‘I’ll get it.’ He stopped me and went himself. When he returned, he poured in some coffee and handed it to me, standing beside me with unsaid words making him dither. ‘I’m sorry for what I did to you, Effie. It was on Theo’s orders. I didn’t want to do any of it.’
I was about to say that it was okay, but I wasn’t quite there yet.
‘Theo explained everything to me. I understand why you thought it was best that I wasn’t in the picture,’ I replied. ‘I mean, it was a stupid idea and none of you knew me well enough to make that decision on my behalf, but I understand.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
‘It better not.’ I smiled and stepped forward. I pulled him close and gave him a quick squeeze. ‘I didn’t enjoy trying to hate you.’
The air was cold, crisp, silent, as Otis and I made our way out to Tessa. It was the first day of a brand-new year, one that I would begin in a completely different state of mind than the last. It felt, in all senses, like a new start.
I sat down beside her in the dewy grass, took a sip of my coffee and placed it down. I crossed my legs, letting my hands rest on my knees and my eyes fall closed. Otis sat between us, his eyes glued to a moorhen that glided across the water.
It was a while before she spoke and when she did it was quiet. ‘Are you going to stay with him?’ she asked bluntly.
‘Yes,’ I replied without opening my eyes.
Tessa breathed deeply. ‘It’s hard, you know, seeing him like this and being able to do absolutely nothing about it.’
‘I know. But I’m still staying.’
I opened my eyes and turned to her. She was looking straight at me. She took the steaming cup of herbal tea from the grass and raised it into the air, much like she had when I’d first met her and she’d refused to toast to my name. She looked at me with tired yet glad eyes and said with a smile, ‘Welcome to the family, Effie.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eight Months Later
I stood in front of the mirror with my palms sweating into the skirt of my dress. I couldn’t ever remember being so nervous. I stared at my reflection and quietly congratulated myself on drawing matching eyeliner flicks. There would be no lopsided eyes today.
I wore a dark green dress, cinched in at the waist, the skirt falling down to my knee. My hair was braided across my forehead and down into a long plait that fell over my shoulder. Tiny purple flowers had been pushed into it by the flower girl, Toby’s niece, who now sat in the corner tearing the remaining flowers in her basket to pieces and laughing maniacally.
My bouquet of peonies and thistles sat on the table next to me, an undrunk flute of champagne beside it.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Weddings were always stressful; everyone knew that. But I had never attended a wedding before and so I hadn’t known just how stressful, until right now.
I heard deep breathing behind me and wondered if a woman in labour had wandered in. I looked in the mirror and saw that it was only Arthur. He appeared beside me with a sweating brow and hands that fumbled with his tie.
‘Why do you look so nervous? I’m the one getting married,’ he said.
‘I’ve never walked someone down the aisle before,’ I replied. I turned around and took the tie from him, knotting it with the little skill that remained from my school days. ‘You know me, it’s highly likely that I’ll trip and pull you down with me.’
‘You’d better not – this suit cost more than all the clothes I own put together.’
Arthur didn’t have much in the way of family. He was an only child whose mother disapproved of his sexuality and refused to come and see her son marry the man he loved. His dad hadn’t had a problem with his son being gay, but he’d died four years ago. The only other person was his Aunt Muriel, but she was ninety-seven and lived in Geneva, so that left just me.
Arthur and Toby had returned after five and a half months of their trip. They’d spent two days in Amsterdam and that’s when Toby suggested that they get married. He hadn’t thought that Arthur would agree, but he did and they’d flown back earlier than expected to start planning. They’d shown up unannounced and the first thing Arthur had said to me was, ‘Is that a dog on my sofa?’
I’d thought that he’d want me to move back to Mum and Dad’s, but they’d decided to live at Toby’s house. It was bigger and nicer and they both knew I wanted to stay. The flat might not have been huge or impressive, but I loved it and so did Otis.
Theo had stayed in Wales until the end of March and by then he was able to walk properly again and his symptoms were under control. His apartment in the city was let out to a young entrepreneur and I spent a few days taking his things up to Wales, bit by bit. I split my time between home and Wales, helping as much as I could when I was there and missing them all terribly when I wasn’t – even Tessa, who had finally begun to stop eyeing me with suspicion whenever she saw me.
Theo had moved in with me after that. At first, we thought that the stairs would be a problem for him, but once he was better, he had little trouble.
Rhys had offered to buy Arthur’s flat for us as a joint birthday gift. Of course, I’d done the polite thing and told him that we couldn’t possibly accept, all the while silently praying that he wouldn’t rescind his offer – which he thankfully didn’t. Rhys was forever grateful to me for sticking around, as if he thought that being with Theo was holding me back in some way. But there are many ways that a person can be held back, I of all people know that, and being with Theo was most definitely not one of them.
‘We’d better get going,’ I said, glancing at the time and watching as the colour drained from Arthur’s face. I took his arm and walked him to the door, waiting behind it as the people inside quietened down and the music began playing.
‘I’m really glad you stalked me and stuck around,’ he blurted, his face pulled into a look of pure panic.
‘Me too.’ I smiled as the doors opened and we began our walk.
