by Kyra Lennon
I couldn’t wait to see him.
One thing spending time with Jay had done was show me how much I’d changed. I remembered how things used to be with us. How much he’d meant to me, and how every time he was away from me, I missed him all the time. But it was so different now. Like we were best friends. No lurking feelings or tension, just mutual respect.
But Ash?
On the drive home, he was the only thing I could think about.
From the first night I met him, there was just something about him. It wasn’t attraction then, but there was definitely a pull of some kind. It was the reason I’d given him my card in the first place.
Somewhere, between meeting him and now, things had changed. I couldn’t pinpoint the timing, but I knew he meant more to me than I ever thought he would.
The timing was all wrong. I was pregnant and scared, and he was still dealing with the after effects of an abusive relationship. And yet, every time I was with him, there was a shift. It had been so very slow that I had barely even noticed it happening, like us sitting closer together on the couch, or him being a little more tactile, and us having our own inside jokes, and odd routines we’d sank into.
I hadn’t had those kinds of feelings in so long, I barely recognised them.
Jay had brought Ash up the day before. When he’d asked me about Ash, I was surprised, because he’d only seen us together for about a minute at Keely’s party. He’d seen how close Ash and I were standing beside each other, and I explained that away by giving him a very brief rundown of why he was even there. Jay had then added that, when he walked down the stairs towards Ash, for a split second, at the top of the stairs, he thought Ash looked as if he wanted to punch his head off when he realised what we’d been doing in that room.
When Jay had asked me if there was anything between Ash and me, I’d told him no. Not a firm no in the way I’d told Jay he and I had no hope of trying to patch up our relationship. More a ‘not right now, but… maybe’ kind of no.
The thing was, there was so much going on, and if Ash and I stayed friends, I’d be safe. He would always be my friend, and I wouldn’t get hurt.
But what about when he got a girlfriend? He still wasn’t ready yet—another reason for me to keep my distance—but one day, he would have one. When that thought had occurred to me before, I’d assumed it would sting. But it would be so much more than that in reality.
It would hurt.
I needed to talk to him. It was just that, now I was so close to admitting my feelings, I wasn’t sure how to even do that.
I glanced down at the photos in front of me again, and I had an idea.
I was pretty sure I hadn’t slept properly for about forty-eight hours. The night before Evie was going to see Jay, and the night she got there and called me to tell me what had happened after they’d talked, I’d been restless.
I was so happy that she was starting to feel better about being pregnant, and that she and Jay had started to figure out something that would work for them, but even though Evie had been adamant she and Jay weren’t getting back together, I couldn’t shake the thought that it could happen. If not right away, then at some point. Maybe when the babies arrived, and he was holding them, Evie would want back the life that was snatched away from them before.
But worse than that was the overriding feeling that, Jay or not, I would never be good enough for her.
Evie had text me to tell me she had got home shortly after mid-day, and while I wanted to see her, I didn’t offer to go over, or invite her to my flat in case she sensed how fucking messed up I was over all this. Over her. She had a way of always knowing how I felt, and I couldn’t let her see me like this. Not until I’d got it under control.
I had no idea how the hell long that would take though.
At about four that afternoon, there was a knock at the front door. Nobody ever visited me unannounced, mainly because I barely had any friends, and the ones I had always called or text if they wanted to come over. Couldn’t have been the postman because it was Sunday.
I cautiously approached the front door, then gave myself a shake, telling myself to stop being a fucking wuss. Who was really going to jump out at me on a Sunday afternoon? Shaking my head, I opened the door to find… nobody. I looked down my short path then up and down the street, but there was no-one around. I’d probably taken too long wondering who it would be. As I went to close the door, I saw a shoebox on the doorstep. It had brown tape around it, but the tape had been cut and then re-taped.
Hoping this wasn’t some weird 13 Reasons Why thing, I picked up the box and took it into my living room, putting it on the couch and sitting down.
The box hadn’t been re-sealed very well, so I peeled the end of a piece of tape and pulled it off enough to get the lid off.
The first thing I saw was a folded piece of notepaper, which I picked up and unfolded.
I thought you would appreciate getting these back. It’s not enough to make up for everything, but I hope it helps a bit. We need to talk. xx
I put the note down on the couch and looked properly into the box for the first time.
My photos.
Un-ripped and just how I remembered them. I picked up a handful, looking through them. Every single one I’d had—as far as I recalled—was there.
But why had she done this? It had to be Natalie. And how had she done it? Wasn’t she still in jail? I did the calculations in my head, and realised she’d probably been released by now.
Maybe a few weeks in jail had taught her something. She was right, it didn’t make up for everything, but it was a nice gesture.
Cool story, bro. Now text her to say thanks and get on with your life.
Except, I’d deleted her number, and who the hell memorises numbers now? We don’t need to, so we don’t.
You don’t owe her anything. Not even a thank you after all she did to you.
