Barefoot

by Daisy Burton

  It was a relief to get back to Glenwood Springs the next day. Their return to the hotel and the pool felt almost like coming home and Sal needed that familiarity. They went for lunch at their favourite place, The Cactus, and Sal made the mistake of having a breakfast burrito. It had sounded quite light from the menu description: a tortilla wrap, filled with onions, peppers, egg, beans and bacon and topped with grated cheese, but Sal’s mouth dropped when it arrived. Marsh had clearly been expecting something fairly enormous, but even he was surprised. He took great amusement from watching Sal grapple with what looked like a small, swaddled baby. She wasn’t to be beaten though, as they hadn’t had a proper meal in a while, so she sat there and kept chewing until it was gone.

  They collected their larger suitcases from reception, where they’d been kept safe, and they were grateful to find that they were back in their old room.

  Sal headed straight for the pool, despite being so full of burrito she thought she might burst. She’d missed the soothing water, and she needed it to do some of its work on her aching bones after the long days of driving. As usual, she looked up at their bedroom window as she climbed in and there was Marsh, waving as he did every time she swam. At least he was there; Sal had half-expected him not to bother.

  She eased herself into the water and made such a groaning noise as she immersed herself that she looked around, embarrassed that someone might have heard her. No one was close by, though, and she launched herself into the warm, welcoming water. She tried swimming, but she was too full and by the time she’d done a length, she’d got a stitch in her side. It was so painful that after less than ten minutes in the water, she got out and wrapped a towel around her. Instead of getting dried and dressed as she usually did, she pulled on her clothes over her still-damp body and made her way back to the warmth of their room.

  As she stood outside their room, feeling around in her swim bag for her key, she stopped mid-fumble. She could hear Marsh talking to someone, but she couldn’t hear anyone replying. He had to be on the ‘phone, but who could he possibly be calling? She couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but the nerves in her stomach that had been plaguing her for weeks before they left the UK, returned in a flash. As she found the key, she strained desperately to hear as her hair dripped down her face and back, but he’d stopped talking and all she could hear was gasping. She knew that sound only too well.

  Throwing the door open, she strode in to find Marsh on the bed, naked, holding the room’s telephone in one hand, and himself in the other. His face was red and he sat up like a bolt, but it was obvious what had been going on.

  He fumbled with the phone, slamming it down as quickly as he could and got up, pulling his pants around him.

  “Oh god, no. Sal… look … it’s not what you think. I thought you were …”

  She held her wet head with one hand and her sore side with the other, taking deep breaths and trying to control the surge of anger that was washing over her. She walked to the other bed and sat down carefully, stony-faced and holding him in her gaze. She sat silently, which was clearly affecting Marsh, because he was standing stock still, half naked and still stuttering.

  Her head was banging. Mel’s words before she left were running around her head. She shouldn’t have believed him. He must have been talking to Maire.

  “It-it’s not what you think, Pumpkin…” he repeated.

  That was it. She walked up to him, and slapped hard him round the face.

  “Don’t you dare ‘Pumpkin’ me!” She spat the words out through gritted teeth. “It was HER wasn’t it? All of this, all our time, all the effort I’ve put into trying to get to a point where I can trust you again, and you do THIS? When I’m SWIMMING?”

  Her voice was climbing in pitch as she spoke, until she was practically screaming at him. “What is it?” she shrieked. “You couldn’t wait ‘til I got back in the room to get off? You PROPOSED to me! Have you been lying all this time? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She screeched and stamped her foot with the effort and frustration.

  Her side started to seize where she’d had the stitch and she grabbed it, grimacing and holding her breath. That didn’t help. She gasped and sat down on the bed.

  Holding his burning cheek, he shuffled over to her as fast as his trousers around his ankles would allow.

  “Sal, are you okay?” The obvious, genuine concern in his eyes at her pain almost broke her heart.

  She didn’t speak, but not out of spite. She simply couldn’t find her voice or her breath. Her side was killing her, and all of the fears that she’d been trying so hard to allay, had jumped up and punched her hard in the face.

