If I Were You

Chapter 43 Flynn

Two Weeks Ago

I often wonder where I’d be if I’d met Amy before Tanya and everything that happened. If I’d met Amy and my dad hadn’t died, and the world I inhabited with my mother hadn’t imploded. If I had stayed at my comprehensive school in London with my local friends and my parents who loved each other. If I’d turned out to be an entirely different person.

I’m frightened. The signs are all there. Recently she has started to ask more questions, frustrated by the shallow replies or vague details I offer. Some of my small lies contradict other lies or have grown into bigger lies. ‘I thought your dad got you a set of Russian dolls?’ ‘I thought he taught you how to fish?’ ‘You told me your mother wasn’t there, do you not want me to meet her? Are you embarrassed of me?’ I feel panicked, everything unravelling. And I can’t let her go, I can’t mess this one up, because I need Amy. I feel it in my bones, that we will make each other whole, make each other better.

I’m trying to offer more, I know I need to trust her, but thoughts of the past, of the things that have happened when I’ve opened up, seem to send me back down a familiar path. I know if we live together, if I can show her I’m in this forever, that all that will come. Once I know she isn’t going to leave too I can relax.

I’ve spent a lifetime handling worries, plastering on the brave face. I’m famous for it at work. With a hundred demands on our time, emails and angry exchanges, invoices not paid, performers not showing, clients bailing or suddenly changing their plans. We have to turn on a pin, we have to accommodate everyone, we have to stay upbeat and positive and easy to work with. The job is perfect for me. A mask I wear all the time. Like the mask I’ve always worn. Sink the worries, swallow down the fear, keep it light, keep it moving, don’t push people away moaning. Don’t break down.

Be a man.

Keeping Amy is like a challenging work problem to be solved. If she’s pushing away, I tell myself she’s not. I ask myself how I can fix this. How can I be proactive and turn this situation around? I can’t lose her.

We are meant to be together. I know she needs me as much as I need her. I want to be the man that removes the line between her eyebrows, who makes her face break into a smile. I want to be there to see her find her confidence again, boost her to be brave. I want to be with someone who fights for people, who fights for a brighter corner on this earth. She is real and when I’m with her I feel real, tethered.

If I can assure her I’m committed, I can allay her worries about me. Surely she can trust that the rest will come if I show her how ardently I want to be with her?

‘I want to move in with you.’

I pretend not to notice the surprise that flitters across her face. I need to know that this can work. That I can make it happen with sheer will.

‘We should live together,’ I repeat.

She pleats the duvet with her fingers and a panic churns inside me. Is this not what she wants?

‘I’ll pay for his ’n’ hers sinks if that’s your worry?’

The light-hearted comment comes easily and she lets out a small laugh. Is that uncertainty behind the noise? I keep my expression light, hopeful. She can’t quite meet my eye.

‘Let me think about it,’ she says.

I assure myself that’s a yes, a maybe yes. How can I make things more concrete?

I realize I need to do more to reassure her that I’m serious. It won’t be enough to move in; I need to demonstrate that she is the woman I want to be with for the rest of our lives.

I form bigger plans. Laura and Amy are so close, were so close, and I want to show her family, the world that I am in this forever. That I want to build a life together. Laura’s wedding is in two weeks. Two weeks is long enough for me to plan a proposal. A clear signal that I am in this for the long haul.

I swallow down the bubbling anxiety as I start to think of the logistics. Like planning an event on a tight deadline. I think of the stunning setting, how everyone she loves will be there.

There’ll be people there, witnesses, a crowd. The thought galvanizes me. No one would say no in that setting. Not that she would, I remind myself, she might say it’s fast or we should live together first, but I think she’ll say yes. Of course she will. I know when things are going well that she loves me too. I know that I can be the man she wants me to be. We have so much fun together.

I’m lost in plans as she finally looks up at me.

‘I just need a little more time,’ she says quietly.

And I nod robotically, already moving on to bigger things in my head.

‘Of course,’ I reassure her and I’m gratified to see her relax, to sink into me as I throw an arm around her.

‘I love you, Amy Norman,’ I say in a too-loud voice.

She whispers something quietly into my shoulder. I think it’s I love you. I’m sure it is.