Chapter 9
Sometimes it just hits me. Actually, it’s less of a hit, and more of a full-blown punch to the gut.
Knocking me backwards for days. It starts as this little voice in my head, reminding me that Joe’s gone and he’s never coming back, gradually getting louder and louder until I can’t think straight, a vice-like grip tightening around my throat until it feels as if I’m choking.
It travels down my body to my heart, which is pounding double time as though trying to beat for the both of us.
Anything can trigger it. Someone yelling after a Joe on the street.
Their Joe. Wearing a jumper I haven’t worn since before the accident and finding a familiar short brown hair clinging to the wool, refusing to let go. Today, it was an orchid.
‘It’s dead.’
‘What is? The plant?’ Alice asked bewilderedly, her eyes brightening at the extra-large glass of Chardonnay I placed on the beer mat in front of her.
I was covering Matt’s shift whilst he spent the evening moving Post-it notes adorned with people’s names around on Alyssa’s seating chart, trying to pretend he understood the intricacies of why Julia couldn’t possibly sit next to Bethan.
Nothing like a wedding to bring people together.
‘Yes, the plant,’ I said indignantly, staring forlornly at the once bright pink, now flowerless orchid I’d brought downstairs a few days ago.
I’d hoped the sunlight that flooded into the bar for most of the day might perk it up a bit, but its two remaining leaves slumped defeatedly over the rim of the pot, their edges brown and shrivelled.
‘Joe gave it to me for our anniversary last year. It’s the last living reminder of our relationship and now it’s dead, too. Because of me.’
‘To be fair, orchids are notoriously hard to keep alive,’ Alice offered, before registering my distress, her hand reaching across the bar and finding mine.
‘The orchid was just a symbol of Joe’s love for you, Jenny, and that lives on.
It always will do. This—’ she nodded towards the sorry-looking plant, ‘—means nothing, other than that green-fingered, you are not.’
I squeezed her hand, her pragmatism exactly what I needed in that moment.
‘Speaking of Joe,’ she continued, her voice taking on a cajoling tone that meant I knew what she was going to ask, ‘how have your visions been?’
I sighed, fingers massaging the pressure points on either side of my temple. ‘Do we have to do this now?’
‘Jenny, if you’re not going to see Dr Thomas – yes, I know you didn’t show up to the appointment I rescheduled for you – then I have a duty of care as your friend, and a qualified medical professional, to make sure you’re okay.
’ She was sitting bolt upright on her stool as she assessed me over the bar.
I felt perspiration beading at the nape of my neck.
Eyes like a bloody security scanner, that one.
‘I’m fine.’ I shrugged, faffing about with the napkins for want of something to do.
‘Are you getting them more or less frequently?’
‘Less. Definitely less.’
Alice’s eyes narrowed at the speed of my reply, those green irises fixed on my face.
‘I promise,’ I added, unblinking.
‘Well, that’s good.’
I nodded dumbly, my mouth suddenly dry. It was only upon saying the words that I realised them to be true.
I hadn’t seen Joe yet today, or yesterday for that matter.
Was that my doing? Had I been so busy that I wasn’t thinking about him as much?
The relaxed slump of Alice’s shoulders seemed to suggest I’d passed whatever test that was, so then why did it feel like I’d failed?
‘How’s it going over there? Any SOS signals yet?
’ Alice inclined her head subtly towards the table in the window, where Jacob and his baseball-cap-wearing date were sharing a bottle of red.
Baseball hats, Velcro wallets and a lack of appreciation for Beyoncé were all firmly on Jacob’s list of dislikes, so it wasn’t off to a great start.
‘Nothing yet.’ I caught Jacob’s eye and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
His lips pressed into a thin, unamused line, but the candle on their table still burned.
It was his get-out-of-date-free card. If the candle was extinguished, that was my signal to call him with a fake emergency that absolutely required him to leave right that second, only for him to sneak back in through the back door once the coast was clear.
Alice snorted. ‘Give it 10 minutes.’
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Matt emerging from the function room he and Alyssa had commandeered for their evening of wedmin. He looked a little dazed, all wide-eyed and blinking, like a bear emerging from hibernation.
