Chapter 16
‘What are you doing this weekend?’ I ask Archie, stirring my tea a little too vigorously so that it slops over the side of the rim and splatters the cover of the diary on the coffee table.
When I got home and started writing, the words wouldn’t come, like I couldn’t actually formulate the sentence ‘I kissed Florian’, so I skirted around them, lying to the only thing that I have sworn total fidelity to until I had drained one of the remaining bottles of red in the apartment and finally gained the courage to admit to it.
And then, in a drunken haze, I kept writing until I admitted something so concerning that I had slammed the diary shut and promised to never reread it.
I root around for a tea-towel to dry the worst of the spillage off.
‘What – the weekend in three days?’
‘Yes.’
‘Erm, nothing much… why?’ He sounds concerned, drawing it out.
I can’t tell him the truth, can’t let him know that last night I tried to snog my brother-in-law and I’m now looking for any excuse to not have to face that fact.
After I had made the largest fuck up of the millennium I left, walked the two kilometres in the cold and dark as some kind of atonement.
I would have taken self-flagellation over re-running every detail, groaning at the embarrassment, wondering why I appear to be set on permanent self-destruct mode.
‘Come over.’
‘To France?’
I pause. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you feeling okay, Avie?’ I’m not a fan of this new nickname; it’s pretty useless. It doesn’t shorten my name, just changes it. I think it’s meant to be a joke but I never pulled him up on it before, and to do so now would make it ‘a thing’.
‘I’m fine, just think it would be nice; the weather’s meant to be good, hot even.’
‘Well, I do have some days in lieu? I could see if I could use them up? It’s quiet at the minute.
Could put a couple of days either side – long weekend?
’ I register the fact that he is framing everything as a question, his voice lilting at the end, ready for me to pounce on him, to tell him no, that he’s got the wrong end of the stick.
‘So, you could maybe come Friday? That would be amazing!’ Three days. He could be here in three days. That means I only need to get through the next 72 hours and then there would be a distraction, someone else I could focus on.
‘It would?’ He sounds sceptical.
I sit on the corner of the sofa, one hand clinging on to the tea, the other on the phone. ‘Yeah, of course it would.’
‘Yeah, I mean— I just thought—’
‘Thought what?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll text my boss and if it’s all cool, I’ll book a flight for later. You have a car there, don’t you, so you can pick me up?’
I think of the silver Fiat probably on the back of some tow-truck on its way back to the airport by now to be inspected. ‘Oh erm, no… long story – no car at the moment.’ I hope he doesn’t ask anything more. ‘There’s a taxi company, I’ll get one to pick you up.’
‘Okay. Wow, not what I thought this call was going to be about.’
‘What did you think it was going to be about?’
‘I don’t know, more gossip about Florian I guess.’ My stomach twists at his name. I see his grin, his body sitting on the counter, his look of total disappointment when I kissed him, the fact I will never be able to take it back.
‘Oh no, same old on that front, haven’t seen him since we last spoke.’ It’s worrying how quickly the lies come.
‘Okay, well maybe I can meet him when I’m there?’
‘Yeah maybe!’ I don’t push the subject.
Archie eventually hangs up after once again asking whether I was being serious.
As soon as his voice disappears, the regret kicks in, the kind that slaps you immediately after you make a bad decision.
He sounded so shocked, that even though I had worked hard to build up this wall that made boundaries clear and uncrossable, here I was opening a door, letting him in and the possibility of more.
I try the radio, let it buzz into existence until it crackles out its latest rendition of a new Europop hit.
I try to start prepping something for dinner but keep having to triple check every detail on the recipe because as soon as I look away from my phone, I forget.
After my second attempt at caramelising onions begins to char, I throw it away, pan and all.
Even though the thought of running into Florian is sickening, I need air. I need to do something other than sit and marinate in the shame, so I grab my jacket and head out onto the street. I skirt the edge of town, just to make sure I don’t see him, and eventually wind my way towards the hotel.
‘Hi.’ I smile at the receptionist who barely glances in my direction. ‘I’m looking for someone… a resident.’
‘Name?’ she asks.
‘Oh.’ I pause, remind myself of the stupidity of the whole situation, that in all the conversations we have had, how she is the closest thing I have to a friend and I don’t even know her name.
It feels strange to ask now, that if I do she’ll realise how fragile this whole relationship is and I can’t lose any more of the limited friendships I have. ‘I… I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know their name?’ The receptionist looks up at me then, one eyebrow raised, her mouth working overtime on some gum.
‘Her name and no, I don’t. She’s American, about this high.’ I gesture to my chin. ‘Old, a bit… mad looking?’
‘Ava?’ I turn to see The American, this time wearing a cerise-pink trouser suit, sitting in an armchair by the window.
‘Found her.’ I manage to flash the receptionist a smile before making my way to the other armchair and slump myself down with an exasperated sigh.
‘Well, I hope the police never ask you to write my description for the paper,’ The American chuckles.
‘Sorry.’ I cringe a little. ‘I’ve had a day of it.’
‘Here, you better take this.’ She hands over a tumbler and I receive it without asking its contents. ‘You look like you might need it more than I do.’
