Chapter 54
54
“Courtney hasn’t come in.” Shrill with stress, Emilien was balancing four fried breakfasts on his arms. “She’s not at home and she’s not answering her mobile.”
“But…” Courtney hadn’t even been drinking last night at Ben’s. Unless she had abandoned that plan and was currently sleeping off a hangover in a bed other than her own? And that was the least-worst scenario.
“Let me see what I can find out.” I grabbed three muffins and hurried upstairs to the bridal suite.
Last night after I’d slunk, devastated, out of Joey’s room, clutching my boots and socks, I’d gone to Rachel’s room, praying that she and Luke were home from the party.
She opened the door, taking in my bare feet and smeared makeup. “…Are you okay?”
“Fine. But I’m leaving. Going back to Dublin.”
“Now?” Luke had materialized at her shoulder.
“Yep.”
Rachel and Luke exchanged a look.
“Why don’t we get a drink?” Luke suggested, pointing towards the stairs down to the lounge.
“No.” I felt humiliated, rejected, angry with myself, angry with Joey, ashamed of being angry with him…“Can I come in? Thanks.” When I was installed on their couch, drinking their Sprite, I said, “I’m not staying long because I need to be awake for the drive.”
“What’ll you do when you get to Dublin?” Rachel asked, the way you’d humor a lunatic.
“Pick up my passport, go to the airport and catch a flight to…Kampala. Or Samoa.” Any location very far away, where I could hopefully escape my shame and rule out the chance of ever meeting Joey again.
“Is this something to do with Joey?” Luke asked.
I blurted, “He wouldn’t sleep with me.”
“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was soothing. “He’s doing his best to be a good guy.”
“I know .” I didn’t want to hear about how great Joey was, how hard he was trying.
“He’s had such a bad attitude towards women,” Luke said. “And he wants to do better.”
Yes, I knew . I effing knew . But there was no point being upset with Joey. The only person to blame was me.
“We can never get it right,” I said.
The very first night we’d seen each other, wild sexual chemistry had sparked. But over the years, it developed into something more, a strong emotional connection.
“You’re the expert,” I told Rachel. “But this is what I think. We all have wounds, yes? Joey has his. I have mine. Any relationship has to incorporate the…whatever you want to call them—all our scared parts and the mad longings, you know, the wounds . Something about the way Joey and my wounded parts rubbed off each other just seemed to make more wounds. Does that make sense?”
Sounding very like a therapist, Rachel asked, “Would you like to be more specific?”
No. I totally wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never.
“We’re just one long string of Almosts.”
A wave of tiredness made me woozy. “I’m going downstairs for a flask of coffee for the drive.”
“Why don’t you wait till daylight?” Rachel did more of her humoring-the-mad-person routine. “You can sleep in with me.”
“And I can share Joey’s bed,” Luke said.
“Lucky you.” My tone was so bitter that all three of us dissolved into convulsions. “Okay. Thanks. But I’m leaving first thing.”
“After breakfast,” Rachel said. “Then there’s the scavenger hunt. And the funfair and—”
“First thing.” My tone was clipped. “That’s when I’m off.”
—
But after twisting and turning half the night, when I finally fell asleep I didn’t wake until nine thirty with such a roaring hunger I had to nip to the breakfast room in the hoodie and leggings Rachel had lent me—where the news that Courtney was MIA sent me hot-footing right back upstairs to the bridal suite, to discover a nest of bodies, all heavily asleep. I launched myself at the nearest one, who happened to be Helen, and shook her awake.
“Where’s Courtney? Did she drive you home last night?”
Helen opened her eyes. All her makeup was still on. “Courts?” Helen’s voice was hoarse. “No. She and your man—”
“The guard?”
“Who? No, the Hollywood lad.” Finally she hit upon his name. “ Ben . Pair of them disappeared. Up stairs. The Vivian pick-me was so pissed off. This town is hilarious. Let’s live here forever.”
“Did you drive home?” She couldn’t have. I’d never seen a more hungover human.
“Are you joking? The Death Star is still up there. People made calls and someone called Farrelly the Flowers came in his van and took the lot of us. He says ‘Hello, Sweet-face’ to you. He wouldn’t take any money because the go-boy bought so many flowers the other day.”
Suddenly alert, I asked, “Where’s Regan?”
“Gone to the beach with Joey.”
I flinched at his name. When the shockwave passed, I got out my phone to call Ben about Courtney.
“Anna,” Helen growled, summoning me back to her bedside, her eyes closed. “I need to ask you something. It’s about Joey.”
