Ice Burns

by Lucy Alice

  “Ready when you are, Ambs.”

  We walk towards the door and I look back, lingering as long as I can, hoping that Aiden will come out of the room, hoping for one final goodbye, one last kiss, the touch of his skin on mine. Anything.

  He doesn’t though, and Sarah and I are in the car and making a u-turn on the driveway before Aiden appears in the doorway with Jamie behind him. As the car moves forwards away from the cottage I turn around in time to see Aiden sink to the ground.

  My heart shatters into a million tiny little pieces and I know to my soul that every shard will love him forever.

  *AIDEN*

  I shut the door to the cottage behind me and I swear to fuck I think I’m going to sell the place. It’s just bad luck. Good times, good memories, bad endings.

  When Amber left yesterday it felt as if she was pulling my soul down the driveway with her. The feeling was so intense it made my knees buckle and I sank down to the ground, panting. Jamie helped me up and back into the house. We left everything as it was and went to the office instead. It might be a harsh reminder of dad, but somehow, right now, that’s less painful.

  Jamie and I have exchanged the same Christmas presents every year since we were 15 - a bottle of Jack Daniels each. It happened accidentally the first time, then on purpose the second time and every time since. I grimace at him and say he may as well get the Ibuprofen out now, as we’ll need it in the morning.

  He returns with the headache tablets, two glasses of water and an ice bucket, and I’ve poured and am already nursing my first Jack.

  “What the fuck just happened, J. How did I get that so wrong? I really thought we had something.”

  Jamie’s my best friend. I can say I love him without any shame. It’s the kind of friendship that requires a bit of emotion, even between men, but Jamie’s not one I’d normally go to for relationship advice. A woman who orders pudding after the meal is about as long term as things go for him. There’s rarely breakfast the next morning. Very rarely. So I’m surprised when he actually does more than shrug.

  “Nah, Aid. Something was up. I watched her with you before lunch. She’s in love with you, no doubt. Her Christmas present? All these little ‘remember’ moments? She wasn’t planning on walking out today. Something happened with that bitch friend of hers.”

  “You don’t like Sarah?” I’m surprised again. They were chatting all day.

  “I liked her fine, but she flipped a switch between lunch and dessert,” he holds his finger to his head and swirls it around in circles. “Something went a bit loco in her brain and whatever she said infected Amber. If I had to guess I’d say she was jealous, but I can’t figure out what she could have said to Amber to cause such a reaction. If you want advice though, brother, that girl is crazy about you. Just give her time to figure that out.”

  We’ve just been pouring shot after shot and the whisky is mixing with the food and wine in my stomach, causing a gentle burn and muffling the thoughts in my brain. We’re half way through the first bottle already and Jamie pours us each a Jack on ice, to slow it down, I suppose, then places the bottle out of my reach.

  “What am I going to do?” I am conscious of my speech slurring. “I need to go after her.” I start standing up but the world spins.

  “Aiden. You’re going to listen to me. Whatever’s got Amber all riled up, it’s not going to get better today and possibly never if you go after her drunk. Give her time. We’re going to stay here tonight. We’re going to finish these two bottles, and whatever else we can find, and we’re going to find your dad’s deck and sit here and play poker till we fall over, and tomorrow or the day after, when everyone’s calmed down, we’re going to figure out what the fuck happened today. Preferably with Sarah not around. Okay?

  I stare at Jamie for a long while, trying to place the jumbled thoughts in my head, then I nod and start rummaging through the desk drawers looking for dad’s cards.

  ~ 15 ~

  *AMBER*

  When we leave the farm and get back on the main road, Sarah is telling me how I’ve made the right choice, and how I’ll see, this is for the best, but I can’t say anything back. I can’t breathe. All I can see is Aiden. I didn’t mean to take a mind picture of him sinking to the ground in his doorway, but now it’s superimposed on my brain and I can’t see anything else. I begin to hyperventilate and as the car pulls to a stop at the traffic light, I yank at the handle to open the door.

  Sarah screams at me to get back in the car, but I’m running away, stumbling as I almost trip on the the handle of my overnight bag. Sarah’s jumped out the car when the light goes green, and while there aren’t other cars around at lunch time on Christmas day, she gets back in and pulls to the curb. By the time she’s out the car I’ve disappeared. I find the train station and stumble to the London bound platform. Digging my phone out of my bag, I send Sarah a text.

  Me: I’m sorry. I just need to think. I’ll get the train home. Go home to Jayden. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.

  Sarah: It’s Christmas day, Ambs. There aren’t any trains.

  Shit. She’s right. I’ll walk back, I don’t care.

  Me: I’ll figure it out. I just want to be alone.

  Sarah: Ambs, please let me drive you home. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have said everything I said. It’s my own drama.

  I start shaking. If Sarah was wrong and I’ve just walked out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me…

  Me: I’ll txt you when I get home.

  Sarah: Ambs, please.

  I switch off my phone, hitch my bag over my shoulder and start walking in the general direction of Greater London. It’s only about 20 miles. People run that all the time, right?

