Lucy fades into the background but she won’t stay there. As if psychically knowing I’m giving my time to someone else, her calls start up again. Sometimes I forget to switch my phone off when I’m with Ness and I wish I could tell her who calls, wipe away the suspicion flickering across her face each time I refuse to answer the phone. Lucy is the last part of my life I ever want Ness to know about, but can’t hide forever.
While Ness changes to go out for the evening, I wait on the sofa, which always reminds me of our first evening. The day she took me to bed. Memories of those hours with her have replayed so much in my head, I’ve worn them out. And the images always have the same effect. So, I stop thinking, greeting her with an erection would not get the evening off to a good start. Sex is off the agenda, understandably. Frustratingly. If she pulls away, I stop, don’t even try to go there. I think I’ve blown any chance of getting her into bed for a while. So I hold her and touch her as much as I can, so I can take memories of the softness of her lips and warmth of her skin home with me. But when I lie alone in bed at night, it’s recollections of the sensation of her breasts brushing my chest or my hands’ touch on her beautiful backside, which obsess me.
Ness is in an odd mood today, back to being snarky. I have no idea why when everything has been so awesome. I hope it’s time of the month stuff and not something I’ve inadvertently done. Or Lucy. You can never tell with chicks. Girls.
When we arrive at the pub, she’s quiet. Contemplative.Oh, crap. After three days? I deliberately lead her to the table we sat at before. I sit on the same red vinyl stool, at the same beer stained wooden table and hold her hand. Maybe if she feels like we have our special spot we sit in, she might warm to me more. Girls like that stuff, I think.
I’m trying to read her but it’s tough. Like she’s pissed off with me about something, but why come out if she doesn’t want to be around me? Ness doesn’t take her coat off and she keeps pushing her brown hair out of her face, irritated when it falls back in. I lean over and smooth Ness’s fringe back.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, Evan”
“Oh?”
“I’m thinking of leaving.”
Her words slam me in the chest. What the hell did I do? “Leaving?”
“Yeah, saving up and traveling.” I think she catches the confusion in my eyes. “I planned this before. Before us. I mean, before this.”
I pull my mask back on and smile in encouragement. “Where are you going? Sounds interesting.”
Ness launches into an excited speech about her plans for the future. Every part of her transforms with the enthusiasm she has for her idea - I’ve never seen Ness’s face so animated, eyes so bright. But I understand. Her choices - the job - drag her down, and I realize I haven’t been getting to know the real Ness at all. And I’m jealous. Really bloody jealous. She can have whatever she wants; her past is escapable. Hell, her past will pay for her escape.
“Must be nice,” I say when she pauses.
“What?”
“Having money.”
Her hands, which waved around, painting pictures of her adventures, stop. “I earn my money.” Her animated features settle into hard lines.
“You mean no-one’s going to pay for your trip?”
“By no-one do you mean my parents?”
“You’re going to save it all?”
Ness turns her unimpressed look to me. “Is that beyond the realm of possibility.”
Misunderstanding. Jealousy. Irritation. And we’re back to this. I’ve lost her; her face clouds and she takes a drink.
“It doesn’t matter.” I take a drink too and consider how deeply I’ve put my foot in it.
“What do you think of me, Evan?” she asks.
“It’s probably best we don’t keep going with this conversation. Forget it.”
I wish I’d bitten my tongue, not let my hurt take over.Crap. It’s not like we’re a real couple.
“This is very reminiscent of the first time I spoke to you. I thought we’d got past categorizing each other. But what am I? Still see me as Daddy’s princess?”
“No, I think you’ve got an insecurity about your past, if you were a princess I doubt you’d be working in a call center. I don’t think of you that way.”
“What about you? Your past? What’s your big insecurity following you around? What’s your secret, Evan?”
Ness has her eyes fixed on me now, and I know deep inside my stomach this is more than an argument about our past lives. Something is behind her uneasy silence today.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“Then don’t ask me to open up to you.” She drinks her beer in several gulps. “I think I should go.”
I put my hand on hers. “Ness? What’s going on?”
With impeccable timing, my phone rings. Ness glares at it, then at me. “Answering it?”
“No.”
She stands and I catch her arm. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you. I just reacted badly to you saying you were leaving. You took me by surprise.”
“We hardly know each other still. Like this. What’s this all about? Every day.” Ness gestures at the phone.
The phone rings again and I cancel the call.
“What about you? Haven’t you done the same? Pigeon holed me?” I ask.
She snorts. “Into a guy that screws around because he has abandonment issues?”
I curl my fingers around my phone, the metal crushing into my palm. “Too far, Ness.”
Ness leans over the table, breathing heavily. Her bright eyes startle me. “Well, you screwed me and never got in touch.”
My ringtone interrupts my answer.
“Answer it, for fucks sake! What is your issue with phones?” she snaps.
