Heart

by Nicola Hudson

Grace: Mum’s here without Jim

  Me: Stay with her. I’ll be there in 5 xx

  Sophie hugs me when I excuse myself from dinner and I drive the familiar route home, rehearsing what I’m going to say. Unsure about whether I’m welcome, I knock the door.

  “She’s in the kitchen. I told her you were on your way over. I think she’s glad.”

  “Thanks, Grace. You’re—”

  “A star. I know! Now, go sort things out. I miss you being around.” She hugs me before running upstairs. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the kitchen.

  The first thing I notice is the mess.

  The second thing I notice is the state Mum is in. Hunched over a coffee mug, her eyes are red rings. Her face looks old, like she’s gained a lifetime of wrinkles in the few days since I last saw her. As much as I feel she’s brought it on herself, I also feel guilty.

  “Hi,” is my opener to gauge her mood. She looks at me, almost as if she’s surprised to see me. Needing something to do, I flick the kettle on and set about making a cup of tea. “Do you want one?” No reply.

  Mug in hand, I go back to the table and sit across from her.

  “Mum, we need to talk.” No reply. “Do you hear? We need to talk about what has happened. It can’t go on like this.” She looks at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “Mum? Shall I start?” I take her silence as agreement.

  “I know how hard it’s been for you since Dad… passed. I can see that. But it’s been hard on us kids, as well. I’m amazed at how well Grace and Josh are doing, considering what they’ve been through. What we’ve all been through. But it’s really hard, watching you fall apart. Watching how some of these scumbags treat you.” I reach my hand across the table so that our fingertips are almost touching. “You deserve so much better than them. You deserve someone like Dad, who will love you and take care of you.” She doesn’t attempt to stop the tears which are streaming down her face. My fingers creep forward until they tangle with hers. “I love you, Mum, and I’m sorry if I’ve caused you hassle but I just want what’s best for all of us. What Dad would have wanted.” I’m unsure if my last comment is emotional blackmail but I have to be true to what I believe.

  “You’re so much like him. It hurts to look at you sometimes,” she croaks. “The way you speak to Josh and Grace is exactly how he would speak to you. But it’s not just that. It’s everything: the way you walk, that look you get when you’re pissed off, even your smile. I look at you and I’m reminded of what I’ve lost.” She pulls one hand away to wipe at her tears.

  I know I look like Dad. I can see it in photos. But I didn’t know I’m like him in all those other ways. Some kids would think it’s a nightmare, being compared to a parent like this. But I don’t. I’m proud to be like him. I want to be like him.

  “Would it be easier if I wasn’t around?” I hesitantly suggest. Bill and Sophie have made it clear that the room is mine on a more permanent basis, if needed. It wouldn’t help with Grace and Josh, but if Mum is happier without me, maybe that wouldn’t be so much of an issue.

  “God, no, I’m not saying that. I’ve hated these last few days. Even if I don’t see you, I like knowing you’re here. You’re my baby, Jake. My six-foot, built-like-a-commando baby. I don’t want to lose you, as well.” We’re both crying and playing with each other’s fingers. I want to get up and hug her, be hugged, but I know I’ve got to get to the bottom of the problems.

  “So why, Mum? Why these guys who treat you like shit? Who treat us like shit?”

  “I’m lonely.” Her justification makes me angry.

  “It’s not about being lonely. You have us three! You had friends who you’ve let go. These blokes have driven away everyone in your life. They have made you lonely!”

  “It’s not about that. It’s, you know, I need a man—”

  “Bloody hell, Mum, then get yourself a dildo!” Her face tells me I may have gone too far. “I’m sorry. It’s just they’re all so vile. So unlike Dad.” And there is my issue with everyone she has been with since him. They’re not him.

  “That’s why, Jake. Don’t you get it? There will never be anyone like him. I don’t want anyone else like him.” I’m blown away by her words. Her honesty.

