Stuck With You

by Carla Burgess

  I wondered if they’d got married. Or if he’d ended up with someone else. I thought about searching for him in Daniel’s friends list, but the office was filling up with people back from their lunch hour. I caught sight of Hilary’s curls and closed down the page.

  ‘You all right, love?’ she said, peering over the partition and checking out my lunchbox.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ I said, forcing a smile.

  ‘You’re a bit quiet today. How did the moving out go? You’re not still there, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m back with my parents now. In my old room, just like the old days.’

  ‘Oh well, there’s worse that could happen.’

  I nodded. ‘It’s nice actually. Mum made me my lunch this morning.’

  ‘Fabulous. You’ve done the right thing. Will there be much to sort out with the flat lease?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s rented in Alex’s name. He lived there before I moved in with him. I just paid half of everything, so I suppose I just stop doing that.’

  ‘You could save up for your own place. There’s no point relying on men to make you happy.’

  ‘You’re happily married though, aren’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘I hear so many stories though. My daughter got involved with a right rat of a man. Serial adulterer. She had no idea. He broke her heart, poor thing. Destroyed her confidence.’

  ‘Oh no! That’s a terrible thing to happen. You must have been furious.’

  ‘Yes. She was in a right state, but she’s feeling better now, bless her.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you seem to be coping so well with this. You can go home early this afternoon, if you like. Just finish that list I gave you this morning and you’re free to go.’

  ‘Oh wonderful! Thank you.’

  Hilary winked and sat back down, and I went back to looking at the pictures of Daniel.

  As promised, Hilary sent me home early that afternoon, and I arrived back in my mum and dad’s warm house at half past four. They looked mildly concerned to see me back so early, in case I’d packed in my job as well as my boyfriend. I could see the relief on their faces when they learned that wasn’t the case.

  I plumped myself down on the sofa with the cat and chatted to my dad, who was watching a recording of Gardener’s World. Mum went into the kitchen to start making tea. The sound of pots and pans clanking was a vivid reminder of my childhood, along with the steamed-up windows as the pan of potatoes boiled away. It made me miss my brother, Andrew. We’d argued constantly when we were growing up, but it seemed wrong to be here without him now. I wondered what he was doing.

  ‘Where’s Andrew at the moment?’

  My dad’s bushy eyebrows shot up and he pursed his lips. ‘In Perth, I think. Why? Are you thinking of joining him?’

  ‘No, I’ve got work.’

  ‘Maybe you could go over for a holiday? God knows, we’d like some feedback about how he’s getting on.’

  Mum came into the lounge. ‘Ooh yes, you should. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new and exotic while you’re out there. Show that bloody Alex the world doesn’t start and end with him.’ She paused and peered at me, as if trying to work out if she had gone too far in slagging off my ex-boyfriend. I kept my face neutral and nodded slightly. ‘Cup of tea, love?’

  ‘I’ll make it, Mum. I feel bad letting you do everything.’

  ‘No no no! You’ve been at work all day. You sit there, my lovely. I’ll make the tea.’

  My dad looked across and winked. ‘You know she can’t stand anyone else in her kitchen.’

  It was true. Even while we were growing up and she was complaining we never did anything around the house, she still clucked and fussed each time we tried to do anything in her kitchen. She complained we dripped stuff on the floor and put things back in the wrong place.

  ‘How was work today?’

  ‘It was all right. I was busy and my boss let me go early so it went quite quickly.’

  Mum came in with a mug of tea for me and sat down next to my dad.

  ‘Don’t I get one?’ he complained.

  ‘You’ve not long since had one!’

  ‘I could go another one! Bleeding hell, Rosa. I’m parched.’

  ‘Oh, all right, you daft old sod. I’ll get it now.’ She went off, muttering to herself.

  ‘Your hair looks nice, Mum,’ I called to her. ‘Have you been to the hairdresser’s?’

  ‘Yes, do you like it?’ Mum looked delighted, patting her short dark hair.

