The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files)

by Bloom, Anna

  Sitting her on her ring finger is the biggest diamond I have ever seen. It challenges the one that John bought for me, and that has to be saying something.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Ben pulls to a stop by my side and looks at me and then at them.

  “Oh,” is all he says.

  I slide my hand into his and we walk over the sticky floor to meet them. The entire way I wrack my brains trying to think of what the hell to say.

  Meredith cracks up when she see us, but then she always has had a dodgy sense of humour.

  “You should see your faces!”

  She laughs like a hyena sporting some serious bling. Tristan is at the bar getting what looks to be a bottle of champagne. I glance over at Trev.

  “Since when did you start selling the good stuff?” I ask.

  “Just call me an old romantic,” he replies with a chuckle, handing us some terrible wine glasses.

  The Student Union Bar is not known for its wine cellar.

  Tristan turns towards us beaming like a bloody idiot.

  “So anyway,” he says, “yesterday after all that stuff. . .”

  He doesn’t need to tell us what, Ben and I both wince automatically when we think of what they were doing yesterday.

  “. . . I asked Meredith if she would marry me”

  He reads my expression, which I am ashamed to say is a little shocked. I don’t know why. A few days ago I thought they were going to have a baby together. This is nowhere near as BIG as that.

  “After she finishes Uni— Jeez, Lilah! Take a chill pill," he interjects on himself. “Meredith has very generously agreed to spend the rest of her life with me.”

  The look on his face is a picture and it melts my heart completely. I break into a smile, my eyes stinging with sudden tears. Just because I do not believe in marriage for myself does not mean I wouldn’t want it for them, especially if it makes them so happy, which it obviously does.

  Meredith gives me a hug, which I return as tight as I can, squeezing the life out of her with my arms.

  “It’s okay, Lil, I know I’m young,” she whispers as we hug. “We aren’t rushing down the aisle now. It’s just after what we have been through, we know we always want to be together and this is just to cement that between us.”

  As she finishes speaking, she wiggles the iceberg under my nose. It’s very pretty but somewhat large for my taste.

  “Guys, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  And I am happy. I give my brother a massive hug and then squeeze Meredith one more time for good measure. She really deserves it. She is going to put up with Tristan forever.

  Ben just stands there watching this all play out. Tristan looks at him and Ben gives his head a shake, as if to clear whatever thoughts he is having. He steps forward and says all the appropriate things, taking his glass of bubbles and joining in with the clinking. As soon as it is done, he announces he is going for a cigarette and strides out of the bar.

  Bit weird.

  Giving the others a shrug, I turn and follow him out.

  I find him under the same tree that months ago we stood under together on our first day of term after our first visit to Digby bar. He is leaning against the trunk, and I can’t help but blush as I remember being pushed up against the tree in the exact same spot, my legs around his waist. I had hardly known him then but it had not stopped me. The chemistry had been instant between us.

  Unlike that day months ago when it had been drizzling, clammy and warm, today it is bloody freezing. I step towards him, raising my hand to brush his cheek, fingers grazing his skin.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I run a finger along the arch of his eyebrow.

  “I am pissed off.”

  Ben is not one to mince words.

  “Why?”

  He just stares, the blues drilling in to me. It makes me shift uncomfortably.

  Silence.

  And still more silence as he continues to watch me.

  “Before I met you, I never wanted to get married or have kids or anything like that,” he finally begins.

  There is another pause as he analyses me some more, clearly he does not know how much he should say. I can almost see the words battling to get out, but he fights to keep them in. I give his hand an encouraging squeeze.

  “But since I met you, it is all I have thought about, and yet it seems to be happening to other people and not to us.”

  He stops to take a drag on his cigarette. “Not that I would want us to go through the terrible things Trist and Mer have, but I keep thinking, what if we were to get pregnant accidentally and create something perfect just by chance? I think it would be the best news in the world.”

  I stare at him in shock. I can’t believe he is saying this. Just a few weeks ago he was telling me that he never wanted to have children.

  But he is not done yet.

  “Then I keep beating myself up, thinking that if I had not gotten so bloody drunk that night, and made that awful mistake after that gig, that you and I may have been engaged by now. It was always my intention to ask you. I was waiting for your birthday. It’s not like I didn’t wait forever just to find you.” He trails off giving a humourless laugh.

  “Now I have to stand here, and be pleased for our friends. I am, but I am also jealous as hell. Jealous of the things that won’t happen for us.”

  I am still in complete shock. I have never heard him say anything like this before. I can’t even process what he was saying.

  He wanted to marry me after only three months of knowing me? How is that even possible?

  Then, I realise I would have said ‘yes’, straight away, after only knowing him for three months.

  Oh God!

