Still Me
Page 54
‘I’ll tell you later, Mum.’
My mother stared at me hard, then her face softened. ‘I’ll be here.’ She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Whatever this is all about, I’ll be here.’
Sam stood on the front step in a soft cobalt jumper I hadn’t seen before. I wondered who had given it to him. He gave me a half-smile but didn’t stoop to kiss me, or throw his arms around me like in our previous meetings. We gazed warily at each other.
‘Do you want to come in?’ My voice sounded oddly formal.
‘Thanks.’
I walked in front of him down the narrow corridor, waited while he greeted my parents through the living-room door, then led him into the kitchen, closing the door behind us. I felt acutely aware of his presence, as if we were both mildly electrified.
‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Sure … Nice jumper.’
‘Oh … Thanks.’
‘You’ve … left your nose on.’
‘Right.’ I reached down and turned it off, not willing to indulge anything that might soften the mood between us.
He sat down at the table, his body somehow too big for our kitchen chairs, his eyes still on me, and clasped his hands on its surface, like someone awaiting a job interview. In the living room I could hear Dad laughing at some film, and Thom’s shrill voice demanding to know what was funny. I busied myself making tea but I could feel his eyes burning into my back the whole time.
‘So,’ Sam said, when I handed him a mug and sat down, ‘you’re here.’
I nearly buckled then. I looked across the table at his handsome face, at the broad shoulders and the hands wrapped gently around the mug and a thought popped into my head: I cannot bear it if he leaves me.
But then I found myself standing again on that chilly step, her slim fingers on his neck, my feet icy in my wet shoes, and I grew cold again.
‘I got back two days ago,’ I said.
The briefest of pauses. ‘Okay.’
‘I thought I’d come and surprise you. Thursday evening.’ I scratched at a mark on the tablecloth. ‘Turns out it was me who got the surprise.’
I watched realization dawn slowly across his face: his slight frown, his eyes growing distant, then their faint closure when he grasped what I might have seen. ‘Lou, I don’t know what you saw, but –’
‘But what? “It’s not what you think”?’
‘Well, it is and it isn’t.’
It was like a punch.
‘Let’s not do this, Sam.’
He looked up.
‘I’m pretty clear about what I saw. If you try and convince me it wasn’t what I think, I’ll want to believe you so badly that I might actually do it. And what I’ve realized these last two days is that this … this isn’t good for me. It isn’t good for either of us.’
Sam put his mug down. He dragged his hand over his face and looked off to the side. ‘I don’t love her, Lou.’
‘I don’t really care what you feel about her.’
‘Well, I want you to know. Yes, you were right about Katie. I may have misread the signals. She does like me.’
I let out a bitter laugh. ‘And you like her.’
‘I don’t know what I think about her. You’re the person who’s in my head. You’re the person I wake up thinking about. But the thing is, you’re –’
‘Not here. Don’t you blame this on me. Don’t you dare blame this on me. You told me to go. You told me to go.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. I found myself staring at his hands – the strong, battered knuckles, the way they looked so hard, so powerful, but were capable of such tenderness. I stared determinedly at the mark on the cloth.
‘You know, Lou, I thought I’d be fine by myself. I’ve been on my own a long time, after all. But you cracked something open in me.’
‘Oh, so it’s my fault.’
‘I’m not saying that!’ he burst out. ‘I’m trying to explain. I’m saying – I’m saying I’m no longer as good at being on my own as I thought I was. After my sister died I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone again, okay? I had room to care for Jake, but nobody else. I had my job and my half-built house, and my chickens, and that was fine. I was just … getting on with it all. And then you came along and fell off that bloody building, and literally the first time you held onto my hand I felt something give in me. And suddenly I had someone I looked forward to talking to. Someone who understood how I felt. Really, really understood. I could drive past your flat and know that at the end of a crap day I was going to be able to call up to you or pop in later and feel better. And, yes, I know we had some issues, but it just felt – deep down – like there was something right in there, you know?’
His head was bowed over his tea, his jaw clenched.
‘And then just as we were close – closer than I’ve ever felt to another living soul – you were … you were just gone. And I felt like – like someone had given me this gift, this key to everything, with one hand, then snatched it away with the other.’
‘Then why did you let me go?’
His voice exploded into the room. ‘Because – because I’m not that man, Lou! I’m not the man who’s going to insist that you stay. I’m not the man who’s going to stop you having the adventures and growing and doing all the stuff that you’re doing out there. I’m not that guy!’
