Her presence added fuel to the fire of my anger, and I decided right there and then that I was going to push her away. I would rather be alone than feel like this, like someone had twisted up all my insides. As I came to a decision as to what song I was going to play next, I brought my mouth to the microphone to address the audience. Really, though, I was only addressing her.
“This next song is for someone who told me they loved me today. It's called ‘I Don't Care Much,’ from Cabaret.”
I played messily, slamming my fingers furiously into the piano keys, trying to expel all of the emotion and self-hatred that was inside. I spat out the lyrics and brought my gaze to hers, hoping she felt every word of what I was saying to her. I hadn’t even finished the song before tears began to fill her eyes and she stormed out of the club. I swallowed down a lump and continued playing. When I was done, I picked up what was left of my wine, chugged it back, and stumbled off the stage to the bar.
By the time I’d worked half my way through a bottle of whiskey, I’d already blacked out. When I woke up, I was lying on a bench in a park, alone. It was the early hours of the morning, and I looked down at myself, relieved to find I’d at least changed out of my stage clothes at some point during the previous night. My head pounded, and it only took a minute for all my memories of what I’d done to Fred to come rolling back.
I was filled with regret.
I had yet again fallen prey to the demon of self-sabotage that seemed to lurk in the shadows of my life. After I’d sung that song to her, I didn’t think Fred would want to speak to me ever again. I had ruined everything. Digging in my pocket, I pulled out my phone and tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail. I got up from the bench and left the park, heading for the hotel. When I got there, though, I discovered all of her things were gone.
I called up reception to see if they’d heard from her and was told that she’d checked out.
She’d gone home.
I tried her phone again, but still there was no answer. I even resorted to calling Nora. It was clear that Fred had filled her in on what had happened, because she was a total bitch to me on the phone.
This was a disaster, and it was all my fault. I couldn’t believe how happy I was only a day ago and how miserable I was now. And it suddenly dawned on me that I was alone again.
Back in the hotel room, I opened up the mini bar and had at it.
August 31st, 2012.
Soundtrack: “Fall to Pieces” by Velvet Revolver
A number of weeks had passed since I’d laid eyes on Fred. I knew she was actively avoiding me, because we lived right next door to one another and yet I didn’t have a single sighting. I’d spent two weeks doing a good job of trying to destroy my liver when Phil had to step in and talk some sense into me again.
And when I say “talk sense,” I mean he waltzed right into my dressing room at The Glamour Patch one night and gave me a good, hard slap across the face. You see, gay blokes can do these sorts of things and make it seem like a fit of passion. If it were any other man, I’d have knocked his block off, especially since I had a few shots of Jack Daniels in me.
“What the fuck, Phil?” I spat, working my jaw.
“Where’s Fred been these past two weeks, huh? You return from Edinburgh looking like somebody pissed in your cornflakes, and now you’re back on the booze full throttle. You need to sort your shit out, Nicholas. I mean it.”
“Oh, piss off,” I slurred, and picked up the glass of whiskey I was currently working my way through. Phil snatched it right out of my hand before it even had the chance to touch my lips.
“Don’t you dare tell me to piss off! After everything I’ve done for you, after all the progress we made, you’re just going to throw it all away? What the hell happened over in Scotland?” He stood before me, one hand on his hip, waiting for an answer.
A trickle of remorse sprang forth. He was right. He’d spent three weeks of his life pulling me back from the brink, counselling me, listening to my every woe. If anything, Phil deserved for me not to throw all that work back in his face. Fuck, he deserved a bloody medal.
So I told him everything, every last detail of what happened with Fred. He came and took the seat beside mine, listening quietly all the while. And when I was done, he threw his eyes to the heavens and shook his head.
“My God, I don’t know which one of you is worse,” he muttered, and I stared at him, waiting for more. “That girl wasn’t pretending when she told you she loved you, Nicholas. She took it back because of the way you responded. She thought her feelings were unreciprocated.”
“That’s not true,” I said, frowning hard.
