Chapter 27
WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT?
MICK
My world was collapsing around me, and I couldn’t understand why.
A little while ago, things were good; they were starting to make sense again.
Then I went and put my great big size nines in my mouth and told Tommy that Michael wasn’t my man, which was complete bollocks, because of course he was.
Or I was his. Or wanted to be. Or I had, five minutes ago.
I came in here to say sorry, to beg forgiveness, then Michael started spouting all this shit about me paying him back for lodging with sex, and I saw fucking red. How dare he reduce what we had to that?
“Why did you sleep with me, Mick?”
Because I wanted to. Because you’re gorgeous and we’re amazing together. Because I love you.
“I have no fucking idea! Seemed like a good idea at the time.” I didn’t mean it. I wanted to take it back right away, but I was burning with rage, and part of me wanted to hurt him like he hurt me.
“Mick–”
“I’m going to stay at Tommy’s. The pipe is fixed now, so they have a spare room, and I can get out of your hair. That’s… That’s what I came in here to say. Thanks, and everything.”
Even as I turned and walked out of his room, I wanted to stop and apologise. I wanted to drop to my knees and wrap him in my arms and tell him how I really felt. Angry Mick was steering this ship now, though, and that prick didn’t back down.
“What’s the matter, Mi–” Eric walked towards me.
“We’re going.” I stormed past him to the front door.
“We are?”
“Yeah. Can I stay at yours?”
“Of course, but you know the spare room ain’t–”
I cut Tommy off, “I know. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll sleep in the fucking bath if I have to.”
“Of course, mate, whatever you need.”
Thank heavens for my best friend, and his ‘no questions asked’ policy when it came to helping mates out. Without even stopping to get my stuff, I left Michael’s flat and tried not to think about what that meant.
The thunderous noise of the train was usually a comfort to me. Not this time. The rumbling sound of the underground wasn’t loud enough to drown out my thoughts as it took me further and further away from the man I loved.
Yeah, I loved him, even after the fucking awful things he said to me. I’d learnt today that you can’t switch off your emotions, however desperately you might want to. Bloody hell did I want to. If I could not love him, then maybe this wouldn’t hurt so fucking much.
I hadn’t spoken once since we’d got on the tube to Tommy’s place, I just sat staring out of the window. What was there to say? I couldn’t think of a single word that would fix the gaping hole inside of me.
I didn't understand what happened. One moment, Tommy and I were gazing at the men we adored as they laughed hysterically at God only knew what, and the next minute, I was storming out of Michael’s flat.
Did he really think I’d shagged him for the sake of a place to stay?
Rubbing my hand over my face, I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.
Tears of anger as well as sadness. I was fucking furious at him.
I was also so fucking cross at myself for falling in love with him.
For trusting him with my heart. He was the first man I gave my heart to, and he threw it back at me.
No, he tore it apart with his bare hands and then tossed it away. Now, it was mangled and broken and didn’t fit back inside me. My chest throbbed with pain. It physically hurt, like my heart really was injured. Nobody warned me heartache was real.
A hand touched my shoulder. “We’re here,” Eric said softly.
Neither of them had spoken during the journey either.
Out of respect for me, I supposed. They sat on either side of me, offering silent solidarity, which stung.
I hated that they’d heard the vile things Michael had said to me.
What if they thought it was true? What if they were secretly disgusted with me?
Maybe their silence wasn’t out of respect, but out of revulsion.
Fuck. In the last month I’d lost my family, my job, two homes, and the love of my life. I couldn’t lose my friends, too. Keeping my head down, I trailed behind them as we walked back to their house.
Stepping into the cottage, I was really surprised to be met by Mittens, who tended not to give me the time of day when I visited. She purred and miaowed and wound herself around my legs. I picked her up and held her close. Her soft warm presence was so comforting in my arms.
“Good girl, Mittens,” Eric said. “She’s very good at spotting when a person needs her attention.” He patted her head and tickled her ears. “I’ll put the kettle on.” He paced across the kitchen and filled the metal pot with water.
“I’ll get some blankets,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry the spare room is still a mess.”
Cringing, I remembered the lie I told Michael about the spare room being ready. Making him think that I’d gone in there just to tell him I was leaving had been a way of protecting myself. The only saving grace in this shower of shit was that I hadn’t done what I actually went in to do.
