The future hasn’t been written yet
The future hasn’t been written yet
The fallout from the Indian feast at Anita’s house wasn’t something that Max was prepared for.
After Bethan had left in floods of tears, everyone tidied up, with Max trying to apologise but the air was filled with awkwardness and tension.
Max had attempted to say sorry to Charlie because whatever he had done, he didn’t deserve what had happened to him, but even Charlie didn’t want to speak with him.
Eventually Max left, uttering more apologies to Anita at the front door, before he made his way home in disgrace.
He texted Bethan multiple times on the way, but no reply from her, which was to be expected given his behaviour.
As soon as he walked into the flat, he was met by Robbie, who already knew what had happened.
‘Eve told you?’ said Max, still feeling a horribly embarrassing guilt.
‘Of course she told me, pal. What were youse thinking?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Max, slumping on the sofa next to Robbie. ‘I’d had a few beers.’
‘Youse drinking again?’
‘I was nervous to see Bethan, and I was weak. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise to me, pal, but youse cannae start drinking again, especially if this is how youse is gonna behave. Remember what happened with Emma? Remember the intervention? Youse cannae drink, pal, or you’ll be back exactly where you were months ago when life was fucking miserable.’
‘I know. It was bad, Robbie, really bad. I’m not sure Bethan will ever forgive me.’
‘Aye, well, that’s up to her. In the meantime, youse need to make sure youse don’t start drinking again. The shop is opening this week, and I need youse to be on it. We cannae open the shop together, if youse is a fucking mess.’
‘I sold the house,’ said Max suddenly. He hadn’t yet told Robbie that he had agreed to sell his parents’ house. ‘I already signed the first set of Docusign documents.’
‘Wow, OK. Is that also why youse drinking again?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. That and Bethan, and seeing Barry at the graveyard. It all just felt like a lot, and a few drinks helped.’
‘Aye, and then it turns into a lot of drinks, and look what happened?’
‘I know. I can’t believe how much I hurt Bethan. I’m such a fucking idiot.’
‘No arguments here, pal, but you cannae change what you did, only what you do going forwards, right?’
‘I guess so.’
‘So, pick yourself up, dust yourself down, and stop drinking! I need youse focused and ready to open the shop with me this week. I’m relying on youse, Max.’
‘But what about Bethan?’
‘Youse just need to hope she’s the forgiving sort,’ said Robbie, before he stood up and informed him he was spending the night at Eve’s place.
If he needed him, or was thinking about reaching for a bottle, call him and he would come home.
Max assured him he had no intentions of drinking again anytime soon, and he just wanted to make it up to Bethan, and to everyone else.
It was all Max could think about and as Robbie left, a duffel bag over his shoulder, Max headed into the bathroom to take a shower.
Maybe it would help clear his mind as well as his body.
The following morning, after an early night and a decent sleep, Max woke up with a renewed sense of determination to fix the mess he had made the day before.
Bethan still hadn’t responded to any of his texts, but he knew he couldn’t give up.
Robbie had been right when he had said that he couldn’t change what he had done, only what he did going forwards.
Robbie needed him in the shop later to go over a few things before the official opening on Wednesday, but he had the morning to try his best to apologise and beg for forgiveness.
However, as he sat down for a breakfast of tea and toast, he received a text from Hope, asking if she could pop by the flat for a chat.
Max replied that he was home, and after tidying away breakfast, he got himself ready.
It was the first time Hope would have been to his flat, but hopefully she was there to discuss what had happened, and help him say sorry to everyone so they could all move forwards.
Max was trying his best to stay in a positive frame of mind.
‘I’m sorry, Max, and you know how fond I am of you as a person, but you can’t come back to run club.
Common People has always been about supporting each other, nurturing our souls, our minds, creating friendships and bonds.
It’s a safe space where like-minded people can get together and run.
I can’t have violence of any sort, and so, yeah, I know there are mitigating circumstances for what happened, and I know Charlie isn’t one hundred per cent innocent, and I’ll be talking with him too, but you’re the only one who used physical violence.
I’m sorry, Max, mate, but I have to draw a line somewhere. I hope you understand.’
Max couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand or appreciate her point of view because he did, but he couldn’t believe that in one day, he had somehow managed to destroy two of the most important things in his life.
His relationship with Bethan had been one of the biggest positives of his life recently, and he had still retained hope that at some point in the future, they might get together, but after yesterday that felt like a very long way away, if not completely impossible.
Then there was Common People. Since joining, it had become one of the tent poles of his life, and a symbol of his recovery from the grief of losing his parents.
He enjoyed running, the physical act which made him feel good about himself, but it was the people who had made it so important to him.
But one reckless decision, and he had ruined everything.
‘I do, and I’m so sorry, Hope. I never meant to hurt anyone, especially Bethan.’
‘I know, but I just can’t have violence at a place which is about the opposite of that.’
‘I know,’ replied a distraught Max. ‘Have you spoken to Bethan?’
‘I have.’
‘And?’
‘She’s really upset. She trusted you with something personal and you betrayed that trust. You need to give her space to get over this, if she ever does.’
‘Fair enough.’
There was a slightly longer than usual pause in the conversation, which threatened to become awkward, before Hope spoke. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Have you ever spoken to a therapist?’
‘You mean like one on one?’
‘Yeah.’
‘No. I tried group grief therapy once, but it wasn’t for me.’
‘Look, I’m not trying to push anything on you, but therapy has been a huge part of my recovery. I still see my therapist every other week, and she’s brilliant. I honestly don’t know how I would have got through the tough years without her. We sit, talk, and it makes such a difference to my life.’
‘You think I need to see her?’
‘I’m just saying, mate, it’s good to talk.
You can’t keep things bottled up, or things like yesterday happen.
If we don’t really understand what’s happening inside our minds, and if we don’t know how to handle it, we’re always going to stumble and fall through life.
Therapy gave me the knowledge and the tools to understand why I drank, and how to stop and stay sober.
I can give you my therapist's number if you want, but it’s up to you what you do with it. ’
‘OK, thanks,’ said a disconsolate Max.
‘Look,’ said Hope, standing up. ‘I know this probably feels like a real kick in the teeth, but I hope you use it as inspiration to get better. If there’s one thing I hope you learnt from Common People is not to give up.
Life can always get better, Max. I’m proof of that.
Joe, Anita, Eve, Charlie and Bethan are all proof of that.
Don’t let this one mistake get you down, OK? ’
‘OK,’ said Max, standing up to say goodbye.
‘The future hasn’t been written yet. Remember that. I’ll text you Grace’s number, she’s my therapist.’
‘Thanks, Hope, for everything.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Hope, before Max showed her out, and then he was left alone in the flat, thinking about everything she had said.
The future hasn’t been written yet. He knew this was true, and yet at that moment, everything felt so set in stone.
His relationship with Bethan was doomed, Common People was gone and the group of friends that came with it, and without his parents’ house, any connection to them was lost. The sandwich shop was opening soon, but that was Robbie’s future not his.
It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when everything good he’d had so briefly was suddenly gone, and everything in the future was muddied by the events of the past.
As he sat on the sofa, unsure what to do next, a text pinged into his phone.
He opened it, and saw a text from Hope. It was the number for her therapist. Maybe talking was the answer, or maybe it was at the bottom of another bottle.
He had been down one of those roads before, and it had only led to him losing everything he loved.
Perhaps it was finally time to try the other one.
It was time to talk before he lost anything else.