Chapter 19
19
NADIA
I look hard at my hob and give it just one more wipe. With the under-cabinet spotlights beaming onto it, its gleam is almost headache-inducing. It literally could not be any cleaner.
Likewise the floor, the sink, the worktops, the cupboard doors, the fridge, the oven, you name it. Also every single part of the bathroom.
I would declutter the cupboards but they ve all already been decluttered, following all my terrible dates over the past year.
Obviously you could say it s a good thing that when I m stressed I clean to avoid thinking, but it doesn t really work in a flat where you definitely couldn t swing even a kitten, because there just isn t enough cleaning to do .
I m almost tempted to offer to clean my neighbours flats.
Or my friends .
I put my cloth back in the (currently stunningly clean and tidy) cupboard under the sink.
I m going to have to allow myself to think about Tom at some point. It should probably just be now.
Okay.
I go over to my sofa and sit down. Then I stand up and plump the cushions. Maybe I should give them all another vacuum.
No. Maybe I should just actually woman up and address in my mind what happened.
I sit back down.
So.
The sex. The amazing, out-of-this-world, fantastic sex. Well, it was at the time. Now it should probably be re-categorised as huge-mistake sex.
It just cemented the realisation that had been dawning on me but which I hadn t really been allowing to filter through properly that I am – obviously – deeply, probably irrevocably, in love with Tom.
And this morning, the way he slid out of my room as soon as he could, just cemented the knowledge that I already had that he is not, and never will be, in love with me.
It s ironic, because it s like him and Lola. He s interested in her but she is blatantly not interested in him now and might never really have been. (The woman is clearly mad.)
The whole time I ve known Tom I ve thought that he should actually just move on from Lola. Obviously that s easier said than done. Hope is the killer of recovery from unrequited love. So I think you have to kill the hope. I think Tom should have killed his hope that Lola would come back to him. He should have told her that he was moving on and didn t want to be in contact again. And then he would have found it easier to stop thinking about her.
I stand up to go and put the (lovely, shiny, vinegar-and-bicarb-of-soda-descaled) kettle on.
And while I m filling it I realise that I should take my own advice.
It s not like I can be any more humiliated by this situation. I just need to help myself recover from this.
I m going to do with Tom what he should have done with Lola.
I m going to send him a message.
I know this is the right thing to do, so before I can change my mind (because let s face it I probably can be even more humiliated by this), I pick up my phone and type.
Hi Tom. I m going to get straight to the point. I love you. I am in love with you. Clearly you do not feel the same way and there s no reason that you should. So I need to get over you, basically. And so I can t see you again. I ll explain to Carole, Bea and Ruth if they want the five of us to meet again. Perhaps you and I can meet them separately if you d like to stay in touch with them. (I would.) Anyway. I wish you all the very best. Nadia
And then, without rereading it or questioning whether or not I should send it, I do send it.
Tom is not Lola. He reads the message almost immediately, and he replies almost immediately.
I don t know what to say. I m so sorry for having hurt you. I would never want to do that. You re a wonderful person. I wish you the very best too. Tom
I read it through dry eyes, and then through tears, and then I can t read at all because I m crying so hard.
It was the right thing to do.
I m not going to see Tom again. He s out of my life. End of.