Chapter 22
JAKE
I am so pissed off. I raise my golf club and hit the ball as hard as I can.
I mis-hit and it goes straight into the net in front of my driving range bay.
I swing hard at the next one. That one connects and soars high into the air but far off to the left.
I go for another massive hit and completely miss the ball, which never happens to me.
‘Mate?’ asks Dan from the next bay.
Like a toddler, I pretend I haven’t heard, and roll my shoulders to go for my next attempt.
I’m so angry. Or upset. Or let down. Or something.
Freya. Sonja. Freya.
I hit the ball half-heartedly and don’t bother to watch where it goes.
I shouldn’t have come. It was very kind of Dan to ask me but I think I should actually have stayed at home alone to sort through my thoughts. Or wallow. Or drown my sorrows. Something solitary, anyway. I am not good company right now.
‘Fucking Sonja,’ I say out loud.
‘Yeah,’ Dan agrees.
The woman is pure bloody evil. She and her producers obviously completely knew what they were doing when they set us up like that.
With no regard whatsoever for the feelings of the actual humans involved. Freya looked so stricken. And I’m not exactly happy right now either.
Really fucking unpleasant.
Okay, so I have my thoughts clear on Sonja. Unequivocal dislike of her inhuman nastiness.
I take a moment and then hit a good ball.
I hit another good ball before my thoughts resume their circular misery.
Maybe Sonja’s actually done me a favour.
Because Freya.
I thought we knew each other. We’ve spent so much time together. We’ve laughed, we’ve spent time with other people, we’ve done stuff together.
We’ve made love. Well, I thought we were making love. Now I think we were just having great sex.
Because we’ve also talked. And I was open with Freya. I shared my thoughts, hopes, fears, beliefs with her. And I thought she did the same with me. I thought we understood each other.
I do a massive whack of another ball and hit it straight into the ground right in front of me.
I don’t know how I feel about Freya. Maybe just hurt. She gave me no opportunity whatsoever to explain.
I’m also angry with myself. I should have told her about the bet. Because she and I did talk. In a way that felt as though it was about everything. But I didn’t mention it to her.
‘I should have told her about the bet,’ I say out loud. ‘It didn’t mean anything, like it wasn’t a real bet, and it was made when we still barely knew each other, but I should have told her.’
‘Yeah,’ says Dan.
Which I kind of don’t want him to say, but also, I do, because it’s better when friends are straight with each other.
Yep, so he’s right, so I should have told her about it weeks ago and so I’m angry with myself.
Why didn’t I tell her? I suppose… I was ashamed of myself for having been so bigoted about romance books in the first place and for having created the whole challenge situation.
And then things were working out so well between us, which was because of the challenge, so I was actually grateful to it, but it was like the whole thing was based on my having been a complete arse in the first place and I wanted to skate over that.
So I just didn’t talk about any of those pre-team-building-weekend things.
I should have mentioned it.
Yeah, so I’m ashamed of myself.
Suddenly I put my club down and pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a text:
I’m sorry. That bet meant nothing and was made before I even knew you properly, but I should have mentioned it to you. I love you
She reads it immediately, while I’m still holding my phone.
And then she leaves me on read.
Which… I do not love.
And which plays havoc with my next twenty or so shots.
I don’t think there was anything wrong with making the bet.
I mean, it wasn’t even actually a bet and it was Pete who suggested it.
It was basically a joke. I never intended to act on it.
And I also didn’t know Freya properly at the time.
I should have mentioned it to her, but it was harmless.
But also I feel as though she should have given me a chance to explain rather than just immediately believing the worst. It was like she wanted to believe bad stuff.
Which brings me back to thinking that maybe I should be very grateful to Sonja because maybe it is for the best. Maybe something would always have broken us up at some point because Freya was just waiting for something to use to wreck our relationship.
Maybe I’ve had a lucky escape.
Or maybe I don’t deserve to be lucky in love. Maybe I’ve already been lucky enough in life. I mean, look at my life compared to Max’s.
I do another half-hearted hit and decide that I should probably just go home and get some sleep rather than wasting my time here.
I do not sleep well but things improve as the week goes on, basically because I throw myself into my work (not hard – there’s always too much to do) until Saturday afternoon, when I go to see my parents and brother.
Max is very sensitive to my moods and I don’t want to upset him, so I do my best to do the whole shoulders-squared, best-foot-forward thing as I drive us into Richmond Park.
‘What’s wrong?’ he says, as I squeeze the car into a slightly too-small space between a VW campervan and a Porsche.
Oh. Okay. I need to try harder to seem happy.
‘Nothing,’ I say.
‘You know, you need to stop trying to protect me. You’re a real person. Things aren’t always going to go amazingly for you. Sometimes bad things will happen. I know that and I love you and I’d be honoured if you would actually confide in me. And then I might confide more in you.’
‘I…’ I finish parking and turn to stare at him.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Disabled physically but not mentally.’
‘I…’ God. ‘Max. I’m so sorry,’ I say finally.
‘No. Don’t be sorry. You’re an amazing brother and I know you’re always looking out for me. And I love hearing the stuff you do tell me. But don’t just tell me the good bits. Tell me the shit bits too. You help me a lot. I’d like to be able to help you too.’
I nod slowly.
‘Okay,’ I say. And then I tell him how shit my divorce really made me feel. And then everything about Freya from start to finish. And how I’ve been feeling shit all week.
‘Do you constantly feel guilty?’ asks Max when I finish, surprising me. ‘About having had a different life from mine?’
I stare at him again (I’m doing a lot of staring this afternoon) and begin to say no before switching to honesty: ‘Yes.’
‘And do you feel like you’ve had so much of what you regard as good luck that you won’t deserve more good luck – relationship good luck – until you’ve earnt it more?’
I’m still staring. ‘Kind of,’ I say.
‘Have you fought for Freya or have you just given up?’
Wow. He’s right. I did give up very easily. Maybe all of this is what went wrong with my ex-wife too. Although to be fair that was a lucky escape.
‘Yeah, you’ve paid your dues,’ he says. ‘And, also, we all get dealt different cards, you know? And it is what it is. Talk to Freya.’
‘I can’t talk to her. She aired me.’ I didn’t fight for her, but I don’t know whether I have it in me right now.
‘Hmmm,’ Max says.
‘You know what.’ I undo my seatbelt. ‘Let’s get some fresh air.
And I’ll use this as a learning experience.
I’ll talk to you for a start, and if and when I start another relationship—’ right now I really can’t imagine that but you never know; a long time down the line maybe ‘—I’ll open up more with her too. ’
Yeah. Maybe I didn’t talk to Freya enough. But I feel like that ship has sailed. I can’t beg her to talk to me, and apparently she doesn’t want to.
I get out of the car. ‘Let’s grab that fresh air.’