I sat at the table, unable to find the words to defend myself.
She took her wine and followed the others upstairs as I remained at the table alone and by her accounts left outside of the real world.
It’s a world quite literally at our fingertips, strapped to devices that give us everything we could ever dream of, using bandwidth and search engines to take us further beyond our capabilities as humans, but it seems that even with the thrust of such technological masterminds, we’re still not as close to each other as we might want to be. It occurred to me that evening that such advances are changing the ebb and flow of a long-term friendship. Through screen time we somehow become acclimatised to how things change and get quite nifty at being able to disguise text messages of concern and congratulatory posts, without actually being there. As well as online friends we need real-time friends, people to call us out on our flaws, sitting across from us, in the same space, at the same table, unflinching. Social media was designed to bring us closer together but as that evening had suggested, maybe it had driven us all further apart.
Chapter Ten – Doing the Wrong Things to the Right People
A gust of wind took flight, knocking a series of leaves, dust and crisp packets into the air. It was a late September morning and as I walked briskly through the park, the sunshine tearing through the almost bare branches, I wrapped my scarf tightly around my face to protect it from the grit. I needed to get to the printing shop at the foot of the Southbank to pick up some photographs that I had taken using Cathy’s camera. I hated the thought of riding the rush hour tube and avoided it at every opportunity. Hundreds of people pressed up against each other in packed trains, struggling to move, aligned like sardines. On that particular morning I wanted to breathe, take in the autumnal air – not stand with my face pressed up against a stranger’s armpit.
I wove in and out of the tourists walking slowly along the river, momentarily blindsided by dogs and the occasional pushchair, and rushed through the door of the printer’s, handing them the small ticket and twenty pounds in cash. I opened the packet and placed them down on the glass counter. There they lay: the first fruits of my labour. Cathy had helped me with the composition in the local park and although they were just trees, I actually felt quite excited. I folded them back into the packaging and made my way to the restaurant.
The faint glimpse of progress had made work quite enjoyable. Guido was out of town again so it was just Maria and me for the entire afternoon. The place was completely empty, apart from an older lady called Brenda who wore fur and plastic coloured beads. She was a regular and so didn’t mind us cleaning around her as she sat at the counter sipping a bowl of soup.
By now I was on my third coffee of the night, leaning against the counter discussing the difference between freshly ground coffee and instant. Four months at Guido’s had me hooked on the various blends and now I barely made it through a shift without a sample of at least one, freshly ground from the machine.
‘Don’t you just love autumn?’ I said to Brenda as Maria looked on, carving a joint of salty prosciutto.
‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘It’s too cold and plays with my arthritis.’
I had actually grown fond of coming here most nights. I liked the smell of the food, the familiarity, and the small talk. Even the uniform didn’t seem so bad after a while. As with most things, I’d adapted. In four short weeks, four pink walls and a cleansing crystal from Cathy, I had managed to de-clutter and de-stress my life. I was now alone. And it was perfect.
As I got up to rinse the residue of coffee from my cup, a clatter of hail suddenly hit the window like grit. I rushed over as the door blew open in the wind, bashing heavily against the concrete wall. I wrestled with it, tethering it closed as the heavens tore open. Hail the size of ping-pong balls began hitting the glass and Maria quickly signalled to me to help her carry in the outdoor furniture.
‘Let me do it!’ I cried in the wind, not wanting her to get wet. But she wouldn’t listen. My face was splattered with rainwater as I lifted the seat covers from the metal frames. We both sprinted through the downpour and gathered all that our arms could carry. As I ran back inside and peered up, I noticed a tall figure stood on the pavement across the street.
‘Bravo,’ Brenda said, as she straightened out the cushion covers. ‘It looks apocalyptic out there.’
As I dried my ponytail with a tea towel, I walked up to the glass to get a closer look. I knew in my heart it was him, but needed further confirmation. And I was right. Dressed in a navy blue trench coat, no umbrella, Charlie crossed over and made his way inside.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, dripping water from my clothes all over the terracotta floor tiles.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, gently.
‘Well, you can’t, I’m working. Jesus, you’re soaking.’ I pulled his arm and led him to the door, hoping no one had seen us. But Maria had and was making her way over with a selection of embroidered tea towels.
‘Here,’ she said to him, ‘dry yourself on these.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, towering over her, dutifully drying his hair and face on the delicate, cream tea towel.
I made my way behind the counter and returned with a carrier bag. ‘Just put them in here,’ I said, taking the damp towels from him. ‘I’ll sort them.’
‘What time do you finish?’ he said.
‘Eleven,’ Maria said from behind the counter before looking at me, exasperated.
‘Eleven. All right, I’ll come back then.’
I walked back over to Maria who was pretending to tidy the worktop.
‘He’s very attractive,’ she said as he left.
‘Nice bum too,’ Brenda said, watching him leave.
I left by the staff exit at about ten past eleven. I could see Charlie across the street waiting for me.
‘You know, normal people send a text or email. They don’t just show up at people’s work, Charlie. I’m walking home – whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it on the way.’
By now the rain had stopped but the wet air still had traces of moist, glittery dampness.
