The Pieces of You and Me

by Rachel Burton

  My phone rang and I answered without looking at the number.

  ‘Come for a drink with me,’ Dan said.

  I was hit by a feeling of déjà vu – my old flat in Mornington Crescent, the empty feeling of Rupert not being around anymore. The muddled sensation of not knowing what to say.

  ‘Where did you get my number?’ I asked.

  ‘Pen,’ he said.

  ‘You know Pen?’ I asked.

  ‘Pen knows everyone.’ Bloody interfering Pen, I thought to myself. I didn’t want to admit she was right to give him my number. It’s not like I’d have done anything about this myself.

  ‘Look, Jess, I’d really like to see you,’ he said when I didn’t respond. ‘I’ve always regretted the way we broke up. I’ve always wondered if I could have done more to help or if I should have stayed around.’

  ‘You had India,’ I said. ‘You had to go – we both know that.’

  ‘As I’ve got older I’ve started to wonder about that. Is career more important than love and friendship?’

  I thought about Rupert when he said that. I thought about how much he’d given up for Harvard and how he felt about that now. I knew that I needed to see Dan and I knew, almost straight away, that I’d meet him – just as I had known over ten years ago when we went to the Lock Tavern.

  This was less about my relationship with Dan and far more about my illness – I needed to find a place of acceptance. If I could do that, I knew I could move on and Rupert and I could get on with our lives.

  ‘One drink,’ I said.

  I think we both already knew I’d agree.

  ‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘It’ll be just like old times.’

  ‘It will be nothing like old times,’ I replied.

  ‘Do you remember the Lock Tavern?’ he asked. ‘And the guy who kept his laundry in that guitar case?’

  ‘Sometimes I miss London so much,’ I replied, a wave of homesickness washing over me and almost knocking me off my feet.

  ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I was born and bred in Yorkshire but I still miss London. Everyone will tell you that you’ll get used to the north, but you probably won’t.’

  Rupert seemed to have got used to it up here. He seemed to have found a place for himself in the world and if I wanted to be part of his life, I knew that I too would have to learn to love York.

  34

  RUPERT

  He had taken to walking down the river most days, walking past Dan’s boat, imagining what it would be like to go in and talk to him. Some days he thought about them talking as friends again – coming to an understanding with much brotherly backslapping and hugging, like in an American film. Other days he thought about going in and punching Dan in the face, which he knew was an over the top reaction to a relationship that ended years ago. But every day he just walked past because he had no idea what to do or say. He kept expecting to walk down the towpath one day and find the boat gone. He didn’t know if that would be a relief or not.

  Rupert liked an ordered life; he liked to keep things in their separate compartments: his parents, his sister, his colleagues, John, Dan, Jess.

  But everything was starting to come apart. The stitches that held everything together were starting to unpick themselves and the compartments were melding into one. He liked to be able to fix things if they went wrong and put them back neatly in their compartments. But he knew he couldn’t change the past.

  Rupert felt as though he had lost control of his own life, of his own destiny. It seemed as though everything was unravelling – his career, his relationship with Jess, his sense of place in the world. He’d felt like this once before at Harvard, just before everything fell apart. He couldn’t let that happen again; he’d tried so hard to make Jess happy but he knew now that he needed to do more than that. He needed to make himself happy, and he knew talking to Dan was an important step. But he still couldn’t bring himself to stop at the houseboat, to knock on the door. He’d just walk past every day watching the trail of smoke spiralling out of the chimney knowing, for today at least, the boat was still there.

  One morning, as Rupert walked along the towpath with Captain, Dan himself was there standing by the boat with one arm raised in salutation in that relaxed, laid-back way Rupert had always envied. He still didn’t know whether he wanted to hug Dan or punch him, but he did know there was no turning back – maybe Jess was right after all, maybe everything was destined in the end.

  ‘I figured you’d never stop and come in of your own accord,’ Dan said as Rupert approached. ‘So I thought I’d make the decision easier for you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rupert asked, perplexed. It hadn’t occurred to him that Dan had noticed him walking past every day, sometimes twice a day.

  ‘Well, you’re always hanging about round here, but you never actually knock on the door. So I’m inviting you in.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Rupert said, caught off guard, not knowing where to look. He felt as though Dan was making a fool of him again. ‘I’ve got the dog with me.’

  ‘All animals are welcome here,’ Dan said smiling. Why did he have to be so damn amenable?

  Rupert sighed, resigned, and followed Dan on to the boat, letting Captain off his lead. Captain ran in on Dan’s heels and immediately jumped up on to one of the sofas, curling up and falling asleep. Traitor.

  Even Captain played his part in the regularity of Rupert’s life. He’d told Jess that it was love at first sight when he’d seen Captain at just six weeks old, and while that was true there was more to it. The thought of owning a dog appealed to him because a dog had routines of its own – it needed to be walked and fed and played with and looked after. He thought the routines he would have to create as a dog owner would help him settle into his new, rather austere, lonely life in York. Routines made him feel grounded, comfortable. When the routines and compartments disappeared, he just felt anxious, out of control.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Dan asked.