  As it turns out, the walks is really good for me. I go over the last few weeks over, and over, and over. Aiden, Mr Marks, work, the trip to the farm, his offer for me to stay till my boiler is fixed. He managed to arrange for someone to fix it on Monday already - how I don’t know, it was going to take me days. I guess money counts - but made no effort to return to the city. He didn’t even hint at going home. We made love a hundred different times, and ways. Yes, it was lusty, but sometimes it was loving too. And there was everything he told me about his family.

  Then there’s his gift. He must have thought about it a few days ago. Even if Jamie brought it along today, he’d have had to pick it up. There are plenty Swarovski shops around, so Jamie could have bought the kitten yesterday, but did he have to have the keys made? Maybe they were spares he already had, but that doesn’t matter. Yes, his reasons for me moving in with him weren’t exactly romantic, at face value, but what if he was afraid because of my reaction?

  Aiden asked me to move in with him. Aiden Blythe, asked me, Amber Evans to move in with him. And what did I do? I ran away. As it all sinks in, I’m hyperventilating again and I have to bend over, I’m so dizzy I cling to a railing on the road to keep myself from falling over. What have I done? What have I done!

  I only walk for four hours, but it’s dark by the time I reach Wembley, from where I manage to catch a cab home. Yesterday I decided not to make a decision until we were back home. Now I’m back home and I feel furious at Sarah. I trust her, completely, I always have, but the more I think about it… the more I think she was wrong. I cry myself to sleep.

  By the time I wake up on Boxing Day I see I have four missed calls from Aiden and I’m so relieved. I desperately want to speak to him, but I listen to the voicemail first and that crushing feeling returns. It’s not Aiden, but Jamie, telling me he needs to speak to me. There’s a text from Sarah asking me if I made it home - I forgot to message her - and another threatening to call the police if I don’t get back to her.

  Me: I’m home. Speak soon.

  I don’t wait for a reply and switch my phone off again. I spend the rest of the day eating Cookie Dough ice cream out of the tub and sporadically crying as I watch soppy Christmas movies.

  *AIDEN*

  I wake up with my face glued to...
something. I lift my head and I’m pretty sure it’s split open. I drop back down, fighting back the urge to be sick. I hear a clatter somewhere else in the house and at first I think it’s Amber, then I remember she left, and I’m excited, thinking maybe she came back.

  “Jamie, she’s here.”

  There’s no answer though, so I slowly raise my head again. I see the Ibuprofen and an empty glass. There’s melted ice in the ice bucket, so I pour that into the glass and down a double dose of Ibuprofen. Jamie’s not in the office, so it must be him in the kitchen.

  I step out of the dark study into the dim interior of the cottage and I’m grateful it’s not a sunny day. My eyes are hurting just in the dim hall light.

  Walking past the dining room I can see it’s all cleared away. There’s no trace of Christmas, in there. I walk into the kitchen and there’s a strange woman at the sink.

  “Who are you?” I croak. She jumps, and turns around with her hand to her chest.

  “Mr Blythe. I’m Tilly from SuperMop? Mr Fiscale called; said you needed a cleaner in ASAP so here I am.”

  “On Boxing day?” I look at her incredulously.

  “Double pay, sir”, she looks at the ground, abashed.

  “Okay. Can you take down all the decorations in the lounge too?” I ask as I turn around, then stop, turn back, “please.”

  “Sure, sir”

  I walk into the bathroom and have a long shower with my back to Amber’s wall.

  It’s the distinct smell of bacon that finally drives me out of my watery cocoon and as I slip into some clothes - I realise later that it’s one of the t-shirts Amber was wearing as it still smells of her perfume - and towel dry my hair, I walk back back into the kitchen. Jamie’s got a whole fry-up going and although I feel better, I’m not ready to eat.

  He is insistent, though, and not for the first time I think Jamie would have made a great mother.

  I tell him so and in true Jamie style he grunts and throws back, “I make out okay as a mother fucker, brother. That’ll have to do.” It’s true. Jamie has a special kink for single mothers. Whatever.

  “Thanks for sorting,’ I’m digging into the bacon so I raise my fork with a piece of bacon impaled on it and indicate around the room, “this.”

  “It’s all good.” He sighs, hesitate, then goes on. “Look, Aiden, I called Amber from your phone this morning. Actually I tried a few times. She’s not answering. I left a message eventually to say it was me calling from your phone. If she’s going to take out a restraining order, let it be against the right person.” He smirks and I grunt, but I sink my head down on my hands.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave her alone.”

  Tilly comes into the kitchen to let us know she’s done, and I slip an extra £20 tip into her timecard as a thank you for coming in on a holiday at a moment’s notice. She beams at me as she turns to leave, and I see Jamie staring at her tits. It’s been at least 24 hours since he’s had any pussy - unless he got more than bacon at the corner shop, but I doubt it. He’ll be going into withdrawal soon. I roll my eyes at him and shake my head. Fuck, I miss Amber already. It’s a deep ache in the pit of my stomach.

