by J. A. Baker
The walk exhausts her. The pavement is soft under her feet, her legs like liquid as she heads out onto the main road and takes a right turn through the narrow Victorian street. The cobbles are slippery underfoot, the houses so close together they appear to lean in at a peculiar angle. Sinewy shadows dip and swoop at her, falling away into a thin line of greyness as she moves farther down the road and heads back out into an open space. She holds her breath, releasing it as she steps back out into the light.
Nobody sees her as she strides past. They’re all locked into their own little worlds, eyes focused ahead, gaits angular and rigid. Lethargy eats at her but she has a steely determination to speak to Jacob. She’ll suffer for it later, needing to lie still for however long it takes to let the pain ease, but to see Jacob and hear his voice, to see the twinkle in his deep blue eyes and know that it’s reserved only for her at that moment, would make it all worthwhile. She has no idea if he’ll be pleased to see her or whether this impromptu visit will set off a sharpness within him, forcing him to retreat into his lair. It’s his speciality, being unpredictable and impulsive. For so long now, he has been unreachable. It’s a gift of his. No matter how hard she tries to get past the barriers he has put up since their split, she always fails. She wonders if she ever really knew him at all.
It was a little over a year ago when they met. Leah rented a flat in the same street where he lived. She was working as an accountant and Jacob was – still is – a teacher at the local college. They clicked immediately after bumping into one another on the day she moved in. Their shared love of music and literature drew them together, as well as his quick wit and movie star looks that made her weak at the knees. They spent many, many memorable beautiful months together as a couple. Until things turned sour, that is.
Leah’s stomach clenches. She tries to not think about it. A sudden feeling of gloom takes over as a memory pushes itself into her brain – Jacob standing over her, telling her to stop with the histrionics after one of their many arguments. The expression on his face as he glowered at her, his pleas for her to calm down still makes her guts swirl with dread. How on earth could she remain calm? What did he expect from her? She had seen him with another woman earlier in the day, ambling through the High Street like old friends, laughing, chatting, their body language telling her everything she needed to know. She didn’t want or need to hear his excuses.
His ill-thought-out explanation that they were simply heading to the same shop to pick up a sandwich for lunch had insulted her intelligence and she had told him as much, roaring at him that he was a thoughtless shit.
He had shrugged and told her that it was the truth and there was nothing else he could say. It was his crooked smile that did it; that knowing look that he had in his dark eyes as he spoke. It had niggled at her, rippling under her skin, making her feel small and insignificant, as if their relationship meant nothing to him. As if she meant nothing to him. She had shouted and called him some terrible names, saying some unforgivable things about what a philandering bastard he was and how useless he was and that he couldn’t be trusted.
He had taken a step towards her, his face dark with fury. She had shrieked and stumbled away, fearing he was going to do something to her. At that he moved closer to her again and they got in a scuffle. Somehow, her arms became entangled with his and she caught him with her fist. Leah shudders as she remembers the sensation of her knuckles connecting with his nose, the repulsive crunch of soft cartilage shifting and separating as she made contact. She recalls the sudden gush of blood from his nose, like a dam bursting; a river of crimson spurting from his face, running out of his nostrils and dripping through his fingers onto the floor of the landing outside his door.
There were tears as she screamed and tried to help him back inside, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her voice soothing, apologetic, her hand guiding him back in, coaxing him, sitting him down while she cleaned him up, dabbing at his face with wet towels.
She had stayed for as long as it took to sort everything out, or at least until she was sure he had forgiven her, explaining through her bouts of sobbing that it was an accident and she hadn’t meant for it to happen.
She eventually left for home, weak and weary, consumed with fear that his words meant nothing, that he was already planning on severing ties with her. She had to convince herself that they were just an average couple who had had an argument that had simply got out of hand. It happened to everyone at one point or another, didn’t it? Couples fight and argue all the time. They were no different. She had texted him when she got home, making sure he was on the mend and not splayed out on the kitchen floor choking on a blood clot that was lodged in the back of his throat. He had assured her he was fine. Feeling relieved that he had forgiven her and not told her to stick her apology where the sun don’t shine, she ran a bath, poured herself a glass of wine, comforted by the fact he was well enough to reply. Delighted that he still loved her.
The next day she awoke, the incident still in the forefront of her mind, giving her an aching sensation in the pit of her stomach, so she had called round after work and they had made love with such passion and fervour, she knew immediately that they had moved on.
Leah bites at her lip, digging her teeth into folds of loose flesh. She has a temper, she knows that, is acutely aware of it, and would even go so far as to say she lost control that day. But Jacob is far from innocent with his flirtatious behaviour and absolute refusal to rein it in when he is around other women. It wasn’t all her fault. It was as if he enjoyed seeing her suffer, watching her reactions whenever he leaned in too close to a particularly attractive female to tell a joke or to regale his friends with one of his many anecdotes about working with teenagers and how they would send him notes asking for a date. Jacob thrives on female attention. He is a natural flirt. Leah wasn’t solely to blame. She often tells herself this, consoling herself with this fact even though she knows her attitude was her downfall. The beginning of the end.
