“You go on ahead, we do this separate, I guess.”
I watched her walk away through the crowds. Then I turned on my tour tape. I tried to concentrate. The Abbey was beautiful, wondrous, the inside so chockful of history, monuments, art, and dead people, that it was unbelievable. Literally, if you studied a British person in history class, they were buried in that church. I found it fascinating and I was only mildly curious, not obsessed with British history like Sid. I listened to the tour guide’s voice, looking where the voice directed, mostly, but I’d catch glimpses of Sid up ahead, and distracted, I’d watch—Sid looked fascinated and sometimes excited, almost like the good old days.
Then Sid disappeared through an ornate archway and when I entered a few minutes behind, she stood, mouth agape, eyes wide. She turned and pointed at a coffin, covered in a marble sculpture, surrounded by marble columns, in a marble room. The sculpture was of Mary, her hands pressed together in prayer pointing to the sky.
Sid pulled her earphones down. “Teddy, look. Oh god. Look.”
“I see.”
There were only two or three other people in the room, so she had space to investigate. Sid stood on tiptoes, leaned across, and crouched down to see see the sarcophagus from different angles. Finally, she slid down the wall and sat looking up at it. I slid down the wall beside her.
She asked, “Can we take a moment, so I can just—?”
“I’ve got all day.”
Sid scrambled through her bag and pulled out a journal and some pencils. I hadn’t seen her singular devotion in so long that, if it would have kept her interested, I would have stayed there all day. Night too, though that might have been kind of creepy. Did I mention there were a lot of dead people in this place?
Finally she clutched her journal to her chest. “This was excellent Teddy, thank you.”
I stood and offered my hand to pull her to standing. Then we both put our headphones on and listened to the rest of the tour.
We took the tube to the hostel, talking the whole time about what we had seen. We declared which were our favorite sculptures, picked the best stained glass window, and debated which was the most exciting grave. Besides Mary’s. Sid was smiling and laughing and I got carried away, believing we were together-together, in London. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to a restaurant for dinner. Somewhere with sit down tables and menus.”
Sid started to protest, but then paused. “I’d like that.” I didn’t even have to guilt her into it.
At the hostel we rifled through our bags for better going-out clothes and agreed to meet in the lounge when we were ready for dinner.
I made it downstairs first and slid into an empty corner booth. And waited. I tried not to think about how much writing I still had to do. A hopeless amount. I made a promise to myself that I would get to it after dinner, but I was feeling the jet lag; that promise was probably a lie.
A minute later Cassie showed up and slid into the opposite end of the booth. “We had so much fun last night, a blast.”
“Oh, that’s good. We had a fun day too, we went to Westminster Abbey.”
Cassie groaned. “That place is so boring, but if that’s your thing—look, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Sure?”
She crossed her arms on the table. “My sister’s boyfriend beat the shit out of her more than once. Really bad. Like Sid. My sister is actually a lot like Sid, too, personality-wise. But her boyfriend, he was gross. Nothing about him was worth going back for, but for some reason she did, over and over and . . . My point is, now that you’ve seen Sid’s guy—”
I scowled, twisted the lid off a water bottle, and swigged, trying not to think about how he talked to Sid. He called her love; I wanted to choke him. I tuned in when she said, “—so smooth.”
“You think he was smooth? Is that what girls like?”
“God yes, he was hot in that bad guy way that makes some girls all confused and wiggly. And me and my friends, we’ve heard of him. He’s about to be big time. And, you know—girls will get confused around someone that hot. They’ll put up with a lot.”
“Jeez. You think she’ll go back to him?”
She looked me right in the eyes. “I’m sure of it.”
I slumped in my seat and blew out a deep breath of air.
Cassie asked, “Nothing’s going on with you two right?”
“No, we’re just friends, we tried to be more, once . . . It didn’t work out. It was awful.”
