41
THE TAXI PULLS up at our house. Luke pays, and I’m too consumed with my thoughts to protest. We all troop inside. Hayley and Luke have been talking nonstop and Patrick and I have said almost nothing.
‘Who wants drinks?’ Hayley shouts from the kitchen as we sit on the couches. ‘We have white wine, we have vodka somewhere, we have…that’s it, that’s your choice.’
‘I’m good with just water,’ Patrick says.
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘That’s very boring,’ Hayley says. ‘We’re still celebrating the book!’
She brings out four glasses of wine anyway, and chatters on, and Luke and Patrick talk with her, but I can’t think of anything to say. I can’t make my mouth move, I can’t form thoughts. I go to the bathroom, and I stare at myself in the mirror.
You love Patrick. You love him. You do. And if you don’t yet, you will. You pre-love him. He can be everything you ever wanted.
I glare at myself and splash my face with water. Hold it together .
When I walk back out, Patrick meets my eye. ‘I think I’m going to head home,’ he says.
‘You just got here,’ I say. ‘I thought you were going to stay.’
‘I know, but it’s been a long night.’
‘Stay.’
‘I have to work tomorrow. That wedding in Kew.’
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ I say.
At the door, he kisses me quickly on the lips and turns to go.
‘Wait,’ I say. Even as I’m telling him to wait, I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say. He turns back, slowly. He knows before I do.
‘Patrick,’ I say.
‘Don’t,’ he says, closing his eyes.
‘What?’
‘Don’t say what you’re about to say.’
‘I—’
‘Don’t break up with me because of him.’
‘It’s not because of him.’ I am whispering, and my voice breaks a little. We both know I am lying.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘I’m so sorry, Patrick.’
‘This is a mistake. If you do this, you’re making a mistake.’
‘I probably am,’ I say. He’s right and yet I can’t stop myself.
‘So don’t do it.’
‘I have to.’
‘Doesn’t he live overseas? Why are you throwing what we have away for, what, one night?’
‘Patrick.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m really, really sorry. I wish I didn’t feel like this, I wish it more than anything.’
‘So that’s it?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Anna. You’re just confused.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are.’
‘You can’t argue me into staying in a relationship with you.’
‘Fine. Fine. You’re right.’ He turns away from me, then turns back. ‘I’m not going to be here for you, when he leaves. I’m not waiting. You can’t break up with me and then text me again in a week.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I won’t.’
He shakes his head, and holds out my book to me, still in its brown paper bag. ‘You should take this, I don’t want it now.’
‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘Goodbye, Anna,’ he says, and walks out the door.
I let out a long breath, hugging my book to my chest. What have I done? I’ve blown up my life for something impossible. My hands are shaking. I’m a terrible person. Who makes bad decisions. What is wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just love Patrick?
There’s a noise behind me and I turn to see Hayley and Luke, wide-eyed, staring.
‘Did you hear all that?’ I say.
‘No,’ Luke says.
‘Every word,’ Hayley says at the same time.
‘Here,’ Luke says, pressing a glass of wine into my hand.
‘Should we email Psychic Sue?’ Hayley asks, as she leads me back into the lounge room.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘She might want to know. To update her prediction.’
‘I think I’m probably done with her predictions,’ I say, sitting down.
‘So,’ Luke says. ‘Was he right?’
‘About what?’
‘Did you break up with him because of Mac?’
‘And what the hell did Mac say to you outside the restaurant, because your face was all—’ Hayley says, making a kind of stunned chicken face.
I stare at them both for a second, put my drink down, and stand up.
‘Where are you going?’ Hayley says.
‘I just need space for a minute.’
‘Are you calling Mac?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Please. Give me some credit. I broke up with Patrick two minutes ago.’ I walk outside, because I can’t bear the thought of them overhearing me when I do call Mac. I stop when I see Patrick, who is standing on the kerb.
‘Oh. Hi. Sorry.’
‘I’m waiting for an Uber,’ he says.
‘Right. I’m just—’
‘Going out to see Mac?’ He smiles tightly.
‘No. No. I was going for a walk, to get some air and clear my head.’
‘Sure, okay.’ He looks down at his feet, and I feel sick.
I start walking down the street and I can feel Patrick’s eyes on me as I walk, and I don’t dare reach for my phone. I keep walking, until I feel like maybe I’ve gone far enough, and then I duck behind a tree and crouch down, feeling ridiculous and awful and guilty.
I call Mac.
‘Hello,’ he says.
‘Hey.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Where are you right now?’
‘I am sitting on my sister’s couch, alone, in the dark, watching a show I’ve never heard of before with the volume on five so that I don’t wake her children. Where are you?’
‘I’m hiding behind a tree in the dark.’
‘Why?’
‘Do you want to come over?’
‘To your house?’
‘Yeah.’
There’s a pause.
I pick up a twig, snap it in half.
‘Just to hang out or…?’ he asks.
‘Something like that.’
‘A sleepover?’
‘Yeah. I want to make sure you get some sleep.’ I am actually hoping he won’t be getting any sleep but I can’t say that.
‘What about Patrick? Is he still there?’
‘We’re not, um. We just broke up.’
I try to picture his face. Maybe he’s smiling. Or frowning. Maybe he’s as worried as I am that I’ve made an awful mistake. I used to do this all the time when we spoke on the phone, imagine what his expression might be.
‘Text me the address. I’m on my way,’ he says.