  As Sal wasn’t speaking, Marsh took off his trousers so he could walk properly, and with some level of mustered dignity he made his way into the bathroom. As the water gushed out of the tap, making some background noise, Sal burst into tears. Her mind was running at warp speed, trying to make sense of what had happened. She didn’t want him to see her crying, though, not now, and she took a deep breath. She needed to figure out what she was going to do, but given that she was thousands of miles away from home and at least three hours’ drive from Denver Airport, she had to stay.

  What does he think he’s doing talking to Maire again? The wanker. The absolute wanker. Literally.

  She fell back on the bed, exhausted, and incredulous.

  What if he’s done this every time I’ve been swimming? He always comes out on the balcony to wave. Has he been checking that I was down there?

  She wiped her eyes quickly and sat up as she heard him emerging from the bathroom. He padded quietly over to her, tying a robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door around him. He had such a look of regret and shame in his eyes, that she almost felt sorry for him.

  “Sal, it wasn’t Maire, please believe me,” he pleaded. “It was a nobody on a sex line I saw advertised on a flyer at The Cactus. I’m an idiot. I know that. But I haven’t done anything wrong; not really. I love you. Please, love.”

  “It wasn’t her?” Sal asked, finding it hard to believe.

  She didn’t know what to think any more. It was only the thought that he was talking to Maire that had sent her off into hysterics. If it wasn’t her – and Sal wasn’t entirely sure she believed him – then she could handle it. Sal was usually open-minded about that kind of thing. She couldn’t allow herself to be threatened by a bloody sex line.

  “Look,” Marsh broke into her thoughts. “I promised you I wouldn’t speak to her again and I haven’t. I won’t. She’s been calling me before we left and I’ve ignored her calls. I don’t have her number here, you know that. It wasn’t her. It was a nobody.”

  “Why, Marsh?” Sal couldn’t hold it in. “Why now? Why do you need it? What’s wrong with me? Am I still not enough?”

  “Of course you’re enough,” he murmured, reaching to touch her arm gently. “You’re more than enough for an idiot like me. I was pissed off that you said no to me yesterday, and we were too tired to do anything last night. I needed something … you know, and I didn’t know how you’d react to me making a move, given all that’s happened. So, I saw the number and figured what the hell. You were swimming and you’re normally ages. I didn’t think ...” His voice was getting louder and more insistent. “I’m so sorry. I fucking love you, Sallie Ford. Please, please believe me.”

  In some ways, she wished she’d stayed in the pool longer. If she hadn’t ever known about it, she wouldn’t have this horrible dilemma in her head. Before all the Maire stuff, she wouldn’t have given two hoots about him calling a sex line; in fact, she would have laughed and told him to fill his boots. She’d been 100 per cent certain back then that he loved and wanted only her, and she had no reason to feel threatened. But that was before Maire.

  Now, his betrayal had shaken her to her core and made her doubt everything. All the paper-thin repairs that she’d been working on had been torn down by one simple call. It wasn’t the call, though, she realised that as she sat there. It w
as the fact that she didn’t trust him and she felt as if she wasn’t good enough for him. In fact, she hadn’t realised until now precisely how much damage the episode had done to her self-esteem.

  She had to get out into the fresh air, so she could think and she left Marsh sitting on the bed. Walking out and wandering around the pool, the steam vapours made her feel calmer.

  Thinking back to what he’d said, she stopped in her tracks. She had turned him down yesterday and that must have been a massive deal for him. Not only that, but in front of a small crowd. Okay, so there wasn’t anyone there they knew, but still, it was publicly embarrassing for him. He was a fading rock star with a big ego, and he wasn’t used to that feeling. She could see why he felt unable to make a move on her today.

  If it wasn’t Maire on the line, he hasn’t really done anything wrong, has he?

