by Anna Mansell
‘Yep. No holds barred. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for sympathy. I’ve no doubt I deserved every word she said, but it was still pretty humiliating.’
‘Well of course it was, she had no right to do it so publicly.’
‘I turned my back on her when she needed me most.’
‘Yeah, but what else was going on? What couldn’t you tell her? There had to be something for you to feel the way you did.’ I shift uncomfortably. ‘You know she always used to blank me in school? I think someone once told her I fancied her and from that day forwards she decided I didn’t exist. I think maybe she’s just not very nice.’ He picks up a long thick twig, stripping it of some smaller branches and moss before handing to me to use as a walking stick.
‘It’s generous to frame it that way, but I don’t know. She’s definitely not faultless, but I’m not either, I do need to own that.’
‘Okay, maybe you were both to blame. Maybe you were right and she was lording it a bit. Maybe she was terrified; she was about to get married, that’s a scary thing.’ He gives the dog a treat and sends it on its way again. ‘Still think she’s mean.’
‘Maybe.’ I wander over to a fallen tree, sitting on the trunk as we watch Pip excitedly jump in and out of the brambles, through fallen trees, around the dried-up stream, tail wagging. The sun peaks through the leaves every now and then, dappling the ground, and my face as I turn to embrace it. ‘Leanne says I should stop beating myself up about things.’
‘Leanne is probably right.’
I nod and just about manage a smile as we fall into a comfortable silence. We sit there for a while, just listening to the birds, feeling the warmth of late August sun as it bleeds through the canopy. This was always my happy place at school. When we were out for study time, supposedly to prepare us for the GCSEs I largely failed, we’d all come here. On my sixteenth birthday, me, Amy, Kate and Catrin walked down here with sandwiches in our rucksacks and freedom in our hearts.
‘He sent the letter back,’ I say, eventually. Mitch turns to face me. ‘The ex. It arrived this morning, returned to sender. Unopened.’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ He tries an encouraging smile. ‘You said all along that you didn’t want him to read it. Those were your exact words to me. And he hasn’t. So, take this as a win, for God’s sake, in amongst everything else right now, take it as a win!’
‘I know. I should.’
‘And yet?’
I take it out of my pocket, staring at my writing. Staring at his, beside it, almost touching. ‘I think, probably, I actually wanted him to read it and then forgive me. I think I wanted him to see through what happened and tell me it wasn’t my fault. I think I wanted him to call me up and tell me he doesn’t hate me for it. I mean, I’d have been amazed if he had, all things considered, but I really wish he had. I shouldn’t need his forgiveness to forgive myself, and yet… I do.’
Mitch lets out a long sympathetic groan. ‘Oh, Calamity Jem, what are we going to do with you?’
‘What?’
‘Do you really need other people’s acceptance and love so much? Can you really not find it inside yourself, without anybody else?’ I shuffle my feet, exposed. ‘Give it here.’ I look up, sharply as he thrusts out his hand. ‘Come on, give it here. I’ll read it.’
‘No. No, I can’t.’ I get up and start walking. Pushing brambles out of my way with the walking stick, letter grasped tightly. I’ve told him plenty, granted he didn’t smart at any of it. But this? No. No, thank you. That’ll be a nope.
‘Come on. I won’t judge. I promise I won’t judge. You want someone to read it and tell you everything’s okay, so let me. Let me see what’s so big and scary that you can’t let go. And when I’ve read it, I promise you I’ll turn to you and give you a big hug.’ I clearly look unconvinced because he catches my hand, holding it as we walk. ‘Hey, I’m not Ben, and maybe that’s for the best, maybe he isn’t the man you think he is. But I am me. And I’m here. And if opinion’s matter, then mine is as worthy as his.’ He rubs his thumb down mine. ‘I promise you I won’t judge. We’ve all been idiots. We all make mistakes.’