‘No – you’re the guy who hooks up with someone else as soon as I’ve gone! Someone in the same zip code!’
‘It’s a postcode! You’re in England, for Christ’s sake!’
‘Yup, and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t.’
Sam turned away from me, clearly struggling to contain himself. Beyond the kitchen doors, although the television was still on, I was dimly aware of silence in the front room.
After a few minutes I said quietly. ‘I can’t do this, Sam.’
‘You can’t do what?’
‘I can’t be worrying about Katie Ingram and her attempts to seduce you – because whatever happened that night I could see what she wanted, even if I don’t know what you wanted. It’s making me crazy and it’s making me sad, and worse …’ I swallowed hard ‘… it’s making me hate you. And I can’t imagine how in three short months I’ve got to that point.’
‘Louisa –’
There was a discreet knock at the door. My mother’s face appeared. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you both but would you mind very much if I quickly made some tea? Granddad’s gasping.’
‘Sure.’ I kept my face turned away.
She bustled in and filled the kettle, her back to us. ‘They’re watching some film about aliens. Not very Christmassy. I remember when Christmas Day was all Wizard of Oz or The Sound of Music or something that everyone could watch together. Now they’re watching all this whiz-bam-shooting nonsense and Granddad and I can’t understand a word anyone’s saying.’
My mother rattled on, plainly mortified at having to be there, tapping the work surface with her fingers as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘You know we haven’t even watched the Queen’s Speech? Daddy put it on the old recording box thing. But it’s not the same if you watch it afterwards, is it? I like to watch it when everyone else is watching it. The poor old woman, wedged in all those video boxes until everyone’s finished the aliens and the cartoons. You’d think after sixty-odd years of service – how long has she been on that throne? – the least we could do is watch her do her thing when she does it. Mind you, Daddy tells me I’m being ridiculous as she probably recorded it weeks ago. Sam, will you have some cake?’
‘Not for me, thanks, Josie.’
‘Lou?’
‘No. Thanks, Mum.’
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ She smiled awkwardly, loaded a fruitcake the size of a tractor wheel onto the tray and hurried out. Sam got up and closed the door behind her.
We sat in silence, listening to the kitchen clock ticking, the air leaden. I felt crushed under the weight of the things unsaid between us.
My mother stared at me hard, then her face softened. ‘I’ll be here.’ She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Whatever this is all about, I’ll be here.’
Sam stood on the front step in a soft cobalt jumper I hadn’t seen before. I wondered who had given it to him. He gave me a half-smile but didn’t stoop to kiss me, or throw his arms around me like in our previous meetings. We gazed warily at each other.
‘Do you want to come in?’ My voice sounded oddly formal.
‘Thanks.’
I walked in front of him down the narrow corridor, waited while he greeted my parents through the living-room door, then led him into the kitchen, closing the door behind us. I felt acutely aware of his presence, as if we were both mildly electrified.
‘Would you like some tea?’
‘Sure … Nice jumper.’
‘Oh … Thanks.’
‘You’ve … left your nose on.’
‘Right.’ I reached down and turned it off, not willing to indulge anything that might soften the mood between us.
He sat down at the table, his body somehow too big for our kitchen chairs, his eyes still on me, and clasped his hands on its surface, like someone awaiting a job interview. In the living room I could hear Dad laughing at some film, and Thom’s shrill voice demanding to know what was funny. I busied myself making tea but I could feel his eyes burning into my back the whole time.
‘So,’ Sam said, when I handed him a mug and sat down, ‘you’re here.’
I nearly buckled then. I looked across the table at his handsome face, at the broad shoulders and the hands wrapped gently around the mug and a thought popped into my head: I cannot bear it if he leaves me.
But then I found myself standing again on that chilly step, her slim fingers on his neck, my feet icy in my wet shoes, and I grew cold again.
‘I got back two days ago,’ I said.
The briefest of pauses. ‘Okay.’
‘I thought I’d come and surprise you. Thursday evening.’ I scratched at a mark on the tablecloth. ‘Turns out it was me who got the surprise.’
I watched realization dawn slowly across his face: his slight frown, his eyes growing distant, then their faint closure when he grasped what I might have seen. ‘Lou, I don’t know what you saw, but –’
‘But what? “It’s not what you think”?’
‘Well, it is and it isn’t.’
It was like a punch.
‘Let’s not do this, Sam.’
He looked up.
