Chapter 12
Naturally, I keep thinking of Ben’s words: ‘I came back for you after that party’.
What did that mean? And why did he come back for me?
For the entire train journey back to Brendan’s, I have to fight to keep my eyelids open, fight the waves of weariness that yearn to consume me. I practically fall through Brendan’s front door when I arrive, my shoulders sagging beneath the weight of the day I’ve just had.
My body aches in ways I never thought possible, the pain a combination of the perils of my employment and the hurt of losing Tom. My back hurts because I’ve been sitting at my desk all afternoon; my heart hurts because I long for Tom to put it back together.
Feeling like my body has doubled in weight, I limp my way to Brendan’s sofa.
Once I’m within a reasonable distance, I collapse onto it.
I don’t want to move ever again. A stiff weakness has devoured me.
If you dangled a fifty euro note at the end of the sofa, I wouldn’t have the energy to even attempt to retrieve it.
Brendan sits down beside me. I can hear Bailey’s paws pattering against the wooden floor, but I cannot muster the energy to raise my head to see her.
“There’s a broken man if I ever did see one,” Brendan comments.
I moan in response.
Brendan offers to make me a cup of tea, and I greedily accept.
“You might have to hold up the cup for me and tilt it into my mouth,” I warn him.
“Do you want me to drink it for you too?” Brendan laughs.
“If it’s not too much hassle.”
A few minutes later, Brendan returns to the sofa with two cups of tea. Groaning, I force myself to sit up. As I do so, my nose crinkles as a stench of sweat reaches it. It doesn’t take long for me to realise that I am the source of said smell.
“Sorry I smell.”
Sniffing the air, Brendan makes a face. “Jesus, you do stink, Nicky.”
“I’ll shower after the tea, I promise.”
Brendan gives me a look that screams ‘You better’.
Bailey jumps up on the sofa, roughly placing herself between Brendan and me. When she finds a comfortable position, I start to lightly stroke her.
“Anyway, tell me how work is going,” I say.
“Nothing new,” Brendan answers. “Still too many people and not enough houses. No scraps in Leinster House today, though.”
“Anything else happen? Surely something interesting happened?”
Brendan raises a single shoulder. “I had a meeting with my manager. She wants me to apply for a promotion that’s coming up.”
“Wow, Brendan. That’s huge! Congratulations. Are you going to do it?”
“I’m not sure.” He takes a sip of tea. “The pay is better, but it’s a lot more responsibility. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”
Failing to overpower my glee and align my emotion with Brendan’s, I reach across and pat him on the arm. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m proud of you, Brendan.” My proud simper is so wide that my cheeks are starting to hurt.
Embarrassed, Brendan giggles. “Thanks, Nicky.” Then his grin falters. “Have you heard anything from Tom?”
Instantly, my smile slips. I bite my lip and shake my head. “Nothing.”
With flared eyes, Brendan blurts out, “Not a single thing?”
Still shaking my head, I repeat, “Not a single thing.”
Brendan sits back, ejecting the breath he’s been holding on to. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I thought he would’ve at least reached out to check on you by now.”
To be candid, I still lie awake at night, hopeful that my phone will come alive with an incoming call from Tom. Or text. Or anything. I’ve even considered leaving the window open in case he sends a carrier pigeon.
I hide the dagger that’s been jammed into my heart. “It’s fine.”
Brendan shimmies closer to me. “Do you want to talk more about it?”
I blink back a tear and swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t think there’s anything else to say. Please change the subject.”
“Tell me how things are going with the Murray appeal. People in work are asking for updates, but I told them you’re far too respectful of your clients to violate legal privilege.”
Hearing the compliment, my mouth forms a lopsided grin. “Things are going well. We met with Bethany today, and the Notice of Appeal has been filed.”
Brendan tilts his head dramatically. “We?”
Now I’m the twin that’s embarrassed. “Yes, we. Ben and I.” At the mention of his name, I feel my smile extend just a little.
With a sceptical, furrowed brow, Brendan says, “And neither of you has tried to attack the other yet?”
