by A. S. Kelly
Now I’m the one who needs air.
“After yesterday, I needed to do it again… I can’t think of anything apart from your lips,” he says, tracing my lips with his thumb. “I should go now, or I’ll start wanting more.”
He takes my hand and leads me across the road, outside my café.
Our fingers are entwined, our palms pressed together; my heart is doing a hundred somersaults a minute.
I am walking through my neighbourhood, hand in hand, with Ryan O’Connor. Just two steps away from my café.
Oh my God.
I think I might pass out.
I feel dizzy, drunk on emotion, addicted to him and everything he’s giving me – maybe without even realising.
We stop on the pavement, waiting to cross. Ryan glances at me, setting all my senses alight. It makes me believe in something that, until yesterday, I didn’t think was possible – now, it’s right within my reach.
53
Ryan
How long has it been since I held someone’s hand? How long has it been since I stopped in the middle of the street to wrap a woman up in my arms and kiss her as if my life, my future, and my whole world depended on it?
How long has it been since I last felt so alive?
I look down at our hands, intertwined together, and then I look up at her: she’s pretending to be calm, to make me and herself believe that this gesture doesn’t mean anything. That it doesn’t mean that we’re both completely and utterly fucked.
But deep down, that’s how Christine is: she doesn’t use huge exclamation marks, or asterisks, or commas. She’s a full-stop kind of woman, and that’s exactly what makes me lose my mind over her.
“Ryan?”
A woman’s voice from behind us makes me jump and I instinctively drop Christine’s hand, suddenly ashamed of the contact between us.
That’s how, in an instant, a gesture that means nothing suddenly means everything.
With the same instinct that made me take her hand, inviting her to dive into this madness with me, I let it drop now, silently telling her that it’s over. That we’re stopping here, before we’ve even begun, as if someone had snapped our legs to stop us from moving forward.
I feel Christine’s eyes on me. I feel her confusion, and I know that I’ve hurt her more than she or I ever believed I could.
“Lauren.”
Even saying her name sends me back to the past – those years that I wish had never happened, but still weigh me down. They suffocate my soul, prevent me from letting in any of the light that has just started to make its way back into my life.
Christine says nothing. I say nothing.
There’s nothing to say, to explain.
There’s nothing but the past, coming back to claim what belongs to it.
“How are you?” she asks, smiling awkwardly.
She has the balls to smile. At me.
“I see you’re…well,” she adds, glancing quickly at Christine, standing silently next to me, but ready to jump ship and leave me to my demons.
“I have to get back to work,” she says, as I close my eyes, trying to stay standing after the blow she’s inflicted on me. Or maybe I’ve inflicted it onto myself.
I don’t turn around to watch her leave, to see her red hair blown by the wind. I don’t turn to see just how much I’ve hurt her.
I stay there, frozen in place. I’m overwhelmed by all the hours and day I spent longing for Lauren – and all of those I’ll never have with Christine.
“What do you want, Lauren?”
“Ryan…”
I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, shrugging her off and looking her hard in the eyes. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
“Ryan…please.”
“Just tell me why, for fuck’s sake. Why?”
“That won’t help anything now.”
“You’re right, it won’t. I… I don’t want to know anything. You’re…nothing,” I tell her, turning and storming away from her.
I go past the window of Christine’s café but I stay outside – I don’t have the balls to go in and explain, to tell her that my life was destroyed a long time ago, and I don’t think it can ever be put back together.
I don’t have the balls to look her in the eyes and tell her that I’m not ready, that I lied to her again. That I’ll never be the right man for her.
That maybe I’m not even a man.
I quicken my pace and head towards the car park to jump in my car and drive away once again from her, and from everything I thought I had pushed down – but instead, it’s been set alight in my heart. I drive away from everything I wanted to do, everything I gave up before I could even try.
I escape. And even though my legs are moving fast, even though I jump right into the car and pull away as quickly as I can, even though I’m pushing hard on the accelerator, I realise that I can’t escape from what scares me the most.
I can’t escape from how I feel about myself – something I never want to feel again.
As I drive through town and let myself into my apartment, closing the door behind me and throwing myself onto the sofa, I can feel the gaping hole in my chest widening, sucking in everything around me.
Sucking me in, too.
54
Ryan
“I’ve made another fucking huge mistake,” I say, storming furiously into Ian’s house and throwing myself down onto their sofa.
Ian closes the door behind him and comes towards me.
“Just how huge are we talking here?”
“Massive. A humungous pile of shit.”
“Please, tell me this isn’t about who I think it is?”
I glance up at him.
“Jesus, Ryan!”
“Why are you talking about shit?” Nick’s pleasant tone joins us from the kitchen.
“For fuck’s sake!”