“It’s as true as the fact that you love her, too,” he shot back casually, one eyebrow raised.
“What!?” I exclaimed, incredulous.
“Oh, for crying out loud. Don’t give me that. You love her. I watched you falling, and now you’ve fallen. The problem is that you’re either in denial or you’re incapable of interpreting your own emotions.”
I went silent then, my head a rapidly spinning wheel. I didn’t know what to make of what Phil was saying to me. The only person I ever truly loved was my mother. The way I felt about Fred was so different, yet equally intense. After a couple more minutes of quiet, Phil swallowed down what was left of the whiskey he’d appropriated from me and said, “Ah, the penny has finally dropped. I’m right, aren’t I? You do love her.”
My gaze, which had been focused on the surface of the dressing table, rose to meet Phil’s. “I feel like I need her more than air. Is that love?” I practically whispered the words, but I already knew the answer.
Phil pursed his lips in a way that made me think he was suppressing a smile. “Oh, yes, my friend, that’s love. Now, first things first. You know I hate to beat around the bush, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. You need to quit the booze. It’s a crutch that you keep running back to every time life gets hard. I thought you’d be able to handle a drink every now and again, but it’s obvious that you can’t. Do you want me to help find you some meetings? Maybe get you onto a programme?”
I let out a long breath. “You’re right, and yes, perhaps some meetings will help.”
Phil clapped his hands together. “Good stuff. We need to get you sober and healthy if you ever want to be deserving of that fabulous fucking woman. We’re not going to rush this. Take it all a day at a time.”
Relief flooded me. Phil was certainly turning into my very own guardian angel. Every time I needed a good firm slap and a dose of reality, he was willing to give it. Literally.
I spent the next two weeks turning my entire life around. I went to the gym every day, attended meetings for alcohol addiction, and started eating healthily. I also began putting my all into my performances at the club. I was miserable without Fred, but I was making progress, and I was planning on winning her back, no matter what.
And that brought me to now. A while back, long before Edinburgh, I’d agreed to join Fred and her friends for a weekend at a music festival. I’d been talking to Sean at the club, who was now officially Harry’s boyfriend, and it was all still on. I’d have bet my last penny Fred was hoping I’d back out of going, but no way was that happening. This was my chance to repair the damage I’d done, and a whole weekend in her company was the prime opportunity for me to do that.
I went out and bought a brand new tent and a sleeping bag, as well as a couple of other camping-related items. I might have gone a little overboard, but I was excited. As I made my way to Harry’s place, where we were all to meet before leaving in the van he’d borrowed to take us to the festival, my heart was beating ten times faster than normal. I couldn’t believe how anxious I was.
If I wasn’t trying to cut alcohol out of my life, I might have said I needed a drink.
When I got there, I was relieved to find Fred and Nora still hadn’t arrived yet. There was a big group of people going, including Harry, Sean, Harry’s brother Colm, his friend Eric, Nora, Fred,
their friend Anny, and Nora’s new boyfriend, Richard. It was a ragtag bunch if ever I saw one.
As we packed our things in the van and waited for Fred and Nora to get there, I ran various apologies through my head. I couldn’t seem to settle on the right one, though. Perhaps I could simply get down on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.
Too much?
Not enough?
Christ, I really couldn’t decide. I needed to take a piss before we left, so I went to the bathroom. When I came back out, I immediately heard Fred laughing, and it was like a balm to my senses. I hadn’t heard that laugh in weeks. She stood by the kitchen counter, joking with Sean, and seeing her for the first time in so long was almost too much to handle.
She was breathtaking. Now that I knew I was in love with her, lost to her, owned by her, every single thing about her fascinated me. I wanted to touch her so badly but knew I couldn’t, and that made it almost a physical torture. I was so close and yet so far.
She turned to face me. Our eyes locked, and then hers began to move slowly down my body before returning to my face. I enjoyed the fact that she was checking me out.
