20
I’m surprised I manage to walk to Lydia’s table without a stumble. The waitress squeezes my shoulder before she leaves us, and Lydia eyes the gesture with interest.
I sit woodenly opposite, and a confused Lydia retraces my steps to the bar. Her pupils turn to pinpoints and she mouths fuck . ‘I get why you get so flustered. He’s even hotter in person. And he was sex on legs in the photos.’ She cranes her neck to see better.
‘Don’t. How is it that, until this year, I hadn’t seen him for ten years and now he seems to be everywhere I go?’ I vent. I don’t tell her he gave me the cut when I walked past him because I’m embarrassed, and a part of me naively hopes that maybe he didn’t see me. I peruse the drinks menu to busy myself, pretending to be as engrossed in it as if it was the next book by Colleen Hoover. The satisfied feeling of victory over Aaron is gone.
‘Serendipity?’ Lydia offers.
‘Bad fortune more like it,’ I reply sourly.
‘I do have to say you’ve got good taste. I would have cowboy dreams about that bad boy any night.’
A waiter comes to take our order and clears their throat awkwardly. I think the ship called Dignity has long sailed away with the rug.
I order some fancy-sounding fruity cocktail, and together we pick a few starters before we choose mains.
‘Is now the time to tell me why you’ve lugged a rug to the restaurant? I thought I’d give you a minute to catch your breath.’ She’s so unaffected when she says this, like this is totally normal behaviour, that I burst out laughing, and Lydia follows. She shakes her head. ‘Seriously, only you.’ Her words bring on another bout of laughter. I think I’m turning hysterical.
In between heaving, I confess, ‘I went to Aaron’s and threatened him with a solicitor if he didn’t pay me back.’
Her hand raises to fist bump me, and only because it’s Lydia, I raise my fist to meet with hers. ‘Good for you, girl.’ Pride warms up my belly once again.
‘Did everyone see me with the rug?’ I scan my surroundings self-consciously and end up on Alex who’s on the phone, smiling. I freeze. I’ve never seen him looking this carefree and wonder, with a pang of jealousy, who’s transformed his face like that.
‘Nah. Only about half of the people here.’ She waves her hand in dismissal; she’s never cared about what people think.
When I ask her about how things are going in the love department, she surprises me by telling me about having TED Talk Ted over on Monday.
I must look confused because she explains, ‘I have my needs. There’s no big love written in the stars for me anyway, so I might as well enjoy some mediocre sex.’ She takes a sip from her glass of water before she elaborates, ‘We both know I’m not the sort of person who can ever completely fall head over heels or even be able to trust somebody on that level.’ Her tone is subdued, almost mournful.
‘That’s news to me. Are you suggesting that only a certain type of people fall in love because of their proclivity to trust?’ It’s a very sad outlook on life but sums up Lydia to the point.
Our conversation is interrupted by the waiter bringing our food and drinks. Everything smells divine, and the air around us fills with the scent of chillies and coriander. We tuck in, silent for a few moments.
‘I think it’s about the level of vulnerability you’re able to extend to the other person and your ability to trust.’ Lydia’s statement drips with resignation. She always seems like she’s above it all, but I wonder whether that’s not the case this time. ‘I’ve never been able to let go to the degree of giving it all.’
‘Would you like to be that person who gives it all?’
‘Maybe?’ She sounds uncertain for the first time. ‘I’m just tired of being alone, Hols. It would be nice, for once, to have someone to take care of me.’ I reach for her hand on the table, and she squeezes mine. Affection curls the corners of her lips upwards.
‘Then we’ll stay alone together.’ I assure her.
‘You know that Aaron was talking out of his arse when he called you an ice queen?’ Lydia says between two mouthfuls like she can read my mind.
She moves on to the sticky skewer starter as she nonchalantly finishes with, ‘You’ll find someone someday.’ With a suggestive wink, she tosses her head towards the bar.
I shake my head violently. ‘No way. He doesn’t feel like that, and I don’t feel like that, and anyway, there’s too much bad history between us.’
She sips slowly the margarita that she’s been working on since I got here. ‘So why does he keep looking in your direction every two minutes if he doesn’t feel like that?’ I flush at her comment. ‘Hols, you were teenagers. I did some bad shit when I was seventeen; everyone did. Not that I’m excusing him of the shit he did, but maybe he’s a different person now.’
I consider her words. ‘It wouldn’t matter anyway at this point. I think he’s angry with me because I basically ignored him after he gave me a mind-blowing orgasm.’ I change my mind. Again. I can’t keep up with my mental gymnastics these days. ‘But maybe I should listen to you and Catherine. Maybe I should apologise and just enjoy his company while it lasts at least,’ I babble on.