  We spend the rest of the day lounging about, drinking at a slower pace than yesterday. We found some old photo albums in my dad’s study and spent a lot of the day reminiscing about some of the crazy shit we used to get up to on the farm. Clearly my mum only got photos of the stuff she knew about! There are photos of us at the reservoir, skinny dipping on a particularly hot summer’s day in the early 80’s. There are others of us climbing trees, messing about with the cows, an old photo of a girl whose name I can’t remember at first, sitting in a makeshift teepee in the front garden with Jamie.

  I ask him what her name was but he mumbles that he doesn’t remember, then leaves the room to refill our glasses. I know that’s not the truth, because I’m pretty sure she’s the first girl he kissed. The girl with the boy’s name. Xander. That’s what we called her. I don’t remember much about her, except that she hung around a lot the summer we were about 12. And I saw her briefly again when she came for a half term holiday to see her aunt. We were maybe 17? I make a mental note to ask Jamie what happened to her, but then I see a series of pictures from our first music festival and I’m laughing at the memory when Jamie comes back in and we carry on looking through the albums. I don’t think of Xander again.

  After sunset Jamie gets a cab to the train station as he’s too drunk to drive and has work in the morning. I spend the night in my mum and dad’s bed, as it’s the only other place in the house that doesn’t hold Amber’s smell, or her memory.

  *AMBER*

  On Friday morning I put my hair in a messy bun and pull on Aiden’s sweats that I never actually returned to him and nip out to get some food. I say food, but it it’s mostly ice cream and olive bread.

  Someone pressed the buzzer downstairs a few times, but I assume its Sarah, and I just don’t have the strength, so I ignore it. I move the TV into the bedroom and spend the weekend watching bad TV and eating bad food. It’s warm in the flat, thank you Aiden, and it’s raining outside, so I don’t really feel like I’m missing out on anything other than Aiden’s arms.

  On Sunday morning when I stumbled to the bathroom I see the sun is shining and every fibre of me is aching to see Aiden. I’ve never, not once in all my years in London woken up and gone for a stroll around Hyde Park, but this morning I decide that’s what I need to do - nothing to do with Aiden of course, and certainly nothing to do with Park Run.

  I put on a pair of leggings and a long t-shirt and my coat, and tie my hair up in a high ponytail. I make sure the hood of my coat offers sufficient protection. I don’t want to be accidentally spotted by no one in particular. It’s a quick trip from London Bridge to Hyde Park, about 20 minutes, and when I come up from underground in Hyde Park I actually feel excited.

  Just being near him is exciting. I find a spot between some trees and scan the crowd waiting for Park Run to start, keeping myself hidden enough so Aiden wouldn’t see me if he was looking, but I don’t see him anywhere. I go for a meander around the park except I make excuses to pass by his apartment on the other side of the street three times. There’s no sign of life there either, and I wonder if he’s still on the farm. Or if he’s spent the night somewhere else, with someone else. The thought makes bile rise in my stomach and I’m aware I’ve not had proper food in days. I go to Tea in the Park, the cafe, and order coffee and toast, just as the first runners start filtering in, but Aiden never does.

  At one point I glance up to his building and there’s someone standing out on a balcony, but I can’t say for sure if it’s his apartment. My heart sinks as I realise I’m not going to catch a glimpse of Aiden today, and I head towards home again, feeling a lot sadder than I started the day.

  I don’t know if Aiden will ever speak to me again, but I do know that I’m lost without him.

  When I get back, I prepare an outfit and get ready for work tomorrow. I technically have another week of leave, but I’d rather be at work, busy, than here wallowing, because now I know without a doubt that I’ve made a terrible mistake. If I could take it back, I’d move in with Aiden today, and I’d love him with all the broken pieces of me, but I’m pretty sure I messed up and it’s too late for us.

  *AIDEN*

  I’ve had a lot of loss in my life. I’ve had my heart broken, been lied to and betrayed. I believed that I’ve experienced the worst things a person can experience, and survived them. I believed wrong. There can always be something worse, and this feeling? This is one of those things.

  On Friday I decided to throw Jamie’s warning to the wind. I’d waited long enough. I went to Amber’s building and rang the buzzer over and over, but there was no answer, I called her, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I went to her office but they told me she was on leave till the new year.

  I was waiting for the elevator, and out stepped Sarah. She looked like she hadn’t slept all night but the look
on her face said I looked worse.

  “Shit, Aiden. You look terrible.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  She sighed then took my elbow and walked with me into a small kitchenette off the reception area.

  “Have you spoken to her?”

  “No. I was hoping she’d be here, but she’s not answering at home or her phone. Do you know where she is?”

  “She’s not home? She said she was.”

  She told me about Amber bolting out of the car and walking back to London.

  “YOU LET HER WALK BACK TO LONDON?” I shout and she jumps, yelping. She shuts the door as the receptionist glares at us.

  “Relax, she’s fine. She texted me on Thursday, said she was at home and fine.”