Turning onto Banbury Avenue, watching the flickering movements of birds circling overhead, listening to their effortless chirruping, she tries to visualise Jacob’s surprised expression when she turns up on his doorstep. She thinks about his smile and wonders if it is now reserved for somebody else. She hopes not. What they had was different, a special connection that can’t be easily broken. She feels sure that Jacob knows this and that their current separation is no more than a hiatus, a brief respite from the norm.
She spots it as soon as she rounds the corner – Chloe’s car. Her stomach plummets. She grips on to a nearby wall for balance. The houses ahead begin to spin, the lavender velvet sky turning a murky shade of grey as she attempts to regain her composure, stiffening her shoulders in preparation. Chloe, the person who stalked Jacob for so many months, the one who sent him love notes making her and Jacob so nervous that they considered calling the police, is here at his flat. Leah’s skin shrivels. Surely Jacob hasn’t relented and allowed that woman into his life knowing how unpredictable she is? That would be absurd, terrifying even. Leah’s dark moods and quick temper are nothing compared to Chloe’s manipulative devious ways. He knows that. Jacob bloody well knows it. So what the hell is he thinking?
Her heart crawls up her throat as she nears his house, passing the flat that she was forced to give up after losing her job a few months ago. Another thing to drag her down and make her feel utterly miserable. General cutbacks and losing a major account meant she was first to be given the push as soon as redundancies were announced. Within weeks, she managed to procure another position at a nearby firm of accountants, but the hours were longer and the salary lower. Paying her rent and other bills would have been impossible.
After many fruitless viewings of flats, many of which were practically uninhabitable, she found one on the other side of town. It meant sharing with two other people. She was also farther away from Jacob, at least two miles, but she had a roof over her head. And that was the main thing. After losing her previous positio
n, she was relieved that she had a job at all. Had she and Jacob still been together, she could have talked about moving in with him, taking their relationship to the next level, but they had already parted ways and even though she was working on repairing what they had, there was no way she could have asked him if he wanted her as a lodger in his home.
She is her own person, unaccustomed to looking to others for support. Having parents who no longer want anything to do with her has given her an independent streak that she simply cannot shake no matter how low an ebb she is at. And by God, she has been at some low points in the past few months, but she is still here, giving life a go, getting by as best she can. That’s one thing she can say with true conviction, that she has always been a trier. Even now, despite everything losing its shine, despite losing her boyfriend and being in constant pain, she is doing her damnedest to remain positive. It’s not easy. There are days when she wants to rage and shout, to raise her fists to the sky and scream that everything is so fucking unfair. But she doesn’t. She just gets on with it. Day after day after day.
She squints against a shimmer of light radiating from the line of cars parked at the side of the road. Shielding her eyes with her cupped hand, she stares at Chloe’s immaculately polished Mini Cooper with its perfect cream paintwork and impossibly clean badges and chrome handles. An incongruous sight, parked in between other less salubrious vehicles that have seen better days, it is crying out to be noticed. An invitation for damage.
Hands slung deep in her pockets, Leah wraps her fingers around her keys, running the soft skin of her fingertips over the serrated edge of the Yale key to her flat, thinking how sharp it is, marvelling at the damage it could do to an unprotected length of shiny new metal. She can almost hear the deep grating growl it would make as she traces a long gratifying line across the bodywork of the pristine vehicle. She shivers and stops, closes her eyes and sighs, and leaves go of the key, knowing it would be a childish thing to do. Churlish and crass. For all she knows, Chloe could be visiting somebody close by. She may not even be in there with Jacob. She could be at any number of places. Leah stares up once more at the window, resentment and bitterness building in her chest. She isn’t at any number of places though, is she? She is in there, with him. It’s too much of a coincidence. This street isn’t anywhere near the town centre. She has no other reason to park here. She’s here for Jacob. Chloe is here for Leah’s boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend.
She swallows and runs her fingers through her hair. Ex-boyfriend for now. But that’s not going to last. Things are about to change. She can feel it in her bones, sense it deep in her gut. There is a good chance they’ll get back together. And soon. Never say never.
Chloe won’t stop her and Jacob picking up where they left off. She is nothing. A fly in the ointment is all she is. No more, no less. Chloe strolled into their lives so rapidly and casually that she can be just as easily dismissed again.
Leah turns away from the flat, stands for a second then spins back around, her eyes drawn to the upper bay window. She thinks of them up there, in his home, the place where she and Jacob spent so much time together. The place where they made love with such hunger and desire, the thought of it still makes her weak and wanting. The place she is going to keep a close eye on until he sees sense and lets her back into his life. She waits for a little while longer, her mind full of ways she can approach him, ways she hopes will make him see her point of view. Because whether he realises it or not, it is obvious to her that they cannot live without each other. It’s just that he doesn’t know it yet.
But he will. Soon enough he will wake up to what Chloe is doing. His eyes will be opened. He will become aware of how he is being led by somebody who will never have the capacity to care about him the way Leah does. Soon he will realise that she is no more than a transient part of his life, a shallow lover he will live to regret. And then he will cast her aside with the realisation that he and Leah were never meant to be apart.
