Chapter Nineteen
When I came out of the bathroom Felix was sprawled on the bed shirtless with his jeans slightly undone, like a suggestive pin-up. ‘Heard you’d been summoned. So, how’d the photo shoot go?’ He raised a knee and lounged provocatively, but his words had a strange edge.
‘It was, uh, interesting.’
He jumped up and began walking around the room, not meeting my eyes as he talked. ‘You vanish off the face of the earth, turn up covered in dust, you’ve got Whitaker slamming doors looking for you, online is alive with speculation about you and Gethryn — I’ve been checking on my phone and they are all talking about you. A girl I had to drug just to get across the Atlantic!’
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was talking fast, breathily and using his fingertips to spike up his hair at the same time. ‘Fe?’
‘I am presuming, because you’ve got all this going on, you’ve managed to stage some kind of miraculous recovery? What happened there?’
‘Have you been doing coke?’ It was the only reason I could think of for this fast, inflectionless delivery. ‘You’re being really weird, Fe.’
‘Is that a yes?’
I looked at him, at those wide apple-juice eyes and cherubic cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, honestly. ‘I feel like? . . . the past, that year? . . . maybe I’ve been concentrating on that too much. Maybe I should think about the memories I do have and worry less about what’s gone before . . .’
Felix sat on the bed and rested his arms on his thighs, raising an innocent face to look at me. ‘So, all it took was a bit of male attention? That’s rather shallow, lover, don’t you think?’
‘I told you, it was like a depression. Maybe my brain chemistry sorted itself out, maybe the change of scenery has shown me that I don’t need to let the lack of a bit of memory weigh me down so much. And anyway, do you want me to stay home pining?’ I met his eyes. His stare was wide, schoolboyish, but there was a sharp set to his lips which tinged his whole expression with cruelty.
‘You’re right.’ Felix swept his legs up onto the bed again, his knees jiggling. ‘You really have changed since the accident. You wouldn’t have been like this two years ago, you know that?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t remember.’
He was picking at the seam of his jeans, twisting a thread. ‘And you don’t remember the accident itself.’
Was this it? Did he finally want to talk about it all? ‘We went off the road, they told me at the hospital. It’s not amnesia, Fe, not like memories that are going to come back with time, it’s the brain damage from the operation.’
‘Y’see, I’m never really sure with you, Skye. Whether it’s real, this memory loss thing, or whether you’re just pretending, or whether you’ve blanked out stuff you don’t want to remember.’
‘Why wouldn’t I want to remember? I can’t remember meeting Michael, or any of the fun we had together, I can’t remember getting engaged or planning the wedding? . . . it’s all memories I should have and I don’t. I feel? . . . cheated, that’s it really. Cheated of my happiness. When I came round from the anaesthetic it was all gone, and it’s not fair! ’
‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Felix muttered, then gave me a direct look. His eyes were hooded. ‘You really, honest-to-God don’t remember? No pissing me about here, Skye, this is important. You don’t even have a flicker?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. I can’t even remember Michael’s face, only from the photos. What is it, Fe, what are you trying to tell me here?’
‘You and Mike, it wasn’t quite the relationship you thought, you know.’
I felt something cold trickle through my blood. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Just what you were saying before, about not wanting to bounce straight to another man? It wouldn’t really be the betrayal of Mike’s memory that you think, that’s all.’ Felix got up and went to the mirror, began examining his face as he talked, checking for stubble and stray hairs. ‘You fought a lot. He? . . . it even made me uncomfortable, and you know I’m the Queen of Confrontation.’ He stroked his cheeks, cocking each eyebrow in turn at his reflection. ‘I guess a New Year’s party was the worst place to be that night.’
‘Oh come on, all couples fight now and again, it doesn’t mean we didn’t love one another, does it?’
Felix turned his back on the mirror. ‘Look, I’m going downstairs for a drink with Lissa. Do you want to come? Oh, maybe best not, not if you’ve got the hots for her ex.’
‘I haven’t. He’s just . . .’
‘I am so not hanging around for the end of that sentence, darling. See you later.’ And he flipped out of the door with an anticipatory grin already spreading across his face.
I lay on the recently vacated bed, with the new knowledge. Michael and I had been fighting. Why had no-one ever told me that earlier, right at the beginning? Everyone who had been at the party had gone to his funeral. Fe had taken my place at the crematorium, limping in his ankle cast, while I’d still been in hospital, weighed down with drips and bandages and sadness. They’d all come in afterwards, offered their condolences, and had behaved as though Michael and I had been the Couple of the Year; no-one had even mentioned that we’d fought.
And then, a week later, Faith’s funeral. That stood out clearer in my mind. I’d been on the road to recovery by then and Fe had come to my bedside to describe the whole scene to me. Their parents sobbing in each other’s arms. Our drama school friends at their second funeral in as many weeks, all playing the part of friends of the bereaved in their smart black suits and pale make-up.
They’d all known Michael and I had been fighting. And no-one had said anything.