  So what? He wanted to marry me, but he’s now changed his mind?

  Is this because of Barbie and how I reacted? Or is it because of the America thing and the fact he is leaving?

  Oh my god, my head!

  I can’t get my mind around this. What am I supposed to say?

  I go for silence instead.

  He waits until I can only think of one question. “How were you going to ask me?”

  He gives a little secret smile. “I’m not telling you! Never know when I may get to use the idea one day.”

  Just like that, I think that he may have not given up on us completely after all.

  Maybe we will be like Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth and find each other again when there is no longer anything to keep us apart. I know I can’t count on that being true, but it gives me a little glimmer of something resembling hope.

  “You know the other week? I asked if maybe you would like to go out on another date with me, as we have only had one real one . . .”

  He trails off so I helpfully add again, “And how we have sex all the time . . .”

  He giggles a little and kisses my forehead, the faint stubble along his jaw scratches ever so slightly against my skin. My natural instinct is to move in closer. Closer to him.

  “Yes, that, thank you, Delilah. Well, I was wondering if I could ask for an extended date and maybe you could come to Dorset with me over the next holiday?”

  What?

  He looks a bit embarrassed, probably misreading my facial expression, which involves my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

  “It’s just that I like the idea of going to Lyme Regis with you, and I would like to do it before I leave.”

  He does not say the words, ‘before I leave and I might not get the chance again’ but they hang there unspoken. Just like that my little glimmer of hope I had moments before is snuffed out.

  I think quickly. Take it, don’t take it. Take it, don’t take it.

  Take it.

  I link my fingers in his.
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  “That sounds like fun, Ben, although as we are not proper boyfriend and girlfriend, I think I should ask for separate rooms.”

  My little giggle of mirth is cut short by his lips touching mine. It’s only a short kiss but I didn’t let him escape. May as well make good use of this tree whilst we are standing here.

  Ten minutes later we head back to the bar, readjusting our clothes as we go, to find Tristan and Meredith on their second bottle of champagne. This time Ben really does congratulate them, giving me a wink as he does so.

  I’m not sure what the wink means. Actually, I am not sure of the meaning of anything. All I know is that he has asked me to go away with him and it will just be me and him together, and that has got to be a good thing.

  2nd February

  Oh god, it’s Valentine's Day in a couple of weeks. With the way things are this could be a minefield of problems.

  Ben and I are not dating, which means I should not give him a card.

  Ben and I happen to have sex on a frequent basis, which means I should give him a card.

  It’s a tricky one. I hate bloody Valentine’s Day anyway. It is just an excuse for florists to quadruple their prices and for gift shops to sell cards that on any other given day of the year would make most people puke.

  My hate for Valentine’s Day might stem from the fact that for the last five years I have spent it with someone that I was not actually in love with but had to pretend to be.

  This year I will probably be spending it with someone that I am madly in love with but pretending not to be.

  Oh the irony.

  I wonder if they have a 'Puke-Free Sentiments' section at the card shop.

  3rd February

  Went to look at a flat with Meredith and Tristan. It was a complete shit hole. I made it to the kitchen and then walked out.

  It’s not that I am a complete snob (maybe a partial snob), although I am aware that the flat in Putney is luxury to say the least, but I would expect someone to at least clean a little if they have prospective buyers coming around. This place was disgusting. It smelled like someone had been violently sick and left it for a week. There were dirty takeaway cartons everywhere and ashtrays full of dead spliffs.

  What an absolute waste of time and lung capacity. I wonder if I'll ever be able to get that stench out of my nose and off my clothes. I told the estate agent not to bother showing us a place like that again.

  He apologised profusely and said that it would never happen again.

  4th February

  It happened again.

  This time there was a man still asleep on top of the bed just wearing a pair of dirty stained boxers (stained with what I am trying very hard not to think about). To be fair, he looked more surprised than us, but I think I can safely say it will be hard to visualise that bedroom ever again without also seeing a large hairy man prone on the bed legs akimbo.

  Not good.

  Ben thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard when I told him about it.

  He is not helping with the flat search, for obvious reasons, since it is not like he will ever be spending any time there.

  Oh, just kick me when I am down.

  Ten days to Valentine's Day. I still don’t know whether to get card or not.

  5th February

  Professor Johnson, one of our lecturers, is the craziest man I have ever encountered. He leaps from desk to desk attempting to keep us all awake, blinding us with information as he attempts to coax us into some form of class participation. He normally manages it, hell, sometimes I even forget to go red whilst answering questions. Okay, I’m sure I still go a little pink, but at least I haven’t burped out loud in class for a while.