  “I get that, Mum, I honestly do. But you’ve got to have some self-respect. You deserve better. We deserve better. I don’t want you to spend your life alone, pining for Dad. I might have done a few years ago, I admit, but I want you to be happy. And you can’t tell me that you’re happy. Not with Jim.” There is a moment where I think I’ve finally got through to her, that she will let me help her sort her life out.

  “What are you saying? I’ve got to get rid of him? You can’t go issuing ultimatums, you know. You’re not in charge here. I am.” Reluctant to end the discussion in an argument that sees me leave, for who knows how long this time, I relent a little.

  “No, I’m just saying I love you and I worry about you.” I take a deep breath. “And I want to come back home. This is your house, Mum, not his. Please, say I can come back.” I know I’ll beg if I have to. It’s not just about Grace and Josh. It’s also about Mum. Maybe, if I’m around more, I can help her to see the light. Help her live again.

  “You’ll need to apologise to him first.” What the hell? But then I view it as a test. This will prove how much I love her, love Josh and Grace. And prove to Dickhead that I’m the bigger, the better, man.

  “All right. Does it have to be in person?”

  “What?”

  “Well, can I send a text? Write him a note?” Maybe he can’t read. I wouldn’t be surprised. “When is he back?”

  “He’s not here tonight. I’ll send him a text telling him the next one’s going to come from you.” She picks up her phone and taps out her message before handing it over to me.

  Jake wants to come back. PLEASE let him. He’s going to text u now x

  Reading her words gives me the extra encouragement I need to do what I don’t really want to do.

  Sorry for hitting you. Was having a bad day. Won’t happen again.

  “Do I need to wait for permission from him or can I get my stuff?” For the first time in ages, my loaded question is answered with a confident voice.

  “No, we don’t need his permission. You’ve done your part. And, like you said, this is my house. Go and get your stuff. I’ve got a pizza in the freezer, if you want it?”

  “That will be great. Thanks.” I walk over and hug her. The strength of the hug she returns, and the way her arms stroke my back, bring tears back to the surface.

  I leave to pick up my things from Bill’s, hopeful that things will get better.

  Well, as good as they can get without Neve in my life.

  Good?

  Less bad?

  Less empty?

  Less.

  Neve-less.

  I woke up¸ pinned to the wall by Mickey’s not-so-small body. The intimate cosiness of sharing the single bed with Jake was just bloody uncomfortable with Mickey in there instead. Creeping my body along the wall was enough to stir him and he jumped up, almost giving me a black eye in the process.

  “Where? What? Umm?” Mickey wasn’t a morning person, that was clear. His blinking eyes and confused face made him look like a mole, disturbed from his underground home.

  “You stayed over, remember? After Seventh Heaven? After Garrett…” Mickey hadn’t had much choice about staying over, seeing as I begged him not to leave me, paranoid and alone. He reached out a hand and smoothed my hair.

  “Oh, yeah. How are you this morning?” I didn’t know how to put it into words. Scared. Worried. Pissed off. All of the above?

  “Glad I’m going home for the weekend. I need some space away from all things Garrett.”

  “I know, honeybun. But I’m going to miss you.” His face twisted into the sad, pouty look of a five-year-old trying to get more sweets and I couldn’t help but laugh. “What time is your train?”

  As I’d been feeling stronger, I’d told Mum an
d Dad that I could get the train home to save them the long return journey. Now I was faced with several hours of sitting still, trying not to think about what had happened last night.

  “Two-thirty. And I’ve still got to pack before my class at eleven.” I got off the bed and stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of last night’s dancing. Looking at my arm, I could see the not-so-pleasant bruise from where Garrett had grabbed me.

  “Let me help and I’ll leave with you. It’ll save me the walk of shame!”

  Glad Mickey wasn’t insisting on a post-mortem of the night before, I threw a bag at him and started selecting the clothes I was going to take home with me.

  By the time I was on the train to Birmingham, I had decided to email my personal tutor and ask to transfer out of any non-core classes I shared with Garrett. I preferred the American Studies part of my degree, ironic as that was, and was sure I could pick up credits on that part of my course. I was also going to arm myself with an attack alarm, just in case. I was not going to let him bully me into leaving.

