Three Way

by Daniel Grant

  My phone rings just as I’m showing my ID to the security guard at main reception. Ashley? I pull out my phone. Blocked Call.

  ‘Hello?’ I say.

  ‘Ollie, it’s Julie. Paul’s asking if you can do a coffee run?’ she asks. What am I, the newsdesk bloody gopher?

  ‘Sure,’ I say, unable to hide my annoyance.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she says, detecting my mood.

  ‘No, it’s fine. What do you want?’

  ‘Can I have a skinny latte and Paul wants a double shot cappuccino.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Thanks, Ollie.’ Yeah whatever. I head over to the lifts and up to the canteen.

  A chirpy bottle blonde teenager with an eastern European accent takes my order. I wait, glancing at the muffins and assortment of croissants available to me. No, need to be good. That panettone bread looks like it needs to be eaten.

  ‘Here you are sir,’ the blonde girl says.

  ‘Cheers,’ I reply, taking the coffees. My phone rings again. I place the coffee on an empty table and answer the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, it’s Lauren,’ she says, her voice strange.

  ‘Hey, how’s it going?’

  ‘Uh, not good.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They want me to go to New York tomorrow.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just for a couple of weeks, then I’ll be back. I’m not moving for good yet, don’t worry.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I know, it sucks. But I sort of have to-’

  ‘I know you do,’ I say. Silence descends as we both try to find the words. ‘What time is your flight?’

  ‘Twelve-fifteen.’

  ‘Okay,’ I reply. I consider offering to see her off at the airport but is that a bit-

  ‘Don’t fancy seeing me off, do you?’ she asks. I do have a day off tomorrow but do I really want to-

  ‘Uh, sure-’ I find myself saying.

  ‘You don’t have to, just thought it might be…nice.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m on a day off anyway.’

  ‘Jesus. You get a lot of days off, part-timer,’ she says, chuckling. She means it as a joke but the comment annoys me. ‘Maybe you could come round after work today?’

  ‘Uh sure. I didn’t bring a bag or anything.’

  ‘Well it’s only for one night.’

  ‘Okay, I finish around six, so be there by six-thirty, seven?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘See you later.’

  ‘Bye,’ she says. I hang up and breathe out, realising I’d been holding my breath for what felt like the entire conversation. I’m losing her, I know I am. She is slipping through my fingers and there seems to be fuck all I can do about it.

  I walk back into the newsroom with the coffee and hand the cups to Julie and Paul.

  ‘Great stuff mate, how much do I owe you?’ Paul asks.

  ‘Nah, it’s fine,’ I reply.

  ‘It all adds up,’ he says.

  ‘You can buy me one next time,’ I say.

  ‘Okay, thanks. Nothing for you so far, so just log in and I’ll let you know if something comes up,’ he says.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply.

  ‘You okay, Ollie?’ Julie asks, ripping a sachet of sugar and tipping it into her coffee. I look at her and consider my response.

  ‘Not really,’ I say.

  ‘What’s up?’ she says.

  ‘My life’s a mess.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just…can’t seem to slot the pieces in order,’ I reply.

  ‘Is this about Lauren, Svetla or your schoolfriend?’

  ‘Lauren,’ I say.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Guys, can you have this conversation offline?’ Paul says. ‘Sorry Ollie, but Julie has work to do.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. I glance at Julie who gives me a concerned face.

  ‘If you’re around at lunch, maybe…?’ Julie says.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, walking to my desk and sitting down. I feel like shit. I have no control over anything important in my life. Ashley’s gone AWOL, Lauren’s flying to America, Svetla is living with fuckface. I’m wallowing, I know but I can’t help it. Need something to go right. Some good news. I turn on the news and watch people shooting one another in Afghanistan. This is not going to cheer me up. I log in and load up the news program, looking through the wires and news stories. I grab a couple of papers and settle in for some reading, trying not to think about Lauren or Ashley.