‘I’m not sure…’
He blocks my way through the kissing gate out of the woods and into a field, Pip scampers between our legs. ‘Maybe this is exactly what you need. Someone to see your truth, however ugly it will be. And then love you anyway.’ I cough. ‘Well… you know what I mean. At least platonically.’ He moves slightly from the gate, but not quite enough to let me escape what has suddenly become a little bit awkward and not quite the nice walk through the woods I was hoping for. ‘We’re friends, Jem. Would Leanne judge you?’
I think for a second. Unsure if to admit that she knows most of it, if not the detail then the basics. ‘She’d think about it long enough to make me sweat, and then she’d pull me into a hug. She’d tell me she loved me anyway and we’d go to the pub.’
‘See. So why can’t I do that for you?’
‘She’s my best friend. I’ve seen her vomit down the side of a Mini Metro, before pretending to her parents that she was totally sober. She has to love me. I know too much.’
‘Try me.’
He fixes his eyes on mine, my heart rate spikes. If this is to be anything, Mitch and I, secrets can’t stay secret. Lies need to be owned. My past doesn’t have to dictate my future any more. He whips the letter from my hand and though I go to protest, it’s not quite enough to stop him reading…
28
Dear Ben,
There are some things I have to tell you. Things I need to own so I can move forward with my life. But they’re things that you may not want to know. After all, you left, as well you should have. I neither deserved nor appreciated you – at least, not the way you wanted me to. Not the way you had every right for me to. I wish I knew why I behaved the way I did, I wish I could put it all right, but sometimes, it’s just too late.
I’ve often wondered how much you knew and chose to ignore, versus how much I’d got away with lying about. Like the time I kissed George Newman at his house-warming party after you and I had a row. I justified it by telling myself I thought we were over. Or that George came on to me. I was lying to myself as much as you. I was so hurt by our row, I was so frightened that it meant the end for us, and where most people would fight, something in me couldn’t. I pretty much rolled over, accepted my fate.
Except it wasn’t my fate, was it. You came back. We talked. It was just a silly row. I’d been so frightened of losing you I made the worst choice. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson after that but there were more lies…
29
‘I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t.’ I’ve snatched the letter out of his hands, stuffing it into the safety of my pocket before he can try and get it back. ‘Sorry, I just… I can’t.’
‘You snogged his mate. Come on, Jem, it’s really not that bad. You’d fallen out, it happens.’
‘Is that all you read?’
‘You didn’t give me much chance to read the rest.’
‘It gets worse. And I can’t.’
‘Right.’ He starts walking off, kicking some leaves for Pip, who finds a pile of mud in the field far more interesting.
I jog to catch up with him. ‘Wait!’ He pushes on, quicker than I can keep up with. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Mitch, slow down,’ I say, almost unable to keep up with his sudden pace. ‘Mitch!’ I reach out and just grab his arm. He spins around, almost angrily, making me step back a little. ‘What have I done?’
‘I thought we were friends.’
‘We are!’
‘Friends trust each other.’
‘I trust you.’ He looks at me uncertainly. ‘I do! This isn’t about you, it’s me. It’s my fears, I just… I’m not ready.’ The sun’s gone behind a cloud, dropping the temperature in the woods until I shiver. He kicks the ground. ‘Mitch, please. I’m sorry.’
We stand in silence, for muc
h longer than I’d ideally like before, eventually, he says, ‘Come here’, and pulls me into a hug. His arms are strong around me and my heart is pounding so hard I wonder if he can feel it. ‘I’m sorry, you just reminded me of Abby, that’s all.’
‘What do you mean?’
He lets out a long sigh, his chin resting on my head. ‘She used to hide stuff from me. Keep things secret. It was like she never trusted me and it turned out, I shouldn’t have trusted her.’
‘No?’
‘No. She did all sorts behind my back. Other men. Spending my money. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. I was a fool, missed all the signals for years. She made me look an idiot. I guess, maybe it was just echoes, you know. You not trusting me. It made me panic. What if you’re like her?’
‘I’m not! I’m not like her at all.’
