by Jon Rance
March
Kate
I was standing at the open door of an aeroplane, fifteen thousand feet in the air, and looking down at the ground far below when I realised two very important things. One: death was only a failed parachute opening away. Two: I wasn’t ready to die.
Until twenty-fours before, I wasn’t even thinking about skydiving. It wasn’t on my bucket list because I was a scaredy-cat and my bucket list didn’t contain things that could lead to my death. I saw it as slightly counterproductive to have things that might actually kill me on a list of things I wanted to do before I died. I didn’t mind the occasional bit of risk, but jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane didn’t seem like the best way to spend a Wednesday afternoon. If it hadn’t been for Orla and what happened with Ed, I wouldn’t have even thought about it, but there I was about to take literally the biggest leap of faith and I was shitting myself. Orla, on the other hand, who was standing just behind me with her burly Aussie attached to her like an oversized snail shell, couldn’t wait.
‘Ready?’ said Andy, the Australian crackpot whom I entrusted with my life.
‘Not really.’
‘Too late to back out now,’ said Andy salaciously, and that’s when it happened. We jumped.
Twenty-four hours earlier
I hadn’t spoken to Ed in over two weeks and I was starting to feel uneasy about it. Maybe it was because of Jez, but I felt like I was losing touch with him in more ways than one. Ed seemed to belong to an old life that had no relevance to my current one, but I still missed him terribly, or at least the idea of him.
I was sitting on the beach in Byron Bay when I decided to give him a call. It was just past nine o’clock in the evening back home and so I figured he’d be back from work and probably parked in front of the telly. I imagined him in my head: feet up on the coffee table, glass of wine in his hand, a tired frown on his face and falling asleep to the news.
It was strange to imagine our house. It was even stranger to imagine myself back there again. Cutting and pasting myself back into my old life was going to be much harder than pushing a couple of buttons on a keyboard. Maybe that’s the problem with our generation. We’re so used to controlling everything with the click of a button and yet the one thing we can’t control is our lives. We think we can break hearts and then magically erase the problem, but love doesn’t work like that. I’m part of the Ctrl+Alt+Del generation and it feels like I’m the pair of tits they hired to be the spokesperson.
‘Ed,’ I half-shouted along a crackly line.
‘Hi.’
‘What you doing?’
‘Just watching TV, drinking a bottle of red and wondering where in the world my girlfriend is.’
‘Byron Bay, between Sydney and Brisbane.’
I went on to explain how Orla and I had left the comforts of Sydney and taken an overnight coach to Byron Bay. It was the first stop on our girl’s tour up the east coast of Australia: four weeks of hedonistic partying and seeing as much as we could until it was time for me to head to Melbourne.
Byron Bay was a gorgeous little surf town and we were staying at a hostel a hop, skip and a jump over railway tracks to the beach. It wasn’t quite as idyllic as Koh Phangan, but it had a nice relaxed vibe and we quickly got into the habit of waking up and going to the beach before walking into town for night-time fun and giggles. Being in Byron Bay reminded me of the holiday I took to Newquay when I was seventeen. I went with Emma and another couple of friends from sixth form. It was our first holiday without our parents and so we all went a bit crazy, the liberation making us feel like proper adults. It had been a real rite of passage and being in Byron Bay gave me the same feeling.
‘Sounds great,’ said Ed and I could detect a shard of something in his voice.
‘You all right?’
‘Tired. Not sleeping well without you.’
‘You should try sleeping on some of the hostel beds I’ve been in, more like planks of wood. It’s doing my back no favours.’
‘It’s one of the reasons I didn’t come.’
‘Yeah, right. We could’ve stayed at five-star hotels and you still wouldn’t have budged from the sofa.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing, I was joking. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?’
‘Just tired,’ he said again and then there was a silence.
Neither of us knew what to say to each other. It was pitiful. We’d gone from living together and longing for each other to almost complete strangers in less than three months. I didn’t want to go on and on about what I was doing and it seemed like he didn’t want to talk about anything. I felt like I was losing him when we didn’t talk and completely lost when we did. Maybe it wasn’t meant to work. Could being apart for such a long time ever really work?
‘Glad I called then.’
‘And what do you want me to say, Kate? How’s the trip? Tell me about all the drinking, partying and blokes you’ve been messing about with?’
His tone took me completely by surprise. It was angry and short, but what threw me the most was the unwitting reference to my fling with Jez. He shouldn’t have had any right to be angry or jealous, but he did. I felt awful and a part of me wanted to tell him. He deserved to know the truth, but I was too afraid. I didn’t want to lose him. Technically, it was only a kiss and a shared bed, but I suppose deep down it was more than that. I had felt something for someone else and thought about being with them and surely that was a lot worse than just a kiss.
‘It’s not like that . . .’
‘And what’s it like, Kate?’
‘Do we have to do this? I just wanted to hear your voice. I don’t want to argue.’ There was another long pause. All I could hear down the line was the noise from the TV in the background. ‘What are you watching?’ I wanted to talk about something mundane. I was bored of having the same conversations with Ed. Ten thousand miles between us and all we could do was argue.
