by Janene Wood
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” His voice was disarmingly gentle. “Except your hair…it’s longer than I remember.” He lifted his hand and gently tucked a loose strand behind her ear.
Kate stifled a gasp and forced herself to hold her ground. What the hell was he playing at?
“You’re even more beautiful, if that’s possible.” He looked pensive. “And you’re still trying to save the world, bit by tiny bit.” He smiled then for the first time, and was transformed back into her Marc, whom she had loved so effortlessly and so completely. Her breath caught in her throat and she almost lost her resolve.
“Marc,” she said softly, regretfully, savouring the illicit sound of that one small word. “You’ve changed. But then, maybe I never really knew you at all.” She returned his gaze for one endless moment, and for an instant, thought she saw longing there. It passed before she could be sure.
“Thanks for your help earlier,” said Kate, her tone now briskly impersonal. They could have been strangers. “It was certainly very... timely.” She flushed, but met his eye bravely. “I have to go now.” Without another word she stepped past him, her back straight, her head held high. Dignified. Defiant.
“Katy!” he called to her retreating back.
She paused, teetering on the brink. The sound of her name on his tongue was what she had ached to hear since their last moment together. It sent sparks of yearning through her body that she was quite unprepared for. But too much time had passed; they were different people now. Her dreams had been unrealistic and childish. It was time to grow up and forget him.
Forcing her feet to move, Kate continued walking without looking back. When she reached the counter, she retrieved the wine she had selected for dinner, taking it without stopping. The cashier made no effort to waylay her. It was her due and they both knew it.
The eerie red and blue glow of the shop’s neon lights rendered Kate’s pale face a soft purplish hue as she stepped onto the pavement and turned in the direction of Jules’ flat. So this is what it feels like… To have seen him and not fallen at his feet, begging to be loved again. I should be proud of myself, for being so resolute.
Instead, she felt numb.
Just When You Think You Know Someone
The open bottle of Shiraz stood on the table between the two girls. Jules had poured them both a glass of the full-bodied red while listening tensely to Kate’s account of what transpired in the off-license. Kate had tried to down-play the attempted robbery, particularly the danger she had been in and her spontaneous, ill-conceived attempt to stop the gunman shooting the impulsive, dark-haired girl, but Jules insisted on hearing every tiny detail.
At the end of the story, Jules exclaimed, “My God, Kate! Do you have a death wish or something? What on earth were you thinking?”
“Obviously I wasn’t!” retorted Kate tartly.
“You could have been killed!”
“I do know that,” she said tersely, immediately regretting her tone. It wasn't Jules' fault she had behaved like a total lunatic. More calmly she said, “I’d rather not dwell on my stupidity, if that's okay with you.”
“Well, it worked out in the end and that’s the main thing,” said Jules, attempting to lighten the mood.
Kate lifted her glass to her lips and took a long sip. “You know, as bad as the whole thing was, the most disturbing part actually came afterward, just as I was leaving.”
Close as she and Jules were, Kate had never told her about Marc. The memories had simply been too painful to put into words. But after seeing him tonight, it felt like she had crossed a bridge, leaving behind the debilitating baggage that had weighed her down for so long.
“How do you mean?” said Jules.
“It turns out that the man who disabled the gunman was someone I used to know. He’s changed a great deal so I didn’t recognise him at first, but he came up to me afterward and we...talked.”
“Oh, really?” remarked Jules warily. “An old boyfriend, was it?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” replied Kate vaguely.
“Speaking of boyfriends,” said Jules, but Kate was on a roll and didn’t give her a chance to finish, wanting…needing to tell someone about Marc and purge herself of all the conflicted feelings that had resurfaced and come rushing back to overwhelm her.
“You know what it’s like,” gushed Kate, “when there’s an immediate, intense attraction and you can’t help but jump in, boots and all, without finding out the first thing about the guy. It was all hot and heavy at the beginning, but to be honest, it was doomed from the start. I mean, how can you truly love someone when you know little more about them than the colour of their eyes and how they take their coffee?” And that was the truly sad part, reflected Kate. At the time, she genuinely believed she knew him as well as she knew herself. It turned out she was a really terrible judge of character.
