no. It actually gets worse. I saw the heavies buzz towards her and ‘help’ her onto the stage. Within a minute she was standing next to me in front of the whole world, with her arm around my waist. I was sweating. Heavily. People were cheering.

  Chloe and Ben were probably going to see this. Someone would post a copy through my gran’s door, and after finally working out how to operate a DVD player, she would immediately assume I was a cheating bastard and never talk to me again.

  ‘So, here we have some love in the house,’ said Legend, walking slowly towards the grand piano, leaving us clutching each other and trembling.

  The crowd roared. There were whistles and shouts and more fainting women. My head felt very light, as if it were a little balloon about to roll off my shoulders.

  ‘We’re here to celebrate love, y’all. This is what my music is all about, so let’s give it up for Nick and Sienna,’ he grinned, apparently genuinely believing that she and I were a couple as he started to play the first notes.

  A proper couple that slept next to each other every night, packed lunches together in the morning and shared showers. A proper couple that did the love thing.

  Sienna squeezed me tight around my waist and whispered in my ear, ‘OK, Nick. This is obviously very bad. Very, very bad. But there’s nothing we can do. So let’s just roll with it, OK?’

  She turned to smile at me, with those eyes, those cheeks and those teeth, and I suddenly felt like everything was all right. I wanted to kiss her, there, in front of everyone. She was much braver than me, definitely.

  ‘This one’s not just for Nick and Sienna, it’s for all of you who love somebody. So one by one, I want couples to join our friends here and dance to my song. Do you think we can do that?’ There was immense screaming by this point.

  Dance? Hold on a minute. I’m not good at that. I prayed for a slow song so that I could just randomly shuffle my legs and it might look OK from a distance . . . And then he started to sing. It was beautiful. I realised I was holding on to Sienna pretty tight. Then she turned to face me under the white lights and put her arms around my waist, her glossy hair tumbling down her shoulders and shining under the bulbs. My heart was thumping so hard, but for a moment it seemed to slow down. It was as if it were just she and I, alone. As if her favourite singer in the world was merely playing from a tiny radio in the corner of the room.

  I must have looked frightened because she gave me a reassuring look and pulled my body closer to hers. It was the perfect fit. She was so warm and gorgeous. I put my arms around her waist and rested my nose on her forehead. Her hair smelled fresh, her skin was soft. I started to smile, but at the same time I felt this deep sadness as we slowly danced on the spot in front of thousands of people. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. This wasn’t my place. My hands didn’t belong around her waist. Ben’s did.

  One day, Sienna would get married and I would have to go along and wear a suit and a flower in my buttonhole and smile all day. I would have to watch another man marry the woman I love.

  Eventually, other couples started to join us on the stage. Thank God, I thought. There were all sorts of people starting to dance around us until we melted into the scene like two dots in a Roy Lichtenstein painting.

  We could have got away with letting go at this point and wiping our hands down our trousers like they were covered in bin juice. But we didn’t, we kept dancing and just stared into each other’s eyes as the people moved around us.

  Old people. Young people. Tall people. Short people. Lots and lots of people who all had one thing in common. Love.

  Sienna

  Pete wasn’t on the bench this lunchtime like he usually is. This was strange, but not completely out of character. He loves the common nearby, so I assumed he would be there instead.

  The common is only a five-minute walk away, so I decided to head down there just in case. It was a blistering hot Friday lunchtime. London had that summer atmosphere where all men think they can whistle at you from their cars and comment on your bum, and people think it’s acceptable to wear sunglasses on the tube. Neither is OK. Even in 30-degree heat.

  But maybe this sensational heat was the reason Pete was on the common, rather than sitting in the boring car park behind our office. I could hardly blame him. I strolled through the busy streets that led to the common; people were wearing loose, colourful clothes and had broad smiles on their faces. I felt good, and couldn’t wait to tell Pete about last night’s gig incident and how funny it had been. I knew he would love this story . . .

  As I approached the edge of the common I gazed at the huge expanse of grass stretching out before me. The endless field of leafy green was beautiful. I took in a huge gulp of the summer air, letting it fill my lungs entirely.

  On the occasions Pete and I have gone to the common, we’ve always sat on a huge, fallen-down tree. It’s a beautiful shape, full of holes that birds and squirrels dart in and out of as if they’re playing hide and seek with each other. I bet he would be there. My trainers sank into the springy grass and I quietly cursed myself for not wearing sandals today. I was going to get really hot sitting in the sun.

  After a few turns, negotiating giggling children and smooching couples nuzzling amongst the daisies, the tree came into view. But there was no one there.

  My heart sank a little. I’d been looking forward to seeing him. Our little meetings had become a very important part of my life. Despite his absence I went and sat on the tree for a couple of minutes, firstly to catch my breath, and secondly to contemplate whether or not I should keep looking for him. Maybe he just wanted some privacy toda
y.

