Another Life

by Jodie Chapman

  She thought about this for a moment, and then, ‘I think your coolness would have tempered my hot head. I think we are different enough to have stayed our own selves, so that when we came together, it would be electric.’

  Above our heads, the church bell gave a dull ring to signal a new hour.

  Anna looked at me. ‘I think we’d have been magnificent.’

  From: ANNA

  To: NICK

  Subject:

  I’m sorry I said you have no agency. I’m sorry I said you had no guts. That you can’t do anything unless you’re told to, that you’d never be a man to sweep me off my feet.

  Forget what I said. Don’t change. Ignore my stupid mouth.

  I love your gentleness. Yes, you cause pain like everyone, but that’s being clumsy. Not knowing where to put your hands.

  Let me show you.

  I’ve told you before that you make me feel safe.

  But have I told you that one of my strongest memories is when I rang you a year into my marriage. I was on my driveway, locked in my car, him at the window looking out into darkness with disgusted eyes. I’d felt scared during a row and fled the house to call you. No one else could help me at that moment. I wanted your voice. You asked over and over what was wrong, if I was okay, and I just fed silence back to you down the phone, an occasional sob, a fight for breath, my hand clamped on my mouth to stop my heart from spilling the words I’d already said inside. How that night in your bed, when you’d stopped when you didn’t have to, how in that moment you forever sealed your fate in my mind as the one who would never hurt me.

  There was a time at a service station when a man touched me up as I sat alone in the sunshine, and I ran inside to text you. I hid in a corner and wanted to scream, but my shaking fingers typed a message instead. You won’t remember because I never told you. I hid it with a “hey, how are you?” but it was a selfish thing. Because in that moment, I didn’t care how you were. I needed your name to light up my screen.

  What I also never told you was that on the worst nights, when I lay awake and knew my entire life was a lie, I would let my thoughts drift into you and your face and your hands on my skin and the sound from your throat as I fixed my mouth around you, and then it would be morning. There was no break between my conscious and unconscious thought. You were a calm pill and my entire rest was you.

  This is how it is when you make a girl feel safe.

  June 2019

  A few weeks after our argument, Laura and I go to a party to celebrate Kate and Tom. I had hoped it would be one of those engagements that never led into an actual day, but from the moment the embossed invitation lands on the mat, it ignites a crisp season of silences.

  ‘Not hanging around, are they?’ says Laura as she slides the invitation out from the envelope and props it against the toaster. ‘But I guess when you know, you know.’

  She leaves the room as soon as she’s said it.

  It takes place at Kate’s parents’ pub out in the countryside. Laura’s friends have impressive jobs in law, medicine or publishing, and Kate’s job as a yoga instructor marks her out as the quirky one of the group. She’s a good-looking blonde who wears long skirts and winters in Ibiza. She once gave Laura a crystal for her birthday – ‘Citrine, darling, for manifesting wealth and abundance’ – and her favourite thing is to be agony aunt for their friend set. I can tell she doesn’t like me.

  We enter the pub and she immediately bounds up and hugs Laura. ‘Oh Lols, you sweetheart,’ she says, taking the wrapped gift – I have no idea what – and throwing me a dazzling smile. ‘Nicky, help yourself to a drink from the bar. The boys are all over there.’ She nods in the direction of the other side of the room.

  I take my lager and join the boyfriends. When Laura and I first got together, I was struck by the size of her friendship group. There are eight of them in total, all with respective boyfriends who have changed very little over the years. At the time we met, my own mates were pairing off and settling down, swapping pub for park. Laura’s world brought with it a ready-made circle of friends to take up the slack.

  The lads and I talk about rugby. They are trim and athletic and work in the City, managing something or other in finance. They play squash at weekends, and apart from the odd bit of bragging about their stock performance levels, they are nice enough. Daz would hate them.

  ‘So Nick,’ says Tom, putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘Laura turned into a witch yet? I hear the hormones are a riot.’

  I laugh. ‘Yeah, I guess. She’s managing okay, though. I just wish there was more I could do.’