“Well, I think you can get a true sense of a person, even when you’ve only known them for a short time,” said Jules, strangely defensive. “Take the two of us, for example. I could tell straight away you were a compassionate, thoughtful and loyal person, which proves that first impressions are sometimes right. Right?”
“Sometimes, I suppose,” agreed Kate reluctantly. “Maybe you’re just better at sizing people up than I am. My radar certainly wasn’t working the day I met Marc. Can you believe we actually planned to get married? How deluded is that? We were going to take a long trip together, spend time with each other’s families and then decide where to settle down. Both of us were only in Eritrea temporarily...I told you about Eritrea, right?”
“No, actually,” said Jules tartly. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember you telling me you were engaged.”
Kate accepted the chastisement as her due. “I’m sorry, Jules. I wanted to tell you, but it was just too raw.”
“Listen, Kate...” interjected Jules, “There’s something I really need to tell you.”
Kate didn't even hear her, so lost was she in her memories. “Being dumped is never any fun, but it never hurt that badly before. It wasn't till I saw him tonight that I realised he truly belongs in the past.” Her voice faded away. There were still so many questions that remained unanswered and probably always would. If she was truly going to move forward and have a meaningful relationship with Ryan, she would have to accept that.
“I still don’t understand what happened,” said Kate softly, “but it doesn’t really matter why any more, even though a part of me still desperately wants an explanation. I was so certain our love could withstand anything. Obviously I was wrong.” She was dry-eyed and philosophical: she had Ryan; she didn’t need Marc, and in all likelihood, would never see him again.
“Kate! Listen to me! I really need to tell you something,” repeated Jules insistently, just as the sound of the front door opening echoed down the hall toward them.
“Can it wait? Your brother’s here and I am starving. I’ll get another glass, shall I?” She rose without waiting for a reply and moved across the room to the cabinet containing Jules' wine glasses. “I’m so glad I got all that stuff off my chest before your brother got here. Now I can just relax and enjoy the evening.”
Jules gave Kate an exasperated look and left of the room.
Marc stood in the doorway to the living room, watching Kate as she stared out the window, a million miles away, unaware he had even entered the room. He could see she was troubled, and understandably so. No doubt she was reliving the drama in the off-license and tormenting herself with her decision to knock the would-be thief for a six. She tended to over-think things, but he knew it was just her way of dealing with stress. If only she realised how incredibly brave she was to have risked her own safety the way she had. Most people would have stood back helplessly, thinking there was nothing they could do.
But perhaps that wasn’t all that was bothering her. Meeting him again so unexpectedly must have set loose a thousand painful memories and emotions she had thought were safely locked away. He a
ched to reach out and hold her; to comfort her and tell her they could make everything right, but the only thing he was certain of was that she wouldn’t want to hear it from him. He had promised to love her forever, but at the first test of his constancy, he had abandoned her. Or so she clearly saw it.
She turned, a polite smile painted on her face for her best friend’s brother – a man she expected to be a total stranger. Her smile faded when she saw Marc.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, leaping to her feet. “Did you follow me here from the high street?” Her face was contorted into an angry mask. She looked from Jules to Marc and back again, trying to make sense of what she clearly saw as an ambush.
“Kate,” said Jules gently, moving to her friend’s side and taking hold of her hand. “I’m so sorry; I tried to tell you. Marco is my brother and he really needs to talk to you. He didn’t think you would agree to meet with him, so I planned this dinner.”
“You knew about the two of us?” demanded Kate incredulously, wrenching her hand free of Jules’ grasp. “All this time?”
“No!” Jules denied vehemently. “Only since yesterday!”