  ‘I do, very sleek.’ Mum nodded and gave my dad a pointed look. He looked grumpily at the TV and Mum went off to get his tea.

  ‘Oi you,’ he grumbled at me, ‘you’re getting me in trouble now.’

  I laughed and he gave me a mock-irritable sidelong glance.

  Mum had made salmon and potatoes for tea, with green beans and peas. The three of us sat round the kitchen table and I thought how strange it felt, like I’d fallen through time or something. I’d eaten at their house pretty regularly since I’d left home to live with Alex, so it wasn’t that I hadn’t done it in a long time. I supposed it was just the circumstances. I wasn’t just there for a couple of hours; I was back with all of my stuff in my bedroom upstairs. So many memories were wrapped up in this house, but the most vivid and recent were of the months before I moved in with Alex. I had been so excited and so full of love. It hurt to be back now, feeling sad and deflated. I forked up some salmon and chewed it slowly, all the while wondering when things with Alex started to go wrong. When had we stopped talking and laughing? When had we stopped making time for each other. I couldn’t pinpoint an exact time, but like I’d told Rachel yesterday, he’d never been the most affectionate man. I’d always been the one to hug or kiss him. Those moments had become rarer and rarer recently, and somewhere between me making less effort, and him being more irritable, our love had slipped away.

  I thought about when we first met. I’d spotted him at the bar in a club one night. He’d been wearing a suit and tie and looked completely different to all the other guys in there. He’d looked so handsome, and I’d been so drunk, that I’d gone over and talked to him. After all the drunken, mouthy lads I’d encountered at university, Alex had been a breath of fresh air. He was five years older than me, and already seemed so intelligent, sophisticated and grown-up. He had a proper career, a car and his own flat. I thought he was amazing. He thought I was funny. I suppose we were unbalanced from the start.

  Mum caught me sighing and gave me a worried look. I smiled and forked more food into my mouth to show her I was fine. And I would be fine. Alex and I hadn’t communicated properly for months, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t live without him. I’d stopped thinking he was amazing and he’d stopped thinking I was funny. That was just the way it was. There was no point feeling sad about it. He’d moved on, and so would I. It was quite exciting to think I could find my own place and paint it whatever colour I wanted. Pink or green or purple or blue. No more boring walls. No more boring relationship. A new flat. A new life. Maybe even a new man?

  Almost immediately, an image of Daniel came into my mind and my heart did a little skip. Looking at his Facebook page today had reminded me once again of the Daniel box and I was curious to see if I still had it. I hadn’t come across it when I was unpacking yesterday, but I had an inkling it was at the back of my wardrobe, hidden behind a pile of clothes.

  I was right. I found the box in the top right corner of my wardrobe, behind a pile of winter jumpers. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach it; my fingertips snagged on the corner of the box and I managed to pull it towards me while clothing cascaded down around my head.

  My heart leapt a little as I removed the lid to reveal a pile of drawings and a faded school photograph. I peered at it before removing the drawings. They were just sketches and they weren’t particularly good, but their smell took me right back to drawing them and gave me a st
range ache in my stomach. I’d done so many. I’d obviously had far too much time on my hands to obsess over his pudgy lips and long silky hair. I found a poem I’d written and cringed. Even the pencil sharpenings were still there, along with a small, crescent-shaped nail clipping he’d left behind on his desk after English one time. Jesus, that was gross! I’d even displayed it in a small black ring box so it didn’t get lost, along with… wait… was that hair?

  I rifled through the papers at the bottom of the box. More drawings, more poems, a scrap of paper with his handwriting from our group work, and a newspaper cutting of him holding his guitar with the school band. I remembered looking at the clipping before I went to sleep each night. They’d played at some charity event and I’d practically passed out when I’d come across it in the paper. Daniel’s face looked distinctly smudged and I suddenly had a memory of not just looking at the clipping, but kissing it before I went to bed each night. I sniggered at the memory, hot with embarrassment. Teenage hormones had a lot to answer for. I couldn’t ever imagine kissing a photograph of Alex, even when we first met.