That was true, but she had to have gone to some effort to make this happen. She’d risked the possibility that my mother would yell at her for what she did just to get these back for me. It also meant my mum had given Natalie my address, which I would give her hell for the next time we spoke, but I knew she did it for the right reasons. She may have been useless when she had visited, but she was still my mum and I knew she loved me. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of getting the photos sent to Natalie. I couldn’t help wondering what Natalie had said to her though.
I considered sending a note in the post to her, but that would take too long. Not that she didn’t deserve to wait, but I wanted to get it over with. What else was I doing other than sitting around, letting my thoughts piss me off?
I wanted to say thanks, tell her to not contact me anymore, and move on.
The idea of doing that made me think of Evie—of course it did—and what she’d said about her and Jay at New Year. How they’d never really ended things. There was a very definite end to my relationship with Natalie, and yet, it was all so abrupt. And violent. Although I definitely had no interest in sleeping with her again, maybe one final conversation would draw a line under it for good.
But could I? Was I ready to face her?
A shiver shot through me at the idea of seeing her again. I hadn’t seen her since the day I’d collected my things from the flat, and she’d been crazy that day. She would have hit me if there hadn’t been police to keep her back. But I wasn’t planning to go inside the flat. Outside, where there was potential for people to pass by, and where people would be able to hear me shout out if I needed to, she wouldn’t do anything.
I recognised that needing to have that level of back-up plan should have been a good enough sign that I shouldn’t go, but I was so sick of being stuck inside my own head. And this way, I could actually tell her I didn’t want to hear from her ever again.
Aside from making sure I hadn’t spilled any food on me, I didn’t change anything about my appearance before I left to get the train to Manchester a couple of hours later.
Whenever I went to Evie’s, at least for the last little while, I’d been like a freaking girl, making sure my clothes were okay, my hair was tidy, and my beard was trimmed. To see Natalie, though, I didn’t care. This was going to be a one-time thing and I would be getting the next train home once I’d said what I wanted to say.
All the way there, I felt reasonably calm. I wasn’t thinking about her as the girl I used to love, but the girl who’d abused me. Thinking of her that way had been the biggest turning point for me, because it helped loosen almost all of the hold she’d had on me. It made me stop thinking about all the good times we’d had way back and made me see her for what she really was. I could often still hear her voice in my head, especially when it came to whether I could or couldn’t do something. Those times, she screamed, telling me I couldn’t. I couldn’t achieve, and I couldn’t have friends again, I couldn’t go and hang out with Nick, and I definitely couldn’t be with someone new.
It happened less, but somehow, she was still taking from me.
Again, I questioned myself for going to thank her for the one kind thing she’d done for me in more than a year, but then it hit me. Yes, basic manners was a part of it, but more than anything, I was going there to say goodbye. On my terms. Because even when I’d gone to get my stuff, it still felt like she had the control. I needed to get some of it back. To prove to myself that I was strong enough now.
That all started to slip when I reached the door and I had to press the buzzer, announcing I was there. I would have much preferred to be able to just knock on the door so she wouldn’t know it was me in advance.
My hand shook a little as I pressed and waited.
“Hello?” Her voice crackled through the speaker.
“It’s Ash.”
There was a long pause, and I thought maybe she wasn’t going to let me in. But then there was a buzz, and I pulled open the door.
I walked up the stairs with the enthusiasm of someone walking to their own execution, but I willed myself on until I reached the top and found her there, standing in the doorway.
She looked thinner. She was wearing black leggings and a baggy t-shirt, her hair black and hanging messily around her shoulders; no streaks of another colour for a change. She looked surprised to see me, and I walked closer. But not too close.
“Hi,” she said quietly, her eyes shining with tears.
That used to be enough.
This time, though, her tears had no effect on me, and I was so surprised, I almost laughed. It was another step closer to being free of her.
“Hi,” I said, stopping a couple of feet from her. I didn’t want to give her the impression I was staying. “I wanted to say thank you. For the photos.” She just stared at me and I continued. “It doesn’t mean I forgive you for ripping them up in the first place, or for anything for that matter, but I do appreciate that you went to the trouble of getting them back for me. So, yeah, thanks.”
She didn’t say anything for a second, her eyes on me, and then she straightened up. “You’re welcome.”
“It was brave to contact my mum. I guess she gave you my address?”
“Uh…y… yes. Yeah. Yeah, she did.” She nodded, and I thought that maybe being in jail really had done something to her. Changed her somehow. Hopefully for the better.
“Anyway,” I said, shaking my head. “I just wanted to say thanks, but also tell you that you shouldn’t come to my place again. I don’t want to see you again.”
“Then why are you here?” she asked, her voice still shaky. “You could have just called me.”
“I deleted your number at New Year after you text me.”
Hurt flashed across her features, and then she hung her head. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. That’s really why I came. To let you know that I’m okay and that I don’t want to hear from you again. I hope you can find a way to move forward, and maybe find someone to be with who you actually respect, not someone you can tread into the ground.”