“Freda,” I said, my voice worshipful. We stared at each other for a long time, and I would have killed to know what she was thinking.
“Hi,” she said curtly, and glanced away. She seemed awkward, and I didn’t want her to be. I wanted to erase the last few weeks and go back to being best friends again. There was a wall behind her eyes now when she looked at me, and I hated it.
The rest of the gang entered the room at that moment, all laughing over something.
“What's so funny?” Fred asked, turning her attention away from me.
“Oh, Anny fell over trying to squeeze her bag into the back of the van. It was hilarious,” Nora told her.
“Hey! I could have really hurt myself,” Anny complained.
“That's what made it so funny,” Colm added, and winked at her. She seemed to enjoy the wink.
“All right, is everybody ready to hit the road?” Harry asked as he came out of his room with the last of his things. After that, they all began making their way out to the van, but I desperately needed to talk to Fred properly before we set off. I felt like I had a million words to say to her, but I didn’t know which order I should put them in. She began walking out of the room, but I took hold of her elbow to stop her. She turned, and our eyes locked yet again. There was a draw between us, and I knew she felt it, too; she was just trying really hard not to.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Fred?” I asked softly, pleadingly, my eyes flickering back and forth between hers.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she whispered, dismissive.
“Please,” I went on. I wasn’t above begging at this point.
“Come on, you two,” Harry interrupted. “We need to get a move on if we want to snag a good camping spot.”
I swore under my breath as Fred yanked her arm out of my hold and hurried outside. It was a godsend that the last two seats left in the van were right next to each other. We would have to sit side by side. I climbed in beside her, and then Harry started up the engine and pulled out of the driveway. I took the opportunity to properly take her in. She was wearing a pretty cream sundress, knee-high socks, and brown leather boots. There was something about the socks that made my mind wander.
I leaned a little closer to her and murmured in her ear, “You look great, by the way.” Then I made a point of moving my knee a fraction, allowing our legs to touch. Her body went rigid, and she drew her knees together in an effort to keep from touching me. When she looked out the window, ignoring me, my gut sank. This wasn’t going how I’d planned at all.
“I've really missed you, Fred,” I whispered to her, baring my soul in the back of a lime-green Volkswagen van.
I saw her visibly swallow before she replied harshly, “You didn't want me, so why would you miss me?”
“I’ve always wanted you.”
“I can't talk about this now,” she snapped, and folded her arms across her chest defensively. This wasn’t going to be easy, not by a long shot. I decided to accept defeat. For now.
“Okay, maybe later, then.”
Over the course of the journey, I began to grow restless. I was pushing my luck when I started moving my leg so that my thigh rested against hers. The first few times she moved away, but after a while she let out a long sigh and gave up. I felt like I was winning. Sitting so close, I could smell her, and it was intoxicating me.
She was listening to music on her iPod. I knew it was the usual punk rock that she favoured, because I could hear the power chords coming through the headphones. At one point, she closed her eyes and laid her head back. The sight of her with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling slowly, was difficult for me. It was hard not to lean in and claim her soft mouth. I had to keep clenching and unclenching my fists to keep from touching her. My eyes trailed to her breasts, the lush, feminine curves of them drawing my gaze.
I’m not sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes and caught me staring. I gave her the tiniest grin, and she began to blush. How I’d missed that blush. She knew what I was thinking about. I made a bold move by running my finger down her hand and taking it into mine, sliding my fingers through hers. She gave me a single tortured look before closing her eyes and pulling out her earphones.
“Stop it. Stop making this difficult,” she pleaded.
“You won't talk to me. What do you want me to do?”
“I just want you to leave me alone. You've done enough damage,” she said, and her words cut me to the quick.
I squeezed her hand tighter. “I know that. Believe me, I've been hating myself ever since the night you left. But I've been thinking a lot, too, and I have some things that I need to say to you. But I can't do that if you won't hear me out.”
Her breath escaped her in one long rush. “Fine. We can talk later, somewhere private after we get to the festival. Good enough?”
