CHAPTER 20 #3
‘Let’s go to the mountains,’ Sam said. ‘Get a place with a fire, no housemates, just us. I have so much leave at work they’re basically begging me to take it.
’ He looked excited. Jeremy had his own leave saved up too – he couldn’t think of any reason not to use it.
And he realised he craved that exact scenario, rather than feeling intimidated by that much … solitude with another person.
‘Okay, as long as there’s a bearskin rug, and I can be the wife of a crime boss and you can be the hot damaged spy who ploughs me on it,’ Jeremy said.
Driving up to the mountains, Jeremy was reminded of their terrible journey back from the wedding, and he wondered again how it was possible that he’d got everything so wrong, how he’d managed to self-sabotage so completely.
He knew that subconsciously he must have realised he loved Sam in that moment, and that was scary enough to warrant being an absolute madman and ruining his own chances.
‘What are you thinking about, handsome?’ Sam asked, turning down the music (Ariana Grande, classic era) and shooting him a bemused glance. ‘You looked like you were remembering how you died in a past life.’
Jeremy forced himself to chuckle, and grabbed Sam’s free hand, massaging it affectionately. ‘I was just thinking how it’s probably a good idea I’m not going to that goddamn reunion,’ he admitted.
‘Oh?’ Sam asked, flashing him a quick smile.
‘You read all those books about how destructive revenge is, and, you know, those Greek myths that specifically warn you not to succumb to the soul-destroying drive for vengeance … I’m starting to think they might be right. I got lost in that; lost sight of what was important.’
Sam furrowed his brow and switched seamlessly into earnest conversation. ‘You might be right, but I think it’s less simple than that. I don’t think revenge was really your motivation.’
‘Trust me, it was – I wanted to watch Miles see how amazing and perfect my life was in real time; I wanted him to understand that he’d fucked over the wrong person and that I was powerful and successful and happy despite his best intentions to ruin me. I wanted to take pleasure from that.’
‘See – and I’ve been meaning to say this – that’s not really revenge,’ Sam said.
‘Yeah, it is – that’s literally why we called it “spite pie”, because instead of eating humble pie, I was going all in on spite.’
‘Spite is different from revenge. If you were going for actual revenge, you’d have kneecapped him, a Tonya Harding situation or something like that. Leave him a bunch of negative reviews. Even write an article about how he unethically used you as a source of inspiration for his cheating book.’
Jeremy looked at Sam in surprise. ‘Hang on, could we … do some of these? Those are actually good ideas.’
‘I’ll be honest, I probably wouldn’t have helped you do many of those – especially the kneecapping. I mean, I might have – I did have a huge crush on you …’
Jeremy smiled at Sam. God they were disgusting and he loved it.
Sam continued. ‘You were motivated by spite – and probably still are – but really your whole plan was more about you changing in the end – and maybe that you weren’t the person that Miles had depicted you as in his bad book.’
Jeremy scoffed. ‘I don’t like the idea of my revenge scheme being downgraded to some woo-woo aspirational finding-yourself thing. And the other big flaw in your theory is that I didn’t even change anything – my life is basically the same as before except I have a nice suit.’
‘I don’t think that’s true either. From my perspective, your life has changed quite a bit. Would we even be dating if you hadn’t had an existential crisis?’ Sam teased.
Jeremy thought about that for a moment, and realised that the answer was probably no.
Before Sam, he hadn’t been in a relationship for years – he hadn’t even dated for a long time.
He knew he’d been dissatisfied about that, knew he should date at some point, that it was something he wanted to do – but he also hadn’t confronted why he’d felt so averse to it.
He hadn’t confronted how Miles was still fucking him up, even after all those years.
Sam broke into his thoughts. ‘Maybe it’s more that you tried on a bunch of different ways your life could look – a manic pasta maker who is super buff and goes to brunch with hot giraffe scientists every day —’
‘Or dates pretentious old literary authors,’ muttered Jeremy, watching to see how Sam would react: they probably still had some talking to do about Brian Northern Trellis.
‘Or … that too.’ Sam nodded graciously. ‘And maybe now you’ve tried some things out, it’s helped you realise what you do love about your life, and what’s important to you.
Maybe you had to go through all that to find out how you can be happy.
Just a theory, but I think we often find out important things about ourselves through … sideways paths.’
Jeremy frowned, and realised Sam was talking about himself as much as Jeremy.
He’d talked before about how there was a kernel of unhappiness in his last relationship that was always blamed on other things – Sam’s lack of ambition, Heather’s desire for marriage and children butting up against his caution about both those things, and various other relationship issues that popped up like mushrooms in wet dirt.
It was only when they had truly tried to interrogate those issues that Sam had realised he was unhappy because he hadn’t properly embraced his sexuality, hadn’t come out as his best bisexual self.
It had been a twisted road to get there.
As the city gave way to open plains, the Blue Mountains squatting in hazy majesty in the distance, Jeremy mulled over Sam’s theory.
Maybe it didn’t matter what his motivations had been for the spite plan, but deciding to focus on what was important in his life moving forwards seemed like a good idea.
He guessed he’d already done that by choosing to fight for Sam …
but what else? What else mattered in his life?
‘I have an idea,’ Jeremy said suddenly. ‘But we’re gonna have to stop for more food.’ He knew exactly what – or who – was important to him, and he wanted to celebrate with them immediately.
The holiday house Sam had booked wasn’t huge, but it was pretty, made of wood and overlooking a grand expanse of tree-filled valley.
A fire burnt merrily in the hearth (thank god Sam had practical skills), a huge pot of pasta bubbled on the stove (Jeremy was in charge of this, thanks to his handful of pasta classes) and a second bottle of deep, rich red wine was currently being opened by Liz.
