Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Maddy woke. The room was too warm. The duvet was half-kicked off, Maddy’s hair tangled around her face, and for a few brief merciful seconds, she didn’t remember anything at all. Then it came back in a rush. The massage room, the quiet, the way the world had narrowed to one person. Eva.
She could still taste her lips…
Maddy sat up abruptly and knocked rapidly on her own temple. ‘OUT!’ she said sharply to her thoughts.
‘Are you okay?’ Kelly said from across the room, alarmed. She was already dressed and halfway through a cup of tea.
‘Oh. Forgot you were there,’ Maddy said, embarrassed.
Kelly put her cup down. ‘That was rather intense.’
‘I just have a headache,’ Maddy said, which was technically true. ‘And I saw this YouTube video that said you could trick your brain into getting rid of it by… Anyway. Probably rubbish.’
‘Mmm. Probably,’ her mother said, still a little disturbed. But she wouldn’t press it, Maddy knew. She was too repressed, thank god.
‘Did you sleep okay?’ she asked.
‘Great,’ Maddy lied. She’d gotten a few handfuls of minutes here and there, and when she did sleep, she dreamed exclusively about… making things worse.
Don’t think about THAT!
Kelly gave her a brief, assessing look and then nodded, apparently deciding not to interrogate it. ‘Big day yesterday,’ she said.
Yes. That was one way of putting it.
***
Maddy sat opposite her mother with a cup of coffee she hadn’t yet managed to drink, her eyes flicking up to the door of the restaurant every few seconds.
Mary arrived first, moving slowly and wearing sunglasses indoors. She dropped into a chair with a groan and reached blindly for coffee.
‘Morning,’ she said hoarsely.
‘You okay?’ Maddy asked.
‘Just about. Why?’ Mary asked.
‘You drank something that glowed,’ Maddy said, watching her with faint disbelief.
‘Worth it,’ Mary muttered, taking a sip.
Aria followed not long after, resplendent in a pink jumper that depicted what looked like a squirrel on meth and the phrase, ‘Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!’
‘I see some of us are suffering,’ she said, glancing at Mary.
‘Let me be,’ Mary replied. ‘I’m young.’
‘You’re my age,’ Maddy said. ‘And I’m not that young.’
‘That’s because you’ve decided not to be,’ Mary muttered.
Maddy decided to leave that one alone.
Hannah came in next, bright and energised. She clapped her hands once as she approached the table, as though this were a corporate away day and not the aftermath of a hen night.
‘Good morning!’ she said. ‘How are we all feeling?’
‘Fragile,’ Mary said.
‘Slept like a baby,’ Aria said.
Maddy made a vague, noncommittal sound and picked up her coffee. Her attention was still fixed on the door, which she watched, hawklike, from her peripheral vision.
Each time it opened, her stomach did a little tap dance. Each time it wasn’t Eva, she felt relief. And something else that wasn’t relief. Something she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Because this was not the time to change her life.
That opportunity had passed years ago. Before she’d accepted the proposal, before she’d built something steady with someone she cared about.
She couldn’t suddenly realise now that she was a lesbian.
No, not a lesbian. Bisexual, maybe. Probably just bicurious, actually.
Maybe not even that. Maybe this was just what a breakdown looked like.
Maybe women having stressful wedding years did this all the time.
Maybe snogging beautiful, sexy, captivating women was standard behaviour for a bride-to-be. Maybe Hannah had done it.
Maddy glanced across at her, taking in her bright expression and boundless enthusiasm.
Hmm. Maybe not her. Not Maddy’s mum either. But other women, surely. Mary wasn’t married. But Aria was twice divorced. She’d be the one, wouldn’t she?
Maddy examined her for signs of woman-kissing. Nothing screamed out.
‘Where’s Eva?’ Hannah asked suddenly, looking around the table. ‘She wasn’t in her bed this morning, I thought I’d find her here.’
Maddy’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup before she could stop herself.
Don’t react.
‘I haven’t seen her,’ Aria said.
Mary squinted vaguely toward the door. ‘Probably gone for a run. People like her do that.’
‘People like her?’ Hannah asked.
‘Go-getters,’ Mary said.
Maddy let out a quiet breath and looked down at her coffee. This was good. This was easier. It was an hour less to spend with each other, and this afternoon, it would all be over. Maddy could keep herself busy till then.
‘Oh!’ Hannah said, suddenly pulling out her phone. ‘She’s texted me.’
Maddy looked up before she could stop herself.
Hannah frowned slightly as she read. ‘She’s had to leave early. Work emergency.’
‘Leave?’ Maddy said at a volume she hadn’t intended.
Four heads turned toward her. Maddy forced her expression back into something neutral. ‘I just mean… already?’
‘Yeah,’ Hannah said. ‘Bit rude, actually.’
Mary snorted. ‘That’s hilarious.’
‘It’s not hilarious,’ Hannah said. ‘I organised this weekend. The least she could do is…’
Maddy stopped listening. She stared down at the table, at the cutlery.
Eva had left. No conversation. No awkward attempt to smooth things over. She’d just gone.
A grateful feeling came, and Maddy greeted it with delight. She was happy Eva was gone, which meant repair from this was possible. It meant everything could reset. It meant the moment under the massage table could stay exactly what it was. A glitch.
And then…
She didn’t even say goodbye.
Fuck. Now Maddy was sad. Did that mean something?
No. It was fine. Maddy could be sad. Today. And then, tomorrow, she’d get on with the rest of her life. This was all fine. It was just cold feet.