Crazy Over You: Love Can Drive You Crazy... In More Ways Than One!

by Carol Thomas

  Tapping her foot on the floor, Abby glanced at Rachel. “What time is he coming?”

  “He said eight, he’ll be on time,” she confirmed excitedly.

  Abby swallowed hard. Meeting Simon was beginning to feel akin to meeting future in-laws. Because of that, and the fact she had read an article in Cosmo’ which said it takes longer to order a burger than it does to make a first impression, Abby was feeling the pressure! She knew it was silly but she couldn’t help it. She just didn’t want anything to spoil her newfound friendship with Rachel. She valued the time they shared talking into the early hours, going out, listening to music, cramming for exams and drinking cans of caffeine-fuelled Coke to survive lectures. For that reason she over-thought the possible consequences of Simon’s visit to the extent that she felt both the need to impress him – in case his approval was important to Rachel – and threatened! Part of her really wanted to simply stamp her feet and shout ‘go away, she’s my friend now’ like a tormented five-year-old.

  Looking at herself in the full-length mirror Abby took the towel off her head, brushed the knots out of her wet hair and slathered it with a mound of mousse. For first impressions’ sake she had gone for a black skater dress with a petite floral print, believing this, paired with her black lace-up combat boots, gave just the right balance of femininity and self-assured style. (Feigning confidence was key to her plan for surviving the evening.) Turning sideways and looking at her waist she was pleased to note that her student diet, consisting of copious amounts of spaghetti hoops, was clearly agreeing with her. With her head bent forward she scrunched her thick hair in her hands and started to blow-dry it.

  With half seven approaching and her hair remaining damp Abby wished her hairdryer, a small pink appliance Barbie would have been proud to own, could summon even half the energy output implied by the cacophonous noise it made. When she eventually gave up, throwing the drier on the bed and her head back, she was happy to see she had at least achieved the sheen and volume promised by her shampoo. Holding her hair in place she sprayed it all over with Elnett, smuggled from her mum’s dressing table on her last visit home. Finally adding black eyeliner, a touch of mascara and plenty of lip-gloss, she stepped away from the mirror content that she had achieved a look that suggested a student with confidence, style and purpose; the purpose of this evening being to show Simon that she was a permanent fixture in Rachel’s life now too and there was nothing he could do (she hoped) to change that.

  Just before eight a knock at the door brought a shrill from Rachel as she ran, beaming with excitement, across the room to open it. Once the obviously-happy-to-be-reunited pair had finished their hugs, tussling and hair-ruffling they both turned arm in arm to Abby, broad smiles on their bright faces.

  “Here she is, the girl who has made my survival as a student possible and who has inspired me to actually do some study and get my sorry arse through a degree. Simon – Abby, Abby – Simon.”

  A little taken aback by the grand introduction Abby smiled, lifted her hand, waved and said, “Hi”, instantly regretting the fact that, despite all her flustering over the first impression she wanted to make, she had just greeted Simon in the style of an over-enthusiastic game-show contestant. Her cheeks reddened.

  Seemingly oblivious, Simon smiled. “Hi, I’ve heard lots about you. Thanks for looking after my Roo.” He gave a squeeze around Rachel’s waist as he spoke.

  “Uh-ha.” Abby hesitated before offering a proper response, taking a moment to absorb the ‘my’ and the fact that Simon had a pet name for Rachel. Abby regretted that she’d never had that type of closeness with anyone and quashed a flashback of her dad calling her ‘dumpling’ as a chubby child. Clearly that was not quite the same! “Roo, eh?” Abby raised an eyebrow.

  “Simple Simon here couldn’t manage Rachel when he was little so Roo it was and it stuck!” Rachel giggled.

  Partly ignoring the explanation Abby looked at Simon, taking him in properly for the first time. “I’ve heard lots about you too, it’s lovely to finally meet you in the flesh.” As she spoke Abby pondered how in fact it was good to meet Simon in the flesh; flesh that from her vantage point looked like it belonged to someone who was obviously into sport and surely must work out. Rachel hadn’t mentioned he was so good-looking. The only pictures Abby had seen were the ones above Rachel’s bed, obscure shots in a strip of photos taken against a half-blue, half-orange background in Woolworths. They had only offered glimpses of what he actually looked like as the giggling pair had pulled silly faces in each of the four poses. It was only now, after meeting him in person, Abby wondered if Rachel’s words, “Everybody falls in love with him!” referred to more than Simon’s personality.