  Decisions made, I took a bag of Minstrels from my bag and opened up my Kindle. The next couple of hours were spent completely Garrett-free in the world of Sky and Holder. Heaven.

  I got off the train and went to find the departures board to see where my connection was leaving from. Stood underneath the monitor were Cass and Flynn, huge grins plastered on their faces.

  “Surprise!” Of course, the hugs I got from them both were enough to make me cry and, bags now in Flynn’s hands, we made our way to the car park.

  “We’re driving home anyway, so I thought we’d surprise you.” God, I missed Cass. Even though we still spoke regularly, it just wasn’t the same as being with her. Face to face.

  “I’ve missed you so bloody much,” I said, gripping her arm tightly.

  “We’ve missed you, too. But we’ve now got a whole weekend together, haven’t we?”

  Cass sat with me in the back of Flynn’s car for the journey home and I brought her up to date with everything other than Garrett. I didn’t want to tell her about what had happened in front of Flynn and knew there would be plenty of time for that later. We dropped Cass off at her house with the promise of spending time together the following day. I moved to the front seat and played around with the stereo, eventually finding something decent on the radio.

  “So, you’re okay, then? You know, since Jake and everything.” I should have known my nosey-but-lovely big brother wouldn’t be able to leave the topic alone.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. You and Cass?” I hoped he would feel uncomfortable talking about his relationship with his little sister. I was wrong.

  “It’s fucking amazing, Neve. Seriously. I never thought it could be this good. I love her. She loves me. I don’t care about anything else. There isn’t anything else.”

  “Oh, my frickin’ God! Where has my brother gone? Someone has kidnapped him and put a soppy, romantic imposter in his place!”

  “Take the piss as much as you want. I don’t care. I’ve never been happier. I’ve got everything I want.” There was a short pause before he continued, his voice slightly deeper. “That’s why we’re worried about you. I’m worried about you. It looked like you and Jake had got the same thing going on.”

  “Tell that to him. You’re preaching to the choir here.”

  “He’s not happy, you know. He knows he fucked up.”

  “Well, he should have thought about it before he opened his mouth, shouldn’t he? Maybe he does know this has all been the biggest mistake he’s ever made, but that doesn’t make it any less wrong. He hurt me, Flynn. He broke me.”

  We had pulled onto the drive and were just sat in the car, both of us looking through the windscreen, unable to look at each other and maintain the seriousness of the conversation.

  “I know that and, trust me, I’ve made sure he knows it, as well. But he’s broken himself in the process, too. He’s a mess.” I was unsure whether it was what I wanted to hear. My love for him was still significant enough to eclipse the anger, and I hated the idea of him hurting, alone.

  “Do you think I should give him another chance?”

  “I’m not sure you’ll get to. He still believes it was the right thing for you, even if it’s killing him inside.”

  “How do you know all of this? I thought guys didn’t talk about touchy-feely stuff?” So, that may have been a bit stereotypical, but did they really spend as long talking about girls as we did about them?

  “He’s my best mate, Neve. I don’t need him to tell me every single detail. I can see it. We’ve had a bit of a chat about it, but it’s more just seeing what he’s like at the moment. You’re my kid sister and I hate that he’s hurt you, and I can’t believe I’m even thinking of letting him be within a hundred metres of you again, but he needs you. And I think you need him.” Fuck. I knew that Jake must be in a state for Flynn to be this open, this serious.

  “Did you call me your kid sister? I’m a fully-grown woman, I’ll have you know.” I opened the door and got out, knowing there wasn’t much more which could be said. It was up to me or Jake now.

  “Come off it, you’re never going to be fully grown! Have you looked in a mirror? Stood against a height chart?” He laughed and took my bags from the boot as I punched him. It was good to be home.