I fell asleep, and woke when Felix blundered in, waving the key card randomly. ‘Hey, darling.’
‘Fe? It’s late . . .’
‘Yep. Just came to wash and brush up, then head over to Jared’s.’ He went into the bathroom and ran water, then began shaving, wandering around the bathroom and bedroom, unable to settle.
‘Can’t you stay here for a bit? I want? . . . I think I really need to talk to you.’
He paused. His eyes were crystalline, as though the irises had turned into pebbles. ‘I don’t think there’s anything to say.’
‘All that stuff earlier, me and Mike, Fe? . . . I need to know. All this—’ I waved my hands around my head in an attempt to show my mental confusion, — ‘it’s like new information for me. Please, try to understand, it’s like everything you tell me is one tiny part of that year coming back, little bits kind of slot into place, as though I’m some kind of jigsaw that’s got all broken up and now I’m putting the pieces back in order.’ I followed him into the bathroom, standing behind him as he sprayed his face with water. ‘And I need you; you’re the only one who can help. You’re like my picture on the box lid.’
He looked at me, half his face covered in lather. ‘Sometimes,’ he said slowly, his mouth moving under the foam like an animation, ‘sometimes it’s better to leave the puzzle undone, Skye.’
‘But it’s my past .’
He smiled, but there were too many teeth on show. ‘The present is what matters, darling, trust me on that. Hey, by the way, can I take the Valium with me?’
‘Why?’
I got an old-fashioned look. ‘Because sometimes the present includes a little recreational pharmaceutical abuse and the Valium will help me calm down afterwards. Or I might just fancy a really good night’s sleep.’
‘Help yourself.’ I threw him the bottle and he poked it down into the pocket of his jeans. ‘Just be careful.’
He waved a reckless hand. ‘I’m always careful. I’ll get changed over there and see you at the ball.’
‘But that’s not until tomorrow night! Are you not coming back between times?’
Another shaky stroke of the razor and Fe patted his face with a towel. ‘Skye, darling, I’m hoping that there aren’t going to be any “between times”. This is the last time I’m going to be able to spend with Jared so I want to make the most of it.’ Another sparkling stare. ‘Why don’t you get Jack to come keep you company?’
I watched him, moving quickly, restlessly around the room, picking things up and putting them down, shoving things into an overnight bag and then unpacking them back onto the bed. ‘Are you ever going to come down on one side or the other?’ I asked.
‘What? You mean boys or girls? Why should I? They both have things to recommend them, and I don’t see that changing any time soon, unless there’s some kind of gender-specific mutation in the works. You should try it, lover. Spread your wings a bit, get some experience.’
‘But don’t you ever want to settle down? Have a family?’
He froze. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Jesus, Skye, what is it with you? Before the accident you were all short skirts and sharp heels, now you’ve gone Good Housekeeping on me.’
‘I just thought . . .’
‘I’ll tell you, shall I? Why I don’t want kids? Ever? Because — and you won’t know this, because you dropped out of their lives as soon as you came out of hospital — my parents were destroyed when Faith died. Dad had to give up work, and Mum? . . . she’s never been well since. Her heart, you know.’
‘I didn’t . . .’
‘ Fuck , Skye, they took you in when your parents did their “we want our freedom” act, Mum cooked you Sunday lunch every week for six months while you were waiting to get a break! They were the ones all agog for news when you auditioned, they were the ones breaking out the champagne when you got a part! Then you take to locking yourself in your house and not seeing anyone, and they’re left with broken hearts, and a son who spends every spare minute running around with trash of both genders. How do you think they feel, Skye? And I’ll tell you something, I never want to feel like that. So, no. I don’t want kids. I’ve seen what they do to you.’
We stared at each other. He dropped his eyes first and went back to trying to stuff his fake-fur into a holdall. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said at last.
‘Yeah.’
‘I couldn’t go and see them. I was so scared.’
‘You were like a second daughter to them, they would have understood, Skye, it would have been enough for them just to have seen you. And now? . . . what? You start shaking the boys up again, make a full recovery, go live a life with a guy rich enough to keep you? Well, good luck with that, darling; I’ll just head back to missing my sister, shall I?’
I’d never heard Felix sound so bitter. His words were diamond-edged and he’d got feelings on display that I’d never seen before
‘I’ll go and see them. Your parents. You’re right, I’ve been selfish.’
‘You do that.’ A moment stationary, then he was back to leaping around. ‘Catch you later.’
‘Have a good evening.’
I watched him dance out and when the door closed, I gave into the urge to cry. That hadn’t been the Felix I knew, it had been someone else in his skin, someone brittle and cold. The things he’d said, the pain in his eyes, none of it was my Felix. My Felix was impervious, break proof, a body full of fun and lax morals, a smile, a blown kiss and a slow dance away from who he’d been tonight.