Ian shrugs innocently as Nick comes over and joins the conversation, uninvited.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Ryan’s fucked up,” Ian says.
“I heard.”
“Why are you always here?”
“Because Ian’s a better cook than me.”
“Selfish bastard.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re here just to see how Ian and Riley are doing…”
“This is already giving me a headache. Don’t you two have your own houses?” Ian yells, impatient now.
“What’s going on?” Riley joins us, too.
Great. Because my two dickhead brothers weren’t enough.
“Aren’t you about to pop?” I ask her, nodding towards the sandwich she’s eating. “You can’t even see your feet anymore.”
“Hey!” Ian jumps to his feet.
Riley looks at me, her eyes narrowed and her bottom lip trembling.
Fuck.
“I didn’t…”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, putting down her sandwich and going back into the kitchen.
“You’re an idiot!” Nick slaps me around the back of the head.
I jump to my feet and face him.
“Try that again.”
“I don’t think one slap is enough to get rid of all the shit you’ve got in there.”
“Can you two please try to calm down. I’m going to go and see how Riley is.”
“Oh, come on! I didn’t say anything!”
“She’s pregnant, you dick! Her hormones are all over the place,” Nick responds.
“And what would you know about pregnant women and hormones? Are you hiding something?”
“Jesus, Ryan! Grow up!”
“I can’t do this anymore! You two are…you’re…Oh, just fuck off!” Ian storms into the kitchen to join Riley, leaving me alone with Nick.
“Ryan…”
“Don’t you start. It was just a joke, okay? I didn’t think she’d take it so badly.”
“You don’
t understand a fucking thing, do you?”
“What, so you always understand everything?”
“I come here a lot, I’m Riley’s friend: I know how she feels, and how your brother feels. But you only think of yourself, as always, and only try to be nice once you’ve already been a bastard, hoping that other people will just clean up your mess. Well, Ryan, you’re old enough now to clean up your own mess.”
Even Nick goes into the kitchen, leaving me standing there alone in Ian and Riley’s living room.
I take a deep breath and gather up my courage, heading into the kitchen.
Riley is intently washing up at the sink, Ian and Nick standing behind her silently.
I clear my throat and all the words pour out in one breath.
“I’m sorry.” Nick and Ian spin towards me, as Riley continues to keep her back turned. “I’m a huge, massive idiot. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t think I had. I never think about what I’m saying – things just fall out of my mouth before I’ve even realised what I’m doing, and I always end up hurting people. I’ve hurt you, and this morning… I hurt someone else. And I shouldn’t have. And…I don’t know how to make it better. I need your help, Riley, because these two dicks don’t understand a thing about women and feelings, but you… well, you’re a woman, and you’re…Ian’s girlfriend, and you’re…you’re like a…sister to me.”
Riley stops dead, lifting her gaze.
“And I love you more than I love these two idiots, and I know that you love me too, more than I deserve and…” I don’t finish my sentence, because Riley throws her arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into her hair.
“It’s okay. It wasn’t you, it was these damn hormones,” she says, sighing.
I smile as she lets me go.
“So,” she says, drying her eyes. “This fuck-up…”
“God Riley, I want to knock myself out.”
“If you want, I can help you out,” Nick interjects.
“You could put some coffee on,” Riley says.
“You want coffee?”
“It’s for Ryan.”
“You want me to make coffee for this…”
“Yes, you should,” she interrupts. “And you, Ian,” she says, looking at him standing there with his mouth hanging open, “We had some chocolate somewhere, the one with the Oreos in. I know I asked you to hide it, but this is an emergency.”
Ian bursts out laughing before approaching us and planting a kiss on her lips, telling her: “I knew you’d ask me eventually.”
She blushes, then turns back round to make me feel like shit with the kindness of her gaze.
“Let’s go through to the living room,” she says, taking my hand. “I’m sure we can work it out. There’s always a solution, Ryan.”
And, I’m not sure why, but after her words, I start to believe that there’s still hope – that I’m not lost. That maybe there’s still a chance for me and Christine.
55
Chris
I’m sat on the sofa with my hands wrapped around a cup of tea, under the watchful eye of Martin, who’s sitting on the coffee table in front of me.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“I’m tired, it’s been a really long day.”
“Maybe it’ll distract you?”
“I’d rather stay at home.”
“Do you want us to bring you back something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Mmm…”
“Don’t start, Martin.”
“I’m worried about you. You’ve just been sat there on the sofa since I got here, listening to this depressing music. You’re even drinking tea…come on!”
“What’s weird about that?”
“You never drink that stuff. Especially not in the evenings like this. I was expecting to find you already on your second or third glass of wine.”
“I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Sometimes I seriously doubt that.”
“I’m ready!” Evan comes pounding down the stairs and appears in the living room. “Let’s go.”
