by Kitty Wilson
How had we gone from that to this? Luisa always talks about how I’m blunt and just say things, and it’s true. I ask the questions that I need the answers to but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me. I don’t have some forcefield of courage, I still have all the inhibitions everyone else does, more than many. It takes a lot to reach deep inside and vocalise it. But I need to ask this question.
‘Is this because of the Nordic hut? Are you worried I have some kind of mad crush on you and you don’t reciprocate it? That’s okay, that can be said here, now, and I’ll walk away, leave you to go see your mum, and our friendship will survive that bombshell.’
‘No, no, it’s not that.’ He laughs but it’s a bitter laugh, one completely devoid of joy or positivity. It is not a laugh I have heard from him before.
I decide to bite the bullet. If he’s leaving in a couple of days and determined to ignore me then this may be my only chance and suddenly I want it said.
‘I do, you know.’ Argh! So articulate.
‘Do what?’ He looks at me.
‘I do have a crush but I don’t need you to feel the same. I just want you to know that spending time with you means I’ve changed my type, and that’s a good thing. You’ve taught me what I’m looking for in a partner, the values I wish for. That’s a massive reset.’
‘Ha. You’ve moved from self-serving arseholes to completely broken. Good move, Wilde. You may want to reconsider that.’
‘No. No, I don’t. And broken? I don’t think so. I think everything you have done since Jessica’s death is really human. I don’t think you’re broken, I think you’re normal. Actually, scratch that, you’re not normal, you’re remarkable. You are a kind man, a gentleman. You put others first, you don’t see the bad in people apart from in yourself, which from my biased view is somewhat misguided. You have brought a confidence and a security to my life just by being in it and that will be more valuable to me than you can ever know. In this short space of time, Rory Walters, you have taught me how to love properly, with boundaries and self-respect and toe-curling lust. I thought I’d be stuck with the bad boys for ever and now I have no interest at all. None. I want a man like you, not a Lost Boy. Sure, it’s a shame you don’t reciprocate my feelings but I’ll survive. Don’t think I’m standing here offering to fix you, heal your wounds. I’m not. Partly because that has to come from you, but also because I don’t think you need fixing. I think you’re more than worthy of my love and I think deep down somewhere you must know that.’ I take a breath. I have been hoping at some point he might interrupt me, especially at the toe-curling lust bit that had fallen out of my mouth but he has remained silent and is now looking at me, shaking his head slowly.
‘I know I said I don’t need an answer but I was lying. Right now, I really need you to say something, talk to me. I’ve just laid everything out for you and this silence is torture. Please. Anything.’
‘Look, Belle, you are an amazing woman and if things were different, if I were the man you think I am, not the man I know myself to be, then, well then, we’d be living a very different life. But I can’t do this now. I can’t.’
‘I know you need to get inside before the quiz is over, I get that. But we could talk tomorrow?’ I gesture at the door and feel a little bit ashamed of myself. It feels a bit like I’m begging, throwing dignity to the winds but I need to know I’ve given this my best shot. And if the timing is the issue I can wait until tomorrow. I just want an honest conversation.
‘No.’ He says this firmly, holding my eyes as he does so. ‘No. Belle, you and me, it’s not going to happen. It will never happen. Not here and now, not tomorrow. There is too much you don’t understand.’
‘I can’t understand what I’m not told.’ I immediately cringe. Oh shut up, walk away. Why am I still talking?
I watch him close his eyes, draw in a deep breath, open his eyes and fix me firmly with his gaze. Another deep breath. What is probably only a matter of seconds feels like forever.
‘Belle. Go home. Go to Luisa’s. Go live your life to the best it can be. There is no place for you here. I’m not interested, it’s too much and you need to leave me alone now. I’m really sorry if I have led you on but you need to go.’ Giving me a look of firm resolve he nods abruptly at me and turns on his heel, opening the door to the pub, a wave of laughter and voices streaming out into the night. He does not look back, not once, as I stand there and my heart, my hopes, my love are smashed into tiny weeny pieces on the cobbles.
Words pay no debts, give her deeds.
* * *
December Thirtieth.
Rory.
Bing.
I reach out from my bed and grab my phone. I’m extra groggy this morning; I couldn’t sleep at all last night. The self-loathing and the guilt are eating me from the inside out and rightfully so. The enormity of the impact of my words is making the guilt I felt before seem tiny. I have truly caused hurt and damage now. I can see Belle’s face as I broke all of my rules and lied to her. Lied to her to protect her was what I told myself at the time.
Fool.
Cruel fool.
I imagine I will fall asleep at night with Belle’s face seared onto the backs of my eyelids for the foreseeable future. Only from now on it won’t be her laughing as we tear down that hill at wildly irresponsible speeds or as we lie in the park making snow angels. It will be her standing opposite me outside the pub with the hurt I have caused shaping her whole face.
Bing.
