Chapter Nineteen
Belle
‘God, you’re so good at this,’ Jake says next to me.
We watch as younger Belle is holding hands with a teary Arthur on the sagging sofa of the home we shared.
She’s wearing a trench coat, part buttoned, ready to make her exit.
Her eyes are empathetic but her tone is confident.
It’s not doing that wobbly, quiet thing that it used to do when I got emotional.
I didn’t realise how much of a professional I’d become at amicable break-ups.
I always thought they were by definition messy, awkward, full of tension.
I mean, that was until I saw my entire relationship history play out before my eyes.
Watching this now, I can see the whole choreography: my gentle hands, my eye contact not faltering, the careful pacing of the bad news.
When did I get so good at leaving people?
And why the hell am I watching myself break up with Arthur Adler, with Jake Marleigh by my side, the day before my wedding to Timothy Small?
I get that tingling urge to check the time, keep on track, but find myself distracted, as younger me consoles the sobbing man next to her.
Young Belle nods, voice soft, letting him down gently, ‘I love you so much, Arthur. But we want different things.’ She looks around the room, eyes landing on the scratching posts littering the floor. ‘I’m starting to feel like the stay-at-home mother of your cats.’
Jake looks between me and younger me, comically.
‘But they love you so much, Belle,’ Arthur says, pulling her hands closer.
Jake next to me points, mouth open. ‘Is he for real?’
I ignore him.
‘I love them too, I really do.’ She nods, Browelle dancing across her forehead. ‘You know I love Dutch, Lenny, Sadie …’ She pauses, sighs, continues, ‘And especially Gavin.’
Jake next to me howls. ‘This is the best romcom I’ve watched in years! Gavin! The cat’s name is Gavin! This man is crying and you’re more worried about a cat named Gavin than him! I’ve been dead for ten years and I never once got that reaction.’
‘I still miss Gavin.’ I shrug, watching the black-and-white cat circle my feet. That cat really felt like my little bestie at times. One of the highlights of lockdown had been spending time with them. They kept me focused, comforted.
Younger me continues, ‘But they want and need me to be in here, and I want to be out there.’ She motions to the door. ‘I’m starting to feel guilty about going out and leaving them alone while I live my life and that’s … not healthy.’
Arthur coughs into the back of his hand, nods.
‘Maybe there could be a point when we could come back together,’ she offers, ‘when the time is right?’
He whimpers then, his shoulders shrinking, like a turtle retreating into its shell.
‘This really hurts, Belle, but I know you’re right.’
Gavin jumps onto Belle’s lap, like he knows what’s happening. His skinny black tail stands straight like a pole and cat hairs glitter the air.
Belle lets go of Arthur’s hand and strokes Gavin, lips pursed together as Arthur cries.
‘I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me,’ he snivels. ‘It’s been a real honour calling you my girl.’ He snorts and swallows. Loudly.
‘We’ve had some great times.’ Young Belle nods, as Gavin makes biscuits on her thighs. ‘But fresh starts can be good.’
I wince at this. It’s not untrue, it’s just awkward. Something a mum might say to console her kid after a breakup. I really did feel like his mother at times. Washing his boxers while he sat there, gaming.
Arthur smiles, wiping his nose on his sleeve now. ‘I might be better suited to someone who loves gaming as much as I do anyway,’ he says, nodding.
‘I really tried to get into them, but let’s be honest, I wasn’t great, huh?’
Arthur laughs, cheeks wet, nose red. ‘I’ll never forget the time you tried to play Baldur’s Gate … and ended up having sex with a mindflayer.’
Young Belle’s eyes go square, and she forces a laugh, looking to the door.
What can I say? The ‘mindflayer’, with squid tentacles on its face, looked kinda hot at the time. I was deep in my fantasy era. Locked indoors for weeks on end, same type of sex on repeat, no excitement, I was willing to try anything to find some spice … including tentacle porn.
Jake bounces beside me. ‘A what?’
‘A mindflayer. It’s a creature. From a game …’ I tilt my head to the side, replaying the scene in my mind.
‘Right. And you—?’
‘It had tentacles.’
His eyes widen. ‘For a penis?’
‘No. On its face.’
‘And that was—?’
‘I was going through something, Jake.’
He pauses, eyebrow raised. ‘I wanna play that.’
I glare at him.
‘Seriously, though – again, I’m impressed.’ He nods. ‘It’s not easy to say, “You’re boring,” without saying, “You’re boring.”’ He grins at me.
‘He might have been boring, but you know what he never did?’ I say, watching Arthur pat Gavin on the sofa, cheeks red. ‘He never once laughed at my insecurities. Never made me feel like a joke.’
Jake’s grin fades, just slightly. A tiny reaction. I’ll take it.