Her agreeing to at least talk calmed me. “Yes, that's good enough.”
***
When we arrived at the festival, we all quickly found a good spot to set up camp and got to work. As I assembled my tent, I was overly aware of Fred as she sat in a folding chair beside Nora, eating an orange and trying not to be obvious about watching me. I smirked to myself, wondering if my extra-fit physique after my fortnight of hard workouts had impressed her.
She and Nora were having a whispered, serious conversation about something, but I was too far away to hear. A little while later the other girl, Anny, joined them, and they all started laughing. Well, Nora and Anny did. Fred didn’t look very happy, for some reason.
I decided to join their conversation as I called over, “What are you three giggling about?”
“Unsavoury liquids,” Anny answered. “Fred doesn't want me getting any on her sleeping bag when I shag Eric.”
I chuckled at her response, my gaze flickering momentarily to a disgruntled Fred and then back to Anny.
“So he's a foregone conclusion, is he?”
“Of course, who could resist all this?” she replied with sass.
“Who indeed,” I said, looking at Fred again. “You can share my sleeping bag if anything happens to yours.” There was a teasing lilt to my voice, but I was deadly serious. In fact, I’d have killed to have her share my tent.
“I'll survive, thanks,” she bit back sardonically.
“Have it your way.” I frowned and went back to working on my tent.
After a while Fred disappeared off somewhere. I wanted to talk with her, and she promised she’d hear me out, so I went in search of her. It took about an hour of walking around before I spotted her sitting on a patch of grass, eating. I quickly went and grabbed a hot dog from one of the food stands. When I returned, she was thankfully still in the same spot.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked her hesitantly.
She glanced up at me, and there was something appealing about looking down a
t her like that. Unfortunately, the expression on her face was far from welcoming.
“Do I have a choice?” she responded defensively. Her tone was telling me to piss off, but I was determined.
“You always have a choice, Fred.”
She sighed. “Fine, sit. It's a free country.”
I sat down, folding my legs. I got a little uncomfortable when she glanced at the Coke I was drinking. “No alcohol for you, huh?”
“I'm trying to avoid it, to be honest. It's never been something I could enjoy in moderation anyway,” I said, and a small spark of sympathy flashed in her eyes.
She fiddled with the hem of her skirt and looked away. “That's good, then, that you're avoiding it.” Her voice was soft, caring.
“It is. Is this a good time for us to talk?” I shifted a bit closer to her. Silently, she nodded.
I cleared my throat before I began, “When you said what you said to me, Freda, you have to understand, despite the way I reacted, it was the happiest moment of my life.”
I’d come to this realisation just a couple of days ago. It was the reason why I was so angry when she told me she only said it to make me feel better, because despite my thoughts, there had been a trickle of true happiness lurking in the recesses, overjoyed by the fact that someone was telling me they loved me. And yes, even after she denied it, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was lying. My weeks of sobriety allowed for lots of soul searching, lots of analysing why I pushed her away like I did.
“Seemed more like it was the saddest. You didn't look happy at all,” she said, still staring at her lap. I wanted her attention, so I took her hand in mine and gave it a meaningful squeeze. Then I let the floodgates open. I told her everything that had been in my head for weeks, desperate to get out.
“I was sad because I was sad for you, Fred. I know I joke about wanting to corrupt you, but that's all that it is, a joke. You are so pure and clean, and I felt like I was soiling you by being the person you fell in love with. Women have told me they loved me before, but it wasn't real — it was just momentary lust mistaken for love. When you said it to me, I could tell that you truly felt it, and it terrified me. That's why I sang that song to you when you came to the gig to see me. I needed to drive you away somehow. I've never had a time in my life when I've been consistently balanced. I've gone from being on top of the world for months, performing in amazing nightclubs the world over, to living in my own filth and losing myself in a bottle of whiskey. I was scared that if you fell any deeper in love with me that I'd end up reverting back to one of my low points and dragging you down with me.”
Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel Page 14
