Chapter Six
It turns out we really do have a problem. A big, freezing cold one.
‘So, how did this happen?’ I ask.
Standing here, staring at it, my teeth chattering and my toes going numb, it seems kind of obvious. I know how it happened but I don’t understand why.
‘I guess we left the garage door open when we got in last night,’ he says.
‘Ah, yes, we left the garage door open,’ I reply. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think something was up when you lead me in through the garage.’
‘OK, fine, I was drunk and I must not have pushed the button to close the door behind us,’ he says. ‘Happy?’
‘Ecstatic,’ I reply. ‘So, I imagine you’ve called me here to help shift it?’
Chris grabs two shovels that are leaning against the wall next to him.
‘You want the red one of the green one?’ he asks, confirming my suspicions.
I grab the red one and start shovelling snow.
In case it isn’t obvious, the door has been open all night, and all day, and so there’s a fair amount of snow inside. There’s more coming in as we’re shovelling, but thankfully we can shovel faster than the tiny snowflakes can present a problem. But we can’t close the garage door until all the snow is shifted and, even if we could, obviously we can’t leave all this snow in here. When it melts it will turn to water and that’s a problem all of its own.
‘So, what would you be doing tonight, if you weren’t stuck here with me?’ I ask Chris.
This will go a lot faster if we chat while we’re doing it.
‘I’d be spending it with my dad,’ he says. ‘My mum died a few days before Christmas, a few years ago, so this is always a tough time of year for us. We sit up late, we drink, we watch Jools' Annual Hootenanny . It’s really low-key but I think we both know how much it means to the other person. We just don’t say it, because we’re men.’
He says this in a gruff voice, to let me know he’s kind of joking about that last part.
Wow, I wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.
‘I’m sorry,’ I tell him sincerely. ‘That must be really hard.’
‘Cheers,’ he replies. ‘It is hard to navigate. Going through the motions of the festive period always serves as a reminder. It anchors the grief. So, it’s all “this time that year we were…” kind of thing.’
‘How long ago was it?’ I ask. I wouldn’t usually pry but I get the feeling he wants to talk about it.
‘Three years,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe it’s been three years. It seems like yesterday. I remember, dad was out buying her a present – I would have to nag him to go out and get something himself, I told him it didn’t mean as much if I did it for him – and while he was out I helped mum put the tree up. She had an old artificial one in the loft – older than me, I think. It had definitely seen better days. I helped her put it up, I must have wrapped hundreds of lights around it. I remember she sassed me, after watching me painstakingly untangle them and wrap them around the 6ft tree, trying so desperately not to tangle them again – she joked that they weren’t right and could I start again.’
Chris laughs. As painful as the memories are for him, you can see the comfort he takes from the good bits.
‘She sounds funny,’ I tell him.
‘She was,’ he replies. ‘She died in her sleep that night. It was such a shock. So sudden. She wasn’t even ill.’
‘That’s horrible,’ I reply. ‘Chris, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine, losing someone at this time of year.’
‘It’s the worst time to lose someone,’ he says. ‘Not just because it’s Christmas, and everyone is happy, but because you feel their ghost more than you would at another other time. Mum died on the 23 rd December and we couldn’t even have her funeral until the second week of January. It was like we couldn’t lay her to rest. Plus, she’d bought and wrapped us all presents, so that was heart-breaking. Even the small ones, like the socks, I can’t bring myself to wear them.’
I feel this tugging feeling in my chest. I hardly know Chris and I feel broken-hearted for him. He might be a bit of a dick, who does very silly things, but I wouldn’t wish what he’s been through on my worst enemy.
‘Sorry, look at your face,’ he says. ‘I’m not trying to get sympathy.’
I didn’t realise I was making a face but, obviously, how could I feel anything but sorry for him right now?
‘It’s not that,’ I lie. ‘I think this might be the most words you’ve said to me at once today. I didn’t think you did chatting. And for the first time, I just feel like I know you’re being honest with me.’
‘I’m almost always honest,’ he says with a cheeky grin. ‘And tactful. I’m not saying a word about your shovelling.’