That flicker of warning rage lit in her eyes but she blinked and tears formed equally as quickly. All she did was nod, and I turned away and started to walk down the stairs. When I got halfway down, I stopped and looked back at her.
Nope. Nothing. Not even a hint of a spark now. Not a shred of understanding for her, even though tears were falling down her cheeks. I didn’t wish any harm on her, I just simply didn’t care anymore.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit of me did hope she would sort herself out, but I felt no need to have any part in it because I wasn’t going to be around to see it.
I’d done what I needed to do.
It had been almost twenty-four hours since I dropped the box of photos at Ash’s flat, and I hadn’t heard from him.
I sat at my desk in my office, working on designs for new menus for one of the local pubs. I was doing their website too, so I was testing out different designs and fonts, but I was working on auto-pilot.
Why hadn’t Ash called? It wasn’t just weird that he hadn’t called about the photos, it was weird that he hadn’t even text at all. It was something he’d done most evenings lately. And yeah, I know, I could have text him, but I was worried that maybe I’d done the wrong thing and he didn’t want to speak to me.
He had to have figured out that I’d contacted his mum to get the photos; maybe he was annoyed about that. Maybe he thought I shouldn’t have reached out to her because I’d never even met her. Perhaps I’d overstepped.
It bothered me to the point that I decided I’d go over and ask him. Apologise if I needed to, because the fact that we hadn’t spoken in almost a full day wasn’t sitting well with me. If I had something to apologise for, I would.
As soon as I’d done enough work to allow myself a lunch break—an extremely loose term since I’d been snacking all morning—I grabbed my car keys and got in my car to drive to Ash’s. I could have walked it, but I was that eager to see him and iron out any problem I might have caused that I didn’t want to waste any time. I knew he was working later so he’d probably be at home.
I turned into his street and was about to indicate that I was parking outside his flat when I saw a flash of dark hair going inside his flat, and Ash closing the door.
Was that Natalie?
Nah. There was no way.
But the feeling of dread in my stomach told me it was her. Yeah, I’d only ever seen her from a distance one time, but I knew.
What I didn’t know was why she was there. Was that why he hadn’t called me? He’d been seeing her? For all I knew, she hadn’t only just arrived; maybe they’d been out together somewhere.
If I sat there in the middle of the street any longer, I’d look like a creeper, so I drove on, my car taking me to Keely’s house, because I really wasn’t sure what else to do or where else to go.
Luckily for me, Keely was home, but she was surprised to see me as we hadn’t made any plans that day.
“Evie, what’s wrong?” she asked, pulling me inside as, by this point, I was so confused by what I’d seen, I really had no idea what I was doing. Honestly, I was surprised I’d made it to her house in one piece.
“I think I just saw Natalie going into Ash’s flat.”
Keely’s mouth dropped open. “No. It can’t have been her,” she said, shaking her head. “He hasn’t mentioned her in a while. Maybe it was someone who looked like her.”
That thought didn’t make me feel much better, and Keely must have realised this as she said, “Come in. I’ll make us a drink.”
I could hear the sounds of Peppa Pig from the living room, and as we walked in, Oscar smiled up at me before turning his attention back to the TV.
“Where’s Daisy?” I asked, my hand going to my growing stomach and rubbing protectively as we walked through to the kitchen.
“She’s asleep. Oscar’s just had lunch so there’s a chance he might nap in a bit.”
I smiled as I looked back at him, where he was ly
ing on the sofa. “I think there’s a very good chance of that.” But then my mind went back to what I’d just seen and my smile faded. “It can’t have been her, can it?” I said the words knowing for sure it was her. I couldn’t get my head around it. “Why would he… why?”
Keely shrugged as she flicked the kettle on and I sat down at the table. “I can’t think of any good reason for it. He’s been doing so much better over the last few weeks.”
“I know.”
Was this my fault? Did me sending those photos cross such a huge line that he felt like I didn’t get him anymore? But even if it did, how would that have led to him letting Natalie into his flat? The two things were completely unrelated. Keely was right; he hadn’t mentioned her in a long time, so why would he suddenly be talking to her now?
“What are you thinking?” Keely asked, and I launched into the whole story of what had happened at the weekend, starting with Ash coming over before I went to see Jay, then the photos, and what I’d done with them. By the time I was finished, Keely was as confused as me.
“I don’t get it,” she said, sipping at her cup of tea. “You did a good thing. It doesn’t sound like him not to call you to thank you. Something must have happened yesterday that we don’t know about.”
“But what? I can’t think of anything that would have made him want to see her.”
Perhaps I had misinterpreted everything. The times I thought we were getting closer, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d read too much into him touching my hand or my arm more often, and him checking up on me. Maybe he was only doing that because I was pregnant, and he was being a good friend.
It wasn’t exactly like me to think a guy was into me, so when I did think it, it felt like it had to be real. Plus, Keely and Nick, and even Jay to an extent had thought the same as me.
Could we all have got it so wrong?
“Why didn’t you just give him the photos yourself?” Keely asked, and I groaned, leaning my head down on the table to hide.