The wedding was being held in a small but beautiful room in a gothic hotel just outside the city. It had cost a small fortune but, as I had later discovered, Toby was minted.
At the end of the aisle stood Toby, dressed head to toe in cobalt blue with a lime green tie. I smiled to myself; he was far from the uptight accountant that he’d been a year ago. As we reached him, I kissed them both and stepped aside, giving his hand to Toby and standing behind Arthur with my bouquet held in front of me.
The celebrant began her reading and my eyes started to mist over. Arthur was my family and now, so was Toby. A year ago, I had thought myself completely alone, a lonesome failure, floundering in an ocean that was too big and too frightening. But I wasn’t floundering anymore; I’d finally learned to swim.
I looked into the crowd and saw Theo.
He smiled and my stomach twisted in response; the magic of his smile had returned.
He was almost back to the Theo I had known when I’d first met him: strong, solid, charming. But this time there was something different. We were no longer separated by the secrets that he kept or the issues that I had. I knew him now, all of him, and he knew all of me.
We both knew that any period of good would be followed by a spiral of bad, but the next time he fell I would be there to catch him, and hopefully I’d do a lot less damage to my wrist.
Caleb sat between Theo and Amy, the lapel of his suit jacket covered in enamel pins, including the one I’d got him. He leaned over and whispered something in Amy’s ear; she smiled and playfully pushed him away.
Theo and Caleb had become pretty good friends. Theo even came out with us one night to help with the handouts. I’d spent the whole time watching him and worrying that the cold was getting to him, but it had all been fine in the end. He was learning his new limitations and although it was hard for him to stop eating what he liked and doing whatever he wanted, it was better than the alternative.
Ali’s funeral had been in early January and it had been a solemn affair.
There had been no coffin, only a cardboard box, and no flowers except for the three yellow roses I’d placed on the lid before the service, along with the Christmas gift that she never got to unwrap.
There had been eight mourners in total: Caleb, Ned, Cassie, Liz, Janet, me and the volunteer who’d found her, who cried soundlessly into a cotton handkerchief throughout. The eighth mourner, Otis, had been snuck in under the guise of a medical assistance dog. Caleb had bought him a reflective jacket online because he thought that, of all of us, Otis was the one who should have been there to say goodbye the most. He had been her heart after all.
He’d sat quietly beside me, looking up at me when the curtains closed around the plain little box. He’d looked terribly confused. If I was him, I think I’d have been too.
In two months, it would be a year since I met Theo in that diner. I guess the metal sign on the wall with the grinning woman on it had been right after all; that had been the day that had changed my life.
I’m not going to lie to you, I haven’t changed entirely.
I still lose my temper over things, like when Otis ate his way through a second edition Jane Eyre in the store room, I still drink occasionally and I still get jealous of other people from time to time. But life was good and I could honestly say that I was happy.
The wedding reception was held in a small function room with a bar, a dance floor and a DJ who I’d gone over to and requested ‘Heroes’ by David Bowie, just to take Theo’s mind away from the fact that he couldn’t drink. We’d danced to the euphoric music, his arms around my waist, his smile back in place.
‘Do you want to do this?’ he asked as we rocked from side to side under the colourful disco lights that shone from the DJ booth. ‘Get married, I mean, not this highly sophisticated dance we’re doing.’
I laughed and looked around. Toby and Arthur sat at a table eating cake, their ankles touching beneath the table, Arthur’s holiday tattoo of Toby’s glasses – the Czech flag reflected in the lenses – poking out over his sock.
‘Why? Did Chad Michael Murray call back?’ I asked, recalling my and Kate’s teenage bucket list. He smiled. God, how I’d missed that smile when he’d been away. ‘I don’t mind either way. As long as I’m with you, then I don’t care what letters go before my first name.’
Theo made a fake throwing-up gesture at my words and then kissed my forehead. ‘That’s a shame, Effie Morgan has a nice ring to it.’
I thought about it for a moment. No longer would I be MEH.
I shook my head. ‘What about Theo Heaton? You could take my name.’
‘What, and give up the name of the man who invented the Morgan spring? Never! My father would have a mental breakdown.’ He moved his hand from my waist and held my face; my skin tingled where he touched. ‘I suppose we can cross that bridge if we come to it.’ He leaned in and kissed me as the music built to the final crescendo. The music swelled in my ears and the love swelled in my chest. If there was any such thing as perfection, then this moment was it.
The sound of a throat being forcefully cleared made us turn away from each other to find Toby and Arthur standing beside us.
‘Wanna dance?’ Arthur asked, a grin on his face. I’d never seen him so happy. ‘Not because I like you or anything, just because you’re the best I’ve got.’
‘How could I refuse a heartfelt offer like that?’ I took his hand and twirled him around, which is difficult, might I add, when your dancing partner is more than a foot taller than you.
The joyful introductory drumbeat of ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ played out from the speakers and Arthur and I danced like no one was watching, while Theo, Toby and Amy did the same in a trio of people who had less than an ounce of rhythm between them, but a ton of enthusiasm.
Theo and I arrived home late and stone-cold sober.
I know, unbelievable, isn’t it? Me, sober. Ha!