  Desperate reasoning. It hurt, though, so much more than she could have ever imagined it would. She felt raw and heavy inside, as if the wound that he’d originally made, and which he’d helped her to stitch up so carefully and gradually, had split open. She wished she wasn’t in the middle of another continent; she wanted to talk to Jess. Jess always knew what to do.

  She sat on a sun lounger and cried. Big sloppy, messy tears rolled down her cheeks and she gazed at the steaming water as she leaned on her knees. The water was so calming when she was feeling like this, and it helped her to zone out and get her thoughts in order.

  An hour later, she felt composed enough to go and face him. When she walked back into their room, Marsh pulled her gently and tentatively into him, as if he half-expected her to slap him again. When she didn’t, he put his arms right around her, like he had when her mum had died, and she cried all over again.

  That was unexpected and she crumpled into his chest, howling and shuddering; sobbing in a way she hadn’t since her mum died. Despite everything, it felt so good - so right - when he held her like that. Like everything in the world was okay, and he’d fixed it.

  Even though he absolutely hadn’t.

  16

  Jess sat staring at the froth swirling on the top of her coffee after she’d finished stirring it. She was finding it hard to focus on anything, but the froth had held her attention successfully for a moment or two. Adam had left for work at 7.00am and since then, she’d been sitting in the kitchen snuggled in her fluffy robe, drinking coffee and thinking.

  Of all the times her best friend could have gone away, this was about the third-worst. First-worst would obviously have been the ectopic. Second-worst would probably have been the whole epic disaster of 1995. Sal had got Jess through both of those times, but this was triumphantly waltzing into third place, and Sal had been gone two whole weeks with no contact. She couldn’t talk to Adam about this, and she wasn’t even really sure she should talk to Sal, but she needed to tell someone. She was scared – terrified – and had no one to tell her it was going to be fine.

  Until that point, Jess hadn’t thought about how her friend had always been around to support her. They were always supportive of each other, of course, but Sal had never been away and incommunicado for this length of time, since they had become friends. When Sal was on tour with the band, Jess was with her. When Sal stood in for Jess after the operation, Jess could reach her on email, mobile, or in person. This silence had been hell. A technologically silent hell.

  Although Jess was the life and soul of any party she attended, she’d never had that many friends, and she was fine with that. She found it hard to cope when people decided to turn up unannounced on the doorstep, or expected her to go to parties with them with no notice. She enjoyed a party, but only if she was fully prepared.

  Sal was different from anyone else Jess knew. She never judged Jess, yet she would always tell her what she thought – truthfully, as far as Jess could tell. Jess loved her, and Sal had proved herself to be a worthy, loyal and steadfast friend. Right now, Jess badly needed her. Her emotions were flying dramatically out of control and that was a bad thing when she was working. She had to cope with stressful, urgent situations, and be a diplomat in many ways. So, crying one minute and yelling the next had no place in Jess’s working life.

  Although she was naturally hot-headed and could be sarcastic, Jess was usually in control. This was a completely new feeling, which scared her more than she liked to admit to herself. Adam was starting to lose patience with her because he didn’t understand why she was so uncharacteristically unhinged, and he clearly didn’t want to risk being yelled at for asking her what was wrong.

  Jess was far too scared to tell him – or almost anyone – the reason for her irrational behaviour. The only person who could help her was Sal.

  The doorbell startled her out of her thoughts. She always leapt when the bell rang these days; she’d never fully recovered from the days when she’d been stalked. Peeking out of the window, she was barely able to contain her happiness when she saw Sal standing on the doorstep with a bag in her hand. Sal’s face didn’t look like the face of someone bearing good news, though. So, she flew to the door knowing full well that there was no way she’d be able to talk about her own problems today.

  “Sweet pea!” she squealed as she opened the door. “What are you doing here? I’ve missed you so much. Come in!”

  Sal looked bemused at such a warm welcome as she stepped inside. Jess realised that it wasn’t her usual greeting style, but she couldn’t hold it in. She was relieved her friend was back.