  I spend the day achieving nothing. Unless you call finding out how much a return flight to New York costs. It’s a lot. I know Lauren said she would pay but I wanted to know anyway. My lunchtime conversation with Julie is fairly pointless and short-lived as Paul calls her back off her break for some breaking story in Norfolk about a gunman shooting a police officer. Strange when those sorts of stories kick off, the newsroom goes nuts but as it’s outside London I have very little input into the story. I leave at six, the newsroom still as chaotic, even four hours later.

  I walk to the tube station and head down to the platform. The train comes in rammed, blowing hot air and sheets of discarded newspaper around the platform. I breathe in as I board. The doors close and we move off. I transfer to the Victoria line and find a seat. In rush hour! I know, second time in one day! Except, and you won’t believe this, another pregnant woman stands right in front of me. I pretend not to see her but I can’t do it. I look up at her. She gives me puppy dog eyes. Sighing, I stand and let her have the seat. Maybe, if you’re pregnant, you just shouldn’t be allowed on public transport. Or is that like a racist thing to say? Just annoying, that’s all I know. Did the city run out of contraception or something? I arrive at Pimlico station just after six-thirty and head towards Lauren’s flat. As I walk, Parker calls me.

  ‘What do you want?’ I ask.

  ‘I need some advice.’

  ‘From me? You need advice from me?’

  ‘Yes. Now shut up and listen.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Now I’m being serious when I say this, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Okay, and I’m not saying it’s her or anything but-’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ I say quickly, wanting him to hurry up.

  ‘Okay. Well, you know about Nicola and her gas…issues,’ he says. I smile.

  ‘You’ve mentioned it,’ I reply.

  ‘And…you know, that’s normal because lots of people have those sorts of issues, right?’

  ‘Yes. That it?’

  ‘No. See, because last night, I get up and go to the toilet, like I usually do at three in morning, right?’

  ‘Right. It’s bloody annoying-’

  ‘Okay but, I finish and I flush the toilet and I head back to the bedroom and…I mean we did drink quite a lot last night and I don’t really remember that much about what happened but…okay...’ Christ, how long is this going to take? ‘On the floor, was…’

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘A poo.’

  ‘Uh, what?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Wait a minute…you’re saying she…shat on the floor?’

  ‘I don’t know, man. I mean, it wasn’t me and we don’t have any pets so the conclusion I’ve come to is…yeah.’

  ‘Okay, just so we’re clear and there’s no confusion…you’re girlfriend…took a shit…on my spare bedroom floor?’

  ‘I’m not a hundred percent it was her.’

  ‘But for the sake of argument, let’s say it was.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You’re asking me what…you should do about it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I would start by clearing it up-’

  ‘For Christ’s sake Ollie, I did that. I mean what should I do about her? Should I tell her? Should I just pretend it didn’t happen?’ he asks. This is one dilemma I never imaged I’d be giving advice about.

  ‘Jesus, I don’t know. Is she liable to do it again?’


  ‘No, I mean…I don’t know.’

  ‘Then maybe you’d better have a chat with her?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, almost disappointed with my answer.

  ‘I don’t really want her shitting all over the flat,’ I say.

  ‘She’s not shitting all over the flat, she was probably a bit drunk and, I don’t know, couldn’t hold it or something.’

  ‘Parker. You’re a good friend. And as a good friend I’m going to be completely honest with you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I don’t want your girlfriend shitting on my floor! I mean, Jesus Christ.’ I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask people to go to the toilet in the actual toilet, do you? What is this, the Bronze Age? ‘Look, do I think you guys need to sit down and talk about this? Yes. Does she need to know that I know? Possibly not.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll have a talk with her.’

  ‘Good luck,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  ‘Okay, see you later.’

  ‘I’m staying at Lauren’s tonight, she’s going to New York tomorrow, so I’m going to the airport with her. Only for two weeks.’

  ‘You’re going to the airport for two weeks?’ he asks.

  ‘No, she’s going to New York for two weeks, shit-for-brains.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

  ‘One more thing, have you seen Ashley?’ I ask.

  ‘No. Why?’ he replies.