  I spent ages looking through the box. Even while I felt embarrassed about it, I still remembered the thrill of collecting the items and secreting them away. I’d stored the heart-shaped cubic zirconia earrings I’d worn to the prom in there too, as though they needed to be preserved in case they contained a little bit of Daniel Moore’s magic. Holding them up to the light, I watched them twinkle in the evening sunlight and giggled, wondering what happened to the dress.

  I’d loved that dress. Pale blue with a strapless, sparkly bodice and a long fishtail skirt. I’d wear it now, if I still had it. I’d worn my hair up, with a few long tendrils around my face. It was a big change, considering I wore black most of the time back then. No wonder Daniel had actually noticed me for once. I rolled over onto my back and read another poem I’d written. My phone beeped with a text from Rachel asking what I was up to. I sent a text back saying I was going through my Daniel box and my phone rang in my hand. She was a fast worker! Laughing, I answered with the first two lines from the poem:

  ‘Oh Daniel, my love, I can’t think of anything but you

  Your long blond hair and your green eyes so true…’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ an amused male voice replied on the other end of the phone. ‘That’s really nice but my hair’s much shorter now.’

  ‘Oh!’ There was a horrified silence as my brain tried to process what had happened. I couldn’t think what to do. Could I just hang up? Pretend I was someone else? Daniel was laughing openly now. I could hear him cackling on the other end of the phone. ‘Oh. Errr. No, that’s… Oh, I was just reading something… in a book… I thought you were Rachel.’

  ‘Oh, okay. I’ll have to borrow that book sometime.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother. It’s really bad.’ Daniel laughed some more and I started stuffing the poems and photos and drawings back into the box as if he might somehow be able to see through the telephone. ‘What do you want anyway?’ I asked, crossly.

  ‘More poetry?’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘Do you read your boyfriend stuff like that?’

  What the hell? Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? ‘I don’t have a boyfriend any more. So no, I don’t.’

  ‘Really? What happened? Did seeing me again make you realise that no other man’s ever going to live up to me?’

  ‘Wow! You really are big-headed, aren’t you?’

  He laughed again. ‘I’m joking. Go on then, tell me what happened.’

  ‘He was seeing someone else.’

  ‘Really? That’s rough, I’m so sorry.’

  For some reason, hearing this from Daniel brought a lump to my throat. ‘Yeah, well, it was pretty much over anyway.’ I stuffed the rest of the papers in the box and rammed on the lid. ‘So, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I was just phoning to tell you my band is playing a gig next Friday, should you wish to come.’

  ‘Oh really? Where?’

  ‘Trafford’s. We’ll be on about ten o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, okay then. Great. I’ll see if Rachel will come with me.’

  ‘Okay, and thanks for the poetry. I was having a crap day but now you’ve cheered me up.’

  My cheeks turned red and I closed my eyes, biting my lip. ‘Goodbye, Daniel.’

  As soon as he rang off, I dialled Rachel’s number. ‘Ohmygod, Rachel. I have just had the most embarrassing phone call of my life and I’m blaming you entirely!’

  ‘Me? Why?’ I could hear her crunching, like she was eating crisps.

  ‘I sent you the text about the Daniel box and then my phone rang and, assuming it was you, I just read out some poetry.’

  ‘Some of your Daniel poetry? Who was on the phone?’

  ‘Only pigging Daniel!’

  ‘Ahahahahaha!’ Rachel screamed with laughter on the other end of the phone and I had to hold the phone away from my ear until she’d finished. ‘What did he say? Did you just make something up like you thought he was Alex?’

  ‘No, because it actually started off with his name, and also it was sooo so bad he would never have believed me. I hate myself so much right now. I want to punch myself.’ I picked up an oak leaf from off my bedspread and looked at it in wonder. I remembered that leaf. I’d made Rachel walk to Daniel’s house with me one evening and I’d collected it from his drive. I must have been insane.

  ‘But what did he say? Tell me what he said! Did he actually realise it was meant for him?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I think so. He just laughed and said I’d made his day.’ I took a deep breath in.

