Still Me
Page 60
‘I honestly would tell you if I could.’
‘I have no curiosity about this gigantic, life-altering secret whatsoever. You’re safe with me.’ He took a swig of his drink and smiled his perfect smile at me, and for the first time in two weeks I felt a tiny bit less lonely.
Two hours later the bar was overheated and three-deep, exhausted tourists, marvelling at three-dollar beers, and regulars rammed along its narrow length, the vast majority focused on a boxing match on the TV in the corner. They cried out in unison at a swift uppercut, and roared as one when their man, his face pulped and misshapen, went down against the ropes. Josh was the only man in the whole place not watching it, leaning quietly over his bottle of beer, his eyes on mine.
I, in turn, was slumped over the table and telling him at length the story of Treena and Edwina on Christmas Day, one of the few stories I could legitimately share, along with that of Granddad’s stroke, the story of the grand piano (I said it was for Agnes’s niece) and – in case I sounded too gloomy – my lovely upgrade from New York to London. I don’t know how many vodkas I’d had by then – Josh tended to magic them in front of me before I’d realized I was done with the last one – but some distant part of me was aware that my voice had acquired a weird, sing-song quality, sliding up and down not always in accordance with what I was saying.
‘Well, that’s cool, right?’ he said, when I reached Dad’s speech about happiness. I may have made it a little more Lifetime movie than it had been. In my latest version Dad had become Atticus Finch delivering his closing speech to the courtroom in To Kill a Mockingbird.
‘It’s all good,’ Josh went on. ‘He just wants her to be happy. When my cousin Tim came out to my uncle he didn’t speak to him for, like, a year.’
‘They’re so happy,’ I said, stretching my arms across the table just so I could feel the cool bits on my skin, trying to not mind that it was sticky. ‘It’s great. It really is.’ I took another sip of my drink. ‘It’s like you look at them both together and you’re so glad because, you know, Treena’s been on her own for a million years but honestly … it would be really nice if they could just be a teeny tiny bit less glowy and radiant around each other. Like not always gazing into each other’s eyes. Or doing that secret smile which is all about the private shared jokes. Or the one that means they just had really, really great sex. And maybe Treena could just stop sending me pictures of the two of them together. Or text messages about every amazing thing that Eddie says or does. Which apparently is pretty much anything she says or does.’
‘Ah, c’mon. They’re newly in love, right? People do that stuff.’
‘I never did. Did you do that stuff? Seriously, I have never sent anyone pictures of me kissing someone. If I’d sent a picture of me snuggling with a boyfriend to Treena she would have reacted like I’d sent her a dick pic. I mean, this is the woman who found all displays of emotion disgusting.’
‘Then it’s the first time she’s been in love. And she’ll be delighted to get the next picture you send her of you being nauseatingly happy with your boyfriend.’ He looked like he was laughing at me. ‘Maybe not the dick pic.’
‘You think I’m a terrible person.’
‘I don’t think you’re a terrible person. Just a fairly … refreshed one.’
I groaned. ‘I know. I’m a terrible person. I’m not asking them not to be happy, just to be a teeny bit sensitive to those of us who might not be … just at this …’ I’d run out of words.
Josh had settled back in his chair and was now watching me.
‘Ex-boyfriend,’ I said, my voice slurring slightly. ‘He’s now an ex-boyfriend.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Woah. Quite the couple of weeks, then.’
‘Oh, man.’ I rested my forehead on the table. ‘You have no idea.’
I was conscious of a silence falling gently between us. I wondered briefly if I might just take a little power nap right there. It felt so nice. The sounds of the boxing match briefly receded. My forehead was only a little bit wet. And then I felt his hand on mine. ‘Okay, Louisa. I think it’s time we got you out of here.’
I said goodbye to all the nice people on my way out, high-fiving as many as I could (some seemed to miss my hand – idiots). For some reason, Josh kept apologizing out loud. I think maybe he was bumping into them as we walked. He put my jacket on me when we got to the door and I got the giggles because he couldn’t get my arms into my sleeves, and when he did, it was the wrong way round, like a straitjacket. ‘I give up,’ he said eventually. ‘Just wear it like that.’ I heard someone shout, ‘Take a little water with it, lady.’
‘I am a lady!’ I exclaimed. ‘An English lady! I am Louisa Clark the First, aren’t I, Joshua?’ I turned to face them and air-punched. I was leaning against the wall of photographs and brought a few clattering down on top of me.
‘We’re going, we’re going,’ Josh said, raising his hands towards the barman. Someone started shouting. He was still apologizing to everyone. I told him it wasn’t good to apologize – Will had taught me that. You had to hold your head up.