  ‘No,’ Rupert replied. He was still standing in the doorway of the boat, his head ducked – too tall to stand up straight.

  ‘Well, come and sit down, make yourself at home like your dog has done.’

  Rupert didn’t want to sit down and make himself at home. He was furious with Captain for finding the whole situation so comfortable. Weren’t dogs meant to be loyal? He felt as though the fabric of his world had been pulled away from beneath him. But he also knew he couldn’t get away from sitting down without looking churlish. He didn’t want to be made to look a fool again.

  He sat awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, his knees hunched up beneath him. Dan wasn’t much shorter than him. He couldn’t understand how he could bear to live here.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Dan asked, scratching between Captain’s ears.

  ‘Captain,’ Rupert replied. ‘After Fred Wentworth from Persuasion.’

  ‘Jess’s favourite book,’ Dan said.

  Rupert nodded. He didn’t want to talk about Jess.

  ‘I was sorry to hear about your mother,’ Rupert said instead. His tone didn’t sound very sorry even to him.

  Dan shook his head and looked towards the river for a moment. Rupert noticed he was wearing a striped top, like some sort of sailor. He tried hard not to roll his eyes.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ Dan said. ‘Although I’m not sure you feel quite the same.’

  Rupert thought for a moment about how he felt and what had drawn him here. There were many reasons – and quite near the top of the list was curiosity. But since talking to Jess about Dan he’d come to realise that he’d missed him too. He’d not just walked away from Jess that morning at Heathrow, he’d not just walked away from his grief at losing Ed. He’d walked away from everyone and he’d taken his grief and his heartache with him. He’d deliberately carved out a lonely life for himself because he was scared of getting hurt again, scared of loss and grief. It felt easier to push all those feelings down and move on.

  He was here today on Dan’
s boat because he’d promised himself he would make an effort to make amends. His efforts so far had extended to walking past the boat every day and sitting here now was a choice that had been taken entirely out of his hands. He thought that was probably why he hadn’t told Jess he was coming to see Dan, because he wasn’t sure he actually ever would.

  ‘It feels as though it’s important,’ he said.

  ‘I always wondered why you left without saying goodbye,’ Dan said. ‘We were mates once I thought, and then you were gone and Jess fell apart. She lost her dad and then you and—’

  ‘Stop,’ Rupert said, holding up his hands. ‘Stop. I’ve spent my whole life regretting what I did. I behaved terribly to you and to Jess. I was so jealous of your friendship and so angry when Jess’s dad died. And my father …’

  ‘Your father was a bully,’ Dan said.

  Nobody had ever put it into words before, not even Jess. His father had bullied him into all sorts of things he hadn’t wanted to do. He had lived his life according to his parents’ dreams rather than his own and he’d carried the anger he felt about that around with him for years. It had to stop. He had to start living life for himself.

  ‘My father …’ He hesitated. ‘Yes, he was a bully.’ It felt strange to finally admit it out loud. Strange and rather liberating.

  ‘I was so jealous of you at school,’ Dan said quietly.

  ‘Really?’ Rupert couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘You always seemed so sure of yourself, so confident.’

  ‘I guess I was good at putting on a front,’ Dan said. ‘And you had everything – brains, looks …’ He paused. ‘And the girl.’

  Rupert blushed and looked away. ‘I never felt as though I had everything,’ he said. ‘I felt as though I was fighting all the time even though I knew I couldn’t win.’

  ‘Because of your father.’ It wasn’t a question.

  Rupert nodded. He had been a fool, but it hadn’t been Dan’s fault. Jess was right: Dan had never made him look like a fool.

  ‘I can see you’re not ready for this,’ Dan said kindly, sensing Rupert’s discomfort. ‘And I totally understand, but I do appreciate you making the effort.’

  Rupert looked up, catching Dan’s eye. ‘Even if it was just lurking about outside.’

  Dan smiled as they both stood up, too tall to be standing in such a small space together. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect us to suddenly have some great friendship again, but it might be good to see each other from time to time.’

  Everything about this situation felt unbearable, but Rupert understood how much effort Dan was making. He was always so comfortable, so optimistic about everything. The least he could do was meet him halfway in an attempt to let go of the past. None of this was Dan’s problem.

  ‘You and Jess are made for each other,’ Dan said. ‘I’m really pleased you found each other again. It was always you, you know. I always knew that.’

  ‘York City aren’t bad to watch on a Saturday afternoon,’ Rupert said, changing the subject but hoping it sounded like a genuine invitation. ‘Arsenal are playing so badly this season that York are as good really – we could go to a match sometime.’

  Dan laughed. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘What’s Bootham Crescent got that the Emirates Stadium hasn’t?!’

  Rupert and Dan shared a look, remembering the football matches they’d seen together in the past – remembering a different time.

  ‘Let’s do something one day,’ Dan said. ‘When you’re feeling more like it.’

  Rupert nodded, appreciating that Dan understood he wasn’t ready for any of this yet.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said, holding out his hand. Dan took it.

  ‘You too,’ Dan replied.

  They stood for a moment in silence, looking at each other before Rupert pulled his hand away.

