The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy

by Elizabeth Neep

  ‘The last one set the bar,’ I replied. ‘This one just smashed it!’

  After her last check-in, our host had finally left us to our own devices. Poor Joshua. Through his sunglasses, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to go home.

  ‘Bet you wish Jamie was here?’ I put my hand on his in a drunken slur.

  ‘I don’t actually.’ He grinned, his eyes searching across my face, hoping to find something. ‘As much as I love her, I—’

  ‘When we first met, I actually thought you did love her,’ I interrupted through unwarranted laughter. ‘Before I knew she was your sister, obviously.’

  ‘I do love her.’ He shook his head, confused but smiling, sunglasses now removed, his blue eyes piercing mine. It was that look of confused endearment again. I had no idea why that kept happening around me.

  ‘No, like, actually love-her love her,’ I slurred. It worried me how sober he seemed and how not sober I was beginning to feel. Why was I telling him this?

  ‘Jess!’ He laughed, putting his glass-free hands to his eyes as if the mental image of the two of them had hit him square between them. ‘She’s my sister.’ He laughed again.

  ‘I didn’t know that at the time!’ My laughter joined his, as I pulled my hand to my blueberry-stained lips; sometimes it was just too hard to say no. ‘Just like you guys don’t know…’ I stopped myself. My filter wasn’t great at the best of times, never mind when we were three bottles in, and I dreaded to think what proportion of those Joshua had actually had drunk.

  ‘Don’t know what?’ He smiled coyly, moving in a little closer. His eyes looked so kind and trusting, I almost wanted to tell him everything. Plus, he was one of my only friends this side of the equator. One of my only just friends at least. I imagined confessing everything: I never had an apartment, I never had a job. I was winging it this whole time and now it was finally paying off. Oh, and I started loving your sister’s fiancé at the age of eighteen and never really worked out how to stop.

  ‘Jess, anything you tell me will stay with me,’ he encouraged, leaning closer still, placing a hand on my upper thigh, his touch as light and welcome as the summer breeze we were all waiting for. ‘Sometimes you just have to stop worrying about what other people will think.’

  ‘I don’t know…’ I began as he leaned a little closer. Even in my familiar drunken haze, I knew this wasn’t a good idea.

  ‘Seriously, Jess.’ He grinned again, happy and hopeful. ‘You can tell me. It’ll be our secret until you’re ready to tell other people.’

  ‘How I feel about him,’ I whispered over the rim of my glass, gazing up to gauge Joshua’s reaction.

  ‘Him?’ Joshua’s face fell as he pulled back, retrieving his hand, leaving the space where he’d touched me, cold. ‘Who?’ I couldn’t make out his expression.

  ‘Sam,’ I admitted. ‘Who did you think I meant?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Joshua shook his head and poured himself another splash of red. ‘I thought you guys broke up years ago?’

  God, it was only three years ago. We were together for five. We were in love. We had our whole lives planned out. Why was that so hard for people to understand? Why did— wait…

  ‘You know about Sam and me?’ I slurred; he had just said that he did, but it still felt like a confession of his own. I thought that they thought we were just friends, had always been just friends. That’s why I’d never said anything about our relationship, why we’d both been so careful not to.

  ‘Well, yes.’ Joshua looked bemused, disappointed and a little bit angry all at the same time.

  ‘So, Jamie knows about Sam and me?’ There was no way. Why on earth would she let me stay? Even I could admit live-in ex-girlfriends and wedding planning were not a good mix. The proof was in the painting, hung up in Jamie’s bedroom, soon to be theirs, but with a big dose of me messed up in the mix.

  ‘Well, yes,’ he said again, stuck on repeat, his tone soberer by the second.

  ‘But she’s not said anything?’ I took another large gulp of wine. She’d never said anything, not once. Not when Sam invited me to stay in the first place and not since.

  ‘Why would she?’ Joshua looked from me to his empty glass of wine. He really needed to hold off if he was going to drive us home. Not that I could say anything; I was hardly proving myself to be the queen of quantity control.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, suspending the fact that Joshua was Jamie’s brother for a second and speaking to him as a friend, the friend he thought I was – that everyone thought I was. ‘I reckon I’d have a thing or two to say if my fiancé brought home his ex-girlfriend to stay in our flat. In fact, she’d be out of the door quicker than you could say—’ I flung my glass-holding hand in the direction of the door, sloshing red specks onto the carpet, making a mess.