‘I don’t think I can do this,’ he said suddenly.
‘Do what?’
‘This. Us. Being apart. Just talking on the phone. Always wondering where you are and what you’re doing. It’s killing me.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘We can’t keep doing this to each other. You need to be free of me and I . . .’
‘You what, Ed?’ I said, suddenly holding back tears.
‘I need to be free of you.’
‘Are you breaking up with me?’
I could feel the tears about to break and wash over my face.
‘Not breaking up, exactly. Taking a break. Let’s be honest, this isn’t working. It can’t. If we don’t talk to each other while you’re away, then when you get back we can just see what happens.’
‘What the fuck does that mean?’
The tears quickly turned to incredulous anger.
‘It means exactly that. I feel like I’m holding you back, like you’re calling me just to check in and all I can think about is you and wondering, is she going to call? What’s she doing? I just think we need a break and then when you get back . . .’
‘I know, see what happens.’
I couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. Ed was the least ‘let’s just see what happens’ man in the world. It wasn’t Ed talking. At least the Ed I knew. Ed hated anything that wasn’t rubber-stamped and official. Ed didn’t make decisions at the drop of a hat. Something had changed. Ed had changed.
‘You know it makes sense, Kate. I’m just trying to do something now so when you get back we can work.’
‘But why? I don’t understand.’ There was a pause and all I could hear was him breathing down the line. ‘Ed?’
‘Just leave it, Kate, please. Can’t we just see what happens . . .?’
‘Oh, God, stop, just stop it! Do you hear yourself? This isn’t you talking. You begged me not to leave. You proposed marriage. You told me you didn’t want me to change because you wanted to marry me just as I was and now yo
u want to see what happens? No, Ed, no. What’s happened? I know you and this isn’t you.’
‘Maybe I’ve changed.’
‘Oh, so I leave and you’re the one that’s changed?’ I was suddenly crying and people nearby were looking across at me. I was the crazy person on the beautiful, sunny day at the beach, crying and shouting at her mobile phone.
‘I think it’s for the best.’
‘For who? For me? For you? Who, Ed?’
‘For the both of us.’
‘What happened?’
‘What do you mean, what happened?’ he said and I noticed a crack in his voice. A stain on his otherwise brilliantly professional performance.
‘Something happened you’re not telling me. What is it?’
Again the pause, only this one was different. There was a tension that lingered between us until finally Ed said ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to do it, things just got out of control . . .’
‘What happened?’
‘I slept with someone. I’m so sorry.’
I couldn’t believe it. Ed, my Ed, had slept with someone else. I should have been angrier. I should have wanted to slam the phone down and never see him again. Except, of course, I couldn’t, because I’d been unfaithful with Jez. Not quite three months apart and we’d both been unfaithful. What did that say about us? What did that say about our future together? ‘Do you like this girl?’ I said, suddenly feeling tears sting my eyes.
‘No, Kate, it was nothing like that. It was just . . .’ Ed stopped for a moment. ‘I think I was missing you and I was angry at you for leaving. It’s not an excuse for what I did, I’m not trying to say it is, but I don’t like her, Kate, not like that. It was just sex.’
In some ways that made it harder because I knew I could forgive just sex. That might sound crazy, but just sex was a mistake, an error in judgement, but feelings like I had for Jez, that was worse. Feelings aren’t a mistake or a simple error; they’re deep within us and they mean something.
I looked around me. It was so warm and beautiful. People were stretched out, enjoying themselves, so carefree and unaffected by the troubles of the world. Laughing, swimming, playing football and chatting each other up; these were my fellow backpackers and I wanted to join them. I wanted to dive in and swim in their cool uncomplicated waters. I wanted to be twenty instead of almost thirty and wanted my old life back. I wanted to push Ctrl+Alt+Del, stop this program and restart. Why couldn’t I? After the tears had slowly faded away, I laughed a little.
‘What?’ said Ed. ‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Because I kissed someone, Ed. In Thailand. I wanted to tell you, I did, but didn’t have the courage.’
‘I am so sorry.’
‘I know. Me too.’
‘So where does this leave us?’ said Ed. He sounded shell-shocked. His voice was hollow.
‘I think you were right. Maybe we should take a break and see what happens.’
‘Love you,’ said Ed desperately.
‘Love you too,’ I said, but neither of us sounded that sure.
There was a long pause, neither of us sure what to say next. It felt like one of those moments back home where we’d sit down by the Thames, holding hands, enjoying the moment without having to say anything. The difference was that we were so far apart. We were holding hands across the ocean, not sure what was going to happen next.
‘You know, I never meant to hurt you,’ I eventually said. ‘Coming away. It was just something I needed to do.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why were you so grumpy before I left? Why did you try and stop me?’
‘Why do you think?’
‘Because you’re a miserable sod?’
Ed laughed a little.
‘No, Kate, because I was afraid of this. I was afraid I’d lose you.’
‘You haven’t lost me, Ed.’
‘Haven’t I?’
‘Not unless you want to.’
‘Why do you think I suggested taking a break? I was doing it to try and save us.’
‘It’s going to be weird not talking,’ I said.