  ‘Only benefit I can see is having a designated driver for a while,’ says Christian, nudging me and spilling white wine on his designer loafers. ‘And I bet the sex is great. Pregnant women are always horny.’ Christian works for a pharmaceutical conglomerate and has a habit of sending me hardcore porn videos. I haven’t worked out how to ask him to stop.

  I smile and shrug.

  The conversation moves on to cricket, before tennis and a brief chat about the golf. I know the bare minimum about the latter, a light education gleaned from the sports section for moments like these. I contribute a comment or two, enough to play a part and not blow my cover. Most of the time, I drink my beer.

  At about 10 p.m., Anna walks through the door.

  The beer I’m drinking goes down the wrong way and then I am coughing and spluttering, and Christian is whacking my back. When I turn, red in the face, she is looking straight at me. I give a sort of wave, and she turns away.

  She’s on the arm of some bloke. A different one. He is tall and Terminator-like, with a buffness that seeks to be seen. He leads her over to Kate, who gives him a hug and jokily squeezes his bicep. I watch as she turns her attention to Anna, who is clearly being introduced for the first time. Kate chats away and Anna nods politely and says the occasional thing, then Kate waves them towards the bar and heads straight for Laura.

  Laura has ignored me so far, taking refuge either on the dance floor or in the corner of a booth. I’ve thrown the odd glance in her direction and they’re never returned. When she reaches Laura, Kate whispers in her ear, and then Laura is standing and looking in Anna’s direction, then at me, then back at Anna.

  I make an excuse to the lads and take my beer off into an empty function room set up for children and elderly relatives. In here, sofas – those hard leather ones with buttons that push into your back – and armchairs are spread out in a sort of circle, and the music is dulled and distant. The older partygoers have already departed and the children are crowding the dance floor.

  I drop down on to a sofa and let out a long breath. This will be my refuge for a moment before slipping outside for a blessed vape. Give the eyeballing a chance to calm down.

  I lean my head back and close my eyes. What feels like seconds later, there is a light tapping on my head, and I open my eyes to see an upside-down child staring at me.

  ‘You were sleeping,’ she says. Her tone is accusatory.

  I keep my head still and move my eyes from side to side. ‘So what if I was?’

  ‘You can’t sleep at a party. It’s the law.’

  A drop of snot pauses on the end of her nose and she wipes it against the bottom of her hand with expert skill. She wears a red dress with ribbons in her hair. My knowledge of kids is slim, but I’d guess she’s about six.

  I sit up. My empty glass is beside me on the sofa and I lean forward to put it on the table. ‘You better get back to the grown-up looking after you.’

  She huffs and sits down next to me. ‘I don’t want to go back out there. Grown-ups are boring. They just stand and talk, and they keep pouring their drinks all over my dress.’ She smooths her lap.

  ‘Grown-ups are boring,’ I say, feeling for the vape in my pocket. ‘Don’t ever become one.’

  She cocks her head and looks at me. ‘Like Peter Pan?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She thinks about this for a minute. ‘But you’re a grown-up. So
does that mean you’re boring too?’

  I give a slow nod. ‘Exceedingly so.’

  She flicks her hair over her shoulder. ‘Well, I’m never going to be boring. When I’m a grown-up, I’ll stay up as late as I want, have midnight feasts and go on great adventures.’

  I think about what’s going on out there in my absence. If only there was a bar in here.

  ‘Play with me?’ she says, bringing out a little bag of plastic figures.

  I check my phone. ‘You really should be getting back out there.’

  ‘In a minute, I promise.’ She unzips the bag and begins taking them out. ‘I’ll be this one,’ she says, holding up what looks like a princess with red hair. ‘She has magical powers. She can bring dead people back to life.’

  No messages. ‘That’s a pretty great power to have,’ I say, putting my phone back in my pocket.

  ‘Now we need someone for you to be …’ She riffles through the bag. ‘Do you want to be a man?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Yes, go on.’ She hands me a plastic figure, a prince with golden hair. ‘Be a man.’

  I jig him about on my knee. ‘What do I do?’

