The cigarettes arrived and I lit one. Holly followed suit. She looked as if she was uncomfortable and I guess it was my fault, because the uneasy atmosphere in the room was down to me. It had changed in a split second, we could both feel it. I was tense because I had to know, and I couldn’t beat around the bush any more.
Most of the evening after that was a blur. For someone who is meticulous in recounting events, I had a major lapse. I think because it was so important, it threw me off my normally sturdy guard. I started by asking her if she’d ever thought about us in that way. I think I mentioned kissing her. I remember her face turned red, she looked flushed, she couldn’t quite look at me and as she said she didn’t, I couldn’t help but feel that she was lying. A major skill you acquire as a lawyer is knowing when a person is lying and I believed in my heart that Holly was telling me one.
Then I kissed her. She responded, not at once, but after a while she did, and it was a satisfying kiss. It was a gentle kiss, a soft kiss; it was a kiss that needed to be taken further. I remember when we pulled apart she looked at me and I wondered, for a split second, if I was doing the wrong thing. She looked at me as if she had a million questions in her eyes; as if I had turned her to stone. I probably should have left it there but I needed to know. I put my hand to her cheek.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked. She nodded and I kissed her again.
As I peeled off her top, I tried to work out if I had my answers yet. As I undid her bra, my hands shaking as if I was a teenager again, as I put my hands to her breasts and caressed her nipples, as I took my shirt off and watched her tentatively put her hands on my chest, as I pulled her shoes off, then her socks, then her trousers, as I pulled her up onto her feet, and left her there for a minute while I undid my trousers, as I led her to the four-poster king-size bed, as I gently pushed her down and finally made love to her. I had my answer at some point in that whole process, but I don’t know where it was exactly.
Afterwards, I tried to figure out why I’d done it. I guess I should have realised that it wasn’t right from the start, but I needed to be sure. She looked so shocked as she sat up on the bed, before realising she was naked and rushing to put her clothes back on. I put on a bathrobe and followed her into the living room where I poured her a whisky. She looked as if she wanted to kill me and I worried for a moment that I had forced myself on her. I knew I hadn’t. She had kissed me, she had let me take her clothes off, she even orgasmed, I know she climaxed.
The sex was good, but rather passionless. It wasn’t as good as with Julia, and it didn’t leave me feeling warm as she did. So I had my answer: Julia. It was the answer I wanted because it meant that I wouldn’t have to turn my life upside down.
Holly regained her composure pretty quickly, and then the recriminations started. Suddenly I got a Holly I had never seen before. She screamed at me; I think she was angry with herself and she needed to blame me. She screamed something about a boyfriend, but how was I to know. I wasn’t responsible for her fidelity, she was. Nevertheless, I don’t believe that I handled the next bit so well, but she was angry and I was happy. I was happy, because now I was sure that Julia was the woman with whom I was going to spend my future.
I tried to explain everything to Holly. About her being a doubt in my mind, about Julia, about the proposal. I thought she might find it flattering, but I guess it didn’t sound too good because she was mad. Holly had never been angry with me before. I tried to explain everything, but she just screamed at me. She said I got her drunk and took advantage of her. You know that’s what I hate about women, they always blame the man. I didn’t make her drink like a fucking fish, I didn’t force her into my room at gunpoint and I didn’t hear her complaining at the time. However, I let her have her accusation, because it didn’t matter any more and she was feeling guilty, I guess. I wasn’t though, I didn’t feel guilty one iota because I believed that being unfaithful to Julia, with Holly, meant that I was going to be faithful to her for the rest of my life.
At some point Holly stormed out. I was hoping we could salvage our friendship, but it didn’t look likely. I found it hard to comprehend her anger, after all we were bound to have a physical encounter at some stage. But I let her go because my mission was accomplished. Although I was sorry that I hurt Holly, I can’t say I regretted it.
Chapter Fourteen
One minute life was perfect, the next it was ruined.
I flew back to New York, it was the beginning of December and instead of saying anything to Julia straight away, I decided to plan something special. I’m not a romantic man, although I know what flowers to send, and when, but I wanted the proposal to be special. I was only intending on doing it once. I decided to propose on Christmas Day because we were spending it together in her apartment. Therefore, while we discussed buying the tree and ordering the food, I planned to give her the Christmas present of her life. I called her best girlfriend and swearing her to secrecy, we went shopping for a ring. We both decided to go for the traditional Tiffany solitaire. Amanda (Julia’s friend) managed to get her ring size somehow. So then we went and picked up an expensive, but beautiful diamond set in platinum. It was perfect and I felt quite emotional about the whole thing. The ring is a symbol of love. I was feeling more romantic than I ever had in my life.
On Christmas morning I presented Julia with her gifts. My plan was to exchange the ordinary presents, and then I would produce my surprise. I gave her a tennis racket, a cashmere jumper, and some books. She gave me a couple of shirts, jumpers, and some CDs. I didn’t care about my presents, I was too concerned about the ring. I was going to make breakfast, but she wanted to make love, so I obliged her. It was more intense than usual, or so I thought. Afterwards I told her I was bringing her breakfast in bed. She smiled that post-coital smile she has: sexy and dreamy which makes it hard not to go back for seconds, but I had more important things to do. I left her and went to rustle up some smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. I took the chilled champagne from the fridge along with two glasses from the cupboard. I wasn’t sure if I was nervous, I think I was, but I was also excited. I took everything to her on a tray, including the ring box. As she sat up eagerly awaiting her food, she did not see it at first. Then she did and that was the end of Christmas.