  ‘Nothing just…doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, bye.’

  ‘Bye,’ I say, hanging up. As I round the corner to Lauren’s road, I feel as if life has taken on a certain eccentric tone and I hope and pray I can return to some semblance of normality as soon as possible. The image of Nicola taking a dump on my floor keeps popping into my mind. I smile to myself but I hope she hasn’t stained the carpet…you know what, let’s just stop thinking about this.

  I knock on Lauren’s door and she opens it quickly. She’s on the phone and indicates for me to follow her inside which I do.

  ‘…exactly, but just make sure James knows everything about the Anderson account because I don’t want to come back and find there are still issues with it…yeah…no Mark, I’ve told you how it should go, so make it happen…’ I follow her into the bedroom. Her clothes are out in piles on the bed and her suitcase is open with nothing in it. The image of the piles sends my mind straight back to the piles Svetla had when she was leaving. I look up at Lauren. I watch her lips moving as she paces around the room with purpose, barking orders at Mark on the other end of the phone. Another girl, soon to be gone. ‘Yep, okay, call me if there’s anything else, I mean it. The second anything changes you call me, right? Okay, bye.’ She turns to face me and shakes her head. ‘Total nightmare.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Oh, James Kennedy is fucking about with a client and…’ she breathes in deeply, ‘you know what, doesn’t matter.’

  ‘He’s a cock.’

  ‘Yes well…how are you anyway? You want something to drink?’

  ‘Orange juice or whatever?’ I say. We head into the kitchen and she takes out a carton of Tropicana from the fridge.

  ‘How was work?’ she asks, finding a glass and pouring the juice.

  ‘Boring,’ I reply. She hands me the glass and puts the juice back in the fridge. ‘You not having any?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘All ready to go?’

  ‘No. But it’ll have to do. Hate when everything is such short notice,’ she says. I take a glug of my juice. ‘So…you gonna miss me?’ she asks. I nod and swallow the juice.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply, trying to play it cool.

  ‘Yeah you really sound it,’ she says. I sigh.

  ‘I don’t…forget it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want you to go. I know that’s selfish and I shouldn’t think like that but that’s how I feel,’ I say.

  ‘Look I don’t want to go either. But I have to.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. She walks over and kisses me then we hug. I close my eyes, savouring the moment. ‘This sucks.’

  ‘Yeah. But too much of this and I’ll be bawling my eyes out before we’ve even got to the airport. Come on, you can help me choose what to wear.’

  Lauren and I barely speak on the drive to the airport. There’s so much more I want to say. I want her to know how much she means to me, that I don’t want her to go at all. I can’t stop her though, unless I cause a scene at the airport? Could I do that? Could I pretend to have a bomb strapped to me or some other weapon of mass destruction? I watch the scene play out in my head and whichever way I look at it, it doesn’t end well. I therefore decide against a terrorist attack.

  This is a nice taxi. The driver wears a hat, I mean…right? I glance down at my hand holding hers, then up to her face. She’s staring out of the window, in another world. I mirror her, looking out of my window. Could I actually have met the girl that gets me over Svelta? Could she be this close and yet soon be so far away. I rub her fingers slowly. She responds by rubbing back, glancing at me and giving me a sad smile. Her eyes return to the window.

  I spot a plane taking off ahead, not far to go now. I breathe in. This is going to be horrible. I know it’s only for two weeks but it’s just foreshadowing what’s ahead. Like a dress rehearsal before the main event.

  We drive to the set down area of Terminal five at Heathrow and pull over. The driver gets out and starts unloading her bags. She sniffs and opens the door. I follow her lead, getting out my side (without sniffing or showing any visible sign of upset.) The noise and wind are intense as is the smell of aviation fuel which hangs in the air. The driver, having unloaded the bags slams the boot shut. She hands him a ten pound tip. Bloody hell, ten pounds! For doing the job he gets paid to do. Man, if he gets ten pounds just for driving her to the airport, I wonder how much…you know what, I’m not going to finish that thought.