  She looks at me, confused. ‘Play.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone this, but …’ I lean in and whisper, ‘I’ve forgotten how.’

  ‘It’s easy,’ she says, taking out another figure and placing it on the table. ‘You just make them talk. Like this. “Now you listen to me,”’ she says in an American accent, waving her figure at mine. ‘“We’re going to storm the castle and save the king from the evil witch. Stay close to me and we’ll go in together. Stay close now, you hear?”’

  ‘What will we do when we get there?’ I say, getting in character. ‘We’d better make a plan. There might be booby traps.’

  ‘Boobies?’ she says, laughing.

  I clear my throat. ‘I mean, the witch might have set a trap. And wait, what if the king doesn’t want to be saved?’

  She looks at me, impressed. ‘Oh, he definitely wants to be saved. He just doesn’t know it yet. But we’ll make him see.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Ah,’ I say. ‘We’d better get a move on then.’

  A woman sticks her head round the door. She looks drunk and annoyed. ‘There you are. Where have you been?’

  ‘In here, playing. I made a friend.’

  The woman gives me a suspicious look. ‘Well, get your toys and come back out here with the others. Come on, hurry up.’

  The girl puts the figures in her bag and zips it shut. ‘I have to go,’ she says, standing. ‘That’s my mummy. She gets really angry if I don’t do what she says.’

  ‘My dad was like that. That’s the good thing about being a grown-up. You can do what you want.’

  ‘You’re lucky. I want that more than anything in the world.’ She turns and smiles at me, then she runs through the door and is gone.

  I go to pick up my glass and realise I’m still holding the plastic figure. I look at it for a moment, feel its moulded face and parts, a designer’s idea of how a man should be.

  I place it on the table. Its face looks sad.

  The beat of an electronic bass throbs against the wall. There is cheering. I pick up my glass and head back out into the crowd.

  When I walk out, there is a lull in the music and I hear someone say Anna.

  I stop.

  The voice continues and I recognise it as Laura’s. She is standing with Kate and one of Kate’s friends whose name I don’t know. They stand close together, about four feet away, talking and shaking their heads. I see them through the leaves of a potted palm, behind which I am hiding. This feels both completely ridiculous and the safest option.

  The music gets louder and they have to raise their voices to make themselves heard. This makes my accidental eavesdropping easier.

  ‘So who is she?’ says the girl with no name.

  ‘Nick’s ex,’ shouts Kate. ‘Laura’s boyfriend.’

  ‘Not exactly his ex,’ says Laura, her back to me. She has one arm folded across her chest, the other holding a water. ‘Apparently they had one crazy hot summer, but they never even slept together. When we met, he called her “the one that got away”.’

  The girl with no name rolls her eyes. What the fuck does she know.

  ‘I had an ex with one of those,’ says Kate. ‘They create this myth thing in their heads that’s completely detached from reality. You end up wishing they’d actually shagged each other, just so—’ I couldn’t hear the rest.

  ‘Not helping, Kate,’ shouts Laura.

  ‘It can’t have been that hot if they never even had sex,’ says the girl.

  ‘She was from some weird cult,’ says Kate. ‘You know those people who knock on your door and say the end of the world is coming? Proper loony.’

  ‘What’s she even doing here?’ says the girl. I take pleasure in noticing lipstick smeared all over her teeth.

  ‘She’s here with Tom’s cousin,’ says Kate, pouting. ‘I didn’t even know they were going out. Swear, Lols.’ She grips Laura’s arm. ‘I’d never have let her come otherwise.’

  They are quiet for a moment as they stare at the other side of the dance floor at something out of my line of sight. Anna, perhaps. They sip their drinks.

  ‘She’s not that pretty,’ says Kate.

  ‘I think she’s weird-looking,’ says the girl. ‘Her features are wonky. Her forehead’s too big. Men are so strange, the women they go for.’

  Laura takes a gulp of drink and runs a hand through her hair. ‘Are you both fucking blind?’

  They look at her and I take a step back.

  ‘Let’s get you another drink,’ says Kate, putting her arm around Laura.