Seriously?
I check it and see it is Mum. She had a fair few things to say to me last night when I came back to the pub minus the woman that she had fallen in love with almost as much as I had. Self-indulgent, cruel, misogynistic and bullshit were but a few. She clearly feels the need to add some more this morning.
I really do not want to open this message.
The fact that I am a thirty-one-year-old man seemed lost on her last night as she gave me a dressing down in front of the entire table – the entire pub – that would have been more suited to a nine-year-old boy. I don’t need my mum to tell me what an arse I have been. I know that. I knew that I had made a mistake the minute I had turned and walked away from Belle and I was too much of a self-righteous, self-indulgent twat to turn back and chase after her.
You’ve had all night to think. Now, what are you going to do?
* * *
When I ask what are you going to do it’s a rhetorical question. Obviously, you are going to go find her, apologise and see how you can make this right.
Bing.
Really, a third?
I know you meant well, but you need to let her make her decisions herself. Making them for her is outdated and an example of your need to control destroying your life.
Harsh! But nothing new. This had been another overall theme of last night.
I know you can love again. Belle knows you can love again. It’s just you who needs to convince yourself.
As had that.
Bing.
And quickly. Very quickly.
Jesus Christ, I need coffee. But she’s right. I know she is. I need coffee and a plan.
‘She is not there.’ Temperance pokes her head around the door of the mini-mart.
‘Any idea where she could be?’ Stupid question, as if Temperance has some kind of superhero vision or psychic skills. Both of which I am fairly certain she would view as occult and worthy of God’s righteous and cleansing flame.
‘Mmmmmhhmmmmmmm.’ She draws herself up and looks me up and down, hand on her hip, her cheeks sucking in.
My brow furrows and my shoulders rise.
‘She gone off with that friend of hers, you know, the child’s mother.’ She flips her hand around. ‘She did not look happy. She did not look like the Belle I know.’
‘She looked…’ Innocence comes out of the shop behind his mother, arches his brow, folds his arms like his mum. ‘She looked like someone has proper upset her, you know what I mean?’
‘Yeah, I kn
ow,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’
‘She look like all the demons from Hell have come up here and danced around her, pinned her down and then the devil himself has risen up and twisted out her soul…’ Temperance explains.
Innocence nods as his mother continues.
‘She look like someone has laid juju on her and she did not have enough love in her heart for Jesus to know that these things are the preserve of witches and conmen.’
‘She didn’t even wave,’ Innocence adds.
I toy with the idea of going to Luisa’s but in each scenario I imagine I end up getting punched in the face. Sometimes by Remi, usually by Luisa and occasionally the both of them. None of my imagined scenarios involve me being allowed to speak to Belle and I think they are probably accurate. I need a better plan than turning up on Luisa’s doorstep.
Obviously, I have tried to call her and she has not picked up. That’s unlike Belle. She always answers her phone; I’ve seen it. Even when she really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, even when it’s her father merely ringing to have a go. Although of course there is always the possibility that Luisa has kidnapped it and locked it in a steel box. That is way more probable than Belle letting it ring out.
I think I need some help. I do not want to sit in this car and dwell on all the ways in which I’ve messed up, all the ways Belle could be feeling right now because of my knee-jerk reaction to seeing her and panicking. I need action not overthinking. I look out the car window and see Temperance putting up a new display outside the shop to entice customers in. Hmm, maybe not her. Not that I’m doubting the power of prayer – oh, actually, good point. I’ll take all the help I can get at his moment. I wind down the window.
‘Temperance, I need your help. Will you put me in your prayers? And Belle too?’
‘That sweet girl is always in my prayers. Now move on out of here. Sitting there, scaring away my customers. They’re going to think you’re police. Go on, begone.’ She flaps her hands at me as if I’m an errant chicken.
I drive towards Eastville Park. I don’t want to go all the way back to my flat, and I’m not sure that I want to go to my mum’s. Sitting by the lake will be the perfect place to think.
As I drive I cast my mind back to the times Belle, Marsha and myself have driven around in this car, and how much we have giggled. I’ve not had such carefree feelings in a long time. That is what I want in my life. I want a family of my own. Funny what one month can do to your life. One month and a glaringly sharp moment when you hurt someone you care about deeply because of pig-headed stubborn control-freakery. There is nothing I want more than to recreate that family feeling at Belle’s side. But right now, the only thing that matters is to make her realise how much I regret hurting her. To make her see that I think she is a miracle.
Enough daydreaming. I need to act, formulate my next steps. As much as it pains me, Mum is going to have to be part of my crack team. She’ll bring ideas to the table, she devours romance books on her Kindle – Dave used to joke they could have had a tropical holiday every year if she just stopped buying every romance book that was ever published. Plus she will make sure I never hear the end of it if I don’t give it my best shot.