‘I’ll shovel it where the sun doesn’t shine if you say a word,’ I threaten.
‘Go on then, what were your big plans for tonight?’ he asks.
‘I was going out with my friends,’ I tell him. ‘We had a table booked at a club. I suppose it’s a good job I’m not going. There’s no way I would have felt like boozing again.’
‘You don’t spend New Year’s Eve with your family then?’ he asks curiously.
‘No,’ I reply.
Chris looks at me. How on Earth could he have detected a tone when I tried my hardest to make sure I gave nothing away?
‘I feel like there’s a reason for that,’ he says. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘This new version of you who talks is very disconcerting,’ I reply.
‘You don’t have to talk about stuff, just because I did,’ he says.
Just hearing him saying that, like he’s just so much better at opening up than I am, is enough to make me want to share.
‘I’m not on the best terms with my sister,’ I tell him. ‘She’s 28, but my parents still treat her like a baby, so when she broke up with yet another boyfriend and wound up homeless, they took her back in.’
‘Wouldn’t any parent do that?’ Chris replies.
‘I’m sure they would,’ I reply. ‘And I’m sure they would do the same for me, if I needed it.’
Like if, for example, I lost my job because my boss found out I’d been sleeping in his bed. I’m sure they would visit me in prison too.
‘The problem is how she’s been treating them,’ I continue. ‘She loves to act like the baby and they love to treat her that way, but she’s been taking the piss. My parents don’t have much money and she’s completely sponging off them. She lets my mum run around after her, she uses their cards to shop online – and they let her, because they’re too soft. My mum feels sorry for her. She’ll make her all her favourite foods, and make excuses for her behaviour, because she’s “had her heart broken” but, come on, enough is enough.’
‘Doesn’t she have a job?’ Chris asks curiously.
‘Claire’s ex was her manager, at the pet shop where she works, so no, the job kind of went out of the window with the man and the home.’
‘So, she’s with your parents tonight then?’
‘Well, get this, because this is the straw that broke the camel’s back,’ I rant on. He’s got me started now. ‘To supposedly say thank you for everything they’ve done for her, she bought them a spa trip with an overnight stay in a hotel.’
‘Sounds nice,’ he says.
‘Yeah, except obviously she bought them it with their own money, and she also booked herself a place to go with them, and she booked it for New Year’s Eve. And she didn’t think it was right to use their money on me, so she only booked it for the three of them.’
‘OK, that’s mean,’ Chris says. ‘Couldn’t she have asked your parents if you could go too?’
‘Claire was already mad at me because I called her out,’ I explain. ‘My parents were too nice to tell her to sort her life out. I politely offered to help her find a new job and a place to live and that was it, she fell out with me. She’s my sister and I love her but she can be so stubborn. I only wanted to help her, and my parents, but now we’re hardly speaking. Christmas Day was unbearable, so I’m happy not being with them tonight. Of course, I would rather be with my friends.’
‘But you’re stuck here with me,’ Chris says with a sigh.
Suddenly I feel a bit bad, for implying that Chris isn’t my friend, but he isn’t, is he?
‘I didn’t mean…’
As I step towards him I lose my footing and head straight for the floor. Luckily I narrowly avoid landing on the hard garage floor. Instead, I land on a big fluffy pile of snow and while it isn’t painful, it is absolutely freezing, and I can feel the wetness soaking through my clothes.
‘Shit, are you OK?’ Chris asks.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I insist, jumping to my feet, dusting myself down. ‘Just cold and wet and kind of embarrassed.’
‘Why don’t you go have a bath and put some dry clothes on,’ Chris insists. ‘I can finish up here.’
‘Are you sure?’ I reply.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘You’ll soon feel the cold in wet clothes. Go, have a bath, and wait there for further instructions.’
I raise an eyebrow.
‘Well, that sounds interesting,’ I say.
‘It is interesting,’ he replies with a smile. ‘If I were you, I’d get a move on.’
‘OK,’ I say.
There’s an undeniable spring in my step as I head for the bathroom. I can’t believe I’m only just saying this now, after everything that has happened so far, but things just got very interesting…