Chapter 29
Ryan
“Here are the pizzas, guys!” Chris puts the boxes down on the counter. “Can one of you two get off your arse and come and give me a hand?”
Her tone is sarcastic, but it has a different effect on me.
I watch her, so mature and ladylike, then I look at her son, still a boy who could be my younger brother. Then I look down at myself, and think of what my dad says: that I’m not a real man yet.
Being in this house with them makes no sense. I keep asking myself what I was thinking when I said I’d like to stay for dinner.
“Let’s just eat them right out of the box,” Evan says, grabbing the pizzas and bringing them through to the living room.
“But Evan…”
“What? Do we have to pretend we don’t usually do that?”
I was wrong. That boy could actually be my older brother.
“We have…guests,” she says through gritted teeth.
“It’s only Ryan,” he says, so naturally. The problem is that his words really do sound natural.
Christine gives in and sits on the armchair, while me and Evan share the sofa.
“We’d all fit on here, you know.”
“I’m more comfortable over here,” she says, but I know she’s only over there because I’m over here.
“But you can’t see the TV from there.”
“I’m sure you’ve chosen something I’ll hate anyway.”
“We’ve chosen Begin Again.”
“R-really?” she asks, surprised.
“I know how much you like Mark Ruffalo.”
“That’s not true,” she says, a blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not like I sit there drooling over him, but he’s such a…man.”
A man. Exactly. That’s what Christine wants. A man. Real, grown-up, mature – someone to take care of her.
“And you’re the only woman, so it seemed fair to compromise,” Evan adds.
“Okay, if you want – but I don’t want to hear you complaining.”
Christine speaks to both of us. I’m in her house for the first time, having dinner with them, and she’s already speaking in the plural. And I can’t decide if it annoys me, or if I like it. Either way, I can say with absolute certainty that it terrifies the fuck out of me.
“What do you want to drink, Ryan?” Christine asks politely.
“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
“Beer?”
“Perfect.”
She gets up and goes back into the kitchen. I follow the movement of her butt with my eyes – she’s wearing something tight-fitting which reminds me of last night, of sliding my hands over her skin. When I held her, feeling her heat on my fingers. And I think I want to feel it all over again.
“Can you stop doing that? At least when I’m around.”
I shake myself out of my fantasy.
“Stop looking at her arse like that. If she notices, she’ll kick you in the balls.”
“I wasn’t…”
“Here you go,” Christine hands me a beer, grabs a slice of pizza, and sits herself back down. She pushes two cushions behind her back and crosses her legs, perfectly at ease – obviously, it is her house – as if my presence isn’t bothering her, despite everything that’s happened between us.
I lean back against the sofa and stretch my legs out, trying to find the comfiest position. Evan passes me the box and I take a slice of pizza, as he presses play and the film begins.
Music, dialogue, jokes…I try to follow it all, but I’m distracted. Not because the film is bad, but because my eye keeps slipping towards my right, towards her: so natural and so easy in everything she does.
So…her.
“You know the film’s in front of you,” Evan whispers.
This boy is starting to get on my nerves – but I realise that, if he’s noticed my obsessive staring, she might too. So I turn my attention back to the screen, just as Adam Levine strikes up with one of the soundtrack’s songs.
And my mind, my eyes and all of my nerves are focused, once again, on her. Because I realise that she’s right about who I am: a little boy, spoilt, immature – someone you can use for a night or two but who, in the end, has nothing else to offer.
Even though I felt something, even though I believed that she mirrored exactly what I’d been trying to hide in myself, it’s not enough. It won’t help me forget the past, go back to who I was, take a chance.
I can’t take that chance.
Not even for a woman like her.
She shines everywhere. But she can shine on her own, because she doesn’t need anyone else’s light; definitely not mine, which is so dark and sombre that it could swallow her up.
Maybe we really are just two lost souls. Maybe she needs to find her way, to escape, while I can’t do anything but pull her back, then leave her alone.
We can’t be anything.
We can’t shine together.
As Christine takes the leftovers through to the kitchen, Evan starts to chat to me.
“So, you’re kind of famous.”
I can already tell from his tone that he’s taking the piss.
“I’m just on the team.”
“I don’t care about rugby.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“It’s not easy when your mum spends all day at work and no one can take you to training.”
“And…your dad?” I try.
“He’s MIA most of the time. Someone else who’s always busy.”
“There’s no one else in your family…?”
“Who? My grandparents? Mum doesn’t like asking for help – I thought you knew that.”
I watch her for a moment, then turn my gaze back to him.
“You could come along and watch one of our matches,” I say, without thinking.
“Mmm.”
“I could get you some tickets, if you wanted to bring someone.”
“Seriously?”
“Maybe on Sunday? We’re playing at the Aviva.”
“How would I get there? Mum’ll be working.”
“I could ask my brother, Nick,” I say instinctively. “If your mum doesn’t mind.”
“Mum?” he calls to her. “On Sunday I’m going to watch Ryan play.”
She turns around suddenly.
“I’m going with his brother.”
“Are you telling me or asking my permission?”
He scoffs. “Can I go?”
“We’ll talk about it.”
Evan nods at me to say that he’ll be there, then starts to head upstairs – but not without one of his pearls of wisdom.
“It’d be better if you went home. You’ve already got away with too much for tonight.”
I shake my head, amused, but the boy was serious – so serious that, as he climbs the stairs, he gestures with his finger that he’s keeping an eye on me. And I know that he really is.
I collect up the glasses from the coffee table and take them into the kitchen.
“You can just leave them there on the counter, I’ll sort them out tomorrow.”
I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
Wow. I’m taking some really big steps here. This time I said it without even needing the paper bag.
“It was just a pizza,” she shrugs.
“Also for forgiving me.”
She turns to me. “I haven’t.”
“So why did you let me stay?”
“For Evan. He invited you, and I didn’t really fancy telling him that you fucked his mother before walking out on her.”
Here we go again.
“Christine…”
“It’s bed time, Ryan. In our separate beds.”
“I didn’t stay for that,” I say, offended.
Why is it that when I try to be nice, no one understands me? “I stayed because…”
“I honestly don’t care why. You said it, right? It’ll never happen again and we can’t be friends. So I don’t see why you’re here.”
This time I accept it without fighting. She’s right, and I don’t have the energy to argue.
“And as for this match on Sunday…”
“It’s just a game.”
“I don’t like whatever this is between you two.”
“Relax, okay? I just invited him to the stadium, and my brother will be with him – unfortunately for me, he doesn’t miss a match. It’s nothing, honestly.”
She looks at me, furrowing her brow.
“I have to talk to him about it. And his father.”
Hearing her talk about him again makes my stomach turn.
I don’t know who he is, but I already hate him.
“So…have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Ryan.”
I turn away, take my jacket and step outside. I walk the few metres separating me from my car and slide inside. I glance back quickly at the house and, with a heavy weight on my chest, I head back to my apartment – to my comforting silence.
I head back to my life, pretending that nothing ever happened. This time, pretending to myself will be the hardest of all.