  ‘Jamie doesn’t feel that way.’ Joshua smiled weakly, no doubt growing tired of my increasingly drunken outpour. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s secure enough in her relationship to not be threatened by an old girlfriend from uni.’ Joshua looked at me. Through blurry eyes, I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be mean or just achieving it regardless.

  So that’s what Jamie thought we were, that’s what she thought I was. Just an old girlfriend from uni, Sam and I two people too young to have experienced anything real. I was staying in their box room, her fiancé was sleeping on her sofa, we went for lunch and laughed like more than old friends, and still she wasn’t threatened.

  I looked down at my sky-blue dress, dotted with damp specks from where I’d been drinking. Was I really that pathetic? My mind darted to Zoe’s words to me just yesterday morning, tired of telling me to move on. To my parents, nervous to let me travel to the other side of the world for fear that I’d cock everything up.

  I looked down into my wine glass; maybe she was right not to be bothered by me. I was just an old girlfriend, it was all I was, and she was a goddess. A goddess with the guy. A goddess who had won. I looked up at Joshua, watching me like a glass about to break. But I wasn’t just an old girlfriend. We’d been in love, we’d said we’d get married, with our bare feet pressed into the Sydney sand. And now we were here, fate finally fusing our stories back together. And Sam and I had been getting closer. He’d loved having me around. He’d said he missed me, and then he said he loved me. I knew he still loved me. I could feel it. I gazed down into my empty wine glass, blood-red stains circling the rim. I held the glass stem a little tighter. I was not just an old girlfriend; I was so much more than that. If Jamie knew about me, if Jamie knew everything, it was about time she knew that too.

  As I stumbled to Joshua’s bike, he turned to help me put my helmet on in silence. He hadn’t said much since our conversation, a conversation that never should have happened. Of course he wouldn’t have responded like a friend. Sam was his sister’s fiancé, for Christ’s sakes. As I sat on the back of the bike, Joshua turned to me and said, more forcefully than I’d ever heard him: ‘Don’t let go.’ Despite my drunkenness I knew he was talking about the bike, but still my brain hurtled on, speeding a mile a minute. I was not just an old girlfriend. We were in love. He was everything. Joshua was wrong. Jamie was wrong. Three bottles deep, I could see everything clearly. Jamie wasn’t the woman Sam wanted her to be. Sam wasn’t the saint Jamie thought he was. And then there was me. Here, when I had every reason not to be. Here, when Sam could have kicked me out weeks ago or never invited me back in the first place. Something was making me stay. And Sam didn’t want me to leave. Was I the only one who could call a spade a flipping spade? They weren’t a perfect match; they weren’t built to last. I held on tighter as scenes of inner-city life shot by. This city suited me, Sam had said. And Sam’s words from last night were planted firmly in my head like seeds in bloom. Expanding and expanding, until they filled my mind with nothing but his words: you know I’ll always love you, J, you know I’ll always love you.

  Pulling up to 341, Joshua helped me off the bike and unclipped my helmet. I looked up at him thr
ough bleary eyes to see his own blue ones staring back, wide and sad. Had I really just told him I was still in love with his sister’s fiancé? I silenced the thought again. There was no going back now. He’d tell her in the morning and I’d have my bags packed and out by the afternoon. Joshua leaned down to peck me on the cheek, the same sadness etched into his face. Another friendship ruined for sure, each of them fading away through my inability to shut up or keep up. He held my arm and helped me to the door. I fumbled for my keys, forcing them into the lock. The door swung open and I turned around to say goodbye. Joshua had already started to walk away.

  Stumbling into the corridor, I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. Letting the darkness surround me, I breathed.

  I was exhausted.

  I was angry.

  I was – hammered.

  Walking further down the corridor, I tried to keep quiet. The walls were spinning; I clung to the sides in failed attempts to steady myself. Kicking one heel off, and then the other, I felt my way along the corridor. Tumbling into the dark kitchen, I tripped across the floor. I needed to lie down; I was going to be sick if I didn’t lie down. I headed towards the sofa, heart starting to race, temperature beginning to rise. On autopilot, I pulled off my dress. The stupid blue dress I had bought just for Sam. I flung it on the floor. I stared into the darkness, the thick swell of alcohol washing over me, making it impossible to think. Box room. I should go to the box room.