‘It will, but it’s been pretty weird talking too so maybe it’s for—’
‘The best. I know.’
Another pause.
‘So I guess this is it.’
‘Can I text you though, from time to time?’
‘Sure,’ said Ed. ‘Let me know where you are.’
‘Make sure I’m still alive,’ I said with a giggle.
‘Exactly,’ said Ed and he chuckled, but it just sounded sad.
After we said goodbye, I sat on the beach, looked out at the ocean and felt the gentle breeze on my face. If there was ever a moment I needed to press Ctrl+Alt+Del, now was the time. Not only was I miles from home, but I was, to all intents and purposes, single for the first time in a very long time.
To: Emma Fogle
From: Kate Jones
Subject: Re: Oz
Em,
I’m so happy you decided to keep the baby. I thought you would. Back when you were sixteen you made the right decision too. I know it’s been hard for you so hopefully now you can feel some sense of closure. I’m SO happy for you and Jack. I’m also very annoyed that I’m not going to be there during the first half of the pregnancy, but I’ll definitely be there for the birth! Just you try and stop me.
Unfortunately, things aren’t great with Ed at the moment. We spoke the other day and agreed to take a break. I don’t really know how or why it happened. We talked and we both told each other a few things and the next minute we were on a break until I get back. I’m starting to wonder whether coming away was worth it. What if Ed and I don’t make it because of this? I still love him so much, but there’s a distance between us now and not just the physical one. It’s so strange because I don’t feel any different with you, but with Ed it’s like being so far apart is destroying everything we’ve spent so many years building up. It’s funny that our friendship is stronger than my relationship with Ed. Not Ha Ha though.
Orla and I are in Byron Bay at the moment. It’s a gorgeous little seaside town and we’re having the best time. Byron sort of reminds me of Newquay. Orla and I found a pub/club here called Cheeky Monkeys, it’s a bit of a meat market, dancing on the tables and all that, but it’s fun and cheap. Remember that club we went to in Newquay where we met those boys from Southampton? I think it was called Berties or something. I remember it was cheese-tastic! You got off with that guy, Steve, and I ended up with Stuart, the boy with the wandering hands! That was so much fun. I guess I was thinking about it because I’m here and also because life was so uncomplicated then. Why does it have to be so difficult now?
I intend to enjoy the rest of my trip and not think about Ed too much. I can’t let him ruin this for me and hopefully we can sort things out when I get back.
Missing you, Em. Say hi and congrats to Jack. Have you told your mum yet? I wonder what she’s going to say. Still, whatever she says, remember it’s your life and not hers. We’re heading off up the coast tomorrow to Brisbane and then to a place called Fraser Island to camp for three days. It’s the world’s biggest sand island! How cool is that?
Love K x
Ed
It was Friday and the office was winding down for the week; the giant juggernaut was slamming its brakes on for the two-day hiatus. It was just gone seven and the only people left in the office were the new recruits trying to gain favour and, of course, Hugh Whitman. Then there was me, who didn’t want to leave because I had nowhere else to go. Home reminded me of Kate and I wasn’t in the mood for the pub. Work was my only shelter amid the chaos of my life. Kate had never understood my relationship with work in the same way I’d never understood her need to go travelling. Kate was desperate to escape the day-to-day confines of work, while I lost myself in it to escape the unknown beyond. I needed the drudgery while she needed freedom, but somehow we had always needed each other to make it work.
‘Drink?’ said Georgie,
suddenly appearing at my desk.
I noticed Hugh look up from his computer and give me the evil eyebrows, furrowed, deep and questioning.
‘Probably not a good idea.’
‘Just a quick one. I need to ask you something.’
‘You can’t ask me here?’
‘Just one tiny little drink,’ she said with an eager, school-photograph smile.
Hugh walked past, briefcase in hand and a Himalayan expression of irritation and displeasure plastered all over his face. He had warned me about any extra-curricular activity with Georgie and he certainly wouldn’t warn me again. He didn’t have to use actual words; his face said it all, crushing me with the sheer weight of its disapproval.
‘Night, Hornsby,’ he boomed like an old headmaster.
‘Sir.’
‘Good night,’ said Georgie, smiling sweetly.
For a moment Hugh’s face cracked; a tender smile gave the slightest hint of humanity beneath.
‘Georgina,’ he said before he looked back at me, his whole face contorting into a look of absolute annoyance. His eyebrows were like heavy leaden storm clouds bearing down on the thin slits of his eyes and the jagged rolls of floppy flesh that made up the rest of his face. The red veins of deep burgundy wine on his nose and cheeks seemed to deepen and threatened to rip and stream down his already bloodshot face.
When he was firmly out of earshot I turned back to Georgie, who was now perched upright on my desk. She was wearing a white cardigan over a flowery blouse that hung loosely down towards her perky young breasts. I got a sudden flashback of our night together. It would’ve been so easy to give in, to go out for one tiny little drink, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want her. It was something I realised during our first time together. It didn’t matter that she was gorgeous and wanted me, none of that mattered because she wasn’t Kate.
‘I don’t think we should.’
‘But, Ed, I want to. Just one. Please. For me.’
‘No, Georgie, I don’t want to.’