Nick
Nick
It’s like a fist to the gut. But also, the sweetest relief.
He calls her immediately, before the chance is lost, and is surprised when she picks up. But she always was braver than him. He’d known that from the very first second he’d met her.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Hey,’ she says. Her voice is soft.
‘I got your text,’ he says, somewhat obviously. ‘Are you busy?’
For the first time in so long, he wishes they were together, in the same room, so that he could put his arm around her and hold her close and tell her that none of it was her fault.
‘Not really. I’m standing outside the Asylum,’ she replies. She’s not crying but he can’t quite ascertain how she’s feeling. There’s a new distance between them, in every sense. ‘I left my rehearsal and I just walked and walked and it felt right to come here. I don’t know why. There’s nothing to see anymore. It’s like it never happened.’
He swallows, shifting on his seat.
‘They pulled it down?’
‘Over the summer. The whole thing has gone. I read online that they’re submitting planning for a shiny new halls of residence.’ She pauses, gives a tiny sniff. ‘With proper en suite bathrooms.’
‘Shit,’ he says.
‘There’s nothing here,’ she says, her voice growing tighter. ‘You wouldn’t know… you wouldn’t have a clue what had happened.’
‘Maybe that’s for the best.’
She takes a sharp inhalation of breath.
‘But is this what her parents want?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know. Do you?’
‘I never spoke to them,’ she says.
‘Of course not.’ He feels stupid for asking.
‘They might want some kind of marker. I don’t know. It feels wrong to pretend it never happened.’
‘I suppose everyone deals with these things differently.’
He doesn’t want to talk about Anna.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… How are things?’ she says, her voice lifting slightly. He can tell that she’s trying to put on a brave face. Trying to stop him from feeling too awful. ‘I hope they got easier for you.’
He swallows, feeling ashamed.
‘They did,’ he says. ‘Thank you. I’m doing my course with the Open University now.’
‘Oh,’ she says. She sounds surprised. He wonders what she expected him to do. Give up on all his ambitions entirely, the way he gave up on her?
If only he could make her understand. He couldn’t see a way of making it work with Beth, not after Anna had died. Not with all the guilt and shame and confusion. It would have poisoned everything, and their relationship was only at the start. A tiny bud that would easily be crushed by something far less weighty than what they’d been through.
‘Still Economics. It’s not much fun but I’m getting through it. It’s easier, to be down here, I think. And I get to keep an eye on my mum, which she loves.’
She laughs.
‘No, she really does love it.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘She depends on me, a lot. How are things going for you?’
‘OK,’ she says. ‘The course is good. It’s been my saviour, really.’
There’s a pause. He should have been her saviour. He should have been Anna’s.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, eventually, but the words are ineffectual. Meaningless.
‘It’s OK,’ she says. ‘I don’t… I’m not cross with you. I’m just sad. Your text… you asked me how I was. And I guess, well, that was my honest answer.’
There’s another pause.
‘God, this is awkward,’ she says. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
He laughs, in spite of himself.
‘Christ. I wish we could go back in time. Do that whole evening again.’
She sniffs again, louder this time. She doesn’t agree.
‘I’ve always believed in fate. I guess this is just the way things were meant to be.’
He wants to cry at that.
‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘But…’
‘Yes?’
‘I know I let you down last year, Beth. But… can we… can we agree to be friends? At least?’
‘Friends,’ she repeats, as though turning the idea over in her mind.
‘Please… I mean, of course we’re friends, right? I want to be here for you.’ The words stick in his throat because he hasn’t been here for her, has he? But now he can change all that. He doesn’t say what he’s really thinking. We thought we were at the start of something, but really we were already at the end of it . ‘I know I wasn’t in a good place last year and I’m sorry, but I’m better now. Stronger. And, well, I want to be here for you. You know, if you ever need anything.’
‘What, like a cup of sugar?’
He grins. It’s good that she’s making a joke. She doesn’t hate him.
‘Yes, even that. If you ever need me… Will you promise me Beth? Will you promise me you’ll call me?’
It’s not enough, he knows. But it’s all he can offer. And for his own selfish reasons, to alleviate the guilt that binds him when he thinks of her, making him want to rip off his own skin… for those reasons, he needs her to accept.
‘OK,’ she says, and he can’t tell whether or not she’s just humouring him, but he isn’t sure whether it matters or not. ‘I promise.’