He arrives in the kitchen just as I’m about to serve up, looming like a giant teenager in baggy clothes. I forgot he doesn’t have childbearing hips like mine.
“I can’t eat, Lily,” he groans.
I ignore him and put food in two bowls, carrying them both through, two sets of chopsticks too.
I place them on the coffee table in the living room and he looms again, not sure where to put himself.
I put the telly on, selecting Outlander on catch-up.
I sit back, relax, eat my food and begin watching the programme. Eventually he sits beside me, takes up his bowl and stares at the screen, eating bitesize amounts now and again.
Once I’ve scoffed my food I put the TV on pause, leave the room, put my bowl in the sink and grab two cokes from the fridge. There’s also half a cheesecake left so I grab two forks and remove it straight from the shelf.
Placing everything down on the coffee table I resume the show, then begin eating the cheesecake direct from the serving plate.
Jamie is about to get raped by Black Jack Randall. I heard this scene is horrific, so not surprising that as it plays out, Paul explodes, “What the fuck are we watching?”
“Oh, god… yeah… you don’t know the backstory.”
I put it on pause and tell him as best I can how the story of Claire and Jamie began. He’s still a bit flummoxed as I resume, and even I have to admit, the violence and graphic detail is rather a bit much.
“You really need to watch from the beginning. It’s the best show.”
“Okay… can we?”
I turn and look at him. “I suppose.”
He looks delighted when I switch to the first episode and even takes the remaining cheesecake and polishes it off.
Cracking open both our cans, we then proceed to watch.
We enjoy the whole thing in silence and I notice how Paul seems to be really taking it in.
After it’s over, he looks at me and exclaims, “Wow, I love history and this is really… gripping.”
“Yeah, I know. Thank god for period drama eh? I was with a guy today and it was like watching David Jason go from playing Del Boy to Jack Frost to Granville to Pop Larkin. There were at least four or five different personalities, it was incredible. Sometimes I need this when I get home to switch off, you know?”
He smiles sadly and I sense a weight on his shoulders.
“What is it, Paul?”
“My dad’s an alcoholic. He’s in liver failure. They’re desperately searching for a donor.”
Finally having got it out, he looks relieved and stares at his lap, waiting for me to say something.
“What about Japan?”
“What about it?”
“You just left?”
“It wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped,” he sighs. “I kind of screwed it up, then I was dossing around on people’s floors. Bit shit, really. Just didn’t wanna come home.”
“That’s why you went… to escape him.”
He chews his lip. “To escape myself. And what he’s done to me.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Paul.”
“Me too. Because you don’t know what it’s like being his son, Lily. You don’t know what’s it’s like even being near him, let alone related to him by blood.”
I absorb that for a while.
“So, do you want to watch another?”
“Yeah, course,” he enthuses, taking away the two plates, then coming back with more drinks.
“Alright, here we go.” I press play.
Chapter Fourteen
Midway through the second episode, Paul’s phone rings and he looks at the screen, frowning. He rejects the call. After a few persistent calls back, he stands up, stalks to the window and answers, “Yes?”
I don’t hear what’s said on the other end of the line. I pause the TV and still don’t hear as he mumbles, “Umm-hmm, umm-hmm… okay, bye.”
Once he’s off the phone he sits down and looks at me. “Aren’t you going to press play?”
“Who was that?”
He chews his lip and grinds his teeth. “Mum. She said they’ve got a liver; it’s arriving in the morning. He’s booked in for surgery first thing.”
I stare, baffled. “Aren’t you happy? That’s great news.”
He presses his lips together and looks away, choosing his words carefully before turning back to look at me. “You don’t know my dad. He’s knackered up that body. Who knows if it’ll take? And if it does… he’ll fuck up that new liver and it’ll have been for nothing. Trust me. I know him better than anyone.”
I swallow hard. There’s so much pain and torment in his eyes and tone of voice. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s hidden it so well – this personal tragedy of his.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I really am.”
“Not as sorry as I am, babe. Not half as sorry.” He leans forward on the sofa, hands steepled in front of him. “I’ve seen him at his worst and at his best. And it’s the best that’s actually the worst because in those few moments he’s sober and lucid you have this feeling, right in the pit of your stomach, suddenly realising it’s happiness. It’s so great, that feeling of having him back, but then all it takes is one whiff of the stuff and he’s gone. It takes him and that’s it… he’s gone. And you learn to fight off those feelings of happiness whenever they arrive, because you know they won’t last for long.”
He bursts into tears so I scoot across the sofa, take his hand and pull his head against my shoulder, letting him release it all, tears and sobs and all.
Then suddenly he yanks himself away, rubs his eyes and quietens, walking to the other side of the room and staring at the wall.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t deserve this shit, Lily.”
I move across the room lightly, my intent not to frighten him as I get closer. I put my hand on his arm and whisper, “Neither do you. Neither do you.”
He turns and looks at me with bloodshot eyes; he’s a wreck and can’t be soothed, not tonight.
I put my hand on his face and swipe at another tear with my thumb. He has such beautiful dark blue-green eyes.