  Simon was at least a few inches taller than Abby. He had thick, dark, shoulder-length hair that contrasted perfectly with his light hazel eyes and smattering of faint freckles across his nose. He wore a pair of well-loved classic green Adidas trainers; blue, faded, slightly fraying jeans that accentuated his obviously muscular thighs and a white t-shirt that fitted perfectly over his broad shoulders. He had the tone and muscle definition of a fit adolescent who was turning into a perfectly formed man. The kind of physique a single student in full possession of her raging hormones, like Abby, couldn’t help but notice.

  As they walked across the rugby field on the way to the pub Abby watched Simon and Rachel chat, arm in arm. They were clearly comfortable with each other. She wondered how far things had ever gone between them. Had they really always just been friends as Rachel insisted? Despite the fact that Rachel hadn’t seen Simon for a long time, she had made only a limited effort with her appearance in preparation for his arrival. A quick shower, a pair of stonewashed cropped jeans, a cut-off t-shirt, her trademark pink baseball boots, a blow-dry, a bit of backcombing and she was good to go. Abby had noted her lack of fluster; clearly she was excited but the manner in which she got ready was not at all like her protracted date preparation.

  As the evening progressed Abby was surprised to find she didn’t feel left out at all. The conversation flowed easily and both Rachel and Simon ensured they included her. They all drank too much cider and laughed a lot. Abby had to admit it was actually a pretty good evening. She found herself relaxing, no longer worried about what impression she might make and feeling more at ease. Simon didn’t feel like a threat to her friendship with Rachel and rather than feeling like an outsider she felt drawn into their circle; they shared a warmth she enjoyed being a part of.

  Simon’s voice was deep and smooth and easy to listen to. His eyes sparkled with an intriguing glint that drew Abby’s attention and she deemed his perfectly formed pale pink lips more kissable the longer she looked at them. Simon had an open and friendly personality. He was clearly fun and knew how to enjoy himself, but not in the laddish way of lots of their college mates; he genuinely seemed more driven, more mature. Abby liked that.

  They chatted about their courses as well as their plans for the future, and Simon’s immediate plans were clear. “I’m still hoping the thing in America comes off; it’s all looking good. I just need to clinch this final exam and I’m there.”

  “You’ll do it!” Rachel said sincerely. “He’s on for a first you know,” she added, waving her glass at Abby and nudging Simon with her foot.

  “Wow! That’ll be great, what’s the thing?” Abby enquired.

  Simon fixed his eyes on her and she shifted in her seat, feeling conscious of his full attention. “A one-year placement with an ad agency. It’s a great opportunity – not just the work, you know, but the experience; getting away from… you know, here. Seeing more, doing more.” He paused before adding, “I want that.”

  Abby could feel the intensity of his words, how much he wanted it, and she knew that he was going to get it. “Do you always get what you want?” she asked teasingly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “I always set out to achieve my goals, yes! Otherwise what’s the point of the journey, right? I am a believer in hard work and achiev
ing from it.” Simon paused and took a breath before continuing, “To get and truly appreciate what you want you should deserve what you get.” With that he sat back and drained his glass.

  Abby was trying to get her head round what he had said when Rachel burst into laughter. “Bloody hell Si, that’s a bit deep after this much cider.”

  Abby laughed too, becoming aware, as she did, that Simon’s gaze had returned to her. She felt heat rise inside her and she was pretty sure it wasn’t alcohol-induced.