Oh, here we go. “Nothing happened.”
Helen jerked upright in the bed, as if she’d been electric-shocked back from the dead. “I was only going to ask if it’s ‘Joe-boy’ or ‘the go-boy’!” She clutched my hoodie, her eyes wide. “But nothing happened ! Which means…What’s going on, Anna?”
I found Ben’s number and pressed it. “ Nothing. ”
“It’s the absolute opposite of nothing! Jesus, I sat up too fast, I might puke. Bring us a towel.”
Whipping a towel from a rail in the bathroom, I tossed it to her, just as Ben answered his phone.
“Sorry, Ben,” I said. “But would you know where Courtney is?”
“Ah, yeah. Yeah.” He sounded half-asleep. “She’s right here.”
“All good. Sorry again.” I rang off. Fair play to Courtney.
Everyone in the bridal suite was now coming to.
“Where did you spend the night?” Claire frowned.
“In Rachel’s room.”
“What was it like?” Mum asked. “Sharing the room with Luke? Had he his jocks on? Or was he, you know…?”
“I don’t know, he stayed with Joey.”
“In the same bed?” Claire was suddenly flushed. “Joey and Luke? I wouldn’t mind being the meat in that sandwich.” Then, “Sorry, sorry! It’s the testosterone. I can’t help it!”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock!” Margaret had just realized. “We’ll miss the breakfast!”
“It’s on till eleven today.”
“Still! Everyone up!”
While they dragged themselves, complaining, out of bed, I ate two of my three muffins. Eventually they all left, leaving me free to pack up and do my furtive flit. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? If I hightailed it out of here, I’d be doing what Joey and I had always done—a big, dramatic something followed by a long silence.
During my terrible night’s sleep, clarity had arrived. I’d long felt a rare tenderness towards Joey, something I was certain he needed and never really got.
What he gave me was harder to pin down—the closest word was probably respect.
But we could never make it happen. Messy circumstances, bad timing, whatever it was, it always blew up on us.
And here we were again. These days he was a principled adult, striving to do better. It was painful that we’d intersected at this part of his journey but perhaps he was right about me? How could I know what I wanted when nothing in my life was stable? In six months or a year who knew what would be going on? Unlikely as it seemed, I might go back to New York.
Right now, I was devastated. Maybe he was too? Or proud of himself for sticking to his plan? Either way, he and I were not going to happen.
I had to let him go. Again.
This was a chance to tell a different Anna-and-Joey story—or at least to change the ending. We could be civil, friendly, kind to each other.
There was less than a day to get through before he and I departed for Dublin and went our separate ways. Surely I could manage it?
A commotion at the door, accompanied by a clamor of complaints about their hang-xiety, the glare of the sun and the noisy bastards at the next table, announced the return of my roommates.
“Courtney’s in,” Helen said. “We couldn’t ask her about last night because she was—”
“—a blur of productivity—”
“—serving everyone—”
“—giving second breakfasts to people who’d already eaten—”
“She gave me eight slices of toast,” Francesca said.
“Get up,” Claire ordered me. “We’re doing the scavenger hunt.”
“Even though we don’t know what it is,” Mum said.
“Like a treasure hunt but shit is my guess,” Helen said. Widespread agreement greeted this. Even so, they remained enthusiastic.
“C’mon.” Claire eyed me impatiently. “Put some blusher on. It starts at twelve and we want a good spot.”
“I’m dying,” I said.
“We’re all dying. But we’re still showing up.”
“I’ve my period.”
“At your age?” Mum squawked.
“I’m only in my forties . And I’m in agony .” I wasn’t in any agony but I needed more thinking time. After casting one or two more ageist slurs my way (plus a packet of unwanted Solpadeine, courtesy of Claire, who was like a mobile pharmacy), they eventually left me in peace.
Shortly after, my phone beeped. A message from Joey. Hey x
My heart clenched. But I’d survived all the other emotional upheavals Joey had been responsible for; I’d survive this. I should actually be getting good at it. Like whenever an airline lost my luggage. The first time I’d been en route to a week-long conference in Bologna. With only the clothes I stood up in, I’d felt naked and terrified. The second occasion (another work thing) also had me gasping and floundering. The third go-round was still pretty rough—but I’d developed a few basic survival techniques from my first and second experiences.
I knew I’d be okay, even if I didn’t feel it right now.
Forcing myself to set aside my humiliation and think “friendly but loving thoughts,” I composed a cheery reply. Hey! What you up to?
Scavenger hunt. You coming?
What the hell, I decided. Why not?