“You can’t keep doing this, Paul.”
His face crumples. “What?”
“Saving me and then leaving me, because you’re scared of happiness.”
“You’ve got it wrong!”
He moves away from me, tearing at his hair.
“Then tell me the truth, Paul. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to wake up in that hotel room alone? With everyone so happy downstairs, I had to sneak out of that hotel to avoid everyone and then get a bus home. Do you have any idea what that was like for me? Because I don’t think you do.”
I could go into graphic detail about how many nights I’ve cried myself to sleep… how I stopped eating… stopped sleeping. How sometimes, when I’m the saddest, I imagine his arms wrapped around me the way they were that night and it doesn’t seem that bad anymore. Until I wake again later, realising actually, the bed’s cold and I’m alone. The man I love is gone. He’s always gone. Just when I think I’ve finally got him, he’s gone.
He leans back against my wall and sinks, sliding down the wall until he’s crouched. He covers his face with his hands and shakes his head, mad with everything – but especially me, it seems.
“You don’t know what he’s like, Lily. You just don’t know. Do you remember my first girlfriend, Claire? Do you?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah, because it lasted five minutes. She caught him wandering the house naked and watched as he peed on the lino.”
I say nothing. That must have been years ago.
“You don’t know the shame of it, how it feels, what it’s like. I want to have a life, a family of my own, but he’ll be there in the background, always. He’ll be saying the horrible things he says… in my head… deep in my subconscious, always belittling, always… dragging me down w
ith him. You don’t have a clue, Lily. You don’t. I’ve been trying to save you from me. Ian didn’t deserve you, that was as obvious as grass is green, but nor do I. I don’t deserve you either, and all this thing between us will result in is pain, like everything else. I’ll only cause you pain, and you know it. You deserve more.”
He rests his head against his knees and curls up into a ball. He’s given up, given in, he’s not strong enough to fight back. He’s been torn down and this is what I’m left with.
“I know that alcoholism is a disease that spreads and its effects have spread to you in that you don’t think you deserve happiness or love or contentment. Well, I’ve got news for you. You still have a chance. Maybe it’s too late for him, but it isn’t for you. I’ve tried to forget you but the truth is, I was with someone for three years and those three years pale in comparison to one night with you. What we have is so special, I truly believe that, and now I know why you’ve been like this, I’m not letting you go. I won’t. I love you. I can’t unlove you, it’s not possible. I love you more than anything and if you feel the same way, then you’ll leave all that behind and be with me. Because I tell you what, I’m not hanging around until he’s dead and buried. And if you can’t let go of it all, you’ll end up dead and buried alongside him, and you know it.”
He folds into himself, arms tight around his knees, face buried against them. I’ve failed. He can’t be rescued. I’ve done all I can.
I rush from the room and start banging around the kitchen, tidying things away and for some reason, boiling a kettle full of water.
My heart hurts and I have to take hold of the kitchen sideboard, my chin to my chest as tears fall and fall down my face and onto the floor. I can’t take it anymore. I feel ill.
When the kettle has boiled, I hear him shuffle in behind me and ask, “Do you want a cup of tea, then?”
“No,” I wail, still clinging to the counter.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and tugs me backwards until our bodies touch. Wrapping his arms firmly around my front, he rests his chin on my shoulder and I’m close to breaking point when he murmurs, “Everything means nothing without you, Lily. I’m in hell. I’m in hell, babe. I’m absolutely lost and I’m in hell. If you want to try and rescue me, that’s up to you, but I’m in hell and I’m a mess. But I love you. I’ve always loved you. Forever and always. Whenever we’re together, I always feel lighter. I feel alive, just holding you, and that scares me so much. You have no idea. I love you so much, it hurts. It physically hurts.”
He buries his face in my hair and I feel his laboured breaths caress my ear, my throat. I let it go, let it all fall out of me, breaking apart right in front of him. All the nights alone… all the horrible thoughts I had while he was gone. I let them all go.
Paul turns me and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight against him as I wail and cry against his chest. Shaking and shivering, I let it all out and he whips me up against him, tugging my legs around his waist. I cling to him tighter than I’ve ever clung to anything, my face buried against his hair and my arms wrapped around his head, protecting him from all that out there.
A different shiver runs down my spine when he presses his lips to my throat and inhales the scent of me.
“Ah, Lily.”
My body shakes with desire when he kisses my cheek and then the corner of my mouth. He brushes his lips to mine and I moan softly and kiss him back when he gives me more, his soft lips parting to allow our tongues to brush and caress.
The greeting over with, he walks across the room, deposits me on the sideboard and holds my head in his hands, kissing me forcefully, my breath robbed… his tongue roaming my mouth. I keep my legs wrapped around his waist and encourage him to lift the t-shirt off. Then while he kisses me, I run my hands over his chest and stomach, his back and shoulders.
“I love you,” he moans, his breathing heavy, the weight of his words sending even more blood pulsing between my legs.