I cancel the call and slam the phone on the table, blown away by her. And where this came from. The last time I fought with a girl, she was a blubbering mess within seconds. Ness is poking straight into my wounds, exposing her own at the same time without realizing. The way she’s looking at me now, I could do the cliché thing they do in chick flicks - lean across the table and kiss her, tell her I want her, tell her all my secrets. The thing is, I don’t think Ness is a chick flick kind of girl. She sits back on the stool. The tension between us is tight, I’m willing her not to leave. Because I’m not sure she’d ever come back. What the hell is going on with her?
I’m concentrating on her so hard, I miss my phone ringing again. Ness snatches it off the table and looks at the screen. Before I can take the phone off her, she sees the name. The anger in her face melds into something else. Hurt? Disgust? I don’t know. She holds her arm straight, phone centimeters from my face.
“Lucy wants to talk to you.”
“Put it down.”
“Your girlfriend wants you,” she says in a cold voice.
“She’s not my girlfriend, put it down.”
The phone stops ringing and she turns it back to herself. Ness scrolls down the screen “Lucy really wants to talk to you, today alone she’s tried twenty times.”
Her demeanor could freeze the room.
“You bastard,” she says softly, “I knew something was going on. Did you screw her and leave as well?”
“No.”
Ness stands and pulls her bag onto her shoulder. “I’ve had my suspicions. You and that fucking phone, hiding hushed conversations from me.”
I rub my hand down my face. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh yeah, it never is, is it? I waited for you to explain to me and you didn’t. So there’s a reason, isn’t there, Evan?”
All I can do is shake my head. The words won’t come out. Why can’t I tell her? I need to. Or she’s gone.
She makes a derisive noise. “See, you have no explanation. I don’t understand why you decided to screw around with my feelings. Call your girlfriend or whoever she is. And keep the hell away from me.”
****
NESS
I’m angry. Really fucking angry. But with
myself, for letting him suck me into his lies. How long was he going to keep going for? Until he screwed me again? The next few days I mull over the whole Evan episode. Men say women are confusing but I don’t understand his game. Either Lucy has been in his life all along, at least since the night he kissed me, or he’s a serial heartbreaker who chooses girls inclined to stalk him afterwards. Twenty calls in one day. Jeez. That’s crazy, the girl should get the hint.
Well, he needn’t worry about me stalking him, I’m out of this. My crazy was my hormones, and they’re under control now.
The first day I receive texts and calls from Evan, which I don’t answer. How ironic. After a day he gives up, and so easily this hurts me more. Then I start obsessing over who Lucy is. She could be any one of his number of conquests - I wonder how recent. I waited for him to explain the calls. But he didn’t. Then I think back to the first time he kissed me and the phone calls. The same girl? She could be an ex from home, which explains his trip to Lancaster.
Whoever she is, she’s persistent.
I come home from another crappy day at work to find the kitchen overflowing with dishes and rubbish. The bitchiness at work gets worse as my withdrawal from bothering to interact with anyone there increases. I contemplate leaving but I need the money for going away. So I stick pictures of the countries I intend to visit all over my cubicle and when a particularly awkward customer calls, I focus on Australia. Or India. Or anywhere with no call centers, students or Evans.
And then I come home to this bullshit. The house is littered in dirty mugs, empty pizza boxes and clothes strewn around. Abby only has four hours of class a day and I’m sick of her laziness. This house share idea has threatened our friendship from day one. It’s a good thing I’m going soon.
An envelope is propped against the kettle, my name scrawled on the front. At first, I think the note is from Abby but the writing isn’t familiar.
I open the envelope and inside is a card with a painted picture of a blue butterfly on the front. Inside is blue handwriting:
‘I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.’
Tears spring into my eyes and I blink rapidly, furious with my reaction. Beneath the text, more words.
‘I want to tell you about Lucy’. Evan’s name is signed underneath, spiky letters.
I lean on the sink, attempting to catch my breath and the tears flow. The card infuriates me - this attempt by Evan to worm his way into my psyche through something he’s seen in the movies. And it’s worked. There’s a poignancy in the words and the simplicity of his message which punches a hole straight through my defenses.
I scrub my eyes. Okay, he can tell me about Lucy. But his explanation won’t change anything. Because whoever she is, he’s lied to me by hiding her.
Chapter 18
EVAN
The fury inside when Lucy ruins everything with Ness is uncontainable. I go home and drink myself into unconsciousness, stop myself doing anything stupid. The next morning I try to contact Ness but the irony of my repeatedly unanswered calls becomes too big a reminder of how we got there, so I give up.
I throw myself into the gym. Everyday. For hours. Exhausting myself and pumping out the adrenaline coursing around my body.
Lucy’s calling continues and I come close to answering. Instead, I call him, in Lancaster, beg him to do something. Scream about how he’s ruined my life, failed me. Failed us both. Then I bury myself back in the bottle, numbing myself. Nothing works. I can’t stop the pain of not being able to escape her pain.
Poetry class smacks me around the head with another irony. We’re onto Romanticism. Byron. Tortured poets. Ha ha. I don’t know why I send the card to Ness but when I read the quote, from Keats’s love letters, the words slam me in the heart. Three butterfly days with Ness. Until Lucy tore the wings off.