Before Lydia has a chance to really process my words, she gets distracted and gestures towards the bar. ‘New developments.’
Alex is joined by Jane, all prim and sexy in her burgundy dress and pointy glasses. Immediately, she gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. If I didn’t like Jane, I would wish her a slow, torturous death right now and the newborn propensity to violence shocks me to the core.
‘That’s Jane Trainer. The principal,’ I say tightly, all the bad thoughts swirling in my head like a solitary olive at the bottom of a dirty martini.
‘The principal he’s sleeping with according to the gossip?’ Lydia’s perfect eyebrows rise in question. She studies Jane as she leans over the counter and says something to the barmaid at which the black-haired female laughs. ‘They’re not sleeping together,’ Lydia announces enigmatically.
‘How do you know? Do you have a radar for that kind of thing?’ I shake my head. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.’ She smirks, but then her expression is wiped clean.
‘They’re heading our way,’ Lydia grinds out through her teeth.
Off its own accord, my leg starts jiggling up and down when I connect the empty table next to us with their approaching figures. Alex is distinctly grey, his eyes glancing my way a few times before they settle on the ground.
‘Check out those posh shoes,’ Lydia exclaims.
‘She’s actually a nice person so please behave,’ I hiss.
She doesn’t acknowledge my words and carries on, ‘God, he’s not very happy to see you, is he? I sense pent-up resentment. What did you do to him on Friday?’ Lydia is right; he’s put off without a doubt. ‘Oh. It must be the whole you-ignoring-him-after-he-gave-you-a-good-ride-on-his-hand thing.’ My cheeks heat at her words.
Before I can compose myself, they’re upon us.
Jane is genuinely beaming at me while Alex looks like he’s just had all his wisdom teeth removed and was told that all his molars will have to go, too, but there’s no anaesthetic left.
‘Hi, Holly. So nice to see you here,’ Jane says kindly when they reach the table. She sends Alex a loaded look that he ignores. He nods our way, always the conversationalist.
It doesn’t escape me how his gaze snags on my red lips, and a wave of heat sweeps over me.
‘Should we get rid of the divider?’ Jane offers with cheer unusual for her, and Lydia agrees with an eagerness that is equally out of character. She’s enjoying this way too much. Alex’s expression turns so sour I almost laugh out loud. Jane snorts. ‘Don’t be a killjoy, Alex. The more the merrier.’
I’m gobsmacked because I’ve never seen anybody speak so frankly to him. I think Alex grumbles the fewer the better fare under his breath, but maybe I’ve imagined it. It doesn’t escape me that Lydia studies Jane with a new-found interest.
Once we push the divider out of the way, join our tables together and get seated, I introduce Lydia. ‘This is Lydia, my best friend. Lydia, this is Jane, the principal at my school, and Alex, my…’ My words fail for the shortest second, but Alex spots it as I finish, ‘my ECT mentor and vice head.’
‘So formal, Holly.’ Jane laughs. ‘Nice to meet you, Lydia,’ she says with warmth in her tone, and Lydia smirks like she knows something I don’t. They shake hands, and Lydia’s hand lingers a second too long.
The waiter from earlier comes to take their orders, and when Jane orders herself a margarita, Alex goes for green tea. Silence settles over the table; it’s going to be a long evening.
Sensing the tense atmosphere, Jane starts asking Lydia questions about her job. I end up tuning in and out of their conversation as they seem to entertain each other while I’m surreptitiously watching Alex, who radiates discomfort with the intensity of a subatomic particle. Where I join in a few times as they talk, Alex doesn’t speak at all.
‘I’ve heard about your trip to the farm.’ Jane tries to lighten up the atmosphere. I blink in horror.
I cannot stop myself from throwing daggers in Alex’s direction, and for a moment, there’s a fragment of amusement on his face, but it’s gone in a second.
‘Which part have you heard about?’
‘Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her about a pig licking your calf. I left that for the next inset day.’ He speaks for the first time. His tone is so deadpan I choke on my curry. Lydia openly cackles, delighted.
‘Have we all finished amusing ourselves with Holly’s animal-themed disasters?’ I ask, but I’m suppressing a laugh.
The conversation steers to neutral topics after that, and Alex even occasionally contributes. It’s marginally less awkward, but we reach a natural pause after Lydia and I have finished our dishes.
Jane excuses herself to visit the ladies, and Alex offers to order her another drink at the bar. It’s his move to avoid staying alone with us, and I can’t blame him.