‘Wait – slow down,’ he said, catching me up. ‘I know I’ve ruined everything, Jess, but can we at least try to talk?’
‘What about?’
‘Us.’
I avoided looking directly at him.
‘There isn’t an us any more, Charlie,’ I said. ‘There hasn’t been for a while now.’
For a brief second he appeared hurt. ‘I just need to know if there’s a chance?’
I took a breath. I could feel my heart pounding as I tried to remember everything I had previously rehearsed: at the bus stop, in the shower, make-believe arguments in my own head where I would be so articulate once the day finally came where I could finally confront him. But standing there, amidst the vacant words, I just let it all go.
‘I’m not part of that scene, Charlie, or will ever be part of that scene.’
‘I know you won’t. That’s why I want you, Jess. You’re exactly what’s right for me.’
‘I was sick of everyone looking at me like I’d won the jackpot just to be with you. Well, it’s a bit of a shit deal if I’m honest, Charlie, being with you. Maybe they should try it for themselves. Maybe now they have.’
I continued to walk home as he reached down to touch my hand. I snatched it away without turning back.
‘Please, Jess, don’t do this…’
‘And besides, I’d be risking a whole lot more now, now that I’m actually happy.’
‘Jess, look at me,’ he said, standing over me.
But I couldn’t. I wanted to walk through the door to my flat and close it firmly behind me: on him, on us, on all of it.
‘Come here, will you…’ He wrapped his arms around me. I squeezed his wrist as I somehow managed to break free from his grip, relatively unscathed.
As I reached the corner I felt a pull on my arm. Before I knew it I was pulled in as he kissed me ha
rd on the mouth: no apologies, no excuses. With all the will I had in the world, I pushed on his chest to leave me. I could hear a voice screaming inside of me to run away. But it wasn’t heard. Instead we stood on the pavement, like two fighters post match. We had given it all. And now given in.
*
I stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, still thinking about the events that had unfolded the night before. As the toast popped up I heard Amber stir.
‘Morning,’ she said, packing up her handbag on the kitchen table. ‘Listen, I’m probably going to be working late again tonight,’ she said, pinching half a piece of toast from my plate.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah,’ I replied.
‘Oh and Jess…’ she said, noticing the two cups of coffee I’d poured, but choosing not to say anything about it, ‘could you get the plumber to come round and look at the sink again? It’s still not draining.’
I nodded, wondering if she knew what I was doing. I doubt she did; after all, I certainly didn’t.
I walked back into the bedroom where Charlie was sitting up in bed, flicking through my copy of A Sacred Space and How to Create It that he’d found slotted down the back of my bedside table.
‘I like what you’ve done to the place,’ he said, reading the back cover.
‘Do you like pink?’ I said sarcastically as I pushed the bedroom door behind me with my foot. I put the coffee down next to him as he grabbed me and pulled me into the bed.
‘So what does the mirror ball do?’ he said, looking up at it turning slightly.
‘It eliminates my bad chi.’
‘Your bad what?’ he said with a snort.
‘Stop it, Charlie. I’m being serious.’
‘I know you are,’ he said, putting his arm around me. ‘But I’m not sure I understand.’
‘It just prevents bad things from entering your life, that’s all. It’s a safeguard.’ I felt a wave of stupidity run through me as I said the words out loud.
‘Well, you’ve got me for that now. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.’
I rested my head back down on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I’m going to buy my camera today,’ I said, excitedly. ‘I’ve been saving up for months. You’d be surprised how much money you can save by cutting out coffees and eating in all the time. Fancy coming with me?’
‘Ah, would love to, Jess, but the office is manic. So proud of you though,’ he said as he kissed the tip of my nose.
‘I’m really excited about it. Cathy has helped me so much these past few weeks. The only help, actually.’
Charlie rolled over and pulled me closer as I stared up at the mirror ball hanging above us. ‘You know, there are a lot of people who would like this to fail, Charlie.’
‘Then let them. I don’t care, Jess. I really don’t care what they think.’
‘I’m just sick of explaining things to people…’
‘Then don’t,’ he said.
We lay there for the next twenty-five minutes before finally getting up to face the world and like that mirror ball that hung above our heads, I knew that I was going to have to work out a way to deflect all the negativity around us.
A few weeks later, Sean texted me to arrange a lunch and also, I presumed, an opportunity to sit me down and ask me what the hell was going on.
‘How’s the man cave?’ he asked. ‘I thought he’d taken you hostage.’
‘I know it’s been a while. I know it’s a surprise. I guess he’s my weak spot. One that always seems to find me.’
‘Yes, life has a way of doing that. But listen, I’m not complaining.’ he said. ‘I’ve not seen you this happy in months.’
‘So you heard about me and Charlie, obviously.’
He nodded. ‘Amber told me…’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Don’t do that, she’s just looking out for you.’
I began to read the menu, using the wine list as a distraction from having to face his gaze.
‘Are you happy?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Then why do you care what anyone else thinks?’
I put down the menu. ‘I don’t know, it’s just, Amber’s got quite an opinion and when it’s hammered into you constantly, it becomes very hard not to listen.’
