Chapter 38
38
After taking two Panadol, I got into bed with my iPad. Buoyed by the sudden retreat of pain, it suddenly seemed possible to face my emails. They tended to be grim, financial things, nothing at all to bring cheer, so why would I bother? My bank statement had arrived a couple of days ago and I’d done an excellent job of ignoring it. Now, though, I took a look. My mortgage had gone out but a payment from the letting agent had come in. Breaking even, you could say. If only I wasn’t buying ridiculous fluorescent boleros.
Who knew how the next part of my life would unfold, but holy moly, the security of “owning” a place was priceless. Margaret was the person who deserved my gratitude. Back in the day, it was she who’d identified my apartment as The One, then pestered me relentlessly until I went to see it.
A gorgeous, affordable little one-bed in Two Bridges, a neighborhood right at the bottom of Manhattan, it had lots of light and a beautiful bedroom, overlooking a small garden. The only negative was that, just one floor off the ground, I could be vulnerable to break-ins.
It was the first apartment I’d viewed that I could imagine myself living in. But this hopeful realization was wiped out by the grief that Aidan wouldn’t be with me. I felt as broken as I had in the very early days. But when I woke up the next morning, I was ready.
Without even noticing, I’d been changing. Healing, really. Glimmers of a possible future had been making occasional appearances. Always followed, though, by corrosive guilt—which felt like it might not leave for a long long time. Maybe never.
But I was still alive. It was time to stop acting as if I’d died with him.
On my second viewing, I felt certain that this was the place. As if to copper-fasten the deal, a butterfly showed up, fluttering about, coming with me from room to room. Aidan was giving his blessing. Thank you .
Walking to get the subway home, I was already making plans. I’d have to see some expert about security, oh Lord, the tedium of it all, that stuff had been Aidan’s remit and, honestly, it was quite high on the list of the things I missed about him. Jolting me from my introspection, my phone rang. As always, it was Jacqui. My heart as heavy as a rock, I said, “I’m on my way.”
Far from Joey, Jacqui and Trea becoming a happy family, things were really toxic. Jacqui had broken up with Handsome Karl and was having friends-with-benefits sex with Joey. Except friends was exactly what they weren’t.
Their whole thing was so messy. Months earlier Joey had told me that Jacqui kept setting him up for failure. I’d scoffed at him—but he’d been right. She asked for things he couldn’t give, always to do with Trea: he was to see her on specific days at specific times. Even when he protested that he couldn’t, she stuck to her guns, then raged when he let her down.
She couldn’t stop herself and I understood why. With every fuck-up, Joey felt guilty. This gave Jacqui a small amount of power over him. But it was false power—and unsustainable. The game-playing, the rage, the longing, all of it was eating her up to the point where I was worried.
And I despaired of him. He wasn’t stupid: he must know she couldn’t have emotion-free sex with him.
At her apartment, she was in tears. “Anna, I fancy him so much and have to keep seeing him. I wish I could just cut off all contact.”
“Stop sleeping with him,” I said. “It’s making you feel worse. You can’t go on in this state.”
“I don’t believe he’s ‘working.’?”
“Jacqui, he is.”
Her anger flared. “Why are you taking his side?”
This was so tiring. Joey had pulled off the first deal, the one with the cargo ship. But he was working harder than before, to capitalize on the momentum. “Jacqui, I know you’re not keen but I think you should see a therapist.”
Instantly, her tears dried. “You’re saying I’m mental. Nice, Anna, very nice.”
“That’s not what I meant. Jacqui, no!” I was babbling in panic. “I want to help, but forget I said anything.”
She was the person I loved most in the whole world. Having lost Aidan, I couldn’t run the risk of losing her. I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
A couple of hours later, Joey turned up. “Sorry,” he said. “I told her I couldn’t get here at the time she wanted.”
I nodded, too worn out to engage. I just wanted to escape.
“Was she pissed?” he asked.
“She’s a wreck, Joey. I’m worried about her. She’s not able for…” Despairingly, I spread my arms to encompass him. “…this. You’ve got to be kinder to her.”