But he had been right. At first I hadn’t been able to face seeing his parents because I was afraid of the look that I’d see on their faces. That look that said I reminded them of everything they’d lost; their slow, sad, pitiful acceptance that I had lived while their daughter had died. The look that would have told me they wished it had been the other way around. Yeah, Skye. You’re a waste of space . . .
And a tiny voice that hid right in the back of my mind whispered guilt to me. The guilt that poked at me whenever I wondered why I’d given up my seat to slump in the back with Felix? . . . well, after his outburst I guess I knew now. Michael and I had fought. That was all, some stupid argument about our engagement probably, something so pathetic and disposable had meant that my best friend had taken my passenger seat and died because of it.
The tears dried stiff on my cheeks. Goose pimples rose on my arms and the back of my neck, and I remembered Jack earlier, standing with his arms clamped around himself, obviously fighting his own memory.
Jack. Jack who was giving me only half a story. Felix, who was changing in front of my eyes. I couldn’t sit here with my brain spinning, I needed to do? . . . something. I opened the door and saw Lissa going into Jack’s room down the corridor. She had her hair on sideways and was carrying her shoes, both clear marks of someone who’s been in the vicinity of Felix for a while.
I locked my room and followed her. Jack opened the door at my knock. ‘Hey. Checking up to see that I’m working, eh? Genius.’ He stood back to let me in. Lissa was flopped in a chair, one foot up on her thigh, massaging her toes with an expression of mingled bliss and agony.
‘Hi, Skye. Wow, your Felix certainly knows how to party.’
‘What did you want, Liss?’ Jack folded his arms and stared at her.
‘Cool down, Iceman. I came to fix some of the paperwork.’ Lissa put both feet back on the floor and then looked from Jack to me, and back again. ‘But I guess it can wait, if you two have a prior engagement.’ She kept her eyes on Jack.
His expression never flickered.
‘Actually, Lissa, I wanted to talk to you,’ I said. ‘About Felix.’
She held both hands up in the air. ‘Whoa, back off girlfriend and let someone else play with the toys.’
‘He’s all yours. But what I mean was? . . . what you said about him the other day. That he was on some kind of destruction course?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, cautiously. ‘What about it?’
‘Has he said anything, or? . . . He was devastated right after the accident, of course, but it’s just not in Fe’s nature to be down for long. He was back to partying a few weeks later, and showing up at mine with a takeaway and incredibly tall tales.’
‘He cries a lot, you know that?’
I stared at her. ‘Felix hardly ever cries. He didn’t even cry on the anniversary. I was a wreck, but he sat in with me, we watched some crappy TV show where everyone sings “Auld Lang Syne” and drank a bottle of Zinfandel and I cried so much I was sick.’
Jack moved, warily. ‘Liss, maybe this isn’t really the time for this conversation.’
‘D’you know Jack, I think it might be?’ She didn’t take her eyes off me. ‘Felix is? . . . ah, I guess even I don’t know what Felix is. One hell of an actor? Maybe. Destroying himself?’ She shrugged. ‘Something is with him, and I sure as Christ don’t know what it is. But you ever see him on a come-down, you watch his eyes , Skye. That boy is ruined.’
I sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed. ‘Why? Why is he pretending, why is he falling apart and not letting me know?’
‘Maybe he didn’t dare.’ Jack sat next to me. ‘Maybe he felt he had to carry the pain for the both of you.’
‘Perhaps there are questions he doesn’t want you to ask.’ Lissa kicked her high heels back on, shuffling her toes right down into them. ‘Okay, guys, time to do business. I’ve brought papers for you to sign, Jack.’ She scuffled in her tote bag and pulled out a sheaf of typewritten A4.
Jack held the stack loosely. ‘What will you do now, Liss?’
Lissa waved an arm. ‘Sea, fish, plenty more. I got other clients, sweetie, other irons in the fire. The whole agency never revolved around you.’
‘I know, but . . .’
‘Jackie-boy, the good old U S of A is my territory. Okay, your British agency and mine have affiliations, but you want to head back to the land of teacakes and white cliffs and “gor blimey guvnor”, you go alone. Right?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s really okay,’ she said, more softly. ‘It was never real with us. You were lonely. You still are lonely, I get that, but you don’t need me any more.’
‘Just, after what happened . . .’
Lissa looked sharply towards me. ‘Yeah, well. Maybe that was just meant to be, you ever think of that? I’ll live, I am living. Things are going pretty good, don’t waste your tears on me.’ Her gaze flicked from me to Jack and back again. ‘You save yourself, Brit boy. I got the feeling that you both got a lot of saving to do, maybe you can save each other, I don’t know. But I’m not a part of it any more.’
Jack smiled. It was one of his nice smiles, a genuine expression that softened the whole of his saturnine face. ‘Hey, Lissa Zimmerman, you’re a really nice lady, do you know that?’
‘Don’t shout so loud, you’ll ruin my rep. Now sign here and give us both our freedom.’
I left them arguing good-naturedly about final terms and settlements and other such technical details, and went back to my room, to bed. Alone, whatever Felix might have suggested.