  I felt my way along the corridor walls, trying to find my way back. To where Jamie wanted me to be. Close enough to watch me. Far enough away from Sam. Just an old girlfriend; the words danced around my head, taunting me as I stumbled in the darkness. Just an old girlfriend. Just an old girlfriend; the words played over again and again. Four silly words, interrupted only by seven more: You know I’ll always love you, J. Head spinning, mind moving back to the box room, but feet, in reality, moving me to the wooden kitchen floor. I needed to lie down.

  Scrambling to take off my bra, I headed towards the sofa. I felt my way to lie down. I felt the sofa. I felt the cushions. I felt Sam. Of course, he was there. Sleeping on the sofa. For me. Making that sacrifice, for me. Because he would always love me. His words and all that alcohol span round in double time. I’ll always love you, J. Box room. I should go to the box room. But I was already lying down, stretching out, falling into sleep. Without thinking, I lined my body up against Sam’s back. He stirred. Without waking, he pushed his back further into me, fitting the shape of my body naturally. Muscle memory, reminding us of what we had been. What we were. I placed my arm around him, my mind somewhere else entirely. Still half asleep, Sam felt for my hand and pulled it up to his lips, giving it a kiss: soft but firm. Warm and safe. I was drunk and drifting. Drunk and drifting. Drifting. Drifting until finally we were gone and only silence remained.

  5 September 2014 – Nottingham, England

  Silence filled the room, apart from the soft snore of Sam’s steady inhale and exhale, his breathing always heavier when he’d been drinking. His body, his hands grabbed my arms and pushed down softly, encouraging my body to turn to face him.

  ‘Morning, gorgeous.’ His eyes were wide now, his hands guiding my leg over his and pulling me to sit on top of him.

  ‘It’s not morning yet.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ Sam objected. It was morning when he had let himself into my room, morning when he had squeezed himself into my single bed.

  ‘Well, technically yes.’ I smiled through a whisper, careful not to wake my neighbour on the other side of the thin walls. ‘But it’s not time to get up yet.’

  ‘You’re unbelievable,’ he whispered into my hair, pulling me closer still. ‘I want you.’

  ‘I can tell.’

  ‘I love you.’ He looked into my eyes, both of us calmed by the words, like the ocean that so often roared between us was, in that moment, still.

  ‘I can tell.’ I leaned in to kiss him again, letting him run his fingers through my hair. I pulled away, struggling to hide my smile.

  ‘Go back to sleep now,’ I whispered, the magic words reminding him of the time and making his eyes fall heavier by the second. ‘But when we wake up,’ I whispered, pulling myself off him to snuggle back into his side, ‘you can tell me again and again and again.’

  Chapter 29

  6 September 2020 – Sydney, Australia

  ‘Fuck. Fuck.’ Somewhere in the distance I could hear Sam’s voice. Somewhere on my skin I could feel him move. I stirred myself awake, but still felt like I was dreaming.

  ‘Jess, what are you doing?’ I felt Sam’s breath on mine, his face now inches away from my own. I looked into my ex-boyfriend’s eyes, full of fear. I looked down at my body, naked apart from my lacy French knickers: once so sexy, now so sinful. Shit, shit, shit. We couldn’t have? We wouldn’t have?

  ‘I erm… did we?’ I asked. This was what I wanted. But it didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel right. I sat up, pulling the bed sheet around me, hiding the parts of me Sam had seen countless times before, suddenly ashamed. I looked around the open-plan living room – too white and too bright; I closed my eyes again. My head began to spin. I leaned over as if I might be sick. I actually might be sick.

  ‘No, we didn’t.’ Sam shot to his feet, naked apart from his white boxers, brighter against the bronze of his skin. ‘Get your clothes on. Now.’ His face was white as snow, his tone as cold as ice. Get your clothes on; the harshness of his words hurtled around my mind. I wanted to. I really wanted to. But I couldn’t move; I sat there motionless, slightly hunched over, trying not to be sick. Sam pulled on his jeans, flung on a T-shirt and left the room in double time. My mind had slowed to a halt; this couldn’t be happening.

  He returned moments later, face like thunder.

  ‘Sam… I… I can explain,’ I began, even though I couldn’t.