  ‘A real one?’

  Kate gives her a squeeze. ‘Not long now,’ she says, and leads them towards the bar.

  Promise you’ll tell no one, she’d said that day at the lake.

  I promise.

  I lean against the wall in my corner and wait for my heart to quieten. I know what I need, but I can’t bring myself to walk across the room so I try a nearby door. It opens into the kitchen, which is dark and quiet, and I walk between the stainless-steel counters and through the fire-exit door to the outside.

  And there is Anna, in the little cobbled yard, leaning against the wall with a glass of red wine.

  ‘God,’ she says under her breath when she sees me. She gives a strained smile and looks down at her glass.

  ‘Shall I leave you?’ I say, turning as if to go back through the door.

  She sips her wine and shrugs, not bothering to look at me. Instead, she presses the point of her heel lightly on the ground. ‘Do what you like,’ she says into her glass.

  I hesitate, then straighten my back and put my vape to my lips.

  ‘Look at you,’ she says. ‘Evolving, are we?’

  I take a drag and try to enjoy it. ‘Baby steps.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the second-hand smoke is still a killer, so if you are going to hang out here, maybe move further away.’

  I take a step back. ‘You didn’t seem to mind me chain-smoking in your garden.’

  ‘People change.’

  ‘Speaking of evolution, that’s quite an impressive caveman you’ve come with. Does he call you Jane?’

  Anna laughs, but the tone suggests it’s not at my joke. ‘How’s your pregnant girlfriend?’

  I exhale and give a slow nod. ‘Still pregnant.’

  ‘So I see. If looks could kill.’

  She says this drily, not making eye contact. I have been around this Anna a few times and know how hard it is to break. This meeting is unexpected, but it feels like it might be the last time. I don’t want it to end badly.

  ‘It’s her best friend’s party,’ I say. ‘She wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘No, well, I wasn’t expecting you,’ she says, looking at the ground. She clears her throat. ‘And I’m used to girls not liking me. I don’t know why but it happens a lot.
Always has.’

  ‘They’re intimidated by you,’ I say, leaning against the wall.

  She looks at me and laughs. ‘Come on.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘How the hell am I intimidating?’

  I blow vapour in her direction. ‘Look at you.’

  ‘Me?’ She is several feet away but waves dramatically at the smoke she thinks is killing her.

  ‘You don’t see yourself how I see you.’

  Anna turns away. ‘I don’t see why girls would find me intimidating.’ She gives a shrug. ‘At thirty-five, I really should start calling us women.’

  I’m quiet for a moment, watching her, but she keeps her eyes fixed somewhere else. ‘Look what you’ve done with your life,’ I say. ‘You said to me years ago that you wanted to be a painter, and now you’re winning awards. You live life as you want. You’re strong. That’s intimidating.’

  ‘God, is this going to be like when you called me “intense”? Because this really isn’t the time.’

  ‘I’m just giving you something good,’ I say. ‘I know you like that.’

  Anna takes a breath. ‘So now you give me something good? Sixteen years and one pregnant girlfriend later.’

  ‘Tarzan’s waiting.’

  She downs the last of her wine and wipes her mouth against the back of her wrist. ‘Yeah, you made that joke,’ she says, and pushes herself away from the wall. ‘It wasn’t funny the first time.’

  ‘I’m just impressed with your range. A few weeks ago it was a skinny intellectual with glasses and now it’s a Neanderthal with arms like hunks of meat. Who’s it going to be next month?’ I’m being a dick, but this already feels like a lost cause so why not die with guns blazing?

  Anna looks at me, hurt, and I know I’ve succeeded. But there’s a twinge in my heart, the one I felt sixteen months ago when I served beans on toast to a soon-to-be dead Sal. I think about touching her arm and pulling the words back inside.

  She is watching, working me out, and then she gives her shoulders a little shake and starts to walk over.

  ‘Think I’m a slut, do you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You’ve listened to too much angry rap.’ She sticks out her chin. ‘I got married at twenty, so maybe cut me some slack?’