“Love you,” I reply, encouraging his kisses against my throat, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
He’s kissing my neck still when he starts undoing the buttons on my pyjama top. His mouth follows as his fingers work them open, his lips on the thin skin of my chest, then the valley of my breasts… and as the buttons are conquered, he moves the material to the sides and holds my breasts in his hands, staring into my eyes, smouldering.
“Shall we go to bed?”
“I want you,” I moan.
He hikes me up into his arms and as we’re on our way to the bedroom, I let my pyjama top and robe fall down off my arms, dropping to the floor somewhere.
On my bed – which is mine, nobody else’s, because I bought it new for the flat – he joins me. While he’s kissing my breasts, I push my hands into the back of his loose bottoms and hold onto his bum. Eventually working his joggers down, I sense his cock break free, its heat searing through the cotton of my pyjama bottoms. Paul groans into my mouth, holding me tight as he kisses me deeply. Suddenly he’s moving into position, his joggers halfway down his legs and his erection pushing against the crotch of my last item of clothing.
I rock with him as he kisses me, hungry and yearning, his face set with pain and anguish and desire. As he captures me, his cock rocking my clit through the cotton, my cheeks burn and I pant with longing to come. He leans down again and pulls my nipple between his teeth, tugging, then laving, and again, back and forth.
I’m about to come when he kisses his way down my body, tugging at my pyjama bottoms as he reaches my hip, which he kisses and licks, simultaneously uncovering my pussy.
All at once I’m naked and he wraps his arm around my thigh, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of my leg, nipping and licking.
“Oh god, Paul,” I moan, the thumping pulse in my clit driving me wild.
He lifts up and looks down on me, splayed and rubbing my heavy tits, anything to console me.
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he exclaims, and I’m given no time to prepare as he dives right in, flicking his tongue against my clit until I come, so quickly, shaking and screaming his name.
He climbs over me but before he gets into position, I make him stop and he lets me look at him. I reach out and caress his thick, hard cock, extended from his body and pointing right at me, hanging there heavy but still risen and mine.
“Promise me you’re mine, Paul. Promise me, and we’ll get through it all together.”
He gifts me with a small smile and looks entirely peaceful when he says, “I’m yours.”
He lies on my body and I open my legs wide, welcoming then harbouring him, my legs wrapped firmly around his back. Paul’s eyes sear into mine as our noses touch, then he takes my hands and twines his fingers around mine, pushing my arms above my head.
He lifts slightly and slips into me, oh so easily, breaching my entrance and stretching me open deliciously, the heat of us, together, taking my breath away.
“Oh, god,” he groans, and he shakes against me as he moves slowly, tipping in and out of me. “I need you so much.”
I realise it’s the first time we’ve had sex sober… and I realise it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him sober… in a long, long time.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, sensing I’m elsewhere.
I kiss his mouth and wrap my arms around him. “I need you, too.”
He kisses me and carefully fucks me, and I search his eyes, seeking the man I love, the one buried under all this, because I know he’s in there. I know he’s mine.
Paul puts his hand over my heart to feel it beating hard and sighs, lowering his lips to the same spot, then straying to my nipple. I slide my hands down his muscular back and hold his arse again, driving him deeper into me, rocking with him and arching into his drives.
I know he can make me come like he did before, through penetrative sex alone.
“I know you want to, Paul.” I know what he’s thinking and I want it, too – to be fucked like I’m his plaything.
He takes to his knees, throws my legs over his shoulders and fucks me deep, hard and fast.
My insides grind around him until, with the flick of his thumb over my clit, I come gushing, fountains of desire spewing up from out of me – foreign, strange screams leaving my mouth. He continues and makes me come and come, the bed soaked beneath me, and at last he crushes my cervix and explodes deep inside me, his fire making me alive, satisfied.
We curl up together on the dry side of the bed and hold one another tight. I like it when he pulls me into his chest so tight, I can hardly breathe. I slide my leg around his body and grip him like a vice.
“Well, we christened the new bed,” I say with a chuckle.
“Really?”
I swallow hard. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
“It’s been a while then.”
“I’ve had company.” I reach over into my bedside drawer and pull out my rabbit.
He looks at it with a grin and arches his eyebrow. “Are these things really as good as they say?”
“What do you think?” I giggle.
“I think we’d better try it out.”
While he looks at the settings and considers what he’s going to do with it, I feel doubts creep in… fears… memories.
“What about the others?” I ask, suddenly.
He looks at me, just as afraid. “What?”
“Adam said…”
His face contorts and he looks deeply unhappy with himself. “I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can promise to never do it again.”
“Because I couldn’t get over it, you know. If you ever cheated. Even Ian knew that. You see, he was gonna cheat that Christmas… in Ireland… but he came home early because he knew if I found out, it’d be over. It’s my red line. If you cheated, I wouldn’t be able to forgive you. I want real love, Paul. That’s what I want because that’s what I have to give.”
He throws the rabbit away and pulls me close. “You’re still the only woman I ever came inside. You’re the only one I’ve loved and made love to. It was all part of my hell, those others, but I want more… I want heaven, with you.”
Bad Friends Page 9