She picked up the box tentatively and opened it. She looked at the ring, then looked at me, then back at the ring.
‘What...?’ she asked, but it wasn’t a very reassuring what.
‘I want you to be my wife,’ I replied. I felt emotional.
‘George...but why?’ Not the response I was expecting.
‘Because I love you, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.’
Julia got out of bed slowly and headed for the kitchen with the breakfast tray in her hands.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Putting this down. Look George, you should have discussed this with me.’
‘Discussed it? I have just asked you to marry me, why would we have a discussion about that? I wanted to be romantic.’ Suddenly, it seemed I was talking to a stranger; it was scaring me.
‘That’s not the point. The point is I don’t want to get married.’
‘You’re turning me down?’ She was fucking turning me down.
‘George, marriage is a big step. I don’t want to be rushed.’
‘We’ve been together for three years, I’d hardly say that was a rush.’
‘No, not necessarily, but well I just don’t think we’re ready. We’re not that old.’
‘I’m thirty.’
‘That’s young.’ Julia had pursed her lips, she always did that when she was angry, but I couldn’t understand why she was on edge with me. For God’s sake I had just asked her to marry me. She’d told me she loved me enough times, OK maybe we hadn’t discussed marriage exactly, but we’d been together, happily, for three years. It was the obvious next step.
‘I thought we were ready. I know I am ready
.’
‘But I’m not. If you’d told me you were thinking of doing this then we could have talked.’
‘So you’re saying no.’
‘George, I do love you, but I don’t want this, not yet, maybe not ever.’
‘I see.’ I looked at her face but she was giving nothing away.
‘Perhaps we should take a break from each other.’
‘What?’
‘Well we want different things from life. Let’s take some time out.’
‘Is this your way of dumping me?’
‘No, well...yes. I think it might be best if we break up.’
‘Break up? Look Julia, we should talk about this. You made it clear you don’t want to marry me, but you said you loved me. So where’s breaking up come from? Christ, Julia.’ I was lost for words.
‘I haven’t been planning it, but when you asked me to marry you, well...’
‘OK, then let’s forget about marriage and talk about our relationship, I thought it was perfect.’
‘Maybe on the surface it was—’
‘Julia, what in hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘I just haven’t been feeling right about us for a while now.’
‘And, when you said you loved me?’
‘I know it sounds awful but I think maybe it’s habit. You have to admit our relationship has gone a bit stale.’
‘I don’t. I am blissfully happy with you, I thought you were with me. I was happy enough to propose to you and now you want out.’
‘Yes, George, I do.’
‘Happy Fucking Christmas, Julia,’ I yelled before snatching the ring off the tray and storming out of the apartment.
I spent the rest of Christmas on my own, getting drunk in my apartment. All I remember is that the alcohol numbed the searing pain at first and eventually it obliterated it altogether. There was no turkey, no crackers, nothing of a traditional Christmas. The first clear thought I had, once back in my apartment was of the two glasses of champagne, untouched, gradually losing their fizz. The rest of the bottle, not drunk. Did Julia pour it down the sink? Of course she did. Julia was not the type of woman to drink flat champagne. She would have poured it down the plug hole, one glass, then the other, hesitating while deciding what to do with the rest of the bottle before pouring that away as well. She wouldn’t drink it because that specific bottle of champagne represented me. She would have poured it down the sink with my proposal.
*
People talk about an event happening that turns their lives upside down, Julia’s response did that to me. Apart from the hurt, which was bad enough, there were other things. I had been so certain of my future, now I had no idea. I thought I was going to marry the woman I loved. It wasn’t a fairy-tale ending I was looking for, it was the ending that best befitted my lifestyle. Julia, a big apartment, nice holidays, children one day. Now I had none of that on my horizon.
I felt shipwrecked; how was I going to salvage my life? I had always seen Julia as perfect, but she had just proved the opposite. I was furious. I had gone to so much trouble and for what? I was so sure that Julia was the right one for me, I’d even upset Holly for her. I’d done everything for her, and she threw it all back in my face. Obviously I had been wrong all along. She wasn’t the woman I was in love with, which left me with the question: who was I in love with? Was I even in love at all?
On Boxing Day I made a decision. Or maybe the decision was made for me. I was in the basement gym of my apartment block, pounding the treadmill and trying to pound Julia out of my mind. I realised now that fate had been telling me something, and I wasn’t going to sit around in New York moping and drinking. That wasn’t my style. I had to regain control of my life; I needed to get away, I needed to rethink. I needed to go back to England. The following day I was going home. It was a drastic decision perhaps, but one that needed making. I needed distance and I needed to think. It seemed clear to me that New York wasn’t going to hold the answers. And Julia had given me her answer. Not the answer I was expecting, but maybe the one I needed after all.
