Beat the Rain

by Nigel Jay Cooper

  Functioning. Such a good word. So descriptive of their lives after Jarvis. So descriptive of a lot of people’s lives, he imagines. Functioning. All the moving parts doing what they should but nothing going on behind the scenes, no sparks, no real life.

  He doesn’t know if he wants Louise anymore and even if he does, he doesn’t know how to make it work. Sometimes, less and less frequently, Adam remembers the people they used to be. He can manage to keep everything in check and he doesn’t start drinking until the kids are in bed, he doesn’t sit nursing a glass of wine at lunchtime, endlessly thinking and analysing and picking over the details of that night. He can even keep his feelings for Jarvis at bay if he works hard. But he hates that he’s so weak, that he’s at the mercy of his wife and her… He’s blaming her. It’s not her fault. He knows it’s not. It was such a terrible shock for her, of course it was.

  It scarcely seems possible that they’ve settled back into ordinary life. But they have. Painful, gut-wrenching normal life, killing them bit by bit as the seconds tick by. Hours pass, days pass, months pass. Life disappears behind them in a trail of sameness, the lies and unsaid truths inside them both growing cavernous, echo chambers deep within to get lost in. And like grey steps leading to infinity, the days stack up and up, identical, cold and unremarkable. Sometimes, Adam can even fool himself that he can feel them pass, that he can brush their rough surface and make himself bleed. But he can’t. He can’t feel anything, not anymore. Not since Jarvis. He gave up feeling that night. He should blame Jarvis, he should hate him the way Louise does. But he doesn’t, if anything he feels regret. He should have been braver.

  He can’t imagine how it felt for his wife that night. The funny thing is – funny horrific, not funny ha ha – she’s never told him what she knows. He’d have thought she’d want to talk about it, to thrash it out, to scream and to cry. But maybe her suicide attempt robbed her of the need to talk. Maybe that left her with nothing to say. Maybe it left them both with nothing to say. Empty vessels, bringing up children. Living, after a fashion. Existing. Going through the motions, pre-programmed, pre-ordained.

  Except they weren’t pre-ordained, were they. She was supposed to live her life with Tom, not him. She’d only married him because Tom had died, pushing them together in the process. But Adam is starting to feel that his life is unravelling for a reason. He doesn’t feel right, like he’s an imbalance the world needs to correct. How can his identical twin be dead while he still lives? Maybe that’s why he’s fucking everything up so badly.

  Adam doesn’t think it ever occurred to Louise that he might have needed to talk as well after her suicide attempt. That he might have needed help moving on after what she did, after what he’d lost? But no, that’s not fair. How could he have asked that of her after what he’d done, what he’d wanted to do? He’s lucky she’s still with him at all. If Adam hadn’t lied, she would have left on the spot – or tried harder to die.

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  That text was nearly a year ago, but it’s still like yesterday for Adam. He remembers the true, giddy, heart-fluttering excitement. He’d felt sick with it, like he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t do anything until he saw Jarvis again. Nothing else mattered but being near him. That day, he’d showered after his run and gone downstairs and picked up his phone and there had been a text message from Jarvis.

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  Fuck, it still makes him feel sick when he thinks about it. That’s what life’s about isn’t it? Feeling something. Anything.

  “I’m going out with Alice later,” Louise had said nonchalantly. “You know, for a drink. I haven’t seen her for ages, not properly since that bloody dinner party. And I want to see how things are going with John, you know…catch up with her.”

  “All right, love,” Adam had replied, his heart drumming so loudly in his chest he was sure Louise could hear it. “That’s sounds nice.”

  “Okay, well I’m going to have a shower and get ready,” she’d said, leaning over to kiss him on the lips.

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  That’s all the text message had said. All it needed to say.

  “I’ll probably stay over with her, that way we don’t have to worry about how pissed we get,” Louise had said. Adam hadn’t even looked up.

  “Okay, love.”

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  Christ, what was he supposed to do? He’d known what it meant, of course. But he’d been adamant: he couldn’t risk everything for something so… He wasn’t gay, he wasn’t even bisexual. It was ridiculous to even think about it. And he and Louise had been getting on so well. Adam would not throw it all away. Besides, he’d told himself, he wouldn’t have been able to go through with the sexual side of things anyway. Fantasising about something is different to actually doing it or even wanting to do it. Sometimes it’s exciting to think about things you’ll never do – that’s where the interest lies.

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  Fuck. What could he have replied to that anyway? If he could step back in time and change things he would. He’d ignore the message and run upstairs after Louise and grab her and kiss her and tell her that she shouldn’t go to see Alice, she should come out with him for dinner instead. But of course he can’t step back in time. He can’t change anything at all because it’s all in the past and it has happened already.

  We need to talk. Come over. J x

  He’d sat on the sofa listening to Louise singing in the shower upstairs, staring at his mobile screen and resolutely deciding that he wouldn’t reply and he certainly wouldn’t go over there. He couldn’t trust himself to do that. Or maybe he should go over there, to put him straight. To tell Jarvis that he wasn’t gay and nothing was ever going to happen so he should stop bothering him and hassling him. Yes, that was it. He’d go over and tell him that he didn’t appreciate the attention, it was unwanted. Predatory, even.