‘I think I know that really.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just—’
‘Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. I forgive you.’ His arms are strong and he smells a little bit of Kouros body spray, which should, technically, be horrible, but takes me straight back to being fifteen and in the woods with the first boy I ever loved and I can’t help but swoon a little. ‘Whatever else is in that letter, I’m sure it can’t be that bad,’ he says, so quietly I could be mistaken for missing the words. ‘We all make mistakes. We’re human.’ I daren’t look at him. I daren’t move or breathe or speak. I can’t go back to the words in that letter, I can’t relive it any more. ‘Jem?’ he says, moving me so he can look at me. I shake my head, his face blurred through my tears. ‘Please, don’t keep secrets from me though, yeah? I can’t do that, I can’t cope.’
‘Of course not. I’m sorry, I mean. I won’t. And I will tell you, in time. When I’m ready, just… please bear with me.’
‘You don’t have to be frightened of me judging you.’
‘I know, I know I don’t. And I can’t tell you what that means to me.’
‘So you’ll tell me everything?’
‘I will. Soon. Just, give me time.’
‘At some point in life, you have to forgive yourself for the mistakes you make, don’t you?’ I nod my head, a tear escapes and he rubs his thumb across my cheek to wipe it clear. I’m so grateful he’s here. ‘Come on, you need a drink,’ he says, and the weight that lifts from my shoulders sees me crumple into his hold. ‘You don’t have to be this person, Jem,’ he says, his breath hot on the top of my head. ‘This letter doesn’t have to define you.’ And so close are his choice of words to what Mum said the other day, I am floored. Flawed and floored. And he is holding me up. Strong. Unwavering. No judgement. ‘Come on,’ he says, my hand in his, striding through the kissing gate without pause. ‘Let’s go to the Talbot.’
* * *
‘Thank you,’ I say, placing a pint of beer before him.
‘You didn’t have to get these.’
‘I wanted to. It’s the least I can do.’
‘You okay?’
I nod. Because I think I am. Because I’m exhausted, I feel like I could sleep forever, but there’s something about someone having read a bit of what I wrote and still standing before me that gives me hope. Something about us having our first disagreement and the world not imploding, maybe it calms me. I mean, it didn’t at the time, but he’s still here. Whatever this is, me and him, we survived something that maybe in the past I’d have freaked out about. Closed down. Shut myself off from. And for me, for my future, it makes me think this could be different, that I’m different. ‘You have no idea how much I appreciate what you just did. You’re right, I made mistakes. We all make mistakes. I don’t have to be defined by them any longer.’ He nods, seeing me. Getting how I feel. ‘I didn’t think anything could make me feel better and yet somehow, you have.’
‘Is that because I asked you to buy pork scratchings as well as a pint?’
‘Oh yes, the pork scratchings!’ I get them out of my back pocket, where they now, because I’ve sat on them, more likely resemble a pork crumb. ‘I really am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Mitch. I think I’m not very good at relationships sometimes.’
Mitch sips at his pint, the sun obscures his view of me, so I shift to block it out and stop him squinting. ‘We’re mates,’ he says, simply, ripping the packet open with his teeth. ‘That’s what mates do.’
Mates? Is that all we are? But what if I want more? Am I misreading his signs, the way he held me in the woods? How upset he was at the idea I might have been keeping something from him? Is that how he is with all his mates or is he playing it down now? Have I ruined any chance there might be?
I gaze into my own wiping condensation from the side of the glass. ‘If I hadn’t been in the post office last week, we might never have met up.’
‘You messaged me on Tinder.’
‘Leanne did.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘I think I’d have deleted the app. I mean, not because of you,’ I add, quickly, because I don’t want to upset him again. ‘Because I didn’t know if I was ready to meet anyone. For anything. And yet, I already feel like I can’t quite imagine my life without you being here, and you’ve only been around for a hot second.’
‘A hot second, you say?’
My cheeks flush. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I guess true friendship doesn’t consider little things like time.’ He nudges the last full scratching in my direction and I snaffle it, gratefully.
‘Do you believe in serendipity?’ I ask.
‘I do.’