‘I’m just saying, being boring has its perks.’
He’s quiet for a moment and I watch as he properly looks at Arthur, then at me, then back at Arthur, who is now blowing his nose into an already wet tissue while Gavin headbutts his chin.
The expression on Jake’s face is one I can’t decipher.
Like something’s turning behind his eyes.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns back to me.
‘So, learning much about yourself?’ he says, quieter than before.
‘I think so? I’ve been trying to look for the meaning …’ I shrug, words trailing off. ‘Do you think that’s the point? Is that what your psychopomp wants?’
Jake pauses, runs his hands through his thick, dark hair. ‘His name is Gabriel. Well, Gabe. And honestly, I don’t really know what he wants.’
So neither of us knows why I’m having to go through this? I roll my shoulders back and look to younger me. She’s hugging Arthur now, patting his back, peeking at the watch on her wrist. He doesn’t catch it.
‘Why me, do you think? Why would I be at risk of soul destruction, out of everyone in your life?’
‘Uh, maybe because you fucked Vik?’
‘Then why not visit Vik? He fucked me back!’
‘Fair point.’ He nods. ‘I don’t really know. I just do what he says.’
I stare at him. He’s been dead ten years and that’s the best he’s got?
‘Right, so you’ve upended my entire life the night before my wedding on the instructions of someone you can’t explain and for reasons you don’t know.’ Jake remains silent and shrugs, again.
‘Great. Really reassuring. Well, what’s he like? This Gabe?’ I ask. I imagine a hooded, cloaked figure. Or maybe just a presence? Or maybe he has horns – half-man, half-bull, like a Minotaur?
Jake sticks his chin out, scratches his stubble. ‘He’s stubborn. Grumpy. Sarcastic.’
‘Hm … He sounds like you.’
‘Ha. I know, right.’
Okay, so a Minotaur with Jake’s face. Permanently growling.
I try to picture this ‘in-between’. Try to imagine Jake and Gabe together, and I can’t.
My imagination keeps defaulting to a white waiting room full of plastic chairs and old magazines about caravan parks.
A water cooler that bubbles occasionally.
Is it too warm or too cold? How many other people are around? Is he lonely there?
‘Are you okay, where you’ve been? The in-between?’ My mind now switches to the waiting room in Beetlejuice. That was always one of Jake’s favourite films. Now I visualise a shrunken head alongside Gabe the Minotaur, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, neon lights.
‘Do you want the truth?’ Jake says.
That’s a stupid question. ‘Why would I want a lie?’
‘Okay, truthfully … No, it’s not great. Nothing’s bad but also, nothing’s good.’
‘Are there shrunken heads?’ I ask. Jake looks at me like I’ve just tried to order an oat milk matcha in a greasy spoon.
‘No shrunken heads,’ he says, finally. ‘It’s sort of just … meh.’
‘Right.’ I nod. I look around this room: its peeling wallpaper, furniture clawed with cat scratches. It felt like home at the time but also … it too is pretty meh.
‘I know that feeling,’ I say, looking over to Arthur.
Jake turns towards him too. ‘Bless him,’ he says.
‘I wonder where he is now. Any chance we can find out?’
‘I don’t think so. This is all to do with present-day you, I’m afraid. Why do you think no one else can see me.’
We’re still for a moment. ‘If it’s any consolation,’ I say to Jake, ‘I think the cats can see you.’
All four of them roam around our feet now.
One of them, Dutch, is staring up at Jake.
It used to freak me out when they did that, just stare at a wall or the ceiling, almost like they could sense something we couldn’t.
I reach down to pet Lenny, who flops onto his back, rolling, stomach in the air.
I do miss these cats. Is it bad to admit I miss them more than Arthur?
My chest tightens. It’s so weird how you fall in love with people and then they become strangers.
Like you know everything about them and then you break up and that’s it?
We lived in each other’s pockets, Arthur and I.
I’d take a bath, cats perched on the edge, while Arthur took a piss on the loo next to me.
We set up assault courses in the flat stairwell to get our exercise, and wiped sweat from each other’s brows afterwards.
He knew my routines, how I took my tea, but he never really knew what I was actually thinking.
What kept me up at night. I’m not sure I ever let him.
‘Funny how the ones that don’t break your heart still manage to bruise it a bit.’ I draw my hand away from Lenny and stand up. ‘I thought I was past all this.’ I rub the back of my head. ‘And it’s about to get worse.’
Jake moves closer to me, pulls me in for a side hug, rubs my arm. I ease into him before I’ve decided to. Like muscle memory.
‘I think we can handle it, Belle. Want a drink first?’
Yes. ‘Drink, then let’s get the bad ones ticked off.’
We turn to face each other, cats circling our toes like hungry sharks, and hold hands.