Chapter 22 #2
He’s discovered I meet Sydney and Darshi sometimes and he’s demanded that he be introduced to the children as Uncle Thanny. When Darshi refuses to “have that psychopath around her babies,” I have to come up with a lie and I’m sure Thanny reads right through me.
Thanny has also discovered that Morgan has moved to Manchester and he’s decided that being friends with transgender people is okay only when they live far enough away.
So I have to sneak out to meet Morgan and I don’t tell her what Thanny has said about her.
It eats me from the inside and somehow, I know I’m betraying her.
In the summer of 2022, Ford and I haven’t spoken in two years except that one snowy day, in January.
Not one day goes by that I don’t think about the conversation Ford and I had. Not one day goes by that I don’t think about how I’m turning precisely into my mother.
Sydney and Darshi are double parents now and they’re too busy with their actual children to take care of another immature human. Preston lives too far away to care about me and Morgan lives too close to not care about my weird behaviours. I don’t speak with my family; I don’t speak with Ford.
With each day, I’m more aware of how lonely I’m, lonelier than before I met Thanny. I know I don’t love him now, but I don’t know what to do about it.
What if I never find someone else who will love me?
I’m lost in these thoughts one afternoon, at the end of July. It’s been a rainy month, more than usual, and I know Thanny has been on edge about it. He can’t go biking if it rains. Not like I can do anything about it, British weather has a mind of its own.
I’m sitting at the dining table, laptop open in front of me on a chapter that just won’t get itself written.
I have at least fifteen tabs open on different research topics and I’m thinking of going on another library run to gather more material.
Sat across me is Thanny on his phone, scrolling on social media.
He does this a lot, lately. He just sits by me and pretends to be on his phone, but I know he’s actually controlling me, observing what I do.
Maybe he has always been doing this and I’m only noticing now.
I think back on Ford’s words. You are exactly like your mother. Making excuses for a man that is way beneath you.
They sting, but the more I mull over them, the more I believe them.
I wish I could speak with him. I wish I could tell Ford how wrong I’ve been about Thanny, how stupid I’ve been to ignore the abuse, the manipulation.
I want to tell Ford that he was right, that I hate when Thanny calls me babe and sweetie and anything that is not my actual name.
I hate when Thanny tells me what to do and what to eat and I hate when his compliments sound like he’s too insecure and I’m too wrong.
I wish the bridge weren’t so thoroughly burned, but I fear it’s too late to reach out, to fix Ashley and Ashford. If I could, I’d tell Ford that I miss him. I miss someone in my life whose affection won’t be “I love you, but” or “I love you, no matter what.”
I want to have Ford back in my life because his love was “I love you, period.”
No conditions, no reservations. No “in spite of your bits and bobs.”
And if I ever only get this unconditionality from a friend, then so be it. How do I get it back? How do I get back the entire life that Thanny has taken from me?
And almost as if Ford is reading my mind, at the end of July 2022 my phone starts ringing. His name appears on the screen and I notice the date.
I missed it. I missed Ford’s birthday again.
A whimper escapes my lips.
Thanny lifts his eyes and he looks at me. “Who is it?”
Without replying, I hit the green button on my phone. “Hello?”
However panicked, Ford’s voice sounds too good to hear. “Ash? Hello. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m calling… I just, hum. Can I come over tonight?”
“Is it him? I swear to God, babe, if that’s him, we are done. Done, you hear me?” Thanny drops his phone on the table and he stands up. He walks over to me and looks at me displeased. Aggressive. Unprovoked.
Covering the phone with one hand, I push Thanny away from me and it’s the last straw. It’s easier than I would have thought. I straighten my back and he’s so much shorter than I am. Why was I making myself smaller for him?
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I order Thanny, and then I take a deep breath and speak into the phone in the calmest voice I can utter while the world around me explodes. “Of course you can come over,” I tell Ford and his small, “Thanks” breaks my heart.
Thanny looks at me disappointed and hurt, but I cannot care less at this point.
I need myself back. I need my friend, the only relationship I thought I would never give up.
