by Ellis, T. S.
I told her what had happened on the date. Well, most of it. I told her about the romantic dinner on the water. I told her that the sex was great without going into too much detail. And I told her how it had concluded.
“He threw you out of the house?”
“No, not exactly.” I took a sip of coffee.
“He threw you out of the house,” she repeated matter-of-factly.
“Yes, but…” I stopped. I could see that it was pointless disagreeing. He did throw me out of the house. “Okay, yes, he threw me out of the house. But, you know, that’s who he is. This guy believes in what he’s doing. It’s his passion. And I think his passion for his art feeds his passion for a woman. And, call me crazy, but I like that.”
Emily wore one of her mischievous smiles. “So you’re saying you liked being thrown out of the house.”
“No, but… he’s a passionate guy. He’s different from other men I’ve met. Yeah, other men are passionate. But it’s just about sex. It’s a really shallow kind of passion. As soon as they’ve had sex with you, then there’s no passion left. Until they feel horny again. With Carl it’s different. He’s passionate about everything he does in life. He put real thought into our date. It was amazing. And then in the morning, while I was still in bed, he went for a swim in the Thames. He’s just so… like a force of nature.”
Emily nearly choked on her coffee. “He swam in the Thames?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that proves it — the man’s insane.”
“In that case,” I said, getting carried away, “I’m finding ‘insane’ seriously sexy.”
Emily stroked her chin as if she were playing a professor in some amateur production. “So, my patient, you’re saying that you are finding insane a little sexy. What we have to ask you is this: does this mean that you, too, are insane?”
I didn’t want to laugh, but the silly accent — I think she was trying to do an Austrian Dr Freud sort of accent, but I’m not sure — it was hysterical.
“Yes, doctor,” I said. “I think I’m starting to be attracted to insane men. Do you think this is a problem?”
“Well, yes, my dear.” Emily was having trouble stopping herself laughing, but she carried on playing the part, the accent becoming more exaggerated. “I think this might be a problem. Of course you are having the hot sex. And that is not to be underestimated. The hot sex is very important, both the ‘sex’ bit and the ‘hot’ bit. Put them together and insanity is sure to follow. My prescription is this. Join your new lover in the Thames which will surely cool your ardour. Either that or you will drown. No breast stroking will save you if you get caught in the reeds.”
We both started laughing out loud in the bar. People were looking around to see what was going on. I shushed Emily and she shushed me back. But we only stopped when our sides began to hurt.
“Oh, Em, I don’t know what to do.”
“Just remember there is no right or wrong. If you want to see him again, see him again. If you don’t, don’t. But don’t let thoughts of Russell affect your decision.”
I tilted my head. She knew that would be difficult.
My phone rang. It vibrated on the table. I glanced down at the caller ID. It was Russell. It was the first time he’d made contact for weeks.
Emily took a sneaky peek at my phone, too.
It was an odd few seconds, as if time had come to a halt. I kept alternating my looks towards the phone and towards Emily. I couldn’t decide whether to pick it up or not.
“Are you going to answer it?” asked Emily.
I wanted to pick it up. I wanted to grab it and press the answer button. But then I wouldn’t know what to say. My heart pumped faster as I watched the phone vibrate on the table.
“No,” I said. “I’ll let it go to voicemail.
Eventually, it stopped ringing. But I couldn’t stop looking at it, wondering if Russell was leaving a message. I waited for the voicemail icon to appear. It didn’t.
Emily interrupted my thoughts. “So, where were we? Ah, yes, Carl.”
“Yes, Carl.” But my mind was frazzled. There was still no bleep from the phone to tell me I had a voicemail message.
“He probably didn’t leave a message because he wanted to speak to you in person.”
My voice quavered. “That’s not good, is it?”
“Depends on what you think is good.”
Then my phone bleeped and the voicemail icon flashed on. “Do you mind if I check it?”
Emily shook her head. “Of course not.”
I picked up the phone and could feel my hand shaking. Russell and I had been in touch regularly since our break, and had met up every couple of weeks until recently. So why was I so nervous to listen to his message now? Was it because of my night with Carl? Had that raised the stakes? And if so, how had that raised the stakes? Even though I’d thought about breaking up with Russell for good, my mind was having trouble making that leap. My trembling hands were evidence that he could still affect me.
I pressed the requisite buttons on my phone and waited for the message…
“Hi hon, it’s me. Sorry I haven’t been in touch. Work’s been horrendous and… well, I wanted to give you a bit of time to think about things. I’ve been thinking, too. A lot of thinking. And I’d like to meet up soon, if that’s okay. Can you give me a call? Or send me a text, if you prefer. And we can arrange a date. Big hugs.”
I put the phone back down on the table. My heartbeat slowed a little.
“Good?” asked Emily.
I shrugged.
“Bad?”
I shrugged again.
“What did he say?”
“He wants to meet up soon. Talk about stuff.”
“So he just wants to go on as you’ve been going on?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He said he’s been thinking. He hasn’t said that before.”