5
Present day
It’s dark, the sun hanging lazily in a bruised russet sky. Leah has no memory of losing the light or getting home. She lets herself in, careful not to disturb her flatmates. They have demanding jobs, busy lives and are always asking for peace and quiet, complaining that she is clumsy and noisy if she so much as dares to close a door too loudly. It doesn’t bother her too much, their moans and complaints. It’s a decent flat and given that they are always studying or working, it’s not so bad. The serious feeling around the place helps to clear her head and restore some balance in her muddled chaotic life. When the many thoughts and memories she has going on in her brain collide, leaving her feeling woozy and out of sorts, a quiet house is exactly what she needs. She has no idea if either of them is in their rooms but takes care anyway, keen to avoid an unnecessary skirmish. Her life is difficult enough. She definitely doesn’t need any more conflict.
Unable to eat, she sits by the window thinking about Chloe’s car outside Jacob’s flat; she thinks about the jolt it gave her. A sharp reminder of her predicament closely followed by a wave of anger so strong it almost swallowed her whole. She suppresses a yawn and closes her eyes, her head resting against the glass, savouring the chill as it spreads over her skin, alleviating the burning hatred that is still flickering deep within her belly. She should be the one who is up there with him. Leah and Jacob, not Chloe and Jacob. Never Chloe. Never her. How could he? He’s got it all wrong. Everything is skewed, her life out of kilter and heading in the wrong direction.
She stays there, leaning against the cool of the glass for longer than intended, the cold sensation lulling her into a welcome state of detachment, the pain in her abdomen shrinking as her skin develops an icy sheen, becoming anaesthetised and comfortably numb.
A sudden noise from the hallway drags her out of her reverie, forcing her to her feet. She stands, walks to the door and stops, seeing it as soon as she steps into the hallway – the small white envelope on the coconut matting, pale and discordant against the dark brush of the rug. She paces closer, aware that it has been hand delivered, aware that it’s a strange time for anybody to be posting notes, thinking immediately that something is awry. Blood rushes to her head, making her dizzy as she bends down and snatches it up. A tremble runs through her arms, down to her hands, reaching her fingertips as she holds the letter aloft, staring at the name written on the front.
Her name.
The handwriting isn’t familiar. It isn’t Jacob’s slightly left leaning cursive script that she admires and has tried to emulate. This writing is small. Neat and precise, written in heavy black ink as if to draw the eye and make an impact.
Gripping the envelope tightly, she heads into her room to open it. She doesn’t want to read it in a communal area where Grainne or Innes could appear. She wants privacy. Sitting down on her unmade bed, she looks around, the letter clutched tightly in her slightly damp palm. It’s a disgrace in here. She needs to start looking after her own private space, to tidy it up, get some order back into her muddled untidy little life. She is only thankful that Grainne, who owns the house, doesn’t do spot checks. Grainne is a special needs teacher at a local school and likes everything to be orderly. She is also a trained counsellor and a huge believer in feng shui. Leah thinks that feng shui is a load of old bollocks but refrains from airing that particular opinion in the presence of the person who has allowed her to rent a room in her house when many other places were unsuitable or she was declined occupancy for reasons unknown.
The other flatmate, Innes, is a lecturer at the university and dresses like somebody who hasn’t changed his clothes in months. He wears corduroy slacks and tweed jackets and smells of mildew. Leah suspects his room is as bad as hers. If Grainne ever decided to check up on them, she hopes there would be lenience shown. This is a big house and Leah doubts Grainne could afford to keep it running on just her salary alone. Both she and Innes are quiet, keeping themselves to themselves. They will undoubtedly be considered half decent
tenants in a city full of students who have very little money, along with a number of undesirables who are desperate for cheap rooms and easy-going landlords. Neither she nor Innes bring people back here. They are both employed and aside from their untidiness and Leah’s purported clumsiness, they cause Grainne no problems.
Her eyes sweep over the detritus stacked in all four corners of the room, surveying the mess that is hers and hers alone. It’s not healthy living like this. She should do something about it. It was only a few weeks back when she was unable to put her hands on some documents she required for work. Also buried amongst the piles of papers are duplicates of the letters she sent to Jacob after their split and her angst-ridden diary entries. If she hasn’t the energy to take care of those, then what has she become?
She swallows and rubs at her eyes, promising herself she will set to and tidy it all once she has read this letter. The letter that for some inexplicable reason she is delaying opening. It arrived at a peculiar time, or at least she thinks it did. Keeping track of time is another ability that seems to elude her now. She cannot seem to pin it down and work out whether it is morning, noon or night.
Leah casts her eyes downwards at the envelope clutched between her damp fingers. Her stomach growls, her skin grows cold. For all she knows, it could contain something unpleasant. What she does know is that this isn’t an ordinary occurrence, receiving a hand-delivered letter after sunset; it’s unusual and she isn’t a fan of surprises, agreeable or otherwise.
Her fingers tremble, vibrations pulsing under her skin as she rips at the fold, slipping her nail inside to slice it apart. Inside is a small piece of paper neatly creased in half. A swarm of angry wasps take hold in her head, the room tipping and tilting as she opens it and reads the words written there.