CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
‘Yeah. Love how you nail the scumbags. My sister got swept up in that awful woman’s pyramid scheme. Took us ages to pull her out. You should be proud.’
Tom suddenly felt empty. ‘Not much to be proud of tonight.’
The other man exhaled. ‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, me neither. Been lying to myself about Pepper, if I’m honest. Lied to the date I brought tonight but she could see it all over my face when Pep came down those stairs.
Went home without me. So here we are. Two idiots, one beat-up old car. ’
Tom laughed bitterly. ‘Why not tell Pepper?’
Dexter waved away the question, answering absent-mindedly as he checked his mirrors. ‘She’ll have moved on from me long ago.’
A writer’s curse is the same as the gift. Seeing things before they happen. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
Dexter put the radio on, wordlessly ending the conversation. They rode in silence for a while, but the emptiness was still clawing at Tom.
He found himself fumbling for his phone and he almost called her three times. The only thing stopping him was knowing that it wouldn’t be fair to her. She would hear the pain in his voice and she’d feel compelled to be gentle with him. He didn’t deserve it.
He dialled another number.
After three rings, ‘Hello?’
Tom sniffed and pressed hard against his throbbing temple. ‘Hey, Da.’
‘Tom, you’re calling late.’ Jem Branimir could instantly sense something wasn’t right and it made Tom want to beat his head against the window.
‘I . . .’ Tom spoke quietly and rubbed at his stinging eyes. ‘I did something really stupid.’
There was a frightened pause. ‘Are you safe?’
‘Yes. It’s not health.’
‘Money?’
‘No, nothing to do with money.’
A sigh of relief. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘Then what is it, son?’
Tom shook his head. ‘I fucked up. Massively.’
A short silence followed his words.
‘You know,’ Jem finally said, ‘I was in the garden today and I was having an absolute pain of it with my squash.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Tom asked indulgently, knowing Jem wasn’t the best at delving into deep conversations about feelings. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes. That’s the thing about this garden. If they don’t come out the way you want, you just plant something new. You try a different approach. You keep tending to it. Things will always come up all right in the end.’
Tom let out his breath in a rush. ‘That so?’
‘Aye.’
There was a beat of silence before Jem asked tentatively, ‘Is this about the woman Mirren was telling me you’ve been stepping out with?’
‘Yes.’
‘She loves her. She said I’d really like her.’
‘Yeah,’ Tom said shakily. ‘You would. You really would.’
‘Son.’
‘Dad?’
‘You’ve always been good with your writing, but maybe some action would help whatever it is. That and some nice grovelling.’
Tom laughed jerkily. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘And then, when it’s all better, you can both come up to the house and try my tomatoes. They’re about to turn red.’
Tom wanted to say so much. He wanted to promise he would jump on a train and be home soon.
He wanted to tell him all about Raina. That she was like Scotland to him.
She was home. He wanted to talk about his mother.
He wanted to know if his father found moments of the day unbearable, when the grief slipped in unannounced.
He wanted to explain himself and say he’d been chasing the cancer that killed her in every article he wrote, only to now realize he would never catch it. No matter what he did.
‘I’ll see you soon, Dad.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
Raina’s bed looked like a white cloud.
Solana had shoved her into a hot shower and got straight to work while Raina stood under the jet of water. The place had been swept and tidied and some candles were lit.
Raina slipped into a fluffy dressing gown and wrapped her long hair in a wrap before falling into bed. Her eyes felt heavy from crying as she watched Solana put both of their phones on charge.
The house was different without Tom. She suddenly felt a sense of mourning.
She remembered them laughing on the stairs when he’d once followed her up too zealously and stubbed his toe.
Raina had been on her hands and knees, crying with laughter, while he cursed in agony.
The kitchen where he’d cooked her countless safe meals.
The walk-in shower they’d shared. She saw a tiny splatter of nail varnish on the carpet.
She’d spilled some because he’d been making her laugh. Again.
She didn’t want the sheets washed. She wanted his scent. She wanted to feel him there.
‘You don’t have to stay,’ she told Solana.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘No. I need to set a good example – I’m the eldest. But I also need to ugly cry and wallow, so you have to go.’
‘I don’t know if this opinion is allowed,’ Solana said circumspectly, as she settled into bed next to Raina, ‘but Ottie and her nasty boyfriend—’
‘Fiancé.’