  We walk into the terminal. It’s a bright and spacious area with glass everywhere and plenty of room for checking in. We walk up to the First Class section and she hands over her passport.

  ‘Are you travelling as well, sir?’ the brunette check-in girl asks.

  ‘No. Just seeing her off,’ I say, wondering if I sound mildly pathetic. The check-in girl smiles and carries on processing the ticket. She hands Lauren her boarding pass and tells her the lounge is on the second level then wishes Lauren a pleasant flight, which is nice.

  We head to Carluccio’s and sit down. A skinny-looking girl comes over and takes our order. Lauren asks for an espresso, I go for a latte.

  ‘So, here we are,’ Lauren says.

  ‘Here we are,’ I reply. We stare into each other’s eyes, she looks away first.

  ‘I’m not going to cry. I told myself I’m not going to cry and I’m not. I never cry. I’m not one of those sorts of girls,’ she says. I nod slowly. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she adds. I frown.

  ‘Like what?’ I ask. She sighs.

  ‘I feel…awful.’

  ‘Don’t. You have to do this. It’s important.’

  ‘Is it? More important than being with you?’ she asks. I consider her words and shrug. I don’t know. It’s not for me to tell her what’s more important in her life, is it? Should I be playing it better, making her feel bad for going? I can’t. It’s a decision she has to make on her own. She runs her finger around her espresso cup and then glances over at a tall guy with a small wife walking past. Looks weird, but I bet they’re in love and happy.

  ‘Does Parker know I’m going?’ she asks. I nod.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply.

  ‘What does he think about it?’

  ‘Not really his business.’

  ‘I know. Just wondered what he thought.’

  ‘He thinks you have to do what’s right for you. I do too.’

  ‘That’s such a loaded comment.’

  ‘No. It’s true,’ I reply. More awkwardn
ess.

  ‘Well, I think I’m going to go through. I don’t want to drag this out, I’ll be enough of a wreck as it is.’

  ‘Yeah. Sure,’ I reply, getting out my wallet. I put down ten pounds for the coffees.

  ‘I’ll pay,’ she says.

  ‘I got it,’ I reply. We stand and walk slowly towards security. We stop when we get as far as we can go. There are guys dishing out plastic bags and asking people if they have any liquids in their luggage. Lauren turns to me.

  ‘Right well. See you in two weeks, thanks for coming to see me off,’ she says.

  ‘No worries,’ I reply. I see the beginnings of a tear start its journey down her cheek. I hug her, pulling her in close to me. I feel myself start to go as well and breathe it back. I try to remember her smell as I nuzzle her neck, imprinting it in my memory. Slowly, we release each other. Her makeup has run a little, she must see my reaction because she says,

  ‘I know, how stupid am I not wearing waterproof mascara?’ We both chuckle and sniff back our tears. Yes, I’m a little emotional as well. What? Guys cry too, you know. ‘I’ll sort it out in the bathroom,’ she says. I nod.

  ‘Give me a ring when you get there,’ I reply. She nods slowly with big puppy eyes.

  ‘God, okay. Sorry. Right, come on Bates, get it together. See you later,’ she says, leaning in and giving me a final peck on the cheek. She grabs her bag and walks away. I watch her go, the aching in my heart getting progressively worse. She shows her boarding pass to the official, he waves her through. I wait for her to look back. She does, so briefly that if I’d been blinking at that moment I would have missed it. I wave, but by the time my hand is raised, she’s gone. I stand there, watching the space where she used to be. It’s not forever. Just two weeks. I breathe in slowly. Goodbye Lauren. I turn and head towards the Heathrow Express wondering where exactly my life is headed now.

  As I ride the train back towards London my mind wanders. That last image of Lauren looking back at me. Two weeks feels like a year. Then I think of Ashley. She probably feels like shit. I need to call her as soon as I get back. Make sure she’s okay. I get a picture message from Lauren, it’s a photo of her return ticket. I smile.

  The train pulls into Paddington Station just after twelve. I dial Ashley’s number and walk towards the exit. It rings, once , twice…