I laugh. “Not yet anyway.”
I think of my last encounter with Ben. His hand at my hip. His breath on my neck. His words in my ear. The thought of it is making me sweat.
Brendan stands up, clapping his hands together. Luckily for me, the noise of it pulls me from my daydream.
“I think it’s time you had that shower, Nicky.”
“Am I really that bad?”
He covers his and Bailey’s noses. “Yes. It really is that bad. Even Bailey thinks so.”
I glance at Bailey. She’s pretending to be asleep. I take Brendan’s word for it, nonetheless. Complying with popular demand, I drag myself from the sofa and to the shower.
That night, as I lie awake in bed, suddenly, I think, the hole in my heart doesn’t feel as huge.
On Saturday evening, after Brendan and I have taken my little red hatchback for a leisurely drive around Gorey, we stay in. Neither of us enjoys going out to drink. We’re similar in that way, I suppose: we’re both introverts.
Brendan selects a movie for us to watch, and I order us a takeaway on my phone. Just as I’m about to place the order, my phone vibrates with incoming texts from Melissa. It’s so out of the blue, my heart trips ever so slightly.
Nick.
Are you there?
And are you sitting down?
The three texts arrive in rapid succession, one after the other.
“Someone’s important today,” Brendan remarks as he flicks through streaming sites.
I don’t reply to him. I pull my phone closer to my face and type back my reply:
Yes and yes.
Melissa’s response arrives within seconds.
I’m sorry to be the one to show you this, but I think you need to see it. Photo incoming…
I’m on the edge of my seat. My fingers are trembling as I wait for the picture to arrive. When it finally does, my heart sinks and my stomach lurches.
It’s Tom. My Tom.
He’s sporting a snug-fitting black T-shirt that I bought him, holding up a pint with his right hand and grinning so widely that you’d think his face has never had the misfortune of forming a frown.
He’s laughing, a sound that I’ve missed for quite some time.
As I continue my investigation of the picture, my heart falls further in my chest.
Tom isn’t alone. His arm is wrapped around a young man that I’ve never seen before. This young man looks to be around my age or younger and has a similar physique and appearance to me. Yet there is one glaring difference between us: he has Tom, and I don’t.
Another text arrives from Melissa.
I’m out in Geoff’s for the night and I just saw him. I think he might be on a date. Sorry to be the one to show you, Nick.
I study the picture again, and my eyes glaze over.
I wish I had the gentle waves of the Liffey to look at to calm myself down.
Seeing his face – Tom’s face – and the excited face of the young man in his arms, it feels like a knife has been plunged into my heart.
The knife twists, taking my breath away, and when it’s pulled out, all my hope goes with it.
The hope that Tom will take me back. The hope that my life will go back to the way it was. Now it’s all gone.
“You alright there, Nicky?” says Brendan. “You’ve gone awful quiet.”
I lock my phone, hiding the picture. I don’t text Melissa back. I wipe my face and light up my expression. “I’m fine,” I lie, rubbing a tear from my eye. “Everything’s fine.” Eager to switch the topic of conversation, I blurt out, “Did you find us a decent movie?”
Brendan hits play on the remote and the movie begins.
I sit back and try to watch it, hopeful that the bright colours will animate my mood.
Alas, this hope is just as futile as all my others.
My eyes are pointed directly at the TV, but all I can see is Tom with his new, younger date.
When the takeaway eventually arrives, my stomach is too twisted to ingest all of it.
Whatever I do manage to choke down is later wretched from my body whenever I think of the two of them, lying together in the bed I once called mine.
That night, as I lie alone in bed, I toss and turn. Yesterday I believed the hole in my heart was starting to heal. Now it feels bigger than it ever has before.
On Sunday night, the ache in my heart still hasn’t diminished. As I squirm in bed, I reach for my phone. I still haven’t responded to Melissa. By now, a new text has been added to the chain.
Think you should give Conor from IT a chance?
Fuck it. Why not? If Tom is dating again, maybe I should too. I text back.
Tell him to meet me outside work at 5:00 tomorrow evening.