When we’re alone at the table, I lean into Lydia. ‘Can we please go now?’
‘If that’s what you want.’ I nod.
I hesitate as I get to my feet. ‘Wait. I think I’ll go to the bar first and talk to Alex.’ I promised myself that I’d be brave from now on. I’m a big girl, and I can admit when I owe an apology to someone. Lydia nods in understanding.
But when I weave through the tables heading towards Alex, I hear two raised voices.
‘Why are you being like that?’ Jane asks sternly, her lips pursed in disagreement.
‘Like what?’ Alex grates and leans against the wooden counter, pretending to look relaxed, but his stiff back says otherwise.
‘Unreasonable. Talk to her. There’s clearly something going on between you. You can’t carry on pretending like you don’t care.’ Jane’s tone turns insistent.
I shift nervously, torn between making myself known and waiting for what they’re going to say next. My curiosity wins, and I hide behind a potted palm.
‘There’s nothing to be said.’ Jane’s eyes turn sceptical, and she reaches for his hand. He shakes her off and pushes away from the bar. ‘I don’t care. She’s nothing to me and there’s nothing between us. I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She’s bad news. A walking disaster. Once she passes her ECT time, we don’t need to talk to each other ever again and good riddance to that.’
My breath snags in my lungs, and I must make a sound because they both spin on their heel. Alex’s cheeks drain of colour, and Jane’s mouth falls open.
I turn around and head woodenly towards Lydia who is chatting to a male couple she must know.
‘Hey, Lydia. I’m ready to go home. I don’t mind if you want to stay.’ I eye the two guys, and they both nod to me in hello. I return the gesture stiffly because inside I’m boiling, unsure how long I can keep pretending I’m calm.
‘You’re OK? I promised to share a taxi with you.’ Lydia sounds uncertain like she can read me.
‘That’s alright. I’ll take a bus; I’m just feeling really tired.’ I dismiss her worried look. ‘I’ll see you next week, OK?’ She nods, and after we embrace, I collect the rug and leave without a backwards glance.
I walk to the closest bus stop a street away from the restaurant. On my way, a few onlookers gawk at my load, but I scowl at them.
‘Why did you bring a rug with you?’ Alex asks from behind me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to compose myself without success. He’s got some nerve.
‘I didn’t bring a rug with me. I picked it up to take home,’ I say lamely.
He pauses next to me, but I still don’t look at him, scanning the road for the bus instead. ‘I’m sorry about what I said. I was harsh.’ He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
‘I guess I can’t stop you from speaking your mind,’ I say, teeth chattering in the cold. I detect an edge to my words that I don’t quite manage to tame.
‘I was cross with you, so I said some things I didn’t mean, but what I don’t understand is why you’re cross. You’re the one ignoring me five seconds after I had my hand under your skirt.’ His tone turns exasperated.
I turn around, and the rug slips in my hands, almost making me topple. I laugh humourlessly. ‘That’s why I went to the bar. To apologise – I overreacted.’ My knees feel weak under the weight of the rug and this conversation, and I don’t know how long I can carry on standing. ‘But I have to admit that I found it a little hard to digest your passing words after you, as you put it, had your hand under my skirt. One never knows how to react when someone says they want you to only get you out of their system like some tool to be used. That doesn’t exactly give one a post-orgasmic glow. But I understand now, we never promised each other anything and you don’t owe me anything. We are two consenting adults…’ He grimaces at my words.
‘Stop.’ Understanding dawns on him and his cheeks turn pale. ‘That’s not what…’ He trails off.
‘That’s not what you meant?’ He looks unsure. ‘What did you mean then? And what did you mean just now when you professed I’m nothing to you? Because you can’t have it both ways, Alex. Either you want me or not. And if you hate yourself for wanting me, which seems like the case, that’s your answer.’ By the end of my tirade, air whooshes out of me like I’ve just climbed Kilimanjaro. My cheeks twitch in exhaustion. I can’t keep doing this hot and cold thing.
He stays silent, his eyes searching my face like the answer is written there. His obvious mistrust of my character vexes me even more.
My bus rounds the bend, and my shoulders drop in relief. Finally. The last two minutes have felt like an hour.
‘What do you want?’ I turn on him, raising my voice in exasperation as the bus approaches the stop. I wave at the driver to signal for him to stop.
Knowing he’s running out of time, Alex throws a desperate look towards the bus. ‘I don’t know what I want,’ he growls and combs through his hair jerkily.
I heft the rug over my shoulder. ‘Let me make it easy for you.’ My words turn determined. ‘Leave me be, OK? I don’t want to have anything to do with you.’