  On my way over now.

  There, he’d replied. He’d resolved to tell him in person what was what. He’d written a few responses before actually sending that one.

  I can’t, sorry x

  No, no kiss.

  I can’t.

  Too cold, it wasn’t like Jarvis had done anything wrong, he was barking up the wrong tree and needed to be put straight, that was all.

  There’s nothing to talk about, let’s forget about it.

  Forget about what though? Nothing had actually happened. All they’d done is leant into each other while drinking a cup of coffee, hardly the crime of the century. So writing that would have been presumptuous.

  Okay, but I can’t stay long xx

  The kisses again, no kisses.

  On my way over.

  Yes, that’s right. Clean, to the point. Not affectionate, not something that could in any way give Jarvis the wrong idea.

  I’ll open a bottle of wine, Jarvis’s response had said.

  Fuck. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he’d gone into the hallway and shouted up the stairs at Louise, who’d still been in the shower.

  “I’m popping out for a bit, love,” he’d shouted. “Shouldn’t be too long, but if I’m not back before you go, have a great evening. Say hi to Alice.”

  “Okay, love,” she’d shouted back as he shut the front door behind him. “Remember you need to pick the kids up from your mum in the morning.”

  This isn’t going to happen, he’d told himself. Deep down, he’d known he was lying to himself. Talking, that was all they were going to do. He was going to put Jarvis right, tell him nothing like that could ever happen. He was happily married and Jarvis was Louise’s friend as much as he was Adam’s, it would be such a betrayal, it couldn’t happen.

  What was he wearing, did he look okay? He’d glanced down at himself to see jeans, Adidas trainers and a simple grey t-shirt. He wasn’t going to win any fashion awards but he looked okay, passable. It doesn’t matter what you look like, that’s the point. Thi
s isn’t going to happen, he’d told himself again, less convincing with every step he took, walking down the hill towards Jarvis’s flat, opposite Louise’s café, heart smashing around in his chest, a boxer being pummelled by his opponent.

  He supposes looking back the signs had all been there, but they’d both genuinely believed that Jarvis had met them and liked them. That their friendship was real and not based on a lie. Because you don’t expect that in real life – in real life people are usually who and what they say they are. They might be an Imogen or a John or a Janet Gaddis, but they’re true to themselves, even if you don’t like it. Adam’s not sure he’s ever come across anyone truly duplicitous before.

  Duplicitous. That’s how he’d describe Jarvis now, for sure. Except, it wouldn’t change anything. Even knowing what he knows, Adam can’t get him out of his head. He still thinks about him, even now, even a year on. He can admit that now, even if he couldn’t back then. Even that night, Adam couldn’t admit it, couldn’t open up and tell him, ‘Yes, I love you, let’s do it’.

  Instead, he ended up cowering at the back of Jarvis’s bedroom, hiding, terrified and appalled, not knowing what on earth to do. Nothing had turned out how it was supposed to – in the end, Adam suspects that might be life’s only truth: things don’t turn out how you plan.

  Chapter Twenty

  Louise isn’t surprised Adam got mugged. Being pissed off your face on gin at ten-thirty in the morning is likely to lead to such incidents. He’s become so needy, not at all like the man she married. If she’s honest, she’s not sure she can cope with him anymore. In the past year, he’s developed this habit of chewing his knuckles when he gets stressed, which is quite often. He gets bleeding valleys on his left hand and sometimes he doesn’t even notice it. Louise has to gently move his hand away from his mouth and clean it up, rinsing the cloth under the tap and watching the pink-red water wash down the plughole.

  “Sorry,” he says quietly, still lost in his own thoughts.

  “It’s okay,” she replies, not meaning it. With everything that’s happened in her life, she’s found a way to carry on, to get on with it. She is struggling to respect a man who lets everything hold him back like Adam does. He isn’t enough. Maybe she hasn’t admitted that to herself fully before this moment, but all of a sudden, she knows it in her heart. Something is missing and neither of them will ever find it. Maybe neither of them wants to. That’s the elephant in the room playing a saxophone and smoking thin brown cigarettes. That’s why this conversation is right, why they have to split up.

  And what about the kids, witnessing their dad turning into a train wreck before their eyes? Louise has had enough. Every time she looks at him nowadays, she wants to smash his face in. The way he eats, the ways he scratches his balls while watching the golf, the way he whines and moans about every last thing in the world and can’t see the good in anything at all.

  If anyone has the right to feel depressed and turn to drink it’s her. Hasn’t life thrown everything it has at her? But she’s still standing. She’s still going through the motions, getting through the day. Why shouldn’t he? Why should he have the luxury of falling apart while she still keeps it together?

  Okay, she had a lapse a year ago, she had a moment when she wanted to end it all. But that’s all it was, a moment. And she’s grateful to Adam, she’s glad he found her, glad he saved her. But he can’t hold on to his anger forever. And who could blame her anyway? The thought of Jarvis still makes her skin crawl. Maybe she’s projecting. Maybe she’s been projecting for months, pushing all the hatred she feels for Jarvis onto Adam, letting it grow and fester until she can barely look at him without wanting to scream in rage and fly at him, nails sharp, teeth bared. Why can’t she get over it and move on? How long before the pain dulls, before she can forget?