‘Leanne thinks us meeting at the post office was serendipity…’ I cough, embarrassed. ‘She thinks that maybe the universe is doing its thing.’ It’s the most I’ve said, perhaps fuelled by the last couple of hours and the sun and the beer and the fact that I see it now – I like him. I really like him. And he makes me feel good about me. I don’t have to be frightened. ‘Maybe we were always destined to bump into one another. I don’t know, maybe I needed you, this, us…’
‘Maybe we bumped into one another when I needed someone.’ I feel myself colour a little at his suggestion, the newness of this… whatever it is… the intense look in his eye. ‘Seriously, I’ve been rock bottom. I’ve got a bank account full of cash, I’ve got a house, a car, a dog, and yet, I feel I have nothing. But, here you are, and I’m able to be a friend. To support you. Let you buy me beer and salty snacks. Maybe you are what I needed, not the other way around.’
‘Maybe none of that matters.’
‘Also true.’
We smile at one another and I realise his eyes are a deep, deep brown. So deep you could be forgiven for thinking they’re black. ‘Do you have any contact with her?’ I ask, randomly.
‘Who?’
‘Abby.’ He shakes his head. ‘Didn’t you say she called you, after your mum died?’
He shakes his head again, frowning. ‘She never called me. She’s had nothing to say to me since the day I told her I had to come home. Which just happened to be the same day I found out she’d been seeing someone else behind my back. Now that’s serendipity.’
‘Oh! I thought you’d said she called and tried to get you to go back?’
‘Nah. She doesn’t want me back. She’s moved in with a new fella. Not even the one she was screwing whilst living with me. Greg, he’s called.’ He enunciates every letter in his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend’s name. ‘I feel sorry for him, to be honest. I don’t think people change. She’ll do to him what she did to me but you can’t tell someone that when they’re in a new relationship, can you? I tried calling her, to talk through logistics, who got what, bills that needed paying and so on. She wouldn’t pick up.’
‘God. Her and Ben should talk!’ As soon as I say that, it feels off. Wrong. Ben doesn’t deserve my judgement after everything I put him through.
Mitch shrugs. ‘Let’s just say it’s a good job I have the inheritance. I can clear it all and leave the whole relationship behind me. I guess we’re probably both better o
ff without them.’
‘Maybe.’ Total agreement is, if I’m brutally honest, a stretch just yet. And I want to be honest because this thing with Mitch is the most honest I’ve been with a bloke in years.
‘Well, I think we are. I’m quite happy on my own for now,’ he says and there’s a tiny part of me that hears the on my own bit louder than the rest of what he just said. ‘I don’t need the complication. I don’t want the games that come with relationships.’
‘Relationships shouldn’t come with games,’ I say, repeating words Ben once said to me, bruised. I’ve put him off. I’ve said too much.
‘No. True. But those relationships are rare. The ones that are game-free. I’m happy being me, sorting the house out, getting a plan of action together.’
‘Sorting it out? Are you selling up then?’
Mitch laughs to himself. ‘I told you I thought I would the other night! Christ, we’re going to have to get the important stuff out of the way before we start drinking, you know. So that you remember.’ He necks his pint. ‘On that note, another one?’ He doesn’t wait for my reply and I watch as he jogs into the pub for his round. He’s solid. When he runs. Like he does it a lot and nothing wobbles. Like his thighs are the kind that wouldn’t look out of place amongst a rugby line-up. Not that I want to think about his thighs. Or a rugby line-up, for that matter. Not when I’m already sweating in this heat. And he’s just said he’s happy being on his own.
Pip sits up, flaps his ears, then cries a little at the sight of Mitch’s retreating back. ‘Crikey, what happened there?’ I ruffle the fur on his head, wafting my T-shirt to cool off. ‘It’s okay, he’ll be back in a minute. Come on, settle down.’ Pip sniffs and licks at my hand with a tiny tail wag against the concrete, before he shuffles to lie down beneath the bench, out of the sunshine. Dogs. I could have a dog. Babies, not so much, but dogs? That I could probably just about manage. They’d be easier. Less reliant.