We’d picked up Otis from my parents and he’d wasted no time in running into the flat and diving onto the sofa, glad to be home.
Mum and Dad had been more than eager to have Otis for an entire day. Dad loved him, his face lighting up whenever he saw the dog’s ever-present smile.
My mum was quietly ecstatic that I no longer drank as much and I’d seen her checking my eyes for fuzziness when we’d arrived to pick Otis up. Things between us had been good for a while now, probably for the longest time since I was around twelve.
Theo still found it hard not to drink or do the things that he felt he should be able to, and a month ago I had begun to see him growing despondent. He’d never before had to stop and think about what he could or couldn’t do. Adjusting to his new limitations was always going to suck, but I was doing my best to try and ease him through it.
I’d known that he was slipping for a while, so I’d decided that it was time to make another list, but this time for Theo.
His missions were a lot less ambitious than mine, but to him each mission checked off was a step closer to normality.
After three weeks we’d already completed four missions:
1.Go for a thirty-minute walk … CHECK
2.Eat a tomato … CHECK
3.Throw out the crutch … CHECK
4.Have a cheeseburger … CHECK
I’d fished the crutch back out of the skip that he’d ceremoniously tossed it into. I knew he hated it, but I also knew he’d need it again at some point. Each mission that we completed had come with some side effects, but we’d been ready for them, and now that he was officially diagnosed, he was on the right drugs and getting better.
In five weeks, it would be his thirty-first birthday and, on that day, he’d be having a drink, a proper one. He hadn’t decided what yet, but he was looking forward to it immensely.
As I pushed open the door and walked into the shop, I felt something hit against my shoe. It skittered across the floor and stopped against the edge of the sofa. I turned the lights on and found Theo bending over to pick it up.
Theo read the stamped envelope and handed it to me with a grin.
‘I think this is for you,’ he said.
I took the envelope and recognised the name as the agency I’d sent the first part of my book off to before Christmas.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ he asked, stepping closer.
I looked up at him and saw the anticipation in his eyes.
A year ago, I would have torn the envelope without a second thought. But holding it in my hand, I realised that even if the letter was another rejection, I wouldn’t be crushed by it.
‘I will,’ I said, ‘but not just yet.’ I leaned in and kissed him once; I kissed him twice. I made up for every kiss that we’d missed while we were both too busy underestimating ourselves and I would keep making up for those missed kisses until my lips couldn’t kiss anymore.
The bevy of weary people freshly released from the purgatory of the workday moved against me, but for once, I didn’t mind swimming against the current. I watched as a man played Candy Crush Saga on his phone while his son reeled off an unheard story at his side and a woman knelt down and frantically fumbled in her bag for something she couldn’t find. I turned the corner and made my way to the post office, the brown envelope containing my full manuscript clasped under my arm.
I’d always wanted to be a writer. I wanted to see someone reading my book on a train and feel pride swell in my chest as they read my words. I wanted one of those little recommendation cards that sit on the shelves in Waterstones. I’d wanted it so much and for so long and now someone wanted to read more; this was my chance. I handed the envelope to the cashier who slapped on a stamp and sent it on its way. There was nothing more I could do now. It was out of my hands.
I had always been so worried about how I compared to everybody else, about how inadequate I was. But if this last year had taught me anything it was that I had a lot more than I gave myself credit for. I’d lived my life to other people’s standards for too long. I only cared about my own standards these days.
As I arrived back at the shop, I stopped and looked in through the window, just out of sight of the people inside. Arthur hung from the ladder by one arm while Amy smiled and handed him a book. He was telling a dramatic story to Toby and Theo who sat on the sofa, listening intently with Otis wedged between their knees.
I’d come to realise that I didn’t need a London apartment with a balcony; I had the little flat that I loved and had painted in shades of green. I didn’t need the fiancé who posed with me in photographs and spent hour upon hour in the gym to get a torso like Khal Drogo; I had Theo and I didn’t want anyone else.
I’d failed a great deal in life, but my biggest failure had been refusing to be happy.
I smiled at the reflection of myself in the window.
Maybe I had made a hash of a few years of my life, but now that was over and the only thing I was failing at these days, was failing.
Acknowledgements
I have dreamt about writing one of these since I first picked up a pen and decided I wanted to write. In the ten years since I wrote those first few words of a novel that I pray will never see the light of day, I have had support from a few very special people.
Mom, thanks for letting me freeload on you for longer than either of us ever planned on, so that I could spend my time tapping away at my computer to make this dream a reality. You’ve been my biggest supporter and I hope that I’m doing you proud.
Dad, thank you for giving me the literary bug in the first place and for your verbal pearls of wisdom, some of which have made it into this book.
Matt Goode, thank you for being my real-life Theo and helping me cross a few things off my own list.
I also want to thank Steve Bartlett, for giving me the most important pep talk of my life and stopping me from putting down the pen for good when the rejections had knocked me down. And to Heddwen Roberts for coming to the rescue when I needed an English to Welsh translation. I’d also like to thank my real life Ali, Michael Michalak, who allowed me to use his experiences to inspire Ali’s backstory.
Very Nearly Normal Page 33