I unfolded my napkin and laid it across my knee.
‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘let’s talk about you, how’s the new flat?’
‘Big,’ he said. ‘What on earth possessed me to think that three bedrooms would be a good idea?’
‘I’m sure it’s spacious enough for entertaining the troops,’ I said, with a smile.
He let out a short, sharp laugh, before subtly clearing his throat. ‘So what about Amber, have you heard from her?’
‘I saw her the other week before work but that’s about it…’
‘Hmmm. I saw her the other day for a quick drink. She’s sleeping with him you know, her boss.’
I rolled my eyes again.
‘You didn’t hear it from me! But I really think you should talk to her, Jess…’
‘Does she like him?’ I asked. ‘Like, seriously like him?’
He nodded. ‘But you know what Amber’s like who knows really?’
‘I do,’ I said, bluntly. ‘And I think she does.’
Sean fell silent and looked over his shoulder discreetly.
‘What?’ I said.
‘He’s fifty-eight,’ he whispered.
‘Oh God!’ The shock had caused my hand to leap over my mouth. ‘But we knew he would be, didn’t we? I mean, that’s Amber all over.’
‘I bet he’s a cool fifty-eight though,’ Sean said, ‘like a clubbing, bar-hopping fifty-eight.’
‘He’ll have to be to keep up with her,’ I laughed. I topped up my water and took a long, broad swallow.
‘You know it’s Paul’s anniversary today,’ Sean said, catching me completely off-guard.
‘I knew it was this time of year. God, I miss him.’
‘Me too,’ he said, smiling.
It seemed that by getting caught up in my own world for a short time, I’d lost sight of the things that actually mattered.
‘Can you believe it was four years ago today?’ he said, soberly.
I shook my head. ‘Nope.’
‘You know, I spoke to Ryan the other day, remember him? He was the small, bald guy who used to pay for all our drinks?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, I do remember Ryan. He tried to kiss me once outside a kebab shop in Clapham.’
‘Well…’ he laughed. ‘I bumped into him at the gym and he said a lot of things changed for him after. He doesn’t even go out that much anymore.’
‘You just forget sometimes, don’t you,’ I said, ‘that none of this is actually important, dating and part-time jobs. I mean, don’t you ever get fed up of us all whining on about ourselves all the time?’
‘Don’t say that about yourself, Jess. I think having an unbelievably hot banker wanting to be with you is a really big problem. Huge, in fact.’
‘He’s not a banker!’ I laughed, throwing my napkin at him. ‘But you know what I mean,’ I said, taking hold of his hand, ‘everything must seem pretty trivial now. But you’ve handled it all brilliantly.’
‘Not today,’ he said, shrugging, ‘but like the weather it will pass.’ He closed his knife and fork together and pushed aside the plate.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I said.
‘Fire away…’
‘Do you think things are meant to be?’
‘What do you mean?’ he replied.
‘Do you believe in fate?’
He looked at me, even more confused.
‘Take us here, right now, do you think it’s been, in some way, predetermined?’
He thought for a second as I watched him. ‘I think things work out the way they’re meant to, if that’s what you mean and, believe me, it’s taken a long time for me
to be able to say that. But, yes, I think they do.’
‘So you think we have a destiny?’
‘Not really,’ he said, ‘but I think there’re a few signs along the way.’
‘But how do you know what the signs look like?’
‘I’d say that smile you’ve been carrying around on your face is one of them.’
I held his hand and kissed his fingers gently. ‘If only everybody else was just like you,’ I said, smiling.
‘Don’t listen to them, Jess. After all, what do they know?’
I arrived home that afternoon and could hear Amber excessively scrubbing the bathtub. I knocked gently on the bathroom door and pushed it open gently.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, seeing the bottle of bleach, the yellow rubber gloves and a large plastic bowl of water.
‘I’m cleaning.’
‘Okay,’ I replied. ‘For any particular reason?’
‘Because I wanted a bath last night and I couldn’t, given the ring of gunge that had formed around the top.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ I said, pulling back the shower curtain in an attempt to look at what she was describing, and help.
‘You wouldn’t know, you haven’t been here,’ she said, sharply.
‘No, I know. I’ve been at Charlie’s.’
‘Pfft – should’ve guessed,’ she said, wiping the hair away from her face with her wrist.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘That’s where you are, that’s where you always are and I’m here, the only one giving a shit about anything!’
‘Is this about the mould in the bathroom?’ I said, confused.
‘No, it’s not about the fucking mould in the bathroom,’ she said, throwing the gloves into the tub one at a time. ‘It’s about you not taking responsibility for anything, ever. Leaving me to have to clear this whole mess up.’
‘What do you mean I don’t take responsibility for things? Amber, what have I done?’
‘You haven’t done anything Jess. That’s the whole point. You’re off, you’re gone and that will be it until the next time.’
‘Next time?’
‘The next time he decides that you’re not the one he wants, then you’ll be back expecting me to drink tea with you on the sofa again, just like old times.’
Love, and Other Things to Live For Page 11