And suddenly we were out in the brisk cold air. Then, before I knew it, I tripped on something and suddenly I was on the icy pavement, my knees smacking onto the hard concrete. I swore.
‘Oh, boy,’ said Josh, who had his arm firmly round my waist and was hauling me upright. ‘I think we need to get you some coffee.’
He smelt so nice. He smelt like Will had – expensive, like the men’s section of a posh department store. I put my nose against his neck and inhaled as we staggered along the pavement. ‘You smell lovely.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘Very expensive.’
‘Good to know.’
‘I might lick you.’
‘If it makes you feel better.’
I licked him. His aftershave didn’t taste as nice as it smelt but it was kind of nice to lick someone. ‘It does make me feel better,’ I said, with some surprise. ‘It really does!’
‘Oooh-kay. Here’s the best spot to get a cab.’ He manoeuvred himself so that he was facing me and put his hands on my shoulders. Around us Times Square was blinding and dizzying, a glittering neon circus, its leviathan images looming down at me with impossible brightness. I turned slowly, gazing up at the lights and feeling like I might fall over. I went round and round while they blurred, then staggered slightly. I felt Josh catch me.
‘I can put you in a cab home, because I think you might need to sleep this off. Or we can walk to mine and get some coffee down you. Your choice.’ It was after one in the morning yet he had to shout to be heard over the noise of the people around us. He was so handsome in his shirt and jacket. So clean cut and crisp-looking. I liked him so much. I turned in his arms and blinked at him. It would have been helpful if he’d stopped swaying.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said.
‘Did I say all that out loud?’
‘Yup.’
‘Sorry. But you really are. Terrifically handsome. Like American handsome. Like an actual movie star. Josh?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I think I might sit down. My head has gone kind of fuzzy.’ I was halfway to the ground when I felt him sweep me up again.
‘And there we go.’
‘I really want to tell you the thing. But I can’t tell you the thing.’
‘Then don’t tell me the thing.’
‘You’d understand. I know you would. You know … you look so like someone I loved. Really loved. Did you know that? You look just so like him.’
‘That’s … nice to know.’
‘It is nice. He was terrifically handsome. Just like you. Movie-star handsome … Did I say that already? He died. Did I tell you he died?’
‘I’m sorry for your loss. But I think we need to get you out of here.’ He walked me down two blocks, hailed a cab and, with some effort, helped me in. I fought my way upright on the back seat and held onto his sleeve. He was half in, half out of the taxi door.
‘I have no curiosity about this gigantic, life-altering secret whatsoever. You’re safe with me.’ He took a swig of his drink and smiled his perfect smile at me, and for the first time in two weeks I felt a tiny bit less lonely.
Two hours later the bar was overheated and three-deep, exhausted tourists, marvelling at three-dollar beers, and regulars rammed along its narrow length, the vast majority focused on a boxing match on the TV in the corner. They cried out in unison at a swift uppercut, and roared as one when their man, his face pulped and misshapen, went down against the ropes. Josh was the only man in the whole place not watching it, leaning quietly over his bottle of beer, his eyes on mine.
I, in turn, was slumped over the table and telling him at length the story of Treena and Edwina on Christmas Day, one of the few stories I could legitimately share, along with that of Granddad’s stroke, the story of the grand piano (I said it was for Agnes’s niece) and – in case I sounded too gloomy – my lovely upgrade from New York to London. I don’t know how many vodkas I’d had by then – Josh tended to magic them in front of me before I’d realized I was done with the last one – but some distant part of me was aware that my voice had acquired a weird, sing-song quality, sliding up and down not always in accordance with what I was saying.
‘Well, that’s cool, right?’ he said, when I reached Dad’s speech about happiness. I may have made it a little more Lifetime movie than it had been. In my latest version Dad had become Atticus Finch delivering his closing speech to the courtroom in To Kill a Mockingbird.
‘It’s all good,’ Josh went on. ‘He just wants her to be happy. When my cousin Tim came out to my uncle he didn’t speak to him for, like, a year.’
‘They’re so happy,’ I said, stretching my arms across the table just so I could feel the cool bits on my skin, trying to not mind that it was sticky. ‘It’s great. It really is.’ I took another sip of my drink. ‘It’s like you look at them both together and you’re so glad because, you know, Treena’s been on her own for a million years but honestly … it would be really nice if they could just be a teeny tiny bit less glowy and radiant around each other. Like not always gazing into each other’s eyes. Or doing that secret smile which is all about the private shared jokes. Or the one that means they just had really, really great sex. And maybe Treena could just stop sending me pictures of the two of them together. Or text messages about every amazing thing that Eddie says or does. Which apparently is pretty much anything she says or does.’
‘Ah, c’mon. They’re newly in love, right? People do that stuff.’