“Good, because after about eight big beatings, when my sister truly left her ‘bad boy,’ she had a very damaged belief system. So I’m just saying, be ready. Be ready to deal with that. Try not to be too emotionally involved.”
I stared into space, trying to get Sid’s self to jibe with Cassie’s words. “You think she would?”
“Has she pressed charges? Is she talking about it? Has she bought her plane ticket home? I think all the signs are there.”
“Uh huh.” All I was thinking was, more than once, and, over and over. “I’m just not sure it’s . . .”
“What have her other boyfriends been like?”
“Band guys.”
“See, he’s her type. She’s attracted to a hot mess. It’s personality and also weakness and also stupid girl shit and also, and I’m sorry to keep saying it, but he was way hot. It’s a good thing you aren’t involved, I mean, emotionally.” Her stare was intense.
“Yep, good thing.”
“It’s important for you to know there’s nothing you can do. Say goodbye. Girls who get beat up and go back, they aren’t what you’re looking for, right?”
I nodded, “True. I guess you’re right.”
“Oh I’m right, I’ve been there. My guess is she’s waiting until you fly home to California and then she’ll go make it up with him.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” I tried to remember all the things Sid said in the past day, looking for proof that Cassie was right or hopefully wrong. “You don’t think I can talk sense into her?”
“In my experience they don’t listen, they have to learn for themselves, but you should try to get her on a plane.”
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through something. She added, “I’m glad you had a good day though. You deserve it after your epic rescue.”
I pulled out my phone to give me some cover because Cassie had freaked me out. I wanted to argue with her, but what could I say? Sid was weak and sad and had been for a long time. The only time in the past six months she hadn’t looked broken was when she had her legs wrapped around that guy in the club. So yeah, I was feeling hopeless. Like Sid was a lost cause.
Because Cassie was right—Sid wasn’t doing anything but hanging out, like she was waiting for me to leave. In a hostel that was literally four doors down from that guy’s house. He could walk in here any minute, make some grand gesture, beg her forgiveness.
Heat crawled up my cheeks.
I had mounted an epic rescue, and what is the freaking point of a rescue if the princess wants to stay with the dragon?
Waste of time, totally.
Worse, if this was just some back and forth abuser-abused game of sexual conquest, then having me show up and be a part of it made me a total fool—but this was also Sid.
I had been best friends with her since before I learned to walk. I had fallen in love with her when she paddled out with me that first time. I had come to London not because she asked, but because I had to. I couldn’t not come.
I dropped my phone to the table, ran my hands down my face and stretched my arms forward, palms out. Cassie was right, and maybe the rescue wasn’t over yet; I needed to get Sid on a plane. That was number one.
I took a deep breath just as Sid entered the lounge.
One Hundred Twenty-Seven
Sid
I strode up to their table and slid in beside Cassie. I smiled at Teddy, but faltered, his eyes were brooding. “You guys talking about me?”
Cassie shifted in her seat and paused b
efore saying, “We were discussing the White album.”
It had to be pretend, Teddy didn’t know shit about the White album. I looked from face to face. Yep, talking about me. Probably saying I was a wreck, a naïve Should-Have-Seen-It-Coming wreck. Also that I was a burden they had to deal with. A wreck and a burden, me, Sid.
Cassie said, “I wish I could say you look better, but . . . You still need the two bandages?”
“The cut on my cheek is still oozing. My nose isn’t scabbed over. Yeah, I need them both.”
Cassie said, “Well, yesterday was a trip, huh? That guy was wicked hot, emphasis on the wicked. I see what you liked about him, hot, dangerous, but man, that was scary.”
I glanced at Teddy, he was watching me intently. I nodded, past being able to talk about it.
Cassie looked from Teddy to me and continued, “Teddy told me about how you guys are just friends, because you tried to be more and that was a disaster. Can’t be more of a disaster than this.” She gestured to my face, “but better for all the rest of us that Teddy is still available.”
She flipped her hair and grinned at Teddy. “I’m following you on Instagram. Maybe if I come to LA you can take me surfing?”