“Did he sound nervous?” Emily asked. “He’d sound nervous if he wanted to end it.”
“I don’t think he sounded nervous. It was difficult to tell.”
Emily paused. I tried not to give the appearance that the phone call had affected me. But I could feel my lips tighten as I tried not to let them tremble. My eyes were watery, but I refused to let them shed tears.
I think Emily sensed that I needed a few moments.
“Let me get us a drink. What would you like?”
“A decaf latte, please.”
“Coming up.”
As she walked past me, she squeezed my shoulder with her hand. There was a queue at the bar, so I knew I would have a couple of minutes to pull myself together.
I tried to work out how this emotion had crept up on me. If I could just work out what it was I wanted, that would help. But I didn’t know. It might all be academic because Russell might want to meet up to break up with me for good.
Or was it the guilt of having slept with Carl that brought on my shivery state? Russell had left me dangling. He knew I didn’t want the break, and yet he got on with his life quite cheerily, as if he’d enjoyed seeing me need him all the more.
Nonetheless, I felt bad. Sleeping with Carl hadn’t solved anything, hadn’t helped me move on, like I thought it would, no matter how much I desired him. It had just made me more emotional about my whole situation.
When you’re a little girl it seems so easy. You’ll meet your prince and live happily ever after. I longed for those days now. It was silly. Few people got the fairy tale in all its innocent perfection. Real life romance was complicated. But I wished it wasn’t.
“Two lattes.” Emily put the glasses down on the table. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. But I could feel the water in my eyes waiting to burst through the dam. I was determined that the flood gates would not open.
“We don’t have to talk,” Emily said.
“No, I want to.” My voice was quavering.
“Can I just say something?”
I nodded again.
“You’
re a lovely person. I love you to bits. But if you have one fault, it’s trying to please other people. It’s a lovely trait to have. But it’s also a fault in times like these. You need to think about what you want.”
“I don’t know,” I said, starting to snivel. “I tried to do that and it didn’t seem to work.”
“If you don’t want to meet up with Russell, then don’t. If you don’t want to see Carl again, then don’t. Or if you want to do both, then do both.”
I wiped away a single tear that had the temerity to escape from my eye. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Then don’t do anything. Have some ‘you time’.”
“No. I want to do something. I think I’ll feel better if I do something. If I try and occupy myself I’ll just keep coming back to the situation again and again. And that will just make me unhappy. I need to do something, or I’ll keep being a mess. I just don’t know what.”
Emily leaned forward and gave me a hug. I tried to control my tears but couldn’t. I have no idea what the rest of the bar thought. One minute the two women in the corner were laughing their heads off, the next they were in tears.
I took a gigantic sniff and that helped to stem the tears.
“Well, you’re not alone,” said Emily. “You’re not alone.
“Thanks, Em.”
I felt a strange sense of peace after the outpouring. I think I’d needed a good cry for a while, maybe for six months. And now that I had, my mind seemed to clear.
17. Going back
I DECIDED NOT to call Russell. Instead I sent him a text, asking if he wanted to meet at the Swan one night.
The Swan is a pub situated on the river. It’s a little out of the way, but at least you can usually find a seat. It also has a lot of corners tucked away, so privacy is almost assured.
I arrived half an hour before we were scheduled to meet. I ordered a vodka and cranberry. There was no point in trying to do this without the assistance of alcohol, I wasn’t that strong.
“Would you like a large one?” asked the bartender.
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please.”
I carried the glass and bottle of cranberry juice with me as I scouted the location. I’d been here several times before and knew the layout well. But that didn’t stop me touring the place several times before settling on a corner area where we wouldn’t be disturbed.
I sat down with my drink and watched the other customers, trying to take my mind off the upcoming conversation. It was no good preparing any speeches. Besides, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say. I’d have to improvise.
Let’s face it, I didn’t have a clue what I was going to say. In the run up to this meeting I’d refused to think about what I wanted to say, hoping that inspiration would strike on the day.
Well, the day had arrived and the inspiration had not.
The minutes ticked away. Twenty-five minutes to go. Twenty. Ten. But before the clock could reach five minutes to go, I saw him. He stood at the top of the small staircase.
It’s funny, I hadn’t forgotten how good looking he was, but the real image was quite startling. The blond hair and the blue eyes were more vivid than what I’d imagined in my daydreams about him. Whereas Carl had an intensity, Russell had a laid-back attractiveness.
When he spotted me, he walked over and kissed me on the lips. On our previous meet-ups he’d kissed me on the cheek, which I’d hated. But this one was on the lips.
“Would you like another drink?” he asked.
I should have said no, I hadn’t finished this one. But I was in no mood for moderation. “Vodka and cranberry, please.”
“Back in a sec. You look good, by the way. You look fantastic.”
“Thanks.” I wanted to return the compliment but thought that might put me at a disadvantage, depending on what he wanted to tell me.
He headed off to the bar and I sat back down in my seat. Usually, these leather armchairs were very comfortable. But tonight, I just couldn’t get comfy. I wriggled about, resting an elbow on an arm then taking it away.