  After an Indian takeaway for dinner, we all sat in the lounge, watching QI. Flynn and I were taking the piss out of Dad, who had decided to start growing a beard, only to find it was mostly grey. As the jokes got ruder, I sat back, content. I needed the normality of this banter, this family.

  I needed love.

  There’s an uneasy truce going on in our house at the moment. Dickhead and I avoid each other, so I haven’t had to speak to him since the apology. I took Mum shopping and then helped with the cleaning so things feel a bit more normal. It’s a long way from domestic bliss, but at least Grace and Josh have food in the fridge and clean beds to sleep in.

  Sitting in my room, convinced I can sit out living here until my apprenticeship ends and Grace goes to uni, I can’t stop myself wondering if ending things with Neve was worth it. What did I gain? A shitload of hurt and that’s about it.

  I’m not even convinced now that it was the right thing for her, either. Based on Flynn’s non-committal responses when I ask him about her, it seems like she’s still finding it tough. Would it have been easier for her if I had done it before she moved to Brighton? Who knows? She probably wouldn’t have left then, and I couldn’t be the person to put a stop on her future.

  Maybe I was naïve, or just stupid, but I thought that, with a new life and new friends who are nothing to do with me, it would be easier for her. She wouldn’t have to think about me.

  It’s the thinking that’s the killer. The hours just thinking, either about the past or what the non-existent future would be like. And it’s not like I even need to look at pictures to remind me. I see her as soon as I close my eyes. Hell, even when my eyes are open, I can see her: smiling, beautiful, mine. I can hear her laughter and smell her perfume. I can taste her kiss on my tongue and feel the smoothness of her skin around me. Time doesn’t heal, and it doesn’t make the memories any easier to live with, either.

  But did I expect it to? I went into this with my eyes open. I knew it could destroy me. But it wasn’t about me, was it? I’ve made my bed and now I’ve got to lie in it.

  Without her.

  The next morning, I went into town with Mum and had a reassuringly normal few hours of clothes and coffee. By the time Cass arrived, after helping out in the family shop for a few hours, I was feeling a bit more like my old self. Like somehow the clock had been rewound a few months and I was back in Sixth Form. Before uni. Before Jake. Life had changed so much, for all of us, in that time: things were so much simpler back then.

  “Right then. Where do we start? Are you still deciding whether to get back with Jake or is it just about working out how to? Let’s not faff around. What’s it to be?” Even though Cass surprised
me with her assertiveness, I knew it was what I needed. I’d spent enough time thinking through everything that had happened, mentally role-playing every possible outcome. We didn’t need to go over it again.

  “I want him back.” I couldn’t even say it without smiling. As much as I’d try to stay angry, I was like a moth, drawn to the beauty of the light source which could also destroy it.

  “So, let’s do it then!” Based on Cass’s squeal and hand-clapping, I was going to need to be the person who kept a grip on reality.

  “That’s the difficult part – how the hell do I get him to change his mind?”

  “Well, I did some research,” she said, pulling several pieces of paper from her bag and handing them to me.

  “You’re kidding me? You went online to find the answer? You’re such a bloody geek!” I scanned pages taken from a number of websites, some clearly more dubious than others if the advice was any indication. ‘Send him some saucy photos to remind him of what he’s missing’? ‘Make him jealous by flirting with one of his friends’?

  “I think we can make a plan from these. They all have a lot of the same points. Let’s make a list.”

  As barmy as the method was, I hadn’t got any better suggestions and so we put together a six-point action plan:

  1. Be the person Jake fell in love with.

  2. Plan what I will say when I speak to him.

  3. Listen carefully to what he says.

  4. Ask him to do something as friends.

  5. Remind him of some of our happy times.

  6. Leave the casual date with nothing more than a light kiss.

  Which really meant:

  1. Try not to be the mouthy banshee I was the last time he spoke to me. On that day. Be nice.

  2. “Hi. Do you fancy going for a drink?”

  3. Listen to his answer to number two.

  4. See number two.

  5. See number one.

  6. Try really hard not to focus on what a great kisser he is. No begging. At all.