Chapter 11
Maggie
‘Not the yellow. No offense, mate, but yellow isn’t your colour; it makes you look jaundiced. Try the turquoise.’ Tess throws over a jumper. Once I’d told her about Jack and our second ‘date’ she had insisted on getting the train down.
I gesture to my walls. ‘I like yellow. It’s a happy colour.’
I pull the jumper on and sit down on my bed. Tess pulls her blonde hair up into a topknot, pushes her glasses up her nose and joins me, sitting cross-legged.
For the past week I have tried and failed to find another cleaning job.
My bank account is dangerously low, but I have another interview tomorrow for a night shift in a department store one town over.
I’ll have to walk as I don’t have enough to fill up my petrol tank.
And all the time, as I scoured online for cleaning jobs in my area, I’ve tried to process what I heard and saw from Jack.
I could be wrong; the face I saw might not be the same as the one Jack had pictured, but my gut tells me it is.
‘You look gorgeous, Mags.’
I let out a long breath.
‘How do I even begin to tell him—’
‘Like I keep saying, you don’t need to tell him anything yet. It’s not like you’ve not been wrong before.’
‘Not very often.’
She crosses her arms and challenges me. ‘You once thought I was pregnant because you knew I was worried and saw a flash of a positive pregnancy test.’
I laugh at the memory. I hadn’t paid attention to the fact she was watching Grey’s Anatomy when I passed her a cup of tea. ‘I worried for a week before I asked you.’
‘Pillock.’
‘I was twelve! I didn’t know quite how my thing worked back then. But this… it was so vivid, Tess. It was him. I’m sure of it.’
She reaches over for the book on my wonky bedside table and frowns.
It’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue; Jack recommended it to me.
I’d gotten it from the library – the first time I’ve set foot in one for years.
I’d suggested he watch The English Patient and dared him to tell me the film isn’t better than the book.
Tess puts the book back down next to the green wine bottle I’d filled with fairy lights.
‘Look. You said it yourself: he felt happier than he had for a long time just spending time with you.’
‘I know but maybe I should cancel? It’s Friday the thirteenth. Is that not screaming out loud that I should cancel? I mean, it’s not like it can go anywhere, even before I realised that I might have wrecked the guy’s life.’
‘You didn’t wreck his life and why can’t it go anywhere?’
I give her a look that says, you know exactly why.
‘Look, he knows you’re a bit…’ She scrunches up her nose.
‘Weird?’
‘I was going to say hesitant, but weird works too.’ She throws a lemon-shaped cushion at me. ‘You’ve told him the truth about not being able to touch anyone and he still wants to see you, so why not take the shot?’
‘I haven’t though, have I? Told him the truth, and you know as well as I do that if I ever did, he would run a mile.’
‘You don’t know that. Hellie didn’t. I didn’t.’
‘You’re different; we’d lived together for years and Hellie knew I was telling the truth after I showed her.’ Hellie was the first person who had ever believed me, believed in me. She knew the truth about me and loved me anyway.
I miss her so much it burns.
She died in her bed, sound asleep. A heart attack they said, as we waited for the paramedics to carry her away.
She was the first person who, despite understanding my reality, made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have a life where I am loved, where I am wanted, where I belong.
‘So get to know him first. Let him tell you what happened before you blow the first chance at a relationship with a guy you really like.’
I reach for my jewellery box and push on a couple of plain rings that won’t snag on my gloves, my mind whirring.
‘Or at least make sure that you’ve got your facts straight. You don’t want to go and mess this up if it’s another pregnancy-test scenario.’
‘Maybe I could help him? It felt like, I don’t know, like there were gaps. In his thoughts.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ She claps her hands. ‘This curse or gift or whatever you want to call it has held you at arm’s length for most of your life. Here’s your chance to use it to your advantage.’
‘I’ll have to tell him. About me. About what I can do.’
‘Eventually, yes. But not yet, eh? Get to know each other a bit more and besides, you might go out tonight and realise he’s a bit of a dickhead.’
I think of Jack, his smile, his sincerity.
‘He’s not a dickhead.’
She shrugs. ‘You need to find the right time to tell him who you are. Nobody fesses up everything on the second date.’
‘So how many dates until I do? Fess up?’
She squints while she thinks. ‘Five.’
‘Five? Why five?’
‘The first few are when you’re on your best behaviour, fourth is when the cracks start to show, the fifth? That’s when you’ll know if he’s worth risking everything for.’
‘He won’t understand. They never do. He’ll think I’m crazy. Every time I try to be honest, it blows up in my face.’
Her voice softens. ‘Mags, don’t push him away before he’s got to know you. Then give him the chance to decide for himself.’
‘So five dates?’
‘Five dates, then you can spill the beans as much as you want and at least then you’ll know if he’s worth it.
’ She leans over, picks up my make-up mirror and turns it to face me.
‘Just look at yourself, Mags, really look.’ I take in my reflection.
My skin is clear; the acne I’d battled with throughout my teens has gone.
My eyes are bright; the dark shadows from lack of sleep have lifted.
My make-up is natural – even my hair is behaving itself thanks to the curl serum Tess had brought with her.
‘You’re not a wallflower, Mags, you’re the bleeding centrepiece. ’
OK. Date number two.
* * *
I walk up the steps towards Flicks, carrying my secret in my pocket like a closed book. If Jack is willing to hear my full story, then maybe I can help him find answers. And maybe there could be a chance of something more.
But when I take my seat after cleaning the theatre, and the lights dim, and the curtains pull back, the seat beside me remains empty.
Jack isn’t here.