  I eventually stood up and started the short walk back to the office, but something caught my eye as I neared the road. The figure of a man, standing under a tree and looking up through the branches towards the clear blue sky.

  Normally this wouldn’t interest me at all, but he was swaying and his body language had that slightly eccentric air. The other thing was the man’s frame. I would recognise it anywhere. I was sure it was Pete . . .

  I shielded my eyes to block out some of the sunlight; it was difficult to be sure, having to squint. He kept swaying, his arms out by his sides. No. Maybe it wasn’t . . . I started to walk towards the road again, but something made me stop. The man turned to look at me and then quickly whipped his head away and starting pacing in the other direction. It was definitely Pete.

  I started to run towards him. As he walked away he kept turning his head back round, but not looking into my eyes as if he was trying to get away with not noticing me.

  ‘Pete!’ I yelled, but he continued to charge away. This was so strange. Not like him at all. ‘Pete!’ I called out again, even louder. People were looking as I sprinted in his direction, but I didn’t care.

  Eventually he stood still with his back to me. I caught up with him and clamped my hand on his shoulder. ‘Pete! What the hell? Why were you running away?’ I cried, trying to make it sound like I was mildly amused rather than slightly irritated. I was definitely the latter.

  He hung his head as if he’d been caught shoplifting.

  ‘Pete, turn around. What’s going on?’ I pleaded, starting to feel a little nervous.

  Suddenly a smell of beer hit my nostrils. It was coming from him. That was why he was swaying.

  He lifted his head and spun round, a look of utter shame on his face. His eyes had that watered-down look people get when they have been drinking. A lot. He kept his mouth tightly shut. My heart started to beat fast. He looked so strange to me. I was a bit scared, if I’m honest. He seemed like he’d never met me before.

  ‘Look, Sienna, I’ve . . . I’ve got to go,’ he said, slurring his speech and stumbling violently as he took a step forward. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed he was missing some of his lower teeth. It was a huge shock. The nightmare of when someone you really care about is hurt and you can’t get any sense out of the situation. What the hell had happened?

  I stood and watched as he swayed away from me, catching his shoe in a rabbit hole and nearly falling to his knees. I couldn’t just leave him. Something really bad must have happened.

  ‘Pete, come on! Will you just sit down and talk to me for a bit?’ I begged, running up to him again and pulling his arm until his knees buckled and he landed next me on the lush green grass.

  There were two main things to address here. The first being that he was pissed. Very pissed. The second was the tooth thing. The lack of teeth in his mouth. Teeth that had been present and correct the last time we’d spoken. I could be angry at him for being so drunk. I could jump down his throat and shout at him, but that would achieve nothing. I had to be very careful about the way I handled this.

  ‘Oh God, Sienna. Can’t I be just alone? I mean just be alone, please?’ he mumbled, squinting in the sun and yanking a handful of grass out of the ground like an angry child.

  I chose to ignore this. ‘Something really strange happened last night, Pete,’ I said, crossing my legs and hoping that if I could draw him into a different conversation he would calm down and trust me enough to tell me what had happened.

  ‘What was that, Si?’ he asked irritably, flopping onto his back and looking into the blue sky. He picked up a wooden coffee stirrer, which was starting to splinter at one end, and began chewing it. I flinched inwardly at the thought of where it could have been. He didn’t seem to care at all.

  ‘Well, Nick took me to a concert, to see my favourite singer. John Legend,’ I started, wondering how wise this was.

  Pete rolled over so he wasn’t facing me. He was wearing a pair of jeans, which he had cut off at the knee to make shorts. These were paired with a promotional T-shirt emblazoned with the Andrex puppy. He almost had style, in a strange ‘this was given to me free and I had no choice’ kind of way.

  ‘Tell me more,’ he said with sarcasm, throwing the splintered wooden stick into the distance. I suddenly imagined some poor terrier choking to death on it, so I ran over to pick it up and put it in the bin. Pete sighed angrily as I returned and continued my story.

  ‘Well, it was all going fine, but then the singer thought we were a couple and asked us onto the stage while he sang a song about love.’ I grimaced again, as I had so often today when talking to my friends about this latest ‘incident’. I suddenly realised that talking about Nick and me, and my problems, was not a good way to distract him. It actually sounded pretty self-absorbed. I just didn’t know how to handle this situation. He groaned, loudly.

  I pulled my legs up in front of me and looked down at my bright red trainers, thinking about how badly this attempt at a story was going down. I decided to stop.

  Wondering what to do next I started fiddling with the tongue of one of my shoes, which was emblazoned with a vintage Adidas logo.