Teddy nodded, “Sure, I have lots of boards.”
Cassie turned in her seat toward me. “Sid, my friend, I’m sorry to say goodbye, but I’m headed to Dublin.” She kissed me on my undamaged cheek. “Take care of yourself.” I slid from the booth and she climbed out.
She put her hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “If you need anything, you know how to find me. Hey and check my Instagram—I’m hoping for a Bono sighting.” Then she was gone.
Silence descended on our table. Teddy kept looking at the door where she had gone, anywhere but at me. Was there something between Teddy and Cassie? Whoa. And how would I feel? Furious. Jealous. Sad. Lost—Teddy interrupted my internal litany by opening his laptop and running his hand down his face. “First thing we need to organize your flight home.”
“Oh, um . . .”
Teddy typed. “My flight leaves at 8:00 pm, it would be good if we were on the same flight, if it’s got room.”
When I was young and frightened of something, like the dark or monsters, my mom would become a superhero. She’d put on music, massaged my back and feet with essential oils, administered chocolate to keep the ‘dementors’ away. And then I would wake up the next morning, all better.
A few years later the fears became more specific, an earthquake would flatten Los Angeles or a fire would engulf my house, and my mom became less capable of helping. It was like she didn’t have it in her to tell me things would be okay.
And then I grew up and my anxious feelings were more specific, present, and exhausting. I couldn’t ask mom for help because she had become the cause.
As my fears grew up my calm mom faded away.
And here I was, halfway around the world, my mom gone, and I was frightened. Tears dammed up on my synapses, malfunctioning my brain; the Ache was growing.
When I blinked, I had these flashes:
Gavin swinging at Teddy’s face.
Gavin growling over me, about to swing again.
And maybe the worst of them all, Teddy walking away, because I was too much trouble. It was only a matter of time.
And one of those flashes? Happened right then.
I closed my eyes tight and when I opened them Teddy was staring at me, brow furrowed. “What do you think Sid, there is a ticket, it’s expensive though . . . We better get it now before—”
I shook my head. “I thought we were going to go get food. I’m starving.”
Teddy looked at me over his laptop screen, his expression worried. “Let’s buy your flight home Sid. I have it right here.”
A flash of Gavin’s forearm on Teddy’s throat.
I gulped. “I need food first, I’m having trouble thinking straight.”
Teddy nodded slowly, his eyes sad. “Sure. Of course Sid.” He closed the laptop, dropped it into his pack, and slung it to his shoulder, ready to go.
One Hundred Twenty-Eight
Teddy
We asked at the front desk and Chris recommended a restaurant, The Duke’s Bucket, two Tube stops away, that served fish and chips. So we stepped into the cold of the street.
I bundled my arms around myself. “It will be good to get home, huh? After this cold?”
Sid fished her gloves out of her pocket and pulled them on, teeth chattering.
I continued, “I can’t wait to get in the water. It’s been so long. Saltwater is good for healing too, maybe you could go surfing with me the morning after we get back?”
Sid smirked. “It’s not enticing to talk about the ice cold Pacific when it’s freezing out here. Let’s talk about the hot chocolate I’ll be drinking when you’re surfing.”
“Will you be drinking that hot chocolate on the beach? Or here in London, because without a plane ticket—”
“Ooh, London hot chocolate!” She puffed a cool breath. “Let’s get some of that after dinner.” Not at all the answer I was looking for.
When we were on the train, Sid asked vaguely, “When did you say your flight was?”
“Eight pm. I should get to the airport by 5:30, I mean, we. Why?”
“No reason, just . . . No reason.”
A man, bigger than me, rough, shaved head, shifted into Sid’s line of vision and asked, “This guy bothering you?”
“Oh, no—this is my friend.”
The man glared at me and remained standing beside us, menacing. I decided to look out the window quietly until our stop, which was next.
