by L. T. Smith
The smash was very loud, quite onomatopoeic. Weirdly, the initial silence after the smash of the cup sounded louder than the breaking. I froze, my arms outstretched and my hands dangling motionless like those of a pianist preparing to warm up. I stared at the pieces of the cup, the tea trickling over the work surface like the embarrassment painting my face at my acting like a twat.
“Fuck?” Gill’s voice was soft, questioning…close.
That one word melted my reluctance to show my emotions, and just like the cup, my insides seemed to shatter. Emotions that had been welling beforehand burst upwards and outwards, and my sob resounded in the silence. There was no going back, no embarrassed apology that could mask the stark admission of my sadness.
“Hey, Brynn, come here, love.”
Gill’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me close, the scent of her overwhelmingly familiar and just as intoxicating as when she had hugged me not ten minutes earlier. This time, I melted into her. My tears flowed in wet rivulets that left their mark on my friend’s shoulder, and I clung to her whilst she made shushing noises and held me close.
Gill’s hands swept up and down my back, the heat from her palms seeping through my pyjama top almost as if the material wasn’t there.
The tears stopped just as suddenly as they had started. It wasn’t just the thought of having Gill’s hands on my naked back that made my sobbing cease; it was much worse than that. It did involve hands, and skin, and touching, but not just my back. The thoughts had generated very real sensations, evoking the very real erection of my nipples.
To say I was mortified would have been an understatement. To make matters worse, I knew if I pulled away at that precise point, I would be exposed. So I held on to her and considered waiting until the embarrassing body faux pas had subsided, but the closeness, the heat of her, the scent of Gillian Parker was just making it worse.
“Are you still cold?” My voice sounded a little muffled, as it was a close to her hair.
“Not so much, no.”
The rumble of her reply seeped through her chest and into me. I didn’t want to break away from her, but it would look odd if I carried on gripping on to her now that I had stopped crying. And I needed to stop my body reacting to her, my body and everything else. I pulled away sharply, the swiftness of my action causing both of us to sway.
Before she had the chance to say anything, I brushed past her and went to the thermostat on the wall.
“No wonder I’m freezing.” I rubbed my arms for effect, a brrr accompanying my action. “It was only on low.”
Gill just stared at me, her arms sagging at her sides as if all her energy had been sapped from her.
With a last manic rub of my arms, I moved past her and towards the kitchen counter, grabbing a dishcloth on the way. “Better clean this up before… Well, I guess it can’t get any worse.” I let out a sharp laugh and began to collect spilt tea and fragments of cup.
Gill moved behind me. I could sense her unease and confusion, but I continued to clean the counter as if it was the most important job in the world and couldn’t possibly wait.
Instead of drawing away, Gill sighed as she reached around me and grabbed the roll of paper kitchen towels, ripping off a few sheets before putting the roll back.
We worked together to clean up the mess and had the bulk of it done in a couple of minutes. As I rinsed my cloth under the tap, Gill wrapped the pieces of the broken cup in paper before putting them in the bin. The air was expectant. I knew she was confused about how quickly I had moved away from her. I also figured that she knew that the thermostat comment was a cover-up, but that was likely where her awareness ended. Gill probably thought I had moved away because I was embarrassed about crying. I had moved away because my body was reacting to a woman I could never have, whose body would never react in the same way as mine when I hugged her close.
“How’s Tom?” I forced my voice to stay low, controlled.
Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew she had turned to face me at the mention of her fiancé.
“It’s about time he walked you down the aisle, isn’t it?” I pushed my lips into a smile and glanced in her direction.
She was standing next to the bin, her hand resting on the lid.
“Must be going on two years since he popped the question.” I managed a laugh and gave the counter a final swipe before slapping the cloth down on the side of the sink.
“Just over eighteen months.”
That was about when I had last seen her, and I swallowed down the guilt of my avoidance and picked up the cloth.
The noise of the bin being slammed by either a foot or a fist was followed by, “Fuck it!”
I turned to face her, my back resting against the counter. Gill was staring at the bin as if it was the most interesting object she had ever seen. Instead of interrupting her fixed absorption on the trash can, I waited for her to expound on her expletive.
“I don’t think…” Gill lifted her face until her pain-filled eyes met mine. “I don’t think Tom will be walking me down the aisle any time soon.”
Her fingers tapped the lid of the bin, then stilled. I watched her fingers twitch as if she wanted to continue her drumming, but she resolutely scrunched her hand into a fist and dropped it to her side.
A selfish part of me released a tinny cheer. Just because I wanted to be the one walking Gillian Parker down the aisle didn’t give me license to be happy that maybe her wedding plans had fallen through. When all was said and done, she was still the closest friend I’d ever had.
I was next to her in the blink of an eye, my hand grasping hers as if to pass some of my strength to her. Her hand was cold. I cradled it between mine and rubbed vigorously.
“Of course he wants to walk you down the aisle,” I said, forcing the reassurance from my tightened throat. “Tom Griffiths loves you to the moon and back.”