He wasn’t gone long.
“How’s things?” he asked, as he settled in the armchair. “Work, I mean.”
“Sienna left. That was a while ago. But I don’t think I’ve seen you since.”
He ignored my dig at the lack of contact. “That must have put Polly in a spin.”
“It did. She threatened us all with the sack.”
“Seriously?” He looked genuinely concerned. He was always a good listener. “She didn’t fire you, did she?”
“No. I redeemed myself. I found a new model. She’s getting a lot of attention.” That was true. Portia looked like being a big success. Lots of editors wanted to meet her. Advertising agencies were talking about exclusive deals. Nothing was in writing yet, but the signs were good.
“That’s good. Polly owes you a lot. That agency owes its existence to your discovery.”
“Yeah. But I think she also blamed me for Sienna leaving. Although it’s not like she defected to another agency. She only left to be the full-time wife of a Russian oligarch.”
“You should go somewhere you’re appreciated.”
“I’m not good at interviews, remember? Better the devil you know, as they say. How’s your work?”
“It’s got stupidly busy. We’re expanding, which is good, and I’ve been sounded out for a promotion. I could be the head of the European division in a couple of months.”
This was big news for Russell. He’d worked so hard to get this far. “That’s fantastic. Well done.”
“Thanks. It’s been a hell of a lot of work. I’m completely exhausted. Just wiped out.” I examined his face. There were incipient bags under his eyes, which I hadn’t noticed before. He’d just seemed as perfect as ever when he’d arrived. I wanted to stretch out my hand and lay it on his arm as reassurance. I’d done that many times before to reassure him during his journey up the rickety corporate ladder.
“You look great,” I said, reassuringly. In fact, the longer I studied those eyes, the more tired they seemed to become.
“I don’t. I know I don’t look great. I can’t do, I’m bushed. Completely knackered.”
We both had a sip of our drinks. This meeting was turning out to be less awkward than our previous ones — where the conversation had been forced, lurching from one polite topic to the next. This one was more like the conversations we’d had when living together. It was as if we’d restarted the relationship from where we left it, as if Russell hadn’t moved out at all.
“But it’s all for a good cause,” he said. “I’ll get a big pay rise. And, ironically, I should have more time to myself. There will be more people to delegate to. So that’s a relief. Some travel, too… for me and my partner.”
My jaw dropped. What did he mean? Him and his partner? Did he have a new partner?
It must have been quite noticeable because he jumped in. “That’s you, Fay.”
“Me?” It was a shock. A good one or a bad one? I couldn’t tell.
“Yes, you.”
“But we’re on a break.”
“I’ve been thinking.” He took another sip of his drink. “I’d like to move back in, if that’s okay with you. Or if you don’t want to go that far straightaway, we could at least start dating again. It’s up to you. But that’s what I’d like. Works finally settled down so I can concentrate on my personal life now.”
I was nonplussed. I hadn’t been expecting this. I’d prepared myself for Russell telling me that he didn’t want this to go on any longer, that we should put a formal end to the relationship. He hadn’t been in contact at all for about five weeks. And now this? How can you go from no contact to wanting to get back together?
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Russell?”
“Yes, I am.”
“But you haven’t been in touch at all for about five weeks.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come back into your life while all the h
eavy deals were happening. I wanted to get all that out of the way. I wanted to take a couple of weeks off, maybe treat us to a holiday somewhere warm. Money no object. I’ll fly us to any five-star hotel in the world. Wherever you want to go, you name it.”
I felt short of breath. Was I having a panic attack? But it stayed at a certain level, didn’t get any shorter. I should be cheering, I thought. We got through it. We made it. He can move back in.
We can spend Sunday mornings reading the newspapers and eating eggs Benedict again. What could be better than that? All the old familiar things will return. I will see his red toothbrush back in the beaker, his shaving kit always on the right hand side of the window sill. This break will only have strengthened our relationship. Good news. Rejoice.
“I don’t know, Russell.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t know?”
I didn’t want to cry, so I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can suddenly pick it up where we left off. It’s not like you just nipped out for a pint of milk and came back. It’s been hard, very hard.”
He reached out and put his hand over mine.
“I know.” He spoke gently. “I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I’ve had a hard time, too. Looking back, I don’t know why I suggested it in the first place. I was just in a crazy place. I think it was the pressure of work. It just built up over the years.”
I nodded. We’d both been under a lot of pressure. But although deep down I wanted him to move back in, I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words.
Russell waited for me to speak. And I wanted to. I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say anything that would discourage him. But I didn’t want to encourage him, either. I was so confused. I wanted to scream and shout, and I wanted to cry.
Eventually, Russell spoke: “Should I get us another drink?”
Even this was hard to answer. “No,” I said. “I have to go in a few minutes. I think it would be best.”
“Don’t go, hon.”
“It’s been a bit of a surprise. I thought you were going to end it once and for all. I just need to think about it.”