We left the station, shoved through the crowds, climbed the tall stairs to the street, and walked one more block to the restaurant.
We were quiet as we were shown to our table and handed the menus. I had trouble coming up with any conversation because my mind was full of this—I had to get Sid on a plane. I couldn’t show her how upset I was, or demand to know what she was thinking, because any negative drama and she would definitely stay here with that guy. But my head was also full of this—Sid wasn’t leaving with me. She never planned to. She already made her decision, and my feelings never even figured into it.
Our waitress asked for our order.
Sid said, “Fish and chips with a Coke.”
I said, “The same.”
The waitress cut her eyes at me and left with a huff.
“What’s with her?”
“Another person who thinks I beat you.”
“Oh, right, I keep forgetting how I look, I’ll say something.” Sid rummaged through her bag, brought up aspirins and swallowed two down with some water.
Sid’s face hurt, probably her whole head, and I wanted to help her. To take some of the pain and anguish from her life, but something was becoming clear—Cassie had been right about a lot of things, especially this—I was too emotionally involved. Still. Even though Sid had broken up with me, even though Sid had moved on. Even though. Still.
Sid said, “That was fun this morning, thank you.”
“Sure. It was.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket to test her again. “I guess we can order your ticket here as well as anywhere, one perk of a pocket computer, am I right?”
Sid chewed her lip and then failed the test. “It can wait though, I mean, I should check the price with my dad first.”
I dropped my phone to the table.
Yeah. Sure.
This was what I wanted to say:
Of course.
Let me gather myself and get out of your way.
So you can make some kind of peace with that guy.
That seems like an excellent idea, hope it goes well for you.
My brain was on sarcasm overload.
I pushed my fists into my thigh until my knuckles cracked. Was there anything I could do? Say? I looked at her, big blue and red bruises wrapped around the orbit of her swollen eye, butterfly bandages on her cheek, a bandaid across her probably broken no
se, and shook my head. This morning had been so great, but this was how it would end. This was how my whole relationship with Sid would end. With Sid going back there.
One Hundred Twenty-Nine
Sid
Our waitress delivered our plates, turned away from Teddy, and looked directly at me. “I have to say something, dear. You’re too wee to have this arse treat you like a punching bag. My mother used to get beat like this, and you need to find the strength to walk away.”
I shook my head, “Oh no, he didn’t do this, he—”
The waitress said, “Dear, you mustn’t make excuses for him, but if you need help, ask for it.” She stalked off.
“I’m so sorry Teddy.”
He shook his head and shoved his plate away.
I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, to tell him not only that I was sorry, but that I would never forgive myself until he forgave me. I felt so weak and wrong and also, still, not at all his equal, not able to make him happy, because here he was again—strong and wonderful, and me—broken and sad, and my broken disaster was spilling over onto him. Just being across the table from me and a stranger called him an ass. That’s what I shared with him—my broken face, life, heart, and because of me he was the recipient of people’s ire.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to run from the room.
But mostly I wanted to beg him to forgive me.
But there’s this—
I was looking at him through a face covered in another man’s bruise.
So I cried.
Tears streamed down my face and Teddy scowled. “This is what I don’t get, what are you doing, really?”
I stared at him blankly, chewing my lip. Crying. I was crying because this whole scene sucked, but guess what—escalating.
He continued, “I leave tomorrow.”
He pushed his chair away from the table and put his hands on his thighs, “You’re what—staying, right? Or just doing nothing and waiting to see what happens? That’s probably it, but hey, I want to thank you for not doing it in front of me. Thanks for the morning. That was good.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Here’s the thing Sid, I can’t do it anymore, not this, not watching this, not being a part of it. I can’t. I thought we could be friends, that I could be the guy who you confided in and buddies, you know, but I can’t. I want taken off your list. Don’t call me anymore when things go tragic. It’s too hard.” He stood up and spun for a second looking for his things. He pushed his arms into his coat and zipped the front.
Sid and Teddy Page 20