  * * *

  For ages after the dinner party where Jarvis revealed he was gay, Louise hadn’t believed it. She’d come up with a million different scenarios as to why he might have said it or what he might have meant by it, but in reality, she couldn’t get one simple fact out of her mind. He loved her and he wanted her and she knew it for a fact. She knew he had feelings for her, pure and simple. She hadn’t invented it, she knew it in her bones, in her tummy and in the way her skin tingled whenever she was near him.

  So what did it all mean? She’d never felt confusion and infatuation like it in her entire life. It encompassed every living breathing moment of her existence. Adam, the café, even the kids didn’t exist. The only thing that took up any of her mental space was Jarvis, all day, every day. How he looked, how he’d spoken to her, how he’d brushed against her skin, how he’d glanced at her. She knew he was interested in her, so how could he be gay? None of it made sense and the less sense it made the more excited and infatuated she felt. Maybe she was his ‘one’ – the exception, the woman he’d unwittingly fallen for.

  She had constantly encouraged Adam’s relationship with Jarvis. Their running was a wonderful thing – it meant she’d seen Jarvis in running shorts and tight top at least three times a week. And he’d popped in, for a tea or coffee, sometimes for dinner. Not only that, she’d been able to watch him from the store-room window and there was no way he hadn’t known what he was doing, walking around drinking beer with his top off. He’d known, she’d been sure. He’d been getting off on her watching as much as she’d been getting herself off while watching him. He’d known.

  He’d become part of their lives, a close friend. But she’d felt sure he wouldn’t be doing that unless he wanted her. She could understand how difficult it would be for him to accept and recognise those feelings. If he’d spent his adult life living as a gay man, admitting he’d fallen for a woman would be life changing, she could see that. But she knew he needed to accept reality and bite the bullet. They could have a life together, they could be truly happy. Maybe they could even have more kids, she wasn’t over the hill yet. And didn’t she deserve some happiness? She’d had a shitty life. Why shouldn’t she grab happiness when it came along?

  “You only get one life,” Tom used to say. And he’d been right. She didn’t – doesn’t – believe, not in the half-hearted Church of England God her parents did or any other God. Okay, so she would still spell God with a capital G, as if it was immutable, as if she’d be struck down if she didn’t. But otherwise? No, this was it – her one shot. Why shouldn’t she be happy? Why couldn’t she grab it with both hands and rejoice in it? Adam would get over it, after all. He didn’t even love her. She wasn’t sure he ever had – he’d only been with her because his twin told him posthumously that he should be.

  But how to broach it with Jarvis? A gay man who couldn’t admit his feelings for a woman, who couldn’t tell her how he felt, once and for all. She’d have to force his hand, confront him with it. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d go around and tell him how she felt, tell him she knew how he felt but that he shouldn’t be afraid. She’d tell him they could face it together, deal with the fallout together. As long as they had each other, they could deal with anything.

  So she’d manufactured a lie for Adam.

  “I’m going to go out with Alice,” she’d said nonchalantly. “You know, for a drink. I haven’t seen her for ages, not properly since that bloody dinner party. And I want to see how things are going with John, you know…catch up with her without Imogen there.”

  “All right, love,” Adam had said, more interested in his mobile than her. “That’s sounds nice.”

  “I’ll probably stay over with her, that way we don’t have to worry about how pissed we get,” she’d said. Adam had hardly registered her, he was so engrossed in his mobile.

  Louise had felt sick to her stomach. She was going to tell Jarvis how she felt. She was going to tell him that they didn’t need to hide it anymore, they needed to go with it and explore their feelings and…fuck. Oh God she wanted to fuck him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. Her entire body had been hot with the idea of it, too hot. B
ut he’d like that, she’d told herself. He wouldn’t be scared, would he? He wanted it…he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

  She’d changed her outfit no less than six times that day. Luckily, Adam had been out for most of the time, running with Jarvis, and he’d only come back about an hour before she went. As she’d showered to get ready, he’d called up to her again, telling her he was popping out. She was glad of it, one less lie to think up, one less stress to manage. In the end, she chose a Japanese-inspired flower print dress, quite tight fitting around her still-slim frame; high heels – not too high, high enough to be sexy. She’d looked at herself in it in the full-length mirror for about ten minutes, turning and exploring every angle, especially her bum. He’s probably an arse man.

  And then she’d left, shutting the front door behind her and standing on the doorstep, making a mental note that when she came home, everything would be different. She’d have professed her love to Jarvis, they’d have consummated it and she’d be coming home to leave Adam. And she consoled herself with the fact he wouldn’t care. The kids would get used to it, it wouldn’t affect them. They liked Jarvis anyway. There were no downsides to this – yes, it would be difficult, but it was the best thing for all of them in the long run, even Adam. He might not have realised it at the time, but he’d have coped and found happiness without her.