  They hugged warmly and Sal explained that she had literally put her cases down as soon as she arrived home, and left again. She hadn’t even said hello to Mel or Lawrence before she scooted out.

  She apologised to Jess for appearing unannounced at 8.00am because she knew that was one thing that Jess hated. In reality, Sal knew she was one of the only people who could get away with it. After Jess had made a cup of tea for her and brought in a plate of biscuits, Sal regaled the whole sorry Colorado story. As she was talking, she dunked the ginger nuts and sucked the tea out of them before eating them. Jess found that repulsive and a wave of nausea washed over her. It was a struggle to say nothing, but she bit her tongue and did her best to focus on Sal’s story while nibbling on a dry ginger nut, hoping the sickness would pass.

  “He’s been so kind since that day and I’ve tried so hard to forget about it, but I’ve been a bit distant, to be honest,” Sal gabbled. “I mean, I know he hasn’t been unfaithful again, but …”

  “… It’s made you feel insecure?” Jess frowned.

  “I guess so.”

  “But he’d proposed, Sal!” Jess exclaimed. “Christ’s sake, that’s something I never thought he’d do. He’s always said he’d never get married again… and you said no? I bet he was right pissed off.”

  “I know. Do you think I should’ve said yes then? Even though I wasn’t sure?”

  “Weeeeeell…” Jess narrowed her eyes in thought. No, not at all, but it wasn’t her place to say. To be honest, she didn’t care very much, but at least the nauseated feeling had passed.

  “Oh god, you do. I was shocked when he asked, but I don’t think I could have said yes. Not without being absolutely sure. And anyway, I didn’t want him to propose as a way of saying sorry for what he’d done. He’s got to want to be with me forever if he’s going to ask me to marry him.”

  Jess took a deep, calming breath and spoke. “I guess it depends on whether you want to stay with him. You could have said yes to give yourself some time and options, but I know you’re not like that. How was he afterwards? I mean, that’s quite the humiliation.”

  “Oh, please don’t say that,” Sal’s eyes were like saucers. “He was pretty annoyed at Four Corners, but once we got back to Glenwood, he seemed okay. Until the ‘phone call. It was weird that we had such a good last day in Glenwood, before the drive back to Denver. We went to Maroon Bells, which isn’t far from Glenwood Springs. The scenery is breathtaking, even in February and it was so calm and magical. He seemed his old self when we were there. Th
e place is so romantic; all the crap seemed to fade away and we were back to being Sal and Marsh.”

  “Sounds fantastic. So, it’s still there, then? The ‘you and Marsh’ thing? If it hasn’t been buried completely by all his mucking around, that must be a good sign, surely?” Jess said, trying to sound interested when all of Sal’s problems seemed to be inconsequential in comparison to hers. “I hope you took loads of pics over there, Sal, I want to see where you’ve been,” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “I took loads, obviously. I’m going to spend the next few days going through them, but you’ll get a full viewing when I have.” Sal smiled, but she clearly needed Jess’s input. “I just don’t know what to do now.”

  Jess swallowed a mouthful of tea and did her best to focus. “Well, if the Maire stuff hadn’t happened, would you have said yes that day?”

  Sal sat and thought, not speaking for a few seconds. “Well, you know how I feel about marriage, after David,” she said, eventually. “But…”

  “Well, you know that Marsh isn’t anything like Dave,” Jess butted in. “And you made the decision to try to work on your relationship with Marsh after the Irish Bitch episode, so you must still love him. He hasn’t properly betrayed you again, and the Sal I know wouldn’t normally be worried about a quick sex-line slip-up. I mean, it’s hardly the crime of the century, is it? Though I can see why it happened…” she pondered. “He didn’t want to risk annoying you by making a move when he felt the urge. That could be seen as quite noble, actually.”

  “See? This is why I came to see you; you always tell me what you think,” Sal smiled. I’m pretty certain he was acting on the spur of the moment, and I’m also sure he hasn’t been in touch with HER since the New Year.”