  ‘He always did think a lot of himself! What was he phoning for anyway?’

  ‘Just to say his band’s playing next Friday, so I said we’d go and see them.’

  ‘Not me, I’m afraid. I’m away with Patrick.’

  ‘Oh no! I forgot about that. I won’t go either then. I don’t know why I agreed to it actually. I never want to see Daniel again after that humiliation.’

  Rachel laughed and then sighed. ‘Well, I kind of don’t want you to go, because I know how much you liked him and I don’t want you going all gooey-eyed over him again. He’s bound to be a womaniser. But, if you do go, remember you’re not seventeen any more; you’re a beautiful, confident and intelligent grown woman. You don’t have to be nervous and you’re perfectly capable of walking into a bar on your own to watch a band.’

  ‘Hmm, anyway, I’m going into the garden and I’m going to burn this box of crap before it causes me any more trouble.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Rachel paused. ‘Although I’d like to be there myself when you do that. Are you really going to burn it?’

  ‘Probably not. I doubt my dad would let me light a bonfire in his beautiful back garden.’

  Rachel chuckled. ‘Do you fancy a drink tomorrow night, seeing as I can’t go out next week?’

  ‘Aren’t you seeing Patrick?

  ‘Yes, but not until ten. We can meet for a drink first, if you like? They’ve got karaoke on in the Feathers?’

  ‘Okay then. What time? Eight?’

  ‘Sounds good. What are you up to tonight? Besides rooting through your box of Daniel’s DNA samples?’

  ‘I’m going to get my pyjamas on and go to bed.’

  ‘What, now? It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’

  ‘There’s nothing on TV and I’m tired.’

  We said goodbye and I rang off. Stuffing the box beneath my bed, I changed into my pyjamas and tried to settle into bed. The sky was still light and the kids from the house directly behind ours were still playing on their trampoline. Little buggers. Didn’t they have a bedtime? I plumped my pillows a couple of times, then got up out of bed to lean on the windowsill. The sky was streaked with pinks and reds. It looked so pretty. The kids were bouncing up and down, ponytails flying as they shrieked and laughed. I watched them for a bit then climbed back into bed to inhale the familiar
scent of my mother’s fabric conditioner.

  Did I miss Alex? It was probably too soon to tell. Besides, we’d been living like strangers for a while. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a proper conversation or laughed together. He worked late and then we’d watch television in virtual silence. He was so tetchy I could barely say a word without him snapping at me. I was always too something… I spent too long talking to my friends on the phone; or I made too much mess in the kitchen; or I was too noisy when I was listening to music; or I was too clumsy just moving around the flat. I should have finished it a long time ago, but I’d merely adapted my behaviour to suit him.

  The kids stopped playing on the trampoline and went inside to bed. All I could hear was birdsong and the restful clank of my dad’s watering can as he went around watering his plants.

  Chapter Six

  ‘So, have you still not spoken to Alex?’ Rachel peered at me over her glass of wine. We’d managed to find a table, despite the pub being busy, and were now sitting in a corner feeling rather pleased with ourselves. I was wearing black skinny jeans and a tight-fitting black roll-neck top, and was feeling a bit underdressed next to Rachel, who was wearing a low-cut black vintage dress that showed off her ample cleavage. She’d teamed it with red lipstick and her customary winged eyeliner. She’d obviously dressed for Patrick, not the Feathers, which was full of casually dressed students in for the karaoke. ‘Hasn’t he even acknowledged your moving out?’

  ‘No, nothing. Maybe he’s waiting for me to contact him.’ I picked up the beer mat closest to me and tapped it on the table.

  ‘Are you going to contact him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose, in practical terms, I need to ask him about money and what I owe him for bills and stuff.’

  Rachel pulled a face. ‘Stuff that! Don’t you want to know who this other woman is?’

  I shrugged. ‘It makes no difference really. I mean, knowing isn’t going to change anything, is it? And knowing she’s more beautiful and sexy probably isn’t going to do much for my self-esteem.’