The person who’s shaped who I am by just being supportive and understanding.
I must beg for Ford’s forgiveness, I must have him back.
And once I do, I need to start getting my entire life back, too.
I walk out and I lock myself in the kitchen while Thanny paces around the house, making phone call after phone call and yelling words I don’t care to hear. I make myself a mug of tea and then walk outside with a pack of cigarettes and smoke one, two, three, until the tea is empty and a door slams.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call then and when I see it is Thanny, I reject it. A message follows.
(Thanny) We are not over, Ashley.
I type a response quickly.
(Me) Yes, we are. Pack your stuff and don’t come back.
When he starts typing again, I block his number and reach for cigarette number four. I wish I had something stronger at home.
Then I wait, until the sky gets dark and the screaming is over. The house is quiet. I wait a little longer before unlocking the kitchen door and looking around. Empty.
I sigh in relief, feeling weightless and lost and incredibly scared for the future. Will Thanny come back? Will he be angry? What will I do then?
When Ford rings the doorbell around thirty minutes later, I jump out of my trance and rush to the door. I push a combination of buttons to open the gate and the instant I spot him in the driveway, I run to him.
I barely have time to register his sad expression before he meets me halfway and buries his face into my neck.
His beard is longer and it scratches my skin but I don’t care.
I rub against him gladly. We stay perfectly still, wrapped in each other in front of my house, until a thunder rumbles in the distance and a fine drizzle begins to wet our clothes. Summer in England. Delightful.
“Come inside,” I say, pulling him through the door by the hem of his jacket.
Ford looks around as if seeing the house for the first time and then, he asks, “Jonathan?”
“Gone.” The words don’t even hurt that much.
With an approving hum, Ford turns and pulls me into his arms again. “Are you okay?” he asks and I shake my head.
“Are you okay?” I ask back, and Ford shakes his head, removing his jacket and letting it fall onto the floor.
He strides into the living-room and sits on the couch, patting on the spot beside him.
I should ask if he wants something to drink, something to eat, but I can’t be bothered to be a decent host when Ford is looking at me like this, with sad puppy eyes.
I sit next to him and bounce my knee against his knee.
“I missed your birthday,” I tell him.
Ford shrugs. “It was nothing special. I was alone.”
I want to push it, I need to know where he was and why he was alone and I want to kill everyone who has left him to celebrate on his own. But Ford lets out a little puff of air, followed by a small sob and I need to make this better, somehow.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
The room is completely silent around us, until suddenly it isn’t.
“My therapist keeps asking me who I am,” Ford begins, quivering.
“And who the fuck am I, Ash? Tell me, please. You must know. Because I have no clue anymore. I thought I could make a living with music but I’m not good enough, I can’t figure this out.
I thought I liked Emily but she dumped me this morning and I don’t think I’m even really sad about it, you know?
Why am I not sad? Dr. Bakari asks me who I am but I have no idea, because nothing makes sense, nothing feels right.
Nothing is right and you and I are not speaking anymore. ”
His speech is rushed and I can barely follow his words. I can see that he’s losing focus, growing restless on the couch. “Ford, stop. For goodness sake, slow down. Breathe with me.” I urge him to follow me, deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale.
“I got fired. Earlier, when I called you. Well, no, they simply didn’t renew my contract but I thought, I hoped… The orchestra… I’ve spent so many years giving them everything I had and now, now…”
“Shh.”
Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale.
When Ford’s cheeks gain back a little colour, I cup his chin and lift it to look into his eyes. Sitting side by side he’s almost as tall as me and I fight the need to sink my fingers in the curve of his dimples.
“That’s better. Keep breathing. We will figure this out, I’m right here.”
Ford tries to move away but I clutch my fingers, holding his face in place. His red hair is sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. He opens and closes his mouth and I can see the panic as he struggles to find words.
“Hey. Why don’t we start small? What makes sense in your life?” Holding him still, I rest a hand on Ford’s knee to stop it from shaking. He unclenches a fist and brings his hand on top of mine, strong fingers curling in a death grip.
“You do.”