And Jamal, I could do with him on board too. He is super busy, yes, but he knows me well, has met Belle and likes her. He’d been great for talking through things the other day and he’s a master of creative thinking. That, and he has a way with romantic partners. I’ve seen him in action, it isn’t just his sculpted jaw and millions in the bank that win him his success there. Ever since he was eight that man has been able to cast a spell.
This is the start of a plan. Now to implement it.
Mum, you’re right, I need to do what I can to apologise and try and win her back. Wanna help?
* * *
Oh yes. Glad to hear it. What are you going to do?
* * *
Ummm. That’s the thing, I’m not sure yet.
* * *
Okay, you need to make a big romantic gesture, like those in Love Actually. Is she going to an airport at all? Oh and a speech, you definitely need a speech, like Jude Law’s in The Holiday.
* * *
I haven’t watched those movies in years.
* * *
Well go watch them today. Get tips from the masters. You can fast forward to the main bits.
* * *
Okay, any other advice?
Preferably some that doesn’t involve watching movies that I remember being quite long and which are bound to make me feel wildly inadequate…
Hmm, make sure you tell her you’ve been a fool. That she’s the one for you, that she is not second best to Jessica. I mean don’t say that if it’s not true, but if it is, then say it. And music, definitely you need to think of music. Look at that lovely Andrew Lincoln with the flip cards.
* * *
Love Actually again?
* * *
Yes! See, you do know. Just watch Love Actually and then do that.
* * *
Great, thanks.
* * *
No need for sarcasm. Oh and those nice jeans, the ones I said I like, wear those. With some of that nice citrussy aftershave you have.
Okay. Love Actually, clean clothes, wash. Got it.
Which boils down to a big romantic gesture that will terrify me and basic personal hygiene. Time to see if Jamal has anything to add.
Ooh … ‘The Tide Is High’ by Blondie. That’s a song you need to use. ‘Number One’. That tells her she’s the centre of your world. She is quite literally your number one. And she looks a bit like Debbie Harry as well, you know, but with dark hair.
Okay … that isn’t a bad idea. I can see where Mum is going with it.
I send Jamal a quick message and hope he has the time to come back to me.
Hey, I’m reaching out for some personal advice. You were so helpful the other day. Hit me up if you have a minute.
His reply is immediate.
Always time.
* * *
I listened to what you said. And you were right but when I saw Belle – funnily enough at The Mont with my mum – I flipped a bit and told her to sod off and leave me alone. I was caught up in the guilt, the Jessica thing, the not being good enough thing. But then the minute I walked away I realised I’d cocked up, that like you said, Jessica is past, always loved but past. Belle, I want her in my future. Now she’s in hiding, she’s hurt and I’m an arsehole. I may have made the biggest mistake of my life. You’re an emotionally intelligent man, any advice on how to make it up to her? Feel free to be blunt.
Jamal comes straight back.
Grand gesture. Make her feel special, step out of your comfort zone and do something that is completely for her. It’s about love languages. Work out what hers is and then communicate to her that way. Making a bit of a twat of yourself won’t hurt either, especially if you’ve made her feel silly for her honesty, you be sillier, show her you’ll do anything to apologise, and tell her your truth, man. Be honest. Stop bottling shit up cos it doesn’t just damage you, it radiates out, you know, like a pebble in a stream. You’ve been honest about how your choices have hurt your mum, and now they’ve hurt Belle so you need to look at that. Oh and sort this shit out quick. Do not let it fester, the more time she has the more time she will build that hurt into the core of her. Get it out as quick as you can. Blunt enough?
How he does this in no time at all I don’t know. I do know he’s right though.
Brilliant, cheers, mate. I may come back to you in a bit for more. I’m going to try and formulate something now.
* * *
Cool cool.
Okay, so mum’s list is big gesture, aftershave, nice jeans and the song ‘Number One’.
Jamal’s is a big gesture – so I guess that I am definitely going with that – something I find uncomfortable that Belle loves and doing it quick. Plus, something about love languages. I do a quick google and decide that makes sense. It really does.
I pull in, sit back in the car and close my eyes. Forget the lake, I’m going to sit here for another ten minutes and see what pops into my head. I’ve solved some of my biggest work problems this way, now I just have to solve my life problem too.
It doesn’t take ten minutes and I have a great idea … I think. I am absolutely terrified. It’s going to need Jamal to risk his professional reputation for a bit, and I’ll have to get Belle in place. The thought of carrying out this plan is so anxiety-inducing, so out of my comfort zone, that I’m sweating merely at the imagining of it. If this doesn’t make Belle see how sorry I am, how serious I am and how much I want to spend my life with her then I don’t know what will. As long as I don’t collapse with hives and terror beforehand.
If Jamal says yes, I’m going to need to pull back every skill that my English degree gave me, and all in time for tomorrow. This is going to be tight!
They do not love that do not show their love.
* * *
December Thirty-first.