Kate ignored her, or perhaps didn’t hear her. Her normally violet eyes had turned the colour of grey slate and glistened with unshed tears. She glared at Marc. “Why are you even here? Haven’t you done enough already?”
Marc took a slow step forward and spoke gently, as if to a fractious child. “Kate, I just want to talk to you. To explain that things didn’t happen the way you were led to believe.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Bullshit!” she declared. “It’s not a matter of what I believe! You left me without a word! That's pretty hard to misinterpret, don’t you think?”
“It’s a lie, Kate,” he said bluntly. “I left Eritrea because I thought you were dead and I couldn't bear to stay there without you.” Every fibre of his being yearned to bridge the gap between them and infuse her with the knowledge of what that lie cost him. It wasn’t something mere words could explain. How do you describe the constant ache that suffuses every cell of your body, making every waking moment, every single thought, an endless torment? Or the knowledge that nothing and no one will ever make you feel properly and completely alive, ever again? How to paint the hopelessness... The desire to have an end to it… But he suspected she already knew.
“I don’t believe you,” she said dully. “And I don’t have to listen to your pathetic, condescending lies. I’m out of here.” She picked up her bag and coat and pushed her way past Jules, ignoring the agonized expression on her friend's face.
“Kate, wait!” implored Jules. “Please just listen to him.”
Kate tried to step around Marc but he refused to allow her to pass without trying one last time to make her see reason. His voice was husky with emotion. “Hear me out, Kate, and try to see it from my point of view. They showed me your grave! “
Kate hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but in the end she was unmoved. She glared ferociously at Marc and he stepped out of her way.
Rounding on Marc, the pain of her friend’s abrupt dismissal written plainly on her face, Jules demanded furiously, “Did you follow her to the off-license? Have you been stalking her?”
“Of course not,” Marc replied evenly, his calm manner belying the chaos of his thoughts. “It was pure chance that we both happened to be there at the same time.” Marc sympathized with his sister’s pain but couldn’t afford to dwell on it. He had enough of his own to deal with.
“What if she never forgives me?” whispered Jules. “She’s my best friend.”
Despite the urgency of the situation, Marc’s heart went out to his sister. “She’ll come around when she’s had time to think about things, Jules. I guarantee it.” Even as they hugged, his thoughts continued to go around in circles. If only he could be as certain she would come around and listen to what he had to say.
Kate’s reaction wasn't any great surprise, although he had certainly hoped for a better initial outcome. He’d handled it badly, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t sure how else he could have approached her. It was clear she’d come to accept his perfidy as truth and it was going to take considerable effort to persuade her otherwise, no matter how sensitively he attempted to do so.
Jules stepped out of Marc’s embrace. She was calmer now, her normal equilibrium restored. “I can't believe what a mess this all is. I feel like it's all my fault.”
“Hey, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine; you were only trying to help. It’ll work itself out, you'll see, but right now I have to find her and talk to her.” Marc didn't want to desert Jules when she was hurting so badly, but he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Kate already had a big enough head start. He leaned down and kissed the top of his sister's head. “Will you be alright?”
Jules nodded solemnly. “I’ll be fine. Go! Do what you have to do.”
He turned and charged out of the flat, leaving Jules alone with her thoughts and more lasagna than any one person could possibly eat.
Marc slowed to a jog as he rounded the corner, a block and a half from Jules’ flat. He was back-tracking to the high street where he guessed Kate would have headed in order to find a taxi home. The yellow Jeep wasn't parked out front of Jules’ building, so unless she planned to walk all the way, a taxi was her most likely option. He didn’t expect to have too much trouble catching up with her.
A red Saab was idling at the opposite kerb about a hundred metres ahead, its headlights shining straight toward him. A slim figure in a light coloured coat stood alongside, in animated discussion with the driver of the car. He recognised Kate at once, but who was she talking to?
“Kate!” yelled Marc. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he didn’t like the look of this. He increased his pace again to shorten the distance between them. Kate looked up and stared at him for five full seconds. For a moment he thought she was going to heed him, but at the last second she opened the back door of the Saab and slid inside. From this distance it was impossible to be sure she wasn’t being coerced.
