Chapter 45
Alex:
You should never have sent that message, he’ll never talk to me again
Liam:
You weren’t close, you’ll get over it
14:36
Alex:
You’re a nasty piece of shit. Olly’s done nothing to you
14:45
Liam:
Callum belongs to me
14:46
Alex:
Tell him the truth
14:47
Liam:
Or you’ll do what. He won’t believe you
14:48
Alex:
Callum’s happy, why ruin it? He’s blocked me. He thinks I sent him that picture
14:50
Liam:
I’ll tell him it was me
15:52
Alex:
Tell him you didn’t sleep with Olly
15:53
I hear the flush of the chain and Liam’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. I put the phone down and go back over to the sink and put my hands in the water to hide the tremble.
‘You sure you want me to go?’ He asks.
I keep my back to him. ‘You got a text.’
‘I’ll read it later.’
I face him. The bubbles from my hands fall to the floor. I feel as though someone has taken off the rose-tinted glasses and I’m seeing him for the first time. From head to toe, every inch of him a liar.
‘I can tell you what it said: special offer, two main courses for fifteen pounds.’
‘That’s perfect, what shall we get?’
‘I’m joking,’ I say with no humour. ‘You really should change your pin Liam; any paranoid ex could go snooping.’ I pick up his phone and slam it into his chest. ‘When was you going to tell me you didn’t sleep with Olly?’
‘Oh that. It was a joke.’ He smirks.
‘Was it?’
‘Don’t overreact.’
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard him say this over six years.
I look at him and say calmly, ‘Liam, get the fuck out of my house.’
He smiles. ‘There’s no need to be like that. You know you’ll come back to me in the end. You always do.’
‘Did Liam. I always did. Before I could see what a gaslighting, sad little prick you are.’
Soumia appears at the kitchen door.
‘You’re acting crazy.’
I snap. ‘You want crazy?’ I lift a plate and launch it at Liam, it shatters inches from his feet into tiny pieces on the tiled floor. At the top of my voice, six years of hurt fire out of me like a cannon ball, ‘I’ll give you fucking crazy!’
Soumia’s nostrils flare. She’s rolling up her sleeves.
‘I think you better go,’ she warns Liam.
He stands his ground. ‘Take a deep breath, you’re losing it again.’ He nudges a large shard of smashed crockery with his foot. ‘You can’t do anything, Callum. You’re nothing without me.’
For one second, I close my eyes and I can hear all the comments he’s said to me.
You’re overacting, when he gave me an STI.
It’s all in your head, when money was taken out of my bank account.
Should you be eating that, when I was at a birthday meal with friends.
He’s just a friend, when he stayed out for two nights with someone I didn’t know.
I never said that, when he told me how I should fix my stomach and consider Botox.
No wonder your mother left you, because he knows out of anything he could say to me, that cuts the deepest.
But now I see him. Standing there. Ugly. Clinging onto control of me as if I’m a trophy to show off. My weakness his lifeline. I’m not going back.
‘No, Liam. You treated me like I was nothing when I was with you. I am everything without you. I’ve saved lives at 36,000 feet.
I brought myself up and did a mighty fine job of it too.
I spend every Christmas helping other people.
I try my best in everything I do.’ I look at Soumia.
‘I do sometimes get things wrong, but I am good. I am enough. You look at me and see weakness,’ I’m willing my tears to hold back and my voice to stay solid.
‘But you’re wrong. I’m stronger despite you.
You can hurl your abuse, you can tell me lies, but it won’t change anything. We Are Over!’
I’ve been slowly walking towards him. By the time I finish shouting I’m stood in front of his face.
There’s nothing left for either of us to say.
He fumbles to pick his phone up off the floor, trying to avoid the broken china.
He steps out the hallway and into the street.
He pauses, turns around, and opens his mouth slightly just before Soumia slams the door in his face.
I smile at Soumia. ‘I owe you a plate.’
I go to the cupboard under the sink, take out the dustpan and brush and begin to sweep the plate up off the floor.
As I turn to the waste bin, the passport pictures held to the fridge door by the Blackpool Tower glare at me.
It makes me think about the sugared doughnut Olly rubbed all over my face.
It’s prompting me to remember our work trip to Boston where we held each other all night.
It makes me flush to think about the hot sex in the toilets in Via, and it warms me when I recall our first date in Iceland.
‘Penny for your thoughts.’ Soumia says.
‘Olly.’
‘Is he what you want?’
‘Yes.’ I want more adventures, more laughter, more sex, more him.
‘What took you so long to realise?’
‘What if he won’t have me?’
‘He’ll have you.’ Soumia takes the brush out of my hand. ‘Go and get him.’