“Come off it, you’re never going to be fully grown! Have you looked in a mirror? Stood against a height chart?” He laughed and took my bags from the boot as I punched him. It was good to be home.
After an Indian takeaway for dinner, we all sat in the lounge, watching QI. Flynn and I were taking the piss out of Dad, who had decided to start growing a beard, only to find it was mostly grey. As the jokes got ruder, I sat back, content. I needed the normality of this banter, this family.
I needed love.
There’s an uneasy truce going on in our house at the moment. Dickhead and I avoid each other, so I haven’t had to speak to him since the apology. I took Mum shopping and then helped with the cleaning so things feel a bit more normal. It’s a long way from domestic bliss, but at least Grace and Josh have food in the fridge and clean beds to sleep in.
Sitting in my room, convinced I can sit out living here until my apprenticeship ends and Grace goes to uni, I can’t stop myself wondering if ending things with Neve was worth it. What did I gain? A shitload of hurt and that’s about it.
I’m not even convinced now that it was the right thing for her, either. Based on Flynn’s non-committal responses when I ask him about her, it seems like she’s still finding it tough. Would it have been easier for her if I had done it before she moved to Brighton? Who knows? She probably wouldn’t have left then, and I couldn’t be the person to put a stop on her future.
Maybe I was na?ve, or just stupid, but I thought that, with a new life and new friends who are nothing to do with me, it would be easier for her. She wouldn’t have to think about me.
It’s the thinking that’s the killer. The hours just thinking, either about the past or what the non-existent future would be like. And it’s not like I even need to look at pictures to remind me. I see her as soon as I close my eyes. Hell, even when my eyes are open, I can see her: smiling, beautiful, mine. I can hear her laughter and smell her perfume. I can taste her kiss on my tongue and feel the smoothness of her skin around me. Time doesn’t heal, and it doesn’t make the memories any easier to live with, either.
But did I expect it to? I went into this with my eyes open. I knew it could destroy me. But it wasn’t about me, was it? I’ve made my bed and now I’ve got to lie in it.
Without her.
The next morning, I went into town with Mum and had a reassuringly normal few hours of clothes and coffee. By the time Cass arrived, after helping out in the family shop for a few hours, I was feeling a bit more like my old self. Like somehow the clock had been rewound a few months and I was back in Sixth Form. Before uni. Before Jake. Life had changed so much, for all of us, in that time: things were so much simpler back then.
“Right then. Where do we start? Are you still deciding whether to get back with Jake or is it just about working out how to? Let’s not faff around. What’s it to be?” Even though Cass surprised me with her assertiveness, I knew it was what I needed. I’d spent enough time thinking through everything that had happened, mentally role-playing every possible outcome. We didn’t need to go over it again.
“I want him back.” I couldn’t even say it without smiling. As much as I’d try to stay angry, I was like a moth, drawn to the beauty of the light source which could also destroy it.
“So, let’s do it then!” Based on Cass’s squeal and hand-clapping, I was going to need to be the person who kept a grip on reality.
“That’s the difficult part – how the hell do I get him to change his mind?”
“Well, I did some research,” she said, pulling several pieces of paper from her bag and handing them to me.
“You’re kidding me? You went online to find the answer? You’re such a bloody geek!” I scanned pages taken from a number of websites, some clearly more dubious than others if the advice was any indication. ‘Send him some saucy photos to remind him of what he’s missing’? ‘Make him jealous by flirting with one of his friends’?
“I think we can make a plan from these. They all have a lot of the same points. Let’s make a list.”
As barmy as the method was, I hadn’t got any better suggestions and so we put together a six-point action plan:
1. Be the person Jake fell in love with.
2. Plan what I will say when I speak to him.
3. Listen carefully to what he says.
4. Ask him to do something as friends.
5. Remind him of some of our happy times.
6. Leave the casual date with nothing more than a light kiss.
Which really meant:
1. Try not to be the mouthy banshee I was the last time he spoke to me. On that day. Be nice.
2. “Hi. Do you fancy going for a drink?”
3. Listen to his answer to number two.
4. See number two.
5. See number one.
6. Try really hard not to focus on what a great kisser he is. No begging. At all.
I wondered if any of the people who had followed the advice of these websites were now happily married, with 2.4 children. And a dog. And a mortgage. Focus, Neve.