‘I never did. Did you do that stuff? Seriously, I have never sent anyone pictures of me kissing someone. If I’d sent a picture of me snuggling with a boyfriend to Treena she would have reacted like I’d sent her a dick pic. I mean, this is the woman who found all displays of emotion disgusting.’
‘Then it’s the first time she’s been in love. And she’ll be delighted to get the next picture you send her of you being nauseatingly happy with your boyfriend.’ He looked like he was laughing at me. ‘Maybe not the dick pic.’
‘You think I’m a terrible person.’
‘I don’t think you’re a terrible person. Just a fairly … refreshed one.’
I groaned. ‘I know. I’m a terrible person. I’m not asking them not to be happy, just to be a teeny bit sensitive to those of us who might not be … just at this …’ I’d run out of words.
Josh had settled back in his chair and was now watching me.
‘Ex-boyfriend,’ I said, my voice slurring slightly. ‘He’s now an ex-boyfriend.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Woah. Quite the couple of weeks, then.’
‘Oh, man.’ I rested my forehead on the table. ‘You have no idea.’
I was conscious of a silence falling gently between us. I wondered briefly if I might just take a little power nap right there. It felt so nice. The sounds of the boxing match briefly receded. My forehead was only a little bit wet. And then I felt his hand on mine. ‘Okay, Louisa. I think it’s time we got you out of here.’
I said goodbye to all the nice people on my way out, high-fiving as many as I could (some seemed to miss my hand – idiots). For some reason, Josh kept apologizing out loud. I think maybe he was bumping into them as we walked. He put my jacket on me when we got to the door and I got the giggles because he couldn’t get my arms into my sleeves, and when he did, it was the wrong way round, like a straitjacket. ‘I give up,’ he said eventually. ‘Just wear it like that.’ I heard someone shout, ‘Take a little water with it, lady.’
‘I am a lady!’ I exclaimed. ‘An English lady! I am Louisa Clark the First, aren’t I, Joshua?’ I turned to face them and air-punched. I was leaning against the wall of photographs and brought a few clattering down on top of me.
‘We’re going, we’re going,’ Josh said, raising his hands towards the barman. Someone started shouting. He was still apologizing to everyone. I told him it wasn’t good to apologize – Will had taught me that. You had to hold your head up.
And suddenly we were out in the brisk cold air. Then, before I knew it, I tripped on something and suddenly I was on the icy pavement, my knees smacking onto the hard concrete. I swore.
‘Oh, boy,’ said Josh, who had his arm firmly round my waist and was hauling me upright. ‘I think we need to get you some coffee.’
He smelt so nice. He smelt like Will had – expensive, like the men’s section of a posh department store. I put my nose against his neck and inhaled as we staggered along the pavement. ‘You smell lovely.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘Very expensive.’
‘Good to know.’
‘I might lick you.’
‘If it makes you feel better.’
I licked him. His aftershave didn’t taste as nice as it smelt but it was kind of nice to lick someone. ‘It does make me feel better,’ I said, with some surprise. ‘It really does!’
‘Oooh-kay. Here’s the best spot to get a cab.’ He manoeuvred himself so that he was facing me and put his hands on my shoulders. Around us Times Square was blinding and dizzying, a glittering neon circus, its leviathan images looming down at me with impossible brightness. I turned slowly, gazing up at the lights and feeling like I might fall over. I went round and round while they blurred, then staggered slightly. I felt Josh catch me.
‘I can put you in a cab home, because I think you might need to sleep this off. Or we can walk to mine and get some coffee down you. Your choice.’ It was after one in the morning yet he had to shout to be heard over the noise of the people around us. He was so handsome in his shirt and jacket. So clean cut and crisp-looking. I liked him so much. I turned in his arms and blinked at him. It would have been helpful if he’d stopped swaying.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said.
‘Did I say all that out loud?’
‘Yup.’
‘Sorry. But you really are. Terrifically handsome. Like American handsome. Like an actual movie star. Josh?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I think I might sit down. My head has gone kind of fuzzy.’ I was halfway to the ground when I felt him sweep me up again.
‘And there we go.’
‘I really want to tell you the thing. But I can’t tell you the thing.’
‘Then don’t tell me the thing.’
‘You’d understand. I know you would. You know … you look so like someone I loved. Really loved. Did you know that? You look just so like him.’
‘That’s … nice to know.’
‘It is nice. He was terrifically handsome. Just like you. Movie-star handsome … Did I say that already? He died. Did I tell you he died?’
‘I’m sorry for your loss. But I think we need to get you out of here.’ He walked me down two blocks, hailed a cab and, with some effort, helped me in. I fought my way upright on the back seat and held onto his sleeve. He was half in, half out of the taxi door.