When I’d knocked on his door, I’d been ready to beg for his forgiveness for denying what he meant to me. I’d been going to tell him the truth about how I felt. Then he’d said those hateful things.
Eric handed me a mug of tea. “Cheers, ta.”
“You’re welcome. Drink that and think things over.”
“What is there to think over? He accused me of being a whore and didn’t try to stop me when I left.”
Eric slurped his tea and raised his eyebrows. Nobody had ever drank tea accusingly at me before. It was quite unnerving.
“What?”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You were thinking loudly. Spit it out.”
“Spit what out.”
“Whatever it is that’s got you drinking tea like that.”
“Like what?”
“Eric, for fuck’s sake. Just say what you want to say.”
“Alright. Did it occur to you, that perhaps he was angry at himself? That he might have worried he’d put you in a difficult situation?”
“I don’t care, Eric. Whether he thought it was his fault or not, the fact is, he reduced all our time together, everything that we shared to something… transactional.”
Taking a deep breath, I prepared to spill my guts. “I fell in love with him, Eric. And for a little while there, I thought he might love me too.”
“I think he does, Mick.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right. It definitely felt like that. ‘I love you, but did you shag me because you thought you owed it to me?’ Does that make any sense to you?”
“Somewhat.”
I stared at him.
“Put yourself in his shoes. He’s madly in love with you, but he’s been burnt before and is terrified of getting his heart broken.”
“How do you know–”
Cutting me off, he carried on.
“The last two weeks have been Heaven on Earth for him, but there’s a nagging doubt telling him it’s not real.
That he’s not good enough for you. Too old.
Too boring. That you would never choose him if you had a free choice.
So he scrambles around in his brain for a reason you might have shown him affection.
“He over-analyses every interaction between the two of you. He thinks about how vulnerable and delicate you were.”
“Eri–”
“He worries that feelings of gratitude and appreciation got mixed up and you confused them for genuine affection, and that was what he was really seeing in you over the last few weeks. The idea that he took advantage of you when you were in need pops into his head and it appals him.
“He can’t possibly believe that someone as brilliant as you would love someone like him, so he makes up a reason for it in his head. Does that make sense?”
Fuck. It did. It made a lot of sense, because that was exactly how I felt, too. I’d been through the same cycle of thoughts, worrying that he felt sorry for me and that was where all his affection came from.
“Maybe a bit,” I confessed. “When you put it like that.”
“Have the two of you talked at all?” Eric asked.
“Of course we’ve talked. We’ve lived together for two weeks, do you think we spent the whole time with our tongues down each other’s throats?”
Tommy raised his eyebrows as he sat down next to Eric on the lumpy couch.
“Well, we haven’t.”
“I meant, have you talked about this? About your relationship. Your feelings. What you’re both going through.”
“Oh. No.”
“No, I thought not. Perhaps that’s where you ought to start?”
“Bit late for that, isn’t it?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you love him.”
“You know I do, I–”
“So you keep saying, but thus far, I haven’t seen any evidence in support of that.”
“Oh fuck off, Eric.”
“Oi!” Tommy shouted.
“Thank you, love. I can fight my own battles. But I don’t think Mick is actually angry with me. I think he’s angry with Michael. And himself.”
“I’m pretty pissed off with you an’ all, as it happens,” I snapped.
“Yes, I can tell. But why?”
“Because you’re sitting there telling me I don’t love him, when you’ve seen it with your own eyes.”
“Have I?”
“Yes, you bloody have. And so has he. I tried to make dinner. Granted I nearly set the whole block of flats on fire, but I tried.”
“You did that to prove yourself useful, not because you love him.”
“I show him plenty in the bedroom.”
“Sex is not the same as love.”
“I–” What had I done, outside of shagging his brains out to let him know how I felt?
“He knows, alright. He must know. He knows how I feel, and he said what he said anyway.” My heart wasn’t really in the fight and Eric knew it.
“He was scared, Mick. Scared he’d taken advantage of you. Scared he’d put you in an awful position. Scared that his own feelings weren’t returned. Scared you were going to leave him.
“I heard what he said to you, Mick, and I understand why it hurt you. But I don’t think he meant it as an accusation.
I think he was genuinely aghast that he might have put pressure on you.
He didn’t go about explaining himself very well, but if you really think about what he said to you, you might hear it the way I heard it,”