‘I’m pretty clear about what I saw. If you try and convince me it wasn’t what I think, I’ll want to believe you so badly that I might actually do it. And what I’ve realized these last two days is that this … this isn’t good for me. It isn’t good for either of us.’
Sam put his mug down. He dragged his hand over his face and looked off to the side. ‘I don’t love her, Lou.’
‘I don’t really care what you feel about her.’
‘Well, I want you to know. Yes, you were right about Katie. I may have misread the signals. She does like me.’
I let out a bitter laugh. ‘And you like her.’
‘I don’t know what I think about her. You’re the person who’s in my head. You’re the person I wake up thinking about. But the thing is, you’re –’
‘Not here. Don’t you blame this on me. Don’t you dare blame this on me. You told me to go. You told me to go.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. I found myself staring at his hands – the strong, battered knuckles, the way they looked so hard, so powerful, but were capable of such tenderness. I stared determinedly at the mark on the cloth.
‘You know, Lou, I thought I’d be fine by myself. I’ve been on my own a long time, after all. But you cracked something open in me.’
‘Oh, so it’s my fault.’
‘I’m not saying that!’ he burst out. ‘I’m trying to explain. I’m saying – I’m saying I’m no longer as good at being on my own as I thought I was. After my sister died I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone again, okay? I had room to care for Jake, but nobody else. I had my job and my half-built house, and my chickens, and that was fine. I was just … getting on with it all. And then you came along and fell off that bloody building, and literally the first time you held onto my hand I felt something give in me. And suddenly I had someone I looked forward to talking to. Someone who understood how I felt. Really, really understood. I could drive past your flat and know that at the end of a crap day I was going to be able to call up to you or pop in later and feel better. And, yes, I know we had some issues, but it just felt – deep down – like there was something right in there, you know?’
His head was bowed over his tea, his jaw clenched.
‘And then just as we were close – closer than I’ve ever felt to another living soul – you were … you were just gone. And I felt like – like someone had given me this gift, this key to everything, with one hand, then snatched it away with the other.’
‘Then why did you let me go?’
His voice exploded into the room. ‘Because – because I’m not that man, Lou! I’m not the man who’s going to insist that you stay. I’m not the man who’s going to stop you having the adventures and growing and doing all the stuff that you’re doing out there. I’m not that guy!’
‘No – you’re the guy who hooks up with someone else as soon as I’ve gone! Someone in the same zip code!’
‘It’s a postcode! You’re in England, for Christ’s sake!’
‘Yup, and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t.’
Sam turned away from me, clearly struggling to contain himself. Beyond the kitchen doors, although the television was still on, I was dimly aware of silence in the front room.
After a few minutes I said quietly. ‘I can’t do this, Sam.’
‘You can’t do what?’
‘I can’t be worrying about Katie Ingram and her attempts to seduce you – because whatever happened that night I could see what she wanted, even if I don’t know what you wanted. It’s making me crazy and it’s making me sad, and worse …’ I swallowed hard ‘… it’s making me hate you. And I can’t imagine how in three short months I’ve got to that point.’
‘Louisa –’
There was a discreet knock at the door. My mother’s face appeared. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you both but would you mind very much if I quickly made some tea? Granddad’s gasping.’
‘Sure.’ I kept my face turned away.
She bustled in and filled the kettle, her back to us. ‘They’re watching some film about aliens. Not very Christmassy. I remember when Christmas Day was all Wizard of Oz or The Sound of Music or something that everyone could watch together. Now they’re watching all this whiz-bam-shooting nonsense and Granddad and I can’t understand a word anyone’s saying.’
My mother rattled on, plainly mortified at having to be there, tapping the work surface with her fingers as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘You know we haven’t even watched the Queen’s Speech? Daddy put it on the old recording box thing. But it’s not the same if you watch it afterwards, is it? I like to watch it when everyone else is watching it. The poor old woman, wedged in all those video boxes until everyone’s finished the aliens and the cartoons. You’d think after sixty-odd years of service – how long has she been on that throne? – the least we could do is watch her do her thing when she does it. Mind you, Daddy tells me I’m being ridiculous as she probably recorded it weeks ago. Sam, will you have some cake?’
‘Not for me, thanks, Josie.’
‘Lou?’
‘No. Thanks, Mum.’
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ She smiled awkwardly, loaded a fruitcake the size of a tractor wheel onto the tray and hurried out. Sam got up and closed the door behind her.
We sat in silence, listening to the kitchen clock ticking, the air leaden. I felt crushed under the weight of the things unsaid between us.