I don’t expect her to respond, knowing Ness she’d think the card was insincere, clichéd. I’m wrong. She doesn’t call me but she texts a time and a place. This leads to mixed feelings, I half-wished she hadn’t called, and made me confront this.
Matt hassles me to go on another drinking binge with him. He enjoys the bacchanalian side of my pain. I fob him off, tell him where I’m meeting Ness and instruct him not to bring his drinking buddies to this particular pub. Another reminder of the Evan she detests won’t help the situation.
I’m here. Ness is late.
This small pub is a good choice because few students come here; I’m unlikely to bump into anyone from uni. Girls. Older locals prop themselves against the bar, talking quietly over the music from the jukebox. I smile at the old style. My beer glass empties quickly and I stop. Alcohol isn’t going to help this situation. Nausea churns around in my stomach; the decision to acknowledge my old life in this new one terrifies me.
The heavy door opens and a girl enters. Pale face, curls partly obscuring her face, brown eyes searching the room. Her hands flutter around, like she’s reaching out for something and I know she’s looking me. The beer resting heavily on my stomach pushes into my mouth.
How the fuck did she find me?Lucy.
And it doesn’t take her long to see me in the half-empty room. No chance of hiding from her anymore.
She darts over and sits on the stool, eyes dragging me into her. “Evan, I’ve been looking for you. You have to help me.”
Lucy grabs at my sleeve with broken fingernails. Fingernails she once lovingly painted different colors.
“Lucy, you can’t be here.” I can hardly hear what I’m saying, hearing fading.
“Please. I don’t know who else to ask!”
Her voice rises above the low hubbub of the pub and heads turn.Shit. Lucy’s shaking and I know what’s coming. I can’t sit here and risk a Lucy meltdown.
Grabbing my jacket, I touch her hand. “Okay, come with me.”
Lucy’s face transforms with relief and she rubs a sleeve across her head. “Thank you.”
I want to drag her out of the pub, but I can’t. So I let her follow and I spin around as soon as the cold air hits us.
“What do you want me to do, Lucy? I can’t help you!”
Her face crumples again and she grabs my sleeve. “No, Evan, you’re the only one I can trust. Please. Help me.”
I don’t feel as if my rigid body belongs to me. This isn’t real. She isn’t here.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” she whines.
“I don’t know what to do to help you. You shouldn’t have come here.”
Lucy grabs fistfuls of her hair and screams, her cry so familiar the sound washes over me, and I don’t respond. I’m pushed against the wall as she attacks me, fists smashing my chest, nails scratching my bare arms. Her assault doesn’t phase me. Not anymore.
Through the numbness of the night her pleading voice and attempts to get my attention fade into the darkness I want to consume me. Nothing touches me now.
Apart from the sight of Ness standing a few hundred meters away.
****
NESS
There’s one hell of a domestic outside the pub where I’m meeting Evan. The girl’s screams can be heard echoing down the street before I even turn the corner. There’s nothing unusual about people fighting in the street around here, especially where alcohol is concerned. Pathetic that people let themselves get into the mess. I turn the corner and head down the slope towards the pub. Two figures argue outside.
“Evan!”
The scream arrests me and I study the couple more carefully. Evan’s impassive face is illuminated by the pub sign and a small female figure lays into him. I don’t know what stops me from running in the other direction when I see this, but I approach. Then hesitate. Evan isn’t responding, standing resigned to his fate as the girl pummels him. Why doesn’t he catch her hand, talk to her? He’s worse than I thought.
Evan sees me, catches one of the girl’s arms and pushes her away from him
. As he strides towards me, I turn away, my walk becoming a run as his footsteps catch up to me.
“Ness!”
“Don’t you fucking talk to me!” I shout.
Evan grabs my arm and I shrug him off. “Is this her?” I indicate the girl approaching us.
“Yes.”
“When you said you were going to tell me about Lucy, I didn’t expect you to introduce me to her!” My heart thumps, anger shaking through me. I’m so close to slapping him but that’d lower me to her level.
The girl approaches and grabs Evan’s arm. “Who’s she?”
I don’t even want to acknowledge her, but fix my gaze on her proprietary grip on his arm.
“It’s Ness,” he says.
“Who’s Ness?” The edge to her voice scares me and I step back. Maybe her psycho behavior applies to any other woman in his life.
“I don’t know what you expected to achieve by this!” I shout at him.
“I didn’t expect to see her.” He doesn’t shout, voice low.
“I bet!”
“Who’s Ness?” continues the girl.
“My friend.”
“What friend?”
“A new friend.”
Their conversation sends a prickle across my neck and I look at the girl properly for the first time. Where she’s holding Evan’s arm, her hand is picking at a thread, an odd repetitive gesture. She’s about our age, brown curly hair and the frantic look in her eyes disarms me.
“Who is she, Evan?”
Evan turns a vacant gaze to me, the look of someone who’s disconnected himself from his surroundings. He’s scaring me. She’s scaring me.
“This is Lucy. She’s my sister.”
Because of Lucy Page 9