‘Oof. All right. Seb and Ottie are the real monsters here. Tom was . . . wrecked. This isn’t his fault, Raina. Not really. I feel like I kind of have to say that. He looked horrified. I think he’s getting screwed here.’
Raina closed her eyes and sat back against her pillows. ‘Tom should have picked better friends.’
‘He did – he chose you.’
‘He was going to write one of those articles on me, Sol.’
‘We don’t know that. And I don’t think so. He had a few notes on a board, that doesn’t mean anything. That’s like a diary. It didn’t exactly come out in good faith, did it? And he was right – I did tell him about Mum. I was stupid. I told him at your party. Ages ago!’
Raina inhaled. ‘I know you like his work—’
‘He’s obsessed with you, Rai. He worships you. You know he does. Feel your shutdown, feel what that woman did to you, but don’t tell yourself a story that isn’t true. I think you know how that man really feels.’
The hope was almost as painful as the heartbreak. ‘Solana.’
‘He just didn’t look like a guy who had been found out; he looked like a guy who needed to explain. You know better than anyone what it’s like to be misconstrued.’
‘I’m tired, Solana. I don’t even remember what was said. I just remember her and her anger and everyone looking.’
Be honest, Raina. You just can’t go through loving yet another man with awful friends. You’re punishing him for something that’s not even his fault.
‘I just think,’ Solana said carefully, ‘when things have settled a little, you two can talk it out. He would want you to hear the truth.’
‘You know . . .’ Raina slid down in the bed and turned over so she was facing the wall of her room. ‘I’m going to take a couple of days to not think about what other people want.’
‘I’m guessing he’s not coming with us to the awards on Monday?’
‘Correct.’
‘Yeah, that checks out. Well. Okay. Why don’t you leave all that with me? I can call them and let them know. Is there anything else?’
Raina relented a little. ‘You’re sweet. Diary is in the top drawer.’
Solana slid open the bedside cabinet and took out the little red pocket diary Raina kept all of her appointments and contacts in. ‘Got it. I’ll handle everything for now.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to. Raina?’
‘Mm?’
‘What were you telling Tom when I drove up?’
Raina winced. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about revisiting any aspect of the night. ‘I was telling him why I started the show.’
Solana’s momentary silence spoke to her surprise at this answer. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
Solana visibly swallowed. ‘I’m sorry for all of this, Rai.’
‘It’s fine,’ Raina said quietly. ‘You know, it’s weird.
Romance. Love. They’ve always been special interests for me.
I remember I had to go to one of those group therapy sessions after being diagnosed and we all got talking about our special interests.
Transport, Disney, Dungeons and Dragons.
Star Wars. When it got to me, I said love stories. ’
She was staring at the wall but could hear a smile in Solana’s voice when her sister spoke. ‘I know.’
‘I think it started from a place of liking the routine. The predictability of third-act breakups and happy endings. But it’s more than that.
I was studying people. I was memorizing a world that never wanted me in it.
Maybe if I could anticipate every scenario, every outcome .
. . maybe then I could be a part of it all. ’
She pressed her face into what had become Tom’s pillow. She felt the salty wetness of her tears seep into the leftover scent of him.
‘But studying love is like studying the stars. You can learn everything in the book. You can imagine all kinds of scenarios. But nothing can prepare you for floating in space and something going wrong. Some things have to be learned.’
Heartbreak wasn’t just a topic on her podcast. It was a blow that repositioned the shape of your bones. It rewired your brain.
Raina remembered the day she’d spontaneously sat down in front of her microphone and started talking.
She’d just returned from a solo trip to the cinema, something she always loved treating herself to.
It was a romantic film. The pink, inviting posters had been beckoning to her as she worked in her office job.
A pop of escapist colour standing out against the dreary November rain.
She’d sat in the middle of the cinema, on a velvet seat, ready to disappear for two and a half hours. To fall in love.
It was a story about falling in love with a disabled person. As the projector plastered the scenes upon the screen, Raina’s heart started to beat a little irregularly. She was sensing something. That funny, familiar feeling. She knew where the story was going. Because it always went the same way.
The disabled character died. Dramatically. Tragically, with a great, deathbed speech.
So that the non-disabled character could go on to live a full life, empowered by the humbling lessons they’d been taught.
A plot point. Meant only to die.
Well, Raina wasn’t dying for anyone. She wasn’t someone’s tragic third-act twist. She wasn’t there to make anyone grateful or inspired.
People could write any article they liked. Raina was no longer afraid.