  ‘How are things going with your boyfriend anyway?’ Pete asked flippantly, pulling a packet of peanuts from his jeans. He spat out a piece of chewing gum before he shoved the first load of nuts into his mouth. He definitely smelled of pub now. His tone was loaded with contempt but I chose to answer his question.

  ‘Not great. We went to visit his parents during the winter – I think I told you about it back then?’ Pete nodded in recognition. ‘Well, I’ve tried really hard to be there for him, but he’s been pushing me away recently,’ I said, feeling sadness consume me. The odour of beer wafted up my nostrils again.

  ‘Do you think it has anything to with your closeness with Nick?’ asked Pete, in a sharp, accusatory tone which made my breath catch in my throat.

  I pulled my aviator sunglasses from my bag and slid them over my eyes, dragging my cardigan under my head in a bid for more comfort. I felt defensive all of a sudden. Pete had always been on ‘my team’ throughout all of this. Now it was like he hated me.

  ‘It’s hard to tell. He’s always been really cool about it, actually. Like he isn’t at all bothered. I’ve been trying so hard, trying to be there for him, but I don’t know if I can keep pushing it any more.’

  I realised how fatalistic this sounded. Like it was the beginning of the end. The start of the last chapter. I was pretty sure that if Ben had loved me, he didn’t any more, and that maybe he was too much of a coward to just tell me and walk away. No one apart from Dad can ever love me for long, and it’s not like he can really go anywhere. He doesn’t have much choice.

  Pete groaned again before hiccupping twice, his ribs sticking out through his T-shirt. A pang of guilt assailed me as I realised how long he’d been sleeping rough now, and how I’d done nothing to improve his life apart from bringing him treats and boring him with tales of woe from my excessively complex love life.

  ‘Anyway, enough of me. What happened to you?’ I asked, rolling onto my tummy to face him and glancing at his teeth. He sighed angrily and said nothing.

  ‘The thing is, Pete . . . This is hard to say, but you do kind of smell like beer today.’ I looked him straight in the eye.

  The fact that he’d apparently given up all his vices had amazed me. It had been going too smoothly, really, but I was gutted at the idea that he might be hiding his drinking from me, and that he could be so dishonest to my face. We all need vices – Nick smokes sometimes, my dad has an unhealthy interest in chocolate, I am inclined to binge shop when the going gets tough . . . But when all you have to comfort you in life is the buzz from a can of beer, I can imagine it would be very hard to throw it in the bin. The worst thing was that I kind of sympathised with him, but at the same time, I was scared for him. Scared of my own naivety, too.

  He bowed his head in shame and said nothing, but his body language said it all.r />
  ‘Come here,’ I said, reaching my hand gently towards his chin. His bottom lip looked really sore. The smell of alcohol was pungent now. I gently pulled his lip down; he flinched slightly before slapping my hand away like it was a wasp. It made me jump. Any calm we had achieved was gone, since he now looked as angry as he had when I’d first run up to him.

  ‘What happened, Pete?’ Tears instantly started to sting my eyes as I saw the aggression in his face again. Just like that time with the photo . . .

  ‘You’re just a young girl!’ he spat, sitting up quickly, balancing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. ‘What the fuck do you know about hard times, huh? You, with your posh clothes and your good job and your cushty home life!’ He pushed his lower jaw out in anger.

  His words cut into me. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent for a minute or two. ‘Did . . . did someone hit you, Pete?’ I asked eventually.

  He turned to face me again, fury painted across his features, and blinked hard, a funny twitch he had developed some time over the past year. I looked closer at his lip; it was a dark purple.

  ‘Of course they fucking did, Sienna. What, did you think I’d walked into a sodding tree or something?’ he snapped.

  I jumped a little and a huge lump caught in my throat. I started to sweat. His eyes were boring into mine now. I could see his rage flickering inside like a flame. It was terrifying.

  ‘And yes, Sienna. I am pissed. I got the crap beaten out of me last night, so today I found as much beer as I could get my hands on and drank the whole sodding lot, OK? Happy now?’ He spat forcefully onto the grass.

  ‘Well no, I’m not happy, Pete. I’m really—’

  But he interrupted me again. ‘There’s nothing a silly little girl like you can do to help, so why don’t you just stop trying, yeah?’

  This was all too much for me. ‘Just tell me what happened and I’ll go,’ I said, my voice trembling with fear.

  ‘You want to know what happened? You want to know about the real world? OK, here goes, but I hope you can handle it, Sienna. I was sleeping under the big oak tree just over there and some kids came up to me. They were laughing at me, then one of them kicked me in the stomach for no reason. They tried to take my backpack, but it had my picture in it, the one of Jenny, so I pulled it away from them really hard. I didn’t realise my own strength, and one of the kids was thrown to the ground. And then I realised they weren’t really kids, they were more like nineteen or twenty. My teeth came out in one punch. I spat them out near the tree. All right?’ He was breathing hard now.