  I stared back at him, not moving an inch, not saying a word. Please smile, please laugh this off like old times.

  ‘Jamie’s gone,’ he croaked, on the verge of tears.

  ‘She’s… gone?’ I asked, still drunk and dumbfounded. I looked around the room, not knowing who or what I wanted to appear. Sam was always the one to save me.

  ‘Gone,’ Sam said bluntly before starting to pace the floor. ‘She must have seen you there, seen us there and thought… oh God… what must she think?’ He stopped to look at me, and then, unable to bear it, began to pace again.

  ‘Maybe she’s just gone to work?’ I asked, clutching at straws whilst clutching my stomach.

  ‘No, Jess, she’s gone. She’s taken some of her things, she’s… oh God…’ Sam continued pacing as tears started to brim in my own eyes. ‘What the fuck did you think you were doing?’ he demanded.

  I flinched. This was a far cry from the prayers he’d filled this room with weeks ago. This was the old Sam, feisty and unfiltered. That is what I wanted, right? The Sam I could get a rise from, the Sam I could always calm down. Except his stony face told me that was no longer the case.

  ‘I… was drunk,’ I stuttered, pulling the bed sheets further around my nakedness. ‘And I just thought… I thought—’

  ‘You thought what, Jess? Give me one good reason…’ Sam cut me off. One good reason. I looked down to the sheets, pulled around me in shame. I must have one good reason.

  ‘I thought this is what you wanted.’ I lifted my head to look up at him, eyes full and wet.

  ‘What I wanted?’ Sam yelled louder than I had ever heard him yell before. ‘What I wanted? Jess, I’m engaged. To be married. To a woman I love. Who’s now gone. What on earth made you think that this is what I wanted?’

  The tears started to fall. I tried to bite them back, but it was impossible.

  ‘The look you gave me the day we bumped into each other. You invited me to stay with you. You didn’t tell me about Jamie. All the lunches, all the moaning about the wedding. And then… and then you said you’d always love me…’ I said through sobs, begging him to agree. All of that had happened; all
of that was true.

  ‘As a friend, Jess.’ Sam stopped pacing and looked at me intently. ‘As my friend.’

  ‘But we were never just friends,’ I said meekly, knowing no words could help now.

  Sam looked at me with an unfamiliar expression. I couldn’t make it out, but I knew it wasn’t good. I’d thought this was what he wanted.

  ‘Jess, we’re not even just friends any more.’ Sam shook his head and bit his quivering lip.

  ‘What?’ I asked, barely audible through my tears.

  ‘You need to leave.’ Sam’s words hit me with force: calm, distant, decisive. ‘Now. Get your stuff and go.’

  ‘But where will I go?’ I asked, naked and vulnerable. I needed my problem-solving Sam. Surely he could fix this.

  ‘To your apartment, Jess. The one they’ve been bloody renovating for over a month.’ He shook his head, looking at me with an expression I’d never seen before. It was like he was seeing me for the first time. ‘No.’ Sam looked me in the eye. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Jess, tell me there is an apartment?’

  Stripped naked; there was nowhere left to hide.

  ‘You’re unbelievable,’ he whispered under his breath, too angry to keep his eyes on me. ‘And to think Jamie’s been so hospitable, tried so hard to make you feel at home.’ He shook his head. ‘And you never even had one.’ He let out a hollow laugh; there was nothing funny about it.

  ‘I’m not kidding, Jess.’ He forced himself to look at me one last time. ‘You need to leave.’

  ‘Where will I go?’ I repeated, crying out for him to save us from the mess I’d made.

  ‘I don’t know, Jess.’ He exhaled deeply. ‘But I know where I’m going. To find my fiancée – if I still have one – and make things right. When I come back, when we come back, I want you gone.’ Sam turned his back and headed away. This time, I knew not to follow.

  Shit, shit, shit. Tears streaming down my face, I headed to the box room. What had I done? I pushed the thought from my mind. I needed to get my things. Fast. Scrap by scrap I forced the semblance of my messy life back into my rucksack. Sam had made it look so easy to lug around. Now I had to carry it alone. Hoisting it onto my back, I made for the door. I couldn’t bear to look at the sorry reflection that taunted me from the floor-length mirror. Sam’s pretty pansy was gone.