“How? What should I do?”
He needed to either stop sleeping with her or fully commit, but it wasn’t my place to say it. I was worried I’d already said too much.
“Jacqui needs certainty. And remember, there’s a little girl in the middle of this. She’s got to be your priority.”
“Certainty?” He knew what I meant. “Noted.”
I began to gather my stuff.
“So…ah?” He was obviously looking for a neutral subject. “How’s the apartment-hunting going?”
Unexpected pleasure sparked. “You know what? I think I’ve found a place.”
“Oh, wow, congratulations. That’s big, right? You know, with Aidan…?”
His sensitivity surprised me. “I felt so guilty,” I admitted. “But I’m still alive…”
“Yep. So you gotta keep living. Doing it for him as much as for you.”
“That’s it, that’s how I feel. Take a look at the brochure. Cute, right?” I couldn’t hide my fondness. “But there’s this little garden. Am I paranoid or would it be easy to break in through the back of the building? I’d only be one floor off the ground.”
He studied the photo. “Yeah. But. Get an alarm. Proper doors and windows.”
“I’m clueless about that stuff. The guy would tell me I needed the God-tier version and I wouldn’t know if I did or didn’t. Maybe I’ll ask Luke to come with me.”
“D’you want me to take a look? I know about home security.”
“You? How?”
“From another life. I’m literally an expert. Saturday do you?”
“…Aaaah. I’ll need to check with the realtor. I’ll text.”
I had to call Luke, though. “You know I’m looking at apartments?” I explained my situation. “Joey said he’s an expert on home security.”
“He said that? Yeah. It’s…” Luke hesitated over the word. “…true.”
Next, I sought Jacqui’s approval.
“What would that tool know about home security?”
“Luke says he does.”
“He’s so compartmentalized…His left bollock doesn’t know what his right bollock is doing. Well, go on ahead. Although he’ll probably be eight hours late, if he shows at all.” Then, “Why don’t you just move in with us? If he ever buys us that apartment he keeps talking about, you, me and Trea can live together.”
I didn’t want to, not anymore. The realization shocked me. Women were always there for other women—that was one of life’s immutable truths. But the nonstop drama was exhausting. Jacqui needed more emotional support than I could give. Over two and a half years on from Aidan’s death, I was still depleted of everything: compassion, joy, the energy to wade into Jacqui’s life and try to fix it. The basics were all I could manage—washing myself, showing up at work, paying bills—and viewing the occasional apartment. But there was nothing extra, nothing left over.
I’d even gently extricated myself from the dismal weekends in Boston with Aidan’s family. They had, just as gently, let me go. They were lovely people but the weekends felt more like vigils. Returning to New York on a Sunday evening, I always felt worse than I had on Friday. Perhaps they did too?
For the longest time, having given up on a meaningful life, I’d been totally available to Jacqui. She was my only truly intimate relationship. While I’d been going to the psychics, I’d made a circle of “recently bereaved” friends, but they’d drifted away. My older friendships had lapsed because people thought I should be back to normal by now. Occasionally I could show up and put on an act but for days afterwards I felt destroyed.
Nevertheless, fresh shoots were stirring. I hadn’t seen Angelo since that afternoon at the exhibition, but I’d have liked to.
How was poor Jacqui to know I was different, if I didn’t tell her? But she was too strung out and I was too tired.
When I arrived at “my” apartment, Joey was already there, charming the realtor (a woman). She seemed reluctant to leave us.
—
Silently Joey moved through the empty rooms, shaking window frames, removing and replacing a ventilation grille, examining the lock on the front door. We finished our short tour in the bathroom.
“You need a whole new front door,” he said. “Something much stronger, with deadlocks. You’re right about the garden. The windows are your most vulnerable points. They need locks and alarms, all of them.”
“Even that tiny one?” I pointed at a window, maybe eighteen inches square, high up in the bathroom wall.
“It’s big enough. A kid could get through there, no bother. Once they’re in, they open the door from the inside, let the big guys in. Happens all the time.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He was so cynical.