  ‘Come on, Captain,’ Rupert said. Captain got off the sofa and walked over to Rupert.

  ‘I’ll see you around,’ Rupert said, leading the dog back on to dry land.

  *

  Several days had passed since that conversation on the boat with Dan, and Rupert still didn’t know how he felt. He still hadn’t told Jess he’d seen Dan. He felt as though he needed to have something positive to report before he did.

  As he had walked back across York after seeing Dan on his boat his thoughts had been churning in his head, not least the thought of Dan’s mother dying. How would he feel if his own mother passed away before they had talked properly again? Rupert hadn’t been able to imagine what it would be like to lose your mother. He didn’t want to imagine – he didn’t want to ever feel like he had felt after Ed died, even though he knew it was inevitable.

  Despite all the problems he had with his mum, despite the eternal feeling of having let her down, of things being easier if he lived far away, he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. He realised that he had barely spoken to either of his parents since the previous September. Christmas didn’t count. Christmas had been terrible.

  He’d phoned his mother from his office the next morning. He hadn’t known why he didn’t want Jess to know. He just knew it was something he had to do in private – but he had told Jess about it later that evening.

  ‘What did you talk about?’ Jess had asked. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘She said to give you her love,’ he had said. ‘She said that she was sorry she hadn’t been very welcoming but that she was glad you were back in my life. She said you were good for me.’

  Jess had come and sat next to him, her hand on his shoulder. The warmth of her felt comforting.

  ‘Wow,’ Jess had said softly. ‘That’s a turn-up.’

  ‘I know,’ Rupert had said. ‘There’s something else too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s divorcing Dad.’

  ‘My God.’

  ‘Irreconcilable differences. She said that seeing us together had made her realise that she and Dad didn’t love each other, hadn’t for years, and that they were making each other unhappy.’

  ‘Just like you said.’

  Rupert had nodded. ‘I guess that’s why Christmas was so awful. She said she doesn’t know where she’s going to go yet or when she’s leaving. She said she’d let us know.’

  ‘Does she want to come here?’

  Rupert had smiled, pulling Jess towards him. ‘You’re amazing, you know?’ he’d said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For even asking that question. But I think we all know, Mum included, that isn’t the answer to the problem.’

  What Rupert hadn’t told Jess was that his mother had also asked him to try to make amends with Dan.

  ‘I’ve pushed so many people away because of my own sadness,’ she’d said. ‘Even Caro and I aren’t as close as we might be had I made more effort. Don’t become like me, Rupert – try to let go of the past.’

  A few days later he found himself standing by the riverbank again looking at the houseboat, following the trail of smoke that spiralled out of the chimney. Today he was going to talk to Dan properly and then he was going to go home and tell Jess everything, and together they would find a way of starting again, of making everything right.

  But the hope he felt in his heart was shattered as he watched movement on the houseboat, as he watched Dan step off the boat and on to the towpath before turning to help someone else on to the path after him. Dan wrapped his arm around the other person, pulling them close, and started walking slowly towards the town.

  All the anger and jealousy he was trying to let go of raged inside him as he realised the other person was Jess.

  35

  JESS

  Dan and I had arranged to meet on his boat in the end. He was standing on the towpath waiting for me when I arrived. It was freezing still, with no signs of spring in the air at all. The winter had seemed to be going on and on without end and while I would have loved to blame it on being in the north, Rupert had been updating me daily on the long and bitterly cold winter London was having as well, as
though to prove York wasn’t that bad. Dan’s breath steamed like dragon’s smoke as he greeted me, helping me onto the houseboat.

  The boat was like the TARDIS, a warm cosy living room and kitchen space greeted me as I stepped inside, and a fire was lit in the wood burner. The sofas were covered in throws, which I guessed, from the look of them, Dan had brought back from India. There were wind chimes hanging at the windows and a smell of incense in the air. It was very different to the minimalist flat I’d shared with him in Kentish Town. I wondered if India had changed him. I glanced at him again then and saw the years in his eyes. Of course India had changed him, as the years had changed us all.

  His camera equipment lay on the table next to his laptop. He started to clear it to one side.

  ‘How’s the photography?’ I asked.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I freelance for a lot of different magazines. I tend not to wander very far these days, pieces on the Dales and so forth …’ He trailed off and I nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked as he put the kettle on the stovetop to boil. ‘Or something stronger?’

  ‘Tea is fine,’ I said. ‘Do you have a bathroom?’

  He smiled. ‘Of course I do – what do you think I do? Pee in the river?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put anything past you.’ I smiled back.

  ‘It’s through the door at the back.’ He pointed towards the other end of the living area.

  The door opened onto a short passageway with a room that I presumed was Dan’s bedroom off to one side and a small bathroom that reminded me of the one in the static caravan my parents and I had stayed in on the Norfolk coast one summer. I put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, resting my head in my hands. I had been trying to ignore how ill I felt since getting up that morning, but now I found myself feeling dizzy and nauseous, my hands shaking slightly. My joints had been aching for days and the familiar pain in my hands, which stopped me being able to carry anything, or hold a book, was back. I hadn’t felt this bad for a while – years, in fact.