  On the way back from the pub they all linked arms, stumbling as they went, laughter drifting into the cold night air of the rugby field. Attempting to steady herself, Abby slipped her arm inside Simon’s jacket. His broad back felt warm within his t-shirt and she could feel the strength in his torso. Becoming acutely aware that only his t-shirt separated their skin she quickly changed her position and grabbed Rachel’s arm. Simon was a friend, actually he was Rachel’s best friend and she had been allowed to share in that intimacy, but to think further on the attraction she could feel growing inside her would be wrong. Nevertheless she knew that actually convincing herself of that would be far easier if only she were a little less intoxicated by both the cider and Simon’s close proximity.

  Abby woke the next morning to the smell of burnt toast.

  “Morning ladies.” Simon entered the room wearing just a pair of unbuttoned jeans, white boxers showing underneath, no top and bare feet. It was almost certainly the best sight Abby had ever woken up to; Simon’s bare torso was every bit and more than she had imagined as she fell asleep the night before. Sitting up, Abby thought what a fright she must look in her pink pyjama crop top, makeup-free and hair all natural having showered away the hairspray and pub smoke smell before bed. She had learnt that reeking of the night before, no matter what state you were in at bedtime, would only be regrettable and vomit-inducing in the morning. Being hung over was always easier to face when clean and at least smelling human.

  It was not a sentiment Rachel shared. “Bloody hell Si, cover up, nobody should look like that at this hour,” she groaned, a mass of tangled hair and her face still seemingly half-stuck to the pillow. Lifting her arm sideways, she threw a t-shirt at him.

  Dodging it, he laughed. “Some of us have been up, out for a run and showered you know!” Reaching Abby’s bed he held out a steaming hot mug of tea and a plate of toast – the crusts were burnt and the top had clearly been scraped by the edge of a knife. The tea was too strong for Abby’s taste and she didn’t really feel like eating but she accepted it all willingly with a smile. As she bit into the toast and absorbed the sight of Simon in the morning she thought how she had never before eaten a breakfast that tasted quite so good.

  6

  As the girls ate their lunch Abby found she could neither eat nor drink – her nerves were taking their toll on her quivering insides. She had woken early after just three hours of sleep. Five o’clock was a ridiculous time to wake at the weekend and she found it even more annoying knowing it would simply prolong her fretful morning. She showered, blow-dried her hair in an attempt to tame her fringe and selected her clothes. Her bootcut black jeans, a recent purchase after her others developed a way-too-revealing hole, were baggy, so much so that she should probably have bought a smaller pair. Looking at herself in the mirror Abby was grateful that being abjectly miserable seemed to have a calorie-burning effect on her body. The scales confirmed she had shed just over half a stone in recent weeks and it showed.

  Turning back towards her wardrobe, finding herself faced with a range of rather sorry-looking supermarket-purchased t-shirts, she sighed. Ugh! Melissa was right; I really should have gone on a shopping spree! In sizes from 12 now ancient, to 14 now at least three years old, to 16 and even 18 – for those days when hiding behind an oversized, baggy t-shirt was the only thing that would do – they all looked more than a little tired! Running her fingers along the hangers Abby took out a chocolate brown, scoop-necked size 16 from Tu, believing it to be moderately superior to its George and Florence & Fred closet companions. Slipping it on she was pleased with the fit: slightly loose on the hips, tight on the bust and revealing just enough cleavage to show off her assets. She didn’t know how she felt about Simon or if she wanted him back but there was nothing wrong with showing him what he was missing!

  When the doorbell rang Abby stopped clearing the lunch dishes and took a big breath. Letting it out slowly, she checked her appearance in the kettle. Under her eyes looked too dark but she wasn’t sure she even owned enough concealer to rectify that. As she hesitated the bell rang again. This is it! She knew there was no escaping: she had to answer it. On her way to the door Abby considered how it felt weird not having Simon simply let himself in; it was his house too after all. Nevertheless, she was grateful that he recognised the dynamic had changed; his actions had placed him outside their world and he couldn’t just take it for granted that he was welcome back in.

  As Abby opened the door an uncharacteristically enthusiastic Bramble took a diving leap from the bottom of the stairs, launching himself towards Simon. Revealing an energy level he had barely mustered even as a puppy he leapt and bounded frantically around his ‘Daddy’s’ feet. Holding aloft a large bunch of freesias and obviously grateful that Bramble’s onslaught had lightened the moment Simon smiled.