“Anna. It does.”
I frowned at his conviction. “How do you know?”
“How do you think?”
“ You were burgled?”
His expression was strange. Urgent. “Try again.”
“I don’t know.” I was baffled. “What am I missing?” Then I went cold. “Joey, you were the kid?”
He was completely still, his eyes on mine.
“Joey?” My voice was a husk. “You broke into houses?”
Silently, he inclined his head.
A thousand words rushed into my mouth. All I could manage was, “When?”
“From age ten, until I got too big.”
“…What age was that?”
“Thirteen.”
“Who did you…who made you do it?”
“My dad and Keith, my brother.”
Nothing in my life had prepared me for this conversation. “And then…what? You were set free? That must have been a relief.”
Joey shrugged.
“It wasn’t ?”
“They didn’t want me anymore. I’d been part of something,” he said. “I belonged. I mattered. If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have gotten in.”
“But…” I hardly knew where to start: what they had done to Joey was criminal.
“Overnight, I was nothing. I’d no mates anyway, I’d pretty much stopped going to school…”
“What about your mum?”
“What could she do?”
“Protect you! Make them stop.”
“She had to do what she was told.” His eyes were suspiciously bright. “Until I met Luke, then Gaz, I was…” He cleared his throat. “I was all on my own.”
I was stunned into silence.
I’d known none of this. But Joey didn’t exactly invite heart-to-hearts.
“Luke and the guys are my real family, have been since I was fifteen, sixteen.”
I stopped breathing—was he still operating on the wrong side of the law? And if so, what did it mean for Jacqui and Trea?
“You have the worst poker face.” He managed a twisted smile. “All above board now. Has been for a long time. But I don’t talk about it. Jacqui doesn’t know.”
“Joey.” I was insistent. “If she knew, she’d understand you better and—”
“Never going to happen.” Suddenly we were back to defiant Joey. “And you are not to tell her.”
“But…I have to!”
“No. It was, like, decades ago, no longer relevant. So, you want a list of what you need done here?”
“…I think I’ve got it.”
Out on the street, still dazed, I said, “Thanks for doing this.”
“Anytime.” He was staring over my head.
“Joey?” I needed some sort of acknowledgement. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Never better. Gotta go.” Already he was hailing a cab.
I watched him slide in, disappearing into the stream of traffic even before his door was closed.
Disturbed and weepy, I went home and hid out for the rest of the weekend. There was no way I could see Jacqui. How would I explain my broken state?
But I needed someone to talk to and Luke was the only candidate.
“Do you know why I’m calling?” I asked him. “Have you been speaking to Joey?”
“Um, yeah. But not about anything major. What’s up, Anna?”
“He viewed that apartment with me. He told me about when he was a kid, breaking into homes—”
“He told you?” Luke was astonished.
“Does Rachel know?” I asked. “She does? Can I come by?”
In their living room, I sobbed my way through handfuls of tissues. “The saddest part isn’t even being made to break into houses. But being abandoned when he outgrew it. Just, cast aside, like he was nothing. And he was only… thirteen .” I howled with grief.
“Anna.” Rachel picked her words carefully. “Maybe this isn’t really about Joey.”
“It is, though. I keep feeling the way Joey felt. When he said he was ‘all on his own.’?” Another storm of tears shook me. “I felt it, Rachel, I felt his aloneness. I still feel it.”
“In February it’ll be three years since you lost Aidan.” Her tone was careful. “It could be your own aloneness you’re feeling?”
“It’s not.” My voice was thick. “I’m telling you, it’s his . What can I do? Should I try talking to him? But that would be weird, because of Jacqui…”
“Do nothing.” Rachel was adamant. “This will pass. Listen to me, Anna, it’s important , your feelings will settle. Jacqui is your friend, Joey isn’t, this is all messed up. Don’t make it worse.”
I took a long, shuddery breath. “Okay.” If I called Joey, I’d be crossing a line. If Jacqui found out, the consequences could be catastrophic.