That afternoon she turned up at my apartment with a box of my things. They included the Christmas presents. I felt cold as I looked at her, she didn’t look over the moon but she looked OK. She stood at the door of my apartment, clutching the big brown cardboard box, I could tell she felt awkward and I did nothing to make her feel any easier. She told me she was sorry, and I told her I was too. When I let her in, part of me wanted to take her in my arms, but I didn’t, I just didn’t want to give her any comfort. She reiterated her thoughts of the previous day, but I didn’t need to hear it. I told her I accepted her decision. That was all—I accepted it. I didn’t offer her a drink, I didn’t ask her to sit down. I thanked her formally for returning my things and I held the door open for her to leave. As soon as she left, I closed the door so that I couldn’t see her walk away.
*
Two days later I was at home in Devon, where I’d grown up. Things were a bit of a blur but I had managed to get on to my flight. I’d hired a car at Heathrow and I’d driven home. I was feeling numb, I still hurt. I admit that I had also shed some tears.
I had not cried over Julia until I was back in my old childhood bedroom. I remembered the last time I’d cried. The last time was just after I’d said goodbye to Holly before moving to New York. The time before that was when Samantha had moved to Australia. All connected to Holly. Even this time was connected with her because it was right after I saw her that I had proposed to Julia. And that sure worked out. I felt that maybe Holly was more intrinsically linked into my life than I’d thought. Part of me felt that my life had ground to a halt, the optimistic part felt that perhaps it was just beginning.
In my childhood bedroom—now an anonymous space, all traces of me hidden away in a cupboard—I wiped my tears away with an angry gesture. It was time for me to regain control of my life.
I called my boss and requested time off. I cited a family crisis. Later we arranged a proper, unpaid sabbatical on this basis. I think he understood more than I expected him to and he promised that this wouldn’t in any way harm my career prospects. With that reassurance I could turn my attention to how I was going to rebuild my personal life. How I was going to recreate myself.
I met Holly in Devon (she was visiting her parents) and told her what had happened. She was no longer the angry woman who had stormed out of my hotel room, she was the sweet, loving girl that I had always known. She held me while I cried and she told me she’d be there for me. She looked so genuine, that I realised that I’d made the wrong decision. In a moment I realised that Holly was the girl for me. I should have known. There were two women, Holly and Julia, and it looked like I had picked the wrong one. Simple.
I’d walked away from Julia, from New York, from my job, but I wasn’t going to walk away from her—not Holly.
I rented a flat in London and tried to sort myself out. For a few days I stayed in bed, didn’t eat, didn’t shave, didn’t wash. I had my head to sort out, my feelings for Holly. I had to do it before I explained them to her. I stayed in bed and I thought and I thought, then the truth manifested.
When you realise the truth everything feels better. Since Julia had rejected me my whole body had suffered. My hands shook so I just tried not to use them. I wasn’t hungry. It was as if she had taken all my energy and left me with nothing. But in those days when I was lying horizontal, unable to lift my head, the truth seeped into my consciousness. Holly was the most important woman in my life apart from my mother. My friend Holly. We’d grown up together and our lives had always been linked. But then I had messed it all up by going to New York. I shouldn’t have gone. I should have turned down the job. I should have stayed in London where Holly and I would have fallen in love and lived happily ever after. There would never have been a Julia, she was a hurdle too far in the true course my love life should have run. But her rejection was necessary because now I had been returned to Holly.
Holly. The girl that represen
ted the best times in my life. The girl who made me laugh more than any other. The woman who was my destiny. The uncomplicated, unconditional love she had always given me should have made me realise sooner. But I hadn’t. Until now.
I felt better so I got out of bed, shaved, showered, dressed. Then I contacted Holly and started trying to explain my feelings. She said she wasn’t interested. She accused me of stalking her. She had turned into a bitch. She told me that I had become a stranger but she was the stranger. Not me. I was angry with her, although I put her feelings down to fear. She was under the impression that she was in love with someone else, and all I could do was try to get her to come to her senses. I tried to explain this to her, but to no avail. I was in London, I had no friends, only a handful of acquaintances, and it was a lonely time, but Holly was the goal and I stayed focused on it. Flowers, dinner, phone calls, visits. I tried everything to get her attention, and I did get her attention but she stayed resolutely immune to my charms.
It really hurt when she shouted at me, when she called me names, but there was nothing I could do. I had to make Holly see that I loved her and that she loved me, there was no way that I could give up on that.
I visited my parents one weekend and found our marriage pact. I was looking through some of my old things and there it was, the answer to everything. Holly had shunned every attempt I’d made to develop our relationship, she had become cold and hostile. But the pact, our marriage pact represented something special. It would make her see sense. Everything fitted into place.
Unfortunately, Holly didn’t agree. She said I was crazy. I wasn’t. Believe me I wasn’t. All I wanted was a happy future and I knew that that would mean Holly. It wasn’t Julia after all it was Holly. The only reason we didn’t know it was because that night, that night in the hotel, we were drunk, so it didn’t register, but it would work because we were so obviously destined to be together. Crazy? I wasn’t crazy, I was saner than I’d ever been.
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