Martin gets up, but not before shooting me another glance.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks, serious.
“Just go! And don’t bring him back too late, he has school tomorrow.”
“Should we really be leaving her alone?” Evan asks, getting way too serious as well.
“Oh, come on! Can’t you both just leave me in peace?”
Evan raises his hands and heads towards the front door. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he says to his father, leaving us alone.
Martin comes over and sits down next to me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, Martin. I told you, I’m just tired. Actually, I think I’m going to go to bed right now. A bit of rest will do me good.”
“So it’s nothing to do with angel face?”
I glare sharply at him.
“Okay, I get it…”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”
“Well, judging by his face, and his muscles, and the way he always looks at you like he’s about to jump at your throat, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s been acting like a bastard.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right, I don’t know. And you know why? Because you haven’t told me anything. And it’s not like you.”
“I don’t have to run everything I do past you.”
“No, you don’t – but you usually do. We’ve always had such a good bond, so open and trusting. I tell you everything about my life and you do the same. But this time it’s different.”
“Only because there’s nothing worth talking about.”
“I actually think that there’s a lot to talk about. But, for some strange reason, you don’t want to.”
“Your imagination’s getting a bit out of hand.”
“No, honey. I’m worried. You’ve been distant, you’ve shut yourself off. You’re down, and you never normally are.”
“It’s just one evening, okay? I’ll be fine again by tomorrow,” I say, getting up and pushing him towards the door. I just want to be by myself, to bury myself in blankets and wallow in my own regrets. “Go on, Evan’s waiting for you.”
I open the door and he steps outside. His gaze is suddenly kind, and he wraps his arms around me. I let Martin hold me once again, even though I know it isn’t healthy – not for him, or me, or Evan. But Martin is the only man that has stayed in my life – even though it isn’t in the way I’d hoped.
He slowly lets me go and strokes my cheek.
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“And I don’t like feeling like this, but I can’t do anything about it.”
“Will it go away?” he asks, smiling.
I nod.
“You know you can always call me, for anything. I’m here for you, you know that.”
He hugs me again, and this time I feel myself crumble a little in his arms. I almost want to ask him to stay, to hold me close through the night, to console me and tell me that I won’t be alone forever. That, sooner or later, there’ll be someone out there for me. But it would be wrong, and I really need to let him go – in every sense, once and for all. I need to think of my son, of my family, of the café. All the concrete things in my life, the real things that make up my day-to-day, that will always be there – unlike someone who takes your hand then lets it drop.
“Go,” I say, pulling away from Martin, “Or you’ll miss the booking.”
“I’ll bring you something back, okay?”
I smile gratefully as he lightly kisses me, walks away and slides into the car. He switches on the ignition and backs out of my driveway. I watch them leave and sigh, resigned to another lonely, empty evening listening to the silence in the walls, a song as depressing as my mood flowing in the background.
I go back inside and close the door, but something b
locks it suddenly, swinging it back open in front of my eyes.
“So that’s what’s going on here?” he asks, his stare icy. “I turn my back for one second and he resurfaces?”
Ryan storms into my house, as I back away, terrified. He slams the door behind him, and in two strides has me pushed against the wall.
“What was he doing here?”
“Are you serious, Ryan?”
“No, I’m…I’m…Fuck!” He takes a step back, running his hand nervously through his hair. “I can’t stand the thought of him being here, hugging you. He kissed you, Christine!”
“You have no right to come here and spout all this bullshit, Ryan!”
“No?”
“No,” I say, determinedly.
“We only slept together two days ago!”
“And one day ago, you were interested in someone else!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Neither do you.”
“He’s Evan’s father, and God knows why he’s always here, ready to put his hands all over you.”
I push away from the wall and face him. “You have no hold over me. We’re nothing!”
“Nothing?” he leans in to me, menacing. “It didn’t seem like nothing when you were riding my–”
“Fuck you, Ryan! Are you a complete psycho?”
“Maybe you’re turning me into one.”
“Me? You’ve done it all by yourself. You showed up here, slithered into my bed. You left, then came back. You fed me a whole load of bullshit then all it took was one look at that woman and…”
He pushes me back against the wall, his hand leaning next to my head.
“I don’t want him to touch you again,” he growls.
“Well, that’s your problem, Ryan, not mine.”
“Did you sleep with him again? For old time’s sake? A nice stroll down memory lane?”
“What? You’re…you’re…”
And then his hands are grabbing my face, his mouth pressing fiercely against mine. He forces my lips apart, biting down on them. His tongue suffocates me, his breath taking my own, his rage pinning me down.
His hands are in my hair, pulling me in towards him, pressing his marble body against mine. He sharply pulls away then, panting onto my lips, but holding me tight.