—
Early the following week, all hell broke loose when Joey told Jacqui they shouldn’t sleep together any longer, that it was confusing for both of them.
Maybe it had nothing to do with the scolding I’d given him, what now felt like a lifetime ago. Probably not, I told myself, remembering a great saying: You’re not the bride at every wedding or the corpse at every funeral.
But let’s face it, you have to be the corpse at one funeral.
I had thought certainty would be the best thing for Jacqui. But now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Seeing her so upset was horrible. Worse still, if she found out I’d suggested it, she’d blame me and I was so scared of losing her.
“There are other men out there,” I promised her. “Great ones. But you’ll never meet them if you stay hung up on this commitment-phobe.”
“I want this one.”
“He’s never going to be the man you want him to be.”
“He already is.”
My fervent wish was an unlikely one: the chance to rewrite history, even by just a couple of weeks. Failing that, to never see Joey again.
The second option was actually a possibility. Joey probably wanted to avoid me as much as I did him: from his behavior that day after we’d left the apartment, it was obvious he’d regretted opening his mouth.
Barely a week later, I got a last-minute call from Jacqui—Joey had once again let her down and my presence was required. There was no way I could refuse.
The evening ticked by with agonizing slowness, but once we got to 11 p.m., I thought I was in the clear. Then he arrived.
“Trea asleep?”
I nodded.
“I’m here now.” His tone was polite. “You can go.” He sat on the far end of Jacqui’s couch and looked at his phone as he spoke. “The usual apologies and thanks. You’ve heard it all before, you can write the script.”
I got my stuff together, threw on my jacket and went to the door. “Okay. Bye.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t turn his head. “Bye.”
But something resuscitated my sorrow. Turning back into the room, I slid onto the couch. “Joey. Are you…okay?”
“Totally.” His face was blank.
“Joey.” I tried to swallow away the lump in my throat. “What you told me…that day in the—”
His eyes flashed bright with anger. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Now you think I’m some tragic case—”
“You were a child.” I couldn’t hold back my tears.
He looked appalled.
“You were a child.” Now I was full-on sobbing. “And you were… all alone .”
“Aw, Anna, no .” He was so uncomfortable. “Please stop.”
I couldn’t. I sat and sobbed, then he was at my side. I reached for him, crying into his neck.
“Sssh, Anna, sssh.” He spoke into my hair. “There’s no need for this.”
It was wild that he was comforting me , a woman weeping over a tragic past he no longer cared about. “Stop crying. Please stop.”
“I can’t,” I choked. “I honestly can’t.”
“It’s okay, Anna.” His voice was the same low caress he used for speaking to Trea. “That was the past. Look at me now, it’s all okay. I’m good.”
I lifted my head and said, with teary defiance, “You’re not. But you did nothing wrong.”
“I know—”
“You don’t . You’re angry, you push everyone away, it’s like you hate the people who love you.”
His face, so close to mine, registered shock.
“Joey, you’ve got to let somebody love you.”
He looked almost puzzled, then his lips touched the skin beneath my eye, a tiny flutter as he kissed away one of my tears. Then another. What the hell? I’d already begun struggling out of his hold when he murmured, “Anna.” My eyes met his and my body froze. Oh God, no .
His hands were in my hair and his mouth was on mine. I was trapped in a bad dream: Jacqui’s Joey was kissing me. This was every sort of wrong.
Abruptly, he reared back from me. “Anna, we can’t do it like this—”
On my feet, I said, “What are you talking about? We’re not going to do anything.” I gestured around the apartment. “Jacqui’s my best friend!”
He looked very young. “Anna, I’m sorry, I thought…”
“I didn’t mean me!” I was panicking. “You should let people love you but I didn’t mean me. Listen, Joey, this didn’t happen. It will never happen.”
“Okay.” But his hands hung loose. He seemed puzzled and sad.
“It can never happen,” I stressed. “And Jacqui can never find out. Ever. ”
He took a breath. “It didn’t happen. It will never happen. And Jacqui can never find out.”