‘I fucked up,’ I say into the glass and then take half of the liquid into my mouth. Brandy. I want to spit it out but I’m committed now and gulp it back against my better judgement.
‘What now?’
‘You’re going to think I’m mad. I think I’m mad.’
‘It takes a lot for me to call someone else mad, my dear.’
‘Last night I… God I don’t think I can even say it out loud.’
‘That bad eh?’
‘It’s worse than bad.’
‘Well, now I’m intrigued.’
‘I…’ I look around for signs of him or any familiar face that might be lurking in the foyer. When I’m satisfied that we are clear, I lean forward so that there’s barely a foot between us. ‘I kissed Florian.’
Her cackling laughter is so loud that all the other guests turn to look at what could possibly be that funny. She is laughing so hard the exertion looks like it’s physically painful.
‘That’s the best thing I’ve heard all year.’
‘The best?’ I wonder for a moment if she has actually heard me. I had expected to be berated, chastised; I hadn’t expected her to find this all quite so hilarious.
‘Honey, gossip is in short supply here, we’ve got to take a win when we can get some.’
‘This is not a win,’ I hiss at her and wait as the other guests start to lose interest, their heads turning back to their own business. ‘Not in the slightest, this is the worst thing I could have ever done.’
‘Oh, Ava darling.’ She reaches out, her hand stroking my knee. ‘It really isn’t that bad. So what, you kissed him. It’s hardly nuclear war.’
I shake my head at her. ‘He’s my brother-in-law.’
She straightens up a napkin on the table. ‘You said yourself you don’t know what you two are to each other now that the in-law bit is slightly redundant.’
‘Semantics don’t matter.’
‘Semantics are all that matters.’ She leans back in her chair, surveying me; when she’s satisfied she inspects a bangle on her wrist. ‘Did he kiss you back?’ My mouth goes dry remembering how his lips felt, how humiliating it had been being rejected like that.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Ah, so that’s why you’re so mortified.’
My forehead ruches so hard, I can feel the lines appearing. ‘What?’
‘Well, it would be different if he kissed you back, wouldn’t it?
’ she challenges. ‘You both would have something to feel bad about. Now you’re wondering why you got the wrong end of the stick.
’ She says it so succinctly, it feels like I’ve been punched.
But she’s wrong, that isn’t why I feel bad; I feel bad because I kissed the one person on this planet I shouldn’t have.
‘To be honest, I’m surprised…’ she adds, more thoughtful now.
‘I thought it might be the other way around.’
Everything stops. I look up at her quickly, trying to read the strange look on her face. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I don’t mean anything by it, just that when you get to my age you notice things, things that younger, more na?ve, people don’t.’
‘I’m not na?ve.’
‘Of course you’re not.’ She pouts and then goes back to eyeing me up and down as if there might be something she has missed. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
I snort. ‘Avoid him until I have to go home.’
‘Well, judging how you possess an innate ability to “bump” into each other, I’m pretty sure that won’t work.’
‘Well Archie’s going to come over.’
‘The man from London.’ She says it dryly, one eyebrow arching up into her hairline.
‘Yes, the man from London.’
She dusts off some imaginary crumbs from her skirt as if she’s bored. ‘And what will you do with him?’
‘The things I clearly need to get out of my system,’ I shrug. ‘Besides, he’s nice, sensible; you’ll like him.’
‘Nice and sensible, words that send every woman’s heart a flutter.’
‘Oh stop it!’
‘And by having Archie out here, your feelings for Florian will just disappear?’
‘I don’t have any feelings for Florian.’ I say it flatly, because I know if my voice wavers a decibel, she will not believe me. ‘He just looks a bit like Ettie. It was all just some confused misplaced affection – Florian said so himself. He… he said he knew it was about Ettie and not about him.’
‘Did he? Very big of him.’
‘Yes, well…’ I lean back in my chair, fold my arms into my lap. ‘He was very good about it to be honest.’
‘So, Ava.’ The American adjusts herself and looks me square in the face.
‘Why are you here, clearly mortified, looking like you’ve been caught with your knickers down?
It’s a kiss, Ava. By the sounds of it you’ve managed to justify it as some strange form of grief, Florian doesn’t sound too bothered by it, and you have your lover coming over to keep you company? ’
‘I don’t know… I just feel…’
‘Feel what?’
I’m growing petulant. My shoulders have slipped so far down the wing-backed chair that I am almost lying horizontal. I throw my hands into my hair. ‘I don’t know. I just feel…’
She holds my gaze a little too long, eyes narrowing, waiting for me to add something else, and when I don’t she sighs. ‘Well perhaps you can work it out over the weekend, I’m going to Toulouse.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Florian’s exhibition the other day made me think about some friends I lost touch with. I have a taxi picking me up any minute.’
‘Oh.’ I don’t want her to go. Not when Archie is here; I was counting on her as a distraction. She has become my kind of social stabiliser.
‘But you’ll be fine of course. Sounds like you’ve got enough things to keep you busy in the meantime.’ She goes to get to her feet which means I feel like I have to do the same.
‘Yes… well…’
‘And, Ava, when you finally figure out why you are beating yourself up, you might want to write it down in that book of yours; I’m sure it could prove very enlightening.’