Chapter 37
February
“My mum’s been on at me to ask you round for tea.” Patrick said lightly, swinging my hand as we walked down the road to his place.
“Your mum?” I squeaked.
He grinned down at me. “Don’t worry, I told her not to bring out the good plates, just yet. It can wait. There’s no rush.” He squeezed my hand, and the gesture should have been comforting, but it just made me aware that my palm was sweating.
We walked the rest of the way making amiable small talk about this or that assignment either of us had received.
He’d been sent to photograph someone attempting a world record attempt for stacking dominoes, whereas I’d been tasked with an article about an Irish rock group who’d gotten in trouble for pouring red paint down the steps of a London museum.
“We’ve had very different weeks,” he said, laughing, and I agreed, happy to be back on neutral ground.
“I’m stuffed, I can’t eat another thing,” I groaned, pushing my plate away.
Patrick chuckled. “Not even the profiteroles we got out the freezer?”
I groaned again. “Gimme a few minutes.”
He laughed again, a light sound that seemed to come easily to him. He was always laughing, always had a comforting thing to say in any given situation. I admired that about him. I watched him stand up and take our plates to the sink in his small kitchen.
Putting the dishes down, he turned around and leaned against the counter, looking at me with a small smile on his face.
“What?” I asked bemused, unable to read his expression.
“Am I not allowed to admire my girlfriend in the candlelight?”
I squirmed in my chair.
“That reminds me,” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “We really ought to book somewhere for Valentines. I know a lot of the really fancy places will have been booked by now, but if we pull our finger out, we can probably get a semi-fancy one. What d’ya think?”
“I don’t mind.” I shrugged.
“What about that place on Melville? You know the one with the massive bushes outside?”
“That’ll be booked out for sure.”
“You’re right, those bushes are a crowd pleaser. Alright, what about the Japanese place in Soho?”
“I’m easy.” I shrugged again.
“No? Okay, alright, let’s think. Hmm, what about the gastro pub on the embankment? Or the-”
“Patrick, I don’t mind,” I cut in, smiling to hide my slight grimace.
He fell silent, like he was thinking of a dozen more suggestions. I wanted to contribute, I just didn’t have an opinion on where we went to eat. I was… ambivalent, and I think that must have shown on my face.
“Kaiya, do you really not mind what plans we make, or… or do you just not want to make plans with me? Specifically?”
My eyes snapped to his and stayed there.
He didn’t look upset. Maybe it was resignation I saw on his face, I couldn’t tell, but I took a breath, because here it was.
The opening I’d been searching for, and trying to ignore.
I studied him, and it seemed like he let me.
Waiting on me to look my fill. It was one of the things I liked the most about him.
He never rushed me. He never needed to fill empty silences, even when I often lapsed into them.
He always seemed to know that sometimes I just needed space to breathe, and think.
In that moment, I wished I felt regret, or anything other than… apathy.
He was perfect. Interesting, driven, kind. He liked me, and I wanted to be there with him, I really did. I just…
“I don’t.” I said – to answer his question, and my unspoken statement.
I stood, needing to be in motion rather than sat at a table still covered in plates from the meal my boyfriend had made for us.
“Patrick, you’re perfect. No, listen to me-” I said as he scoffed and made to turn away. I moved towards him, but stopped halfway. “You are. I wish… I wish it was you.”
I clasped my hands together, knowing I didn’t have any better words to give him.
“But it’s not, is it?” He smiled at me, more kindly than I deserved. I willed my heart to feel it. But it didn’t.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” He asked, with the ghost of a smile. “The one you won’t talk about. He really messed you up, didn’t he?”
I bit my lip, a small hurt to contain the bigger one that had never quite gone away. I shoved my hands into my pockets, running my thumb over the mental band on my finger before I even knew I was doing it. I didn’t bother trying to stop once I realised. It was a habit I’d long since accepted.
“I don’t want to be like this,” I said so quietly, I wasn’t even sure I’d meant to say the words out loud. “I want to be ready to move on. I thought I was, but I’m not. I don’t know when I will be, or if I ever will be.”
My throat felt ragged, like the words were glass being dragged out of me, but I forced myself to continue.
To be as decent as Patrick deserved, and not drag him down with me.
“You deserve better. You deserve someone who will be all in. Someone who only sees you.” My voice hitched.
“Because I see him around every corner. He follows me, and the worst thing is that I don’t know if I ever want that to go away. ”
Flashes of detail hit me like mnemonic hail stones.
His eyes as they crinkled, laughing at something I’d done. His smile, imperfectly crooked when it was just us. The way his fingers ghosted up my spine in the morning.
I was breathing hard, little gasps of air sawing in and out.
I rubbed at my chest, at the spot right in the middle, where I knew he – Jihoon – had made a home inside me and never really left, even when I’d lied to myself that I’d patched myself up.
I felt him there even now, standing in Patrick’s kitchen, looking into his warm eyes that I wanted so desperately to fall into, but knew I never could.
Moving slowly, as if he didn’t want to scare me off, Patrick moved until he was close enough to touch. He looked down at me with more understanding than I deserved.
“I remember our first date,” he said lightly. “You told me you hadn’t felt the urge to put down roots, and I told you that you hadn’t found the right patch of ground. Do you remember?”
I smiled a watery smile, nodding, even as my heart clenched.
“I remember.”
Gently, he put his hands on my arms, rubbing gently as if I were cold.
“I’ve been thinking on that,” he said, “and I see what you meant now. I’ve been seeing it for a while; the way you move through your routines.
It’s like you’re constantly waiting on the call to go somewhere.
You’re on standby, and I kept telling myself that I could ground you, but I don’t think it was ever meant to be me, and maybe it’s not even London.
I want that for you, Kaiya, I want you to find a place, or a person, that’s so safe for you that you let yourself put down roots.
I don’t know if it’s him, but I want you to know that if it’s not, it’s still okay, because I believe you will find where you’re meant to be.
I want that for you, and I want it for me, too. ”
“I wanted it to be you.” My voice trembled with the restraint I’d been holding onto for so long, sometimes the only thing that had kept me together.
He pulled me into his arms, and I buried my face into his warm chest. So comfortable, but not home, knowing it was for the last time.
He hushed me, rubbing circles into my back.
“I know, and it’s okay. We tried.”