I dipped my head and tried to look into her face, but she turned her eyes away, her bottom lip bulging slightly as if she had filled it with air. “What’s the matter, Gill?”
She shook her head, the air escaping from her mouth in a long sigh. She gave my fingers a quick squeeze, then pulled her hand from mine.
“I came around to catch up, not to burden you with the downturns of my love life.”
I shrugged. My mouth moved but no words came out, so I grinned and nodded, looking even more like a twat.
Gill looked past me to the counter. “I suppose that was my cuppa you beat the shite out of, wasn’t it?”
I nodded again, but this time my voice box was up to the challenge of actually working. “I’ll make you another. You go sit at the table and prepare to spill the beans.”
“But—”
“Yes. Get your butt over there and think about what you are going to say.”
“What—”
“What you are going to tell me.”
Her eyes narrowing and head tilting, Gill’s expression bordered on amused but still held a smattering of unease. Instead of pushing her to begin unburdening herself, I rested my hand on her forearm and gently nudged her towards the table.
“Go, sit.” I nodded at the small oak table as my hand delivered a gentle push in that direction.
With a sigh, Gill slipped from the urging of my hand and made her way to the table.
Chapter 4
Gill stared at the mug of tea as if it held the answer to the ultimate question of life: why are we here?
Instead of engaging in a philosophical view of life, I changed the pronoun. “Why are you here?”
Her attention turned away from her untouched tea and focused on me as if it was the first time she had realised I was present. Considering we were seated at the dining table in my home, that seemed a tad strange.
“Why am I here?”
She was either repeating it to be certain of my question, or she was asking me to divine her motivation. I didn’t respond to either.
“I am here…erm, because… Shit.” Gill leaned f
orwards over the table, as if she was about to divulge the actual answer to the meaning of life. “I’m here because I bumped into Stacy Greenall.”
Stacy “the Gob” Greenall? What the fuck did she have to do with anything?
Instead of asking for clarification, I stupidly responded, “Where?” then shook my head vigorously, as if that could mitigate the stupidity of the question.
“At Next, the big one at Longwater. She was trying to find curtains to match her duvet.”
If I had felt more myself, I would have responded with a witty retort that had nothing to do with drapes or covers and more with alluding to body parts. Weirdly, or maybe not so weird after all, the expression on Gill’s face made it plain that my omission of misplaced humour was another indicator that the life of Brynn Morgan was anything but fine.
Instead of waiting for her to continue with the details of catching up with a girl from our high school days, I decided to take the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go, and that meant in the opposite direction of me and my life.
“What happened with you and Tom? What makes you think he doesn’t want to marry you?”
I lifted my cup and swallowed too big a mouthful, the ache of trying to force it down my throat bringing tears to my eyes. I prayed that I wouldn’t choke, wouldn’t spit up a frothing beverage and seal my embarrassment forever, but through perseverance and sheer will, I eventually pushed the bugger down.
Gill slammed back in her chair and I felt myself relax, knowing that I had tapped the ball over into her court. She tentatively extended her hand to her drink until her long, slender fingers were absently caressing the cup. I was mesmerised by their stroking of the ceramic.
“Stacy told me about you and Jenny splitting up, and I wanted to see if you were okay.”
How the fuck had my questions led her back to hers? I already knew the answer. Like me, Gillian Parker didn’t want to talk about a failing or flailing love life.
“I’m fine.” I nodded sharply as if it was a physical full stop, the action discouraging future enquiries about my emotional wellbeing.
Gill stared at me, her expression indicating she knew I was spouting a pile of shite. I didn’t want to tell her that breaking up with Jenny was the best thing I had done in ages, or that the reason I looked like death warmed over was because I was questioning my ability to love anyone but her. That wasn’t really a conversation I thought appropriate to begin over lukewarm tea.
“Stacy said that Jenny—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what Stacy Gobby fucking Greenall said. She’s an interfering twat!” My mug hit the table with enough force to splatter the contents, and I jumped to my feet, almost knocking the chair over. “I didn’t love Jenny and she didn’t love me. What was the point of carrying on with something that just wasn’t working?”
I watched in horror as the import of my declarations hit home. Gill’s expression initially displayed shock at my outburst, then her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed as her face crumpled.
It was my turn to be shocked, at a loss for words. How had my outburst caused that reaction? Gill couldn’t have been upset about Stacy Greenall; they hadn’t even been close at school.
I deliberated moving closer to her, kneeling at her feet and looking up into the brownest eyes I had ever seen. I thought about it, but I didn’t do it. Then her tears came, accompanied by a low-pitched groan as if she was in pain. I just stood there, utterly unaware of how to deal with any of it. Maybe I was emotionally stunted after all.
“Brynn?”
Gill’s voice vaporized my inertia, and suddenly I was beside her, my knees aching from their impact with the floor, my hands clasping her slumped shoulders. The rumble of her distress reverberated throughout my whole being.
She looked up at me and my heart seized, making me gasp. Those eyes I’d wanted to drown in for the better part of my life were the darkest I had ever seen them—shades of brown mixed with the swamp of tears, creating a whirlpool of agony. Black eyelashes clumped together in groups, making it appear as if she was wearing mascara though I knew she wasn’t. Gillian Parker didn’t need to enhance what she had. She was perfect as she was.
Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but she closed them again, the plump redness seeming swollen, almost as if she had been kissed too soundly.
I licked my own lips in an attempt to ease the passage of the words I knew I had to say.
“I’m sorry, Gill. I didn’t mean to say that about Stacy.” My fingers itched to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks, but I didn’t trust myself to not detour over the mouth I had coveted for far too long.
Gill sniffed, her head tilting sideways, her eyes doing her talking.
“Don’t tell me you are crying because Jenny and I didn’t love each other.” A small laugh escaped along with my incredulity. “We were never going to be the love story with the fairy-tale ending.” Jenny’s parting words replayed in my head, and I grimaced. “We were never going to live happily ever after.”
I purposely omitted the part where Jenny had insisted that people have to work at a relationship, since I really didn’t want to tell Gillian Parker the true reason I hadn’t wanted to work at a relationship with my ex, with any of my exes.
Gill’s hand covered mine, the heat of her instantly sparking a heat within me. A gentle squeeze on the back of my hand kick-started the butterflies in my belly, and my body jerked at their fluttering.
She inhaled deeply, the sound of it dramatic as a soft smile fought through her sadness. I shook my head. Gill was acting more empathetic than an old friend should after discovering I had not found the woman of my dreams. Little did she know that I had, and she was holding my hand whilst I knelt in front of her as if I was readying myself to propose.
“I think everyone knew you and Jenny wouldn’t be the couple of the year.” She chuckled softly, the huskiness from crying obvious.
The hackles on the back of my neck rose. It was okay for me to think my love life was crap, to say it even, but that didn’t give other people license to assume it too. “Why not?”
Gill shrugged, then squeezed my fingers. “You two just, well, you know.”
I glared at her.
She squirmed. “Well, erm, a couple needs to work at a relationship, and you never gave me the feeling that you were very committed to that concept.”
Her words hit me exactly the way I knew they would. I pulled backwards, the tug of her hand to hold on to mine a futile gesture. “How the fuck would you know? I’ve not seen hide or hair of you for the last fucking eighteen months. For that matter, did you ever even meet Jenny?” I stood, turned and walked away from her. “Ever since you got engaged to your wonderful doctor man, you’ve not given two shits about me or who I was or was not committed to.”
I heard the chair scrape back and knew she was behind me.
“Look, Brynn.” Her hand landed on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset—”
I spun to face her. “Cut the crap, Gill. Why are you here?”
“To check—”
“That isn’t it. Why are you here?”
I straightened, wanting to give the impression of being taller, stronger, more in control, and seeing her shrink back gave me a sick sense of satisfaction. It was that realisation that made me stop and step back, clenching and unclenching my hands.
“Just tell me, Gill, what’s happened? Why do you think Tom doesn’t want to marry you? As I remember it, he couldn’t wait to get you down the aisle.”
Her pupils widened and narrowed madly, like the lens of a possessed camera, rapid and astute, focusing in on the subject.
Gill swiped a hand across her cheek, capturing some of her tears. They glistened on her fingers before she wiped them on the leg of her jeans. “Don’t blame me for not seeing you for eighteen months. You’re the one who made excuse after excuse that kept us from keeping in touch.”
I held up my hand to silence her. She flinched, and I imme
diately dropped my arm to my side. “I’m not your father, Gill.” My voice didn’t come out as soft as I’d intended. I also hadn’t meant to bring up a topic that was out of bounds.
Her face paled, her eyes blinking as if to clear her mind. “I don’t want to talk about…about my father, today or ever. Got that?”
That I could understand. Ever since Gill had confided in me about how her father couldn’t keep his fists to himself, she had never wanted to speak of it again. When his physical violence turned to sexual violence, the topic of abuse once again reared its ugly head. Being thirteen and faced with the task of convincing my best friend to report her own father to the school counsellor was a responsibility I could never have envisioned. I was just a kid. So was she. And she had sworn me to secrecy. Because I had promised Gill I wouldn’t say anything, I couldn’t even confide in my mum, the one person I truly believed had the answer to everything. Gill’s sigh interrupted my musings about the past.
Gill’s body sagged in defeat. “I say I don’t want to talk about him, but I think I have to.”
My anger dissipating, I stepped forwards. “What do you mean you think you ‘have to’?” Thankfully my voice was softer this time.
“He’s the reason why I think Tom doesn’t want to marry me anymore.”
My mouth pursed to refute what she had said, but I stopped myself. “You told Tom?”
Gill nodded, her eyes focused on the bin in the corner. “Just over a month ago. Since then…” She shrugged, then exhaled noisily through her mouth. “I need to sit down.”
I made a move towards the table, but Gill had other ideas. By the time I realised she didn’t want to sit in the kitchen, she’d gone, leaving me to follow after her.
Chapter 5
Although my house could not be classed as huge, I had a growing sense of panic when I didn’t find her in my office, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that she was either in the downstairs loo or the living room.