  This morning he talked about Elizabeth I, and her supposed love affair with Robert Dudley. Imagine being so sexually frustrated that you have people’s heads cut off for fun. Oh, I know that is not really what happened, but it makes it sound much more interesting. I may even write an essay about it entitled, “How to fabricate history to make it more exciting.” Maybe I should become a professional historian and that can be a specialist subject: How to recognise sexually repressed figures throughout History. Ooh! I quite like that.

  I am thinking of ending a love affair of my own.

  No, not with Ben. We all know that is ending anyway. I realised this morning whilst on the Cross Trainer that I can’t really afford the gym anymore. I think my keep fit regime will have to continue by taking my life into my own hands, and jogging around Roehampton with fear-induced adrenaline.

  I wonder if I can get my money back? I could pretend to have a heart condition or something.

  Oooh! I just had a thought. Richmond Park is just down the road. I could run around there. I don’t think it’s that big.

  6th February

  It’s big. It’s very, very big with lots of scary deer with trees growing out of their heads.

  I just about made it to class but now I need to die a million deaths whilst my legs recover. I am beginning to think that trying to be fit and healthy has some serious drawbacks. The drawbacks being extreme pain and agony.

  Sod being thin and healthy! I would rather go back to being frumpy and dumpy again. At least I could use my legs the majority of the time.

  7th February

  “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, not at all. I just feel that I have moved on, I can no longer offer you as much commitment as you deserve and you do deserve it, you truly do. I just can’t give you what you need.”

  “But I will miss you.”

  “I know. And I will miss you, too, but I need to move on and let this all go.”

  James Mr. Hot Bod Gym Instructor stares at me, and decides that he is obviously not going to win this battle. He has tried twitching his pecs and everything. I am not backing down.

  “Okay, Lilah, but you will only get half of your money back.”

  I think he wants to add that I will also never look good in Lycra but I just clap my hands in glee, which makes him frown. I will simply never wear Lycra. That is something I can live with.

  “That is absolutely fine with me,” I assure him.

  I decide to text Meredith:

  Me: I am free! I am free! Come and meet me for chips and wine! X

  Meredith: Thank Christ for that!!! C U in 15 ;-)

  Just like that, I give up on all my New Year’s resolutions. It feels bloody great.

  9.30 p.m.

  The pub that smells of old farts.

  "Shcan yous shmpromish shtoo neves beez shealthy shgain.”

  “I wills shnever beem shealthly shgain. Shmpromish.”

  “Dids yous Shfart?”

  “Shozzy.”

  8th February

  8.30 a.m.

  Oh my head.

  Embarrassing wake-up this morning. I was conscious for about fifteen minutes before I was able to open my eyes due to an extreme searing pain in my right temple lobe.

  When I submitted to the pain and opened my eyes I was greeted with this . . .

  “Oh! What are you doing in here?”

  “Good morning, Delilah.”

  “Morning.”

  I want to scrunch my face up at Ben but it hurts too much.

  “Do you remember anything from last night?” Blues twinkle and crinkle.

  “No. Not really. Was it bad?”

  “You told me you shloved me.”

  Oh, god!

  “Then you threw up in the gutter. Did you eat carrots yesterday?”

  Oh, god!

  “Did I say anything else?” I am too scared to look at him so I pull the duvet up over my head.

 
There is a moment of deathly silence.

  “No.”

  Thank goodness for that.

  He pulls the duvet down.

  I am sure I look a treat. “Thank you for picking us up.”

  “You’re welcome, Taylor.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t remember singing the whole way home?”

  The blues give a definite twinkle now.

  Oh, god!

  “Very tuneful. Now come on, get up. It’s nearly time for class.”

  I’m trying to get ready but it is impossible to get dressed when you can’t move your head at all. I just fell over trying to get my foot into my knickers.

  Who thought it was a good idea to go and get smashed and then go dancing all night?

  Oh, yes, that was me.

  11.30 a.m.

  “Delilah?” Professor Johnson calls me over to the front.

  Oh, no! What have I done now?

  “I think next time you drink that much vodka you should just stay in bed.”

  “Oh, okay then.”

  “Oh and maybe have chewing gum.”

  Shit.

  I shuffle back to my seat trying not to move my head too much.

  2.00 p.m.

  Praise the lord for having no lectures on a Friday afternoon. I am back in bed where I plan to stay for the rest of the day.

  Thankfully, Ben is going out to meet the band, so I can just hide in my room and die of mortification by myself.

  When am I going to grow up?

  4.00 p.m.

  Okay, I'm not by myself. Meredith is here as well. We are going to die together, which is fine with me.

  Tristan is annoyed at her for going out and getting so bladdered after what she has been through.

  Tristan is annoyed at me for allowing her to do it and encouraging it.

  Meredith and I both told Tristan to sod off.