The four of them were nestled together on the couches.
Upon entering the house, Anna had immediately changed into flannelette pyjamas, begun drinking wine and talking about nothing.
They were currently several minutes into an elaborate bit where Liz and Anna pretended to be confused talkback radio hosts during the zombie apocalypse, Sam playing along and ‘calling in’ periodically with new characters who escalated the issue.
It was very funny, and Jeremy liked how Sam not only welcomed them on the trip away, but played along in such a Sam way – supporting the humour and the game they were playing without making it all about him, but still having fun.
Jeremy finished pouring the second bottle of wine into their glasses (far more than a standard drink), and stood up, raising his glass. ‘If I could interrupt for just a second,’ he said, ‘I need to do my yearly earnestness.’
Liz and Anna looked at him suspiciously.
‘I’ve been pretty crazy recently …’ he began, only for Anna and Liz to both chime in with, ‘Recently?’ and then cackle at each other. ‘Yes, even more than usual, and I’d like to apologise to you two, properly. Officially.’
‘Oh my god, we cannot start a trend of apologising to each other for being nuts,’ Liz said.
‘No, I’m not so much apologising for that.
A wise man recently informed me that my quest for revenge against Miles was actually me trying to work out what I value in my life, and what I want my life to look like.
I guess that what I’m trying to say is that this is what’s important to me: it’s you guys, getting to spend time with all these people I love, having dinner together …
I don’t know, I’m babbling.’ Jeremy stopped for a moment, embarrassed.
‘What I’m apologising for is ever implying that my life sucked, and that I had to “fix it” to impress Miles, because it clearly didn’t suck if I was lucky enough to be friends with you both – that’s what I’m trying to say, okay? ’
Anna gave him a quick hug and Liz kissed him on the cheek, and that brief moment of real connection filled Jeremy with something he’d rarely felt before – complete and utter contentment.
Sam kissing him on the neck before grabbing some newspaper for the fire, Liz and Anna settling back onto the couch and opening more cheese and crackers – if this was what his life could look like, then he’d be so lucky.
They ate dinner and chatted, Jeremy thrilled at the way Sam fit in with his friends so beautifully, adoring the way Anna and Liz were clearly charmed by him too.
Watching them tease each other made him realise how Sam’s sense of humour was both different from but also complementary to his own.
At some point, Sam went upstairs, and Liz began trying to teach them a card game, in between smoking sessions out on the icy-cold balcony.
‘So you’re not going to the reunion then?’ Anna said as they passed cards back and forth, hoping that they would stumble onto the rules Liz had tried to impart. ‘All that work and you’re just not going? That is a huge anti-climax.’
‘Well, it is tomorrow night, so no,’ Jeremy said. ‘Sometimes life gives you sliding doors moments, and this was the most obvious one I’ve ever experienced. I could pursue the spite plan and spit in Miles’s eye – or I could choose Sam. And I choose Sam.’
‘Do you regret not going, even a little bit?’ asked Liz, holding her cigarette out the crack of the door. However, an icy wind blew in, and Anna motioned for her to shut it, which she did begrudgingly.
‘No,’ Jeremy said confidently. ‘Well, mostly no. I nearly lost Sam because of this, so I know my decision is the right one. It does still give me an itching sensation on my neck to imagine Miles and all my old friends thinking I was too scared to come – but ultimately, I haven’t seen any of them for years and years, and probably never will again, so who cares what they think? ’
‘I think that’s very grown up,’ said Anna, and Liz nodded.
‘Honestly, I’m trying to tell myself that the thing Miles would hate the most is being considered unimportant, irrelevant. I’ll get there. I’m being the bigger man, I think. There’s a kind of victory in that I reckon,’ said Jeremy more passionately. He liked the idea of himself as the bigger man.
‘To hell with being the bigger man,’ croaked a voice from the stairs. ‘Jeremy, we have to go to this reunion. We cannot let this man win.’
Jeremy looked up, and Sam was standing at the foot of the stairs, a wild look in his eye.
His fists were clenched, his usually smooth hair sticking up as if he’d run his hand through it too many times.
He was holding a book in front of him and, with a sinking heart, Jeremy saw that it was Amour No More , albeit a cracked paperback copy.
‘It was in the bathroom,’ Sam said, thrusting it towards them. ‘He is a goddamn asshole and I will not be the reason he gets even a second of satisfaction. We are going to this reunion tomorrow.’
‘But it’s hours in the opposite direction,’ Jeremy said. ‘And I promised I’d give up the spite plan to show you how much you mean to me. And I also don’t want to go.’
Sam’s gaze softened, and he nodded. ‘And I really appreciate that, but honestly, after reading even a few chapters of this, I am the one full of rage. We need to go, for my sake as much as yours. We’re going to the reunion.’
‘And we’re also coming!’ Liz shouted drunkenly, sloshing her red wine freely.
‘But … I’m not prepared any more,’ Jeremy protested. ‘I don’t have any pickles to show him! I don’t have a plan!’
‘Weren’t you just saying that you’re happy, Jeremy?’ Sam asked seriously.
‘Yeah …’
‘Well, the most powerful thing you could do right now is walk in there and be happy – we can still be the bigger men and go. We can just ignore Miles, ignore all your ex-friends, and show them you’re so happy you don’t care.
That is a perfect compromise,’ said Sam fervently, slamming Amour No More onto the coffee table.
Jeremy looked at the faded author photo on the back, at Miles’s hateful and beautiful face staring condescendingly at him, and he nodded.
‘We’re going to the reunion.’