  “At least someone’s pleased to see me!”

  “Sorry, come in.”

  Abby realised she had been staring, motionless for too long, taking in his appearance as he stood at the doorstep. He was so familiar to her and yet somehow he looked different. Simon had lost weight; he looked darker around his hazel eyes and lacked the usual confidence he generally carried so easily in his demeanour. He actually looked older than when Abby saw him last, with possibly more grey flecks in his dark hair. He had also dressed in jeans and wore a navy blue Marmot t-shirt that hung a little looser than when Abby had last seen it. Taking in his broad shoulders, strong chest and muscular arms Abby remembered how it felt to be held close to that body, to be scooped up in those arms. She knew the weight of Simon’s body pressed against hers; she knew it all so intimately – which parts caused the most pleasure when touched and kissed and teased.

  As these thoughts slipped easily into her mind, so they were seized upon, blasted away by the ugliness of images of that night. The evening she found out. The darkness in her own mind forcing her to remember, to shut down – she must not forget it all, every detail. Looking at his face it was all brought back to her. That nasty, stunned, horrified face when he realised she knew. That staring, caught-out face she would never forget; it was burned too deeply into her mind. Familiarity, good looks and a bunch of freesias would not overthrow the dark side of Abby’s mind. It had a point to prove, and one it was determined to stomp into her every thought.

  Tentatively, passing Abby the flowers, Simon stepped inside.

  “Thank you, you shouldn’t have.” With her head spinning, Abby was unsure how to respond. It all felt so awkward. “The girls are in the lounge.”

  Excitedly, Jessica and Grace greeted Simon with cheerful squeals. “Daddy! Daddy! You’re back!” While they had barely asked where he was, clearly they had missed him and were delighted to see him.

  Needing a moment to compose herself Abby headed to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. She loved freesias. She had carried a large bouquet of them at their wedding. Inhaling deeply, she took in their heady floral scent, a smell she had said many times put her in her happy place. Abby was unsure how it made her feel to have something she associated with happy times bought into their current mess, but she appreciated the sentiment and the freesias with their pretty yellow and purple hues were undoubtedly beautiful. Opening the cellophane she saw, tucked just inside amongst the delicate stems, something else. Something made and placed so precisely, waiting for her to find it. Pulling it free, she realised it was a small paper giraffe; a perfectly made, delicate origami giraffe. Around its neck was a small gift tag with the single word SORRY! writte
n carefully on it. She looked at it, a tear welling in her eye and she knew… she knew exactly why the giraffe was there.

  After their first meeting, after the staying in contact and late-night phone calls had turned to catching up in person and blossomed into dating Abby and Simon had spent the day at the zoo together. It was a gloriously hot day, after Abby had graduated and Simon had completed his final year with the ad agency in America. The animals had mostly been lazing in the shade but for Simon and Abby, newly together, the heat added to the intensity of the feelings building between them. They spent the day drinking in the fresh air and enjoying the sights around them, all the time inwardly focusing on the need they shared for each other. Holding hands, linking arms, hugging, kissing and teasing each other with their longing looks and tantalising embraces.

  Anticipation building inside them, they pitched their slightly-too-small, holey beige tent in the nearby forest. The evening was still. As the sun set into a pink sky full of promises their own giddy heat enveloped them. Both lost to everything but their own passion, and despite their obvious yearning for each other which had built throughout the day, they made slow, sensuous love – savouring the closeness of being totally at one with each other for the first time; playing out their intense desire with every tender caress, every taste, every intensely intimate movement they shared. By the time the moon rose high into the sky Abby felt completely captivated and supremely content beyond anything she had ever felt before. Locked in Simon’s embrace she knew she was hopelessly smitten, totally in love with him!

  In the morning when Abby woke, next to her makeshift pillow were three small, slightly wonky-looking origami animals – a lion, an elephant and a three-legged giraffe. Making them for her was a totally silly but quite lovely plan Simon had hatched in the gift shop, before discovering when he woke early and decided to surprise her with them that his talents at origami were somewhat limited.