‘I need alcohol if I’m to have any chance of making it through this evening,’ he groaned, crouching down and plucking a chilled bottle of Picpoul from the wine fridge.
‘That bad, huh?’
Matt just threw me a look, downing the inch of wine he’d glugged into a glass with a relieved sigh. ‘I had no idea the politics involved in planning a wedding. Personally, I don’t see the point in a seating chart. Why can’t everyone just sit where they like?’
Alice and I both winced, sucking air audibly between our teeth.
‘Alyssa had the same reaction,’ Matt said, letting an exasperated hand fall against his left thigh.
‘I mean, we’re just the bride and groom,’ he added, with the speed of someone who’d clearly been biting his tongue for the best part of an hour.
‘Don’t mind us – let’s make sure the whole day revolves around Alyssa’s uncle’s cousin twice removed who got drunk one Christmas and told everyone how much he hates them, so now can’t sit next to anyone.
But apparently, he must come because not inviting him would be a statement .
’ He waggled both index fingers in the air, a baffled expression on his face.
‘Ah, nothing like planning a wedding to make you want to punch every single person you’ve ever met in the face,’ I mused, nudging my hip against Matt’s side with a grin.
‘Careful, or I’ll sit you next to Alyssa’s cousin Rufus,’ Matt warned.
‘What’s wrong with cousin Rufus?’ Alice asked.
‘Nothing, if an evening of casual racism and not-so-casual misogyny is your thing.’
I grimaced. ‘Hard pass.’
Matt’s phone chirped in his back pocket.
He fished it out, his face softening in a manner that immediately told me it was from Alyssa.
I missed that. That warmth deep in the pit of my belly that smouldered whenever I saw a text from Joe, my heart fluttering as though it were about to take flight whenever his name and that ridiculous picture of him with the Snapchat dog filter on flashed up on the screen.
I turned away, buffing an already spotless pint glass as I tried to decipher what this feeling was.
This chill sweeping over me, like a storm blowing in over the ocean. Sadness? Jealousy? All of the above?
‘Sorry to interrupt this fun little pow-wow, but that candle on my table has been unlit for the past three-and-a-half minutes.’ I turned to see Jacob leaning unimpressed against the end of the bar, gesturing to said table, where a thin wisp of smoke was twirling from the wick of the snuffed-out tea light.
‘Honestly, the service in here is really going downhill.’
‘What happened to your date?’ Alice asked, eyeing the abandoned wine glass in front of the empty chair where baseball-cap guy had previously been sitting. ‘Misplace him already?’
‘No, I didn’t misplace him ,’ Jacob snarked, doing a poor, high-pitched imitation of his sister.
‘His friend called. Something to do with a broken-down car? Which is weird come to think of it, because I swear he said he couldn’t drive – I mean, what self-respecting 35-year-old can’t drive?
Red flag number one – so I’m not sure how much help he’s going to be. ’
Three pairs of blinking eyes stared back at him, the silence stretching on as we waited for the dots to be joined. Jacob’s mouth fell open in horror.
‘Oh. My. God. Did he just bail on me using a meticulously planned fake phone call? I invented the meticulously planned fake phone call!’
‘Mate, I’ve been out of the dating game since the Ice Age and even I know he bailed on you.
’ Matt grimaced, patting Jacob’s arm sympathetically before retreating down the hallway.
He turned as he reached the door, pretending to fall to his knees, wine glasses clinking together as he clasped both hands in front of his chest and mouthed save me!
I smiled at his dramatics, knowing it was purely for my benefit.
A show for the sole purpose of making me smile.
And it did – especially when Alyssa opened the door at that exact moment and almost fell over my kneeling brother.
‘Ah, it’s good to hear you laughing again, sweetheart.’
I turned to see Mum descending the stairs from the flat, a giant metal loop of keys jangling against her midriff.
I managed a smile. Despite the ache rippling through my chest, its edges jagged and sharp as it tore through me, I managed a smile.
I knew how desperately she wanted her Jenny back.
The version of me that whistled as she walked and washed her hair twice a week.
But there was no going back. And the insinuation, albeit well-intentioned, that I was somehow moving forward, moving on in this world without Joe, made me feel sick.