Marc cut into the centre of the road and sprinted toward the car as it pulled away from the kerb. The Saab moved toward him slowly at first, then began to pick up speed. As the distance between them closed to less than ten metres, Marc realised it wasn’t going to stop. He had no choice but to leap awkwardly to one side, landing hard on his right side.
Finding his feet, Marc brushed himself off and muttered angrily as he watched the red tail lights move away in the direction he had just come from. He tried to make out Kate’s face through the receding rear window, but the tinted glass and the depth of the night hindered him.
The Saab indicated at the corner and turned in the general direction of the high street, but it was taking the long way around, Marc observed intently. If he hurried, he might get there first. There was no point going back to Jules' flat, grabbing his car keys and driving himself; the Saab would be long gone by then. The pain in his right hip was fading and he didn't think there was any lasting damage. He turned abruptly, taking the opposite yet far more direct route to the high street.
The flow of traffic had dwindled to a trickle by the time he reached the high street a minute later at a full sprint, but there was no sign of a taxi anywhere. Slowing to a walk, he took a series of long, deep breaths and considered his options. It wasn’t just a matter of talking to Kate any more, he also needed to make sure she was safe. The way she had been intercepted by the red Saab seemed wrong to him. He knew he had no right to be concerned, but he felt responsible for her state of mind, and the consequences of any rash decision she made under the stress he had induced, could and should be laid at his feet. It wasn’t in his nature to give up, particularly when so much was at stake, so there was no real choice but to continue on and hope a taxi came by before the Saab reappeared and drove off into the night. He would find her and talk to her tonight.
When he took off again along the high street, his breathing had returned to normal, but there was
a persistent dull ache in his right thigh. He hadn’t gone far before the Saab appeared at the corner up ahead. It halted at the intersection, waiting for the road to clear before crossing the north-bound lane and taking off in a southerly direction. There was still no taxi in sight.
Damn; he was too late.
He slowed to a walk, knowing he had no choice but to give up. The Saab could be headed anywhere. Coming to a complete stand-still, he ran his hands through his sweat-slicked hair then watched in delighted bemusement as a taxi pulled up on the other side of the road. He whispered a heartfelt, “Thank Christ,” and sprinted across the road, waving his arms to attract the driver’s attention. Dropping into the front seat, he issued terse instructions to the driver and resumed his pursuit.
The red Saab double-parked outside a rundown, three-storey block of flats on a narrow, treeless street in Shoreditch and disgorged its two passengers. Cars were parked end to end all along one side of the street, leaving just enough room for two cars to pass each other if they were careful. The neighbourhood had seen better days and the few residents out and about reflected their drab surroundings, though Kate was in no fit state to notice. Her mind was far, far away.
After checking Marc wasn’t hurt after they almost ran him down, she had determinedly turned her mind inward, shutting herself off from her surroundings. She had to push all thoughts of her former love and his wild assertions out of her head and calm herself in readiness for what lay ahead. It wasn’t easy; her head was still reeling with the insane possibility that maybe he hadn’t betrayed and abandoned her, and she urgently wanted to examine that idea from every conceivable angle. But it would have to wait. Right now, she needed to empty her mind of everything but the job ahead.
If what Fitz and Tayo said was true, she had a difficult task ahead of her, particularly since she wasn't feeling 100%. A belly full of Jules' lasagne would have been welcome right now, but she would have to manage without. Fitz, one of her least favourite people, led her into the dingy foyer of the building and toward a narrow L-shaped staircase. The stairs leading up to the first floor were sticky beneath her shoes, making her recoil in disgust. Hopefully the situation wasn’t as serious as she had been led to believe. Clasping her hands together so she didn’t accidentally touch anything, she clutched her bag close against her chest. She dreaded the idea of working in such an unsanitary environment, but what choice did she have?