I came to the conclusion she’d meant what she’d said at my house. It was over. We’d had fun but moved on. I found myself feeling disappointed and even wondering if maybe I would see her in Ibiza, before I realised what she was doing to me again, that this was exactly how she worked: getting in my brain and eating away at it like a worm, destroying my ability to function normally and altering my behaviour.
Even though I KNEW all of that, I still felt rejected that she hadn’t called, which was insane. I began to dream about her at night, waking up suddenly, covered in sweat – or worse, my own spunk. I started to wonder why I’d got so worked up about her being weird, when in reality, wasn’t it every male wish come true to have a woman who wanted sex and nothing more? What was wrong with me that I’d wanted to walk away from that? I was a mess. I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I almost needed to be told what to think and do. I couldn’t make sense of it for myself any more.
* * *
So, when she texted me again, on Saturday, 19 August, at ten p.m., asking me to meet her, just like the second time, at the bottom of the hill by the park entrance, I didn’t think twice. I just did it. I imagined we’d drive off to the farm shop car park again. I pictured myself putting my hands all over her. I as good as ran down the hill from the pub when I saw her car parked up at the bottom. Olly and the others were already busily getting lashed up. Cherry was on holiday at her parents’ villa in Spain. I had no one to please except myself.
But when I climbed into the passenger seat, I knew something was wrong. Even in the dark I could tell she’d been crying. She didn’t look at me as I clipped my seatbelt in and waited for her to start the car and drive off; she just looked out of the window, one elbow resting on the doorframe, fingernails between her teeth, and tears started to run silently down her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said, foolishly, and she didn’t answer. Confused, I just sat there for a moment, like a puppy waiting for its owner to tell it what to do next – but she didn’t and eventually I asked again. ‘Alex, what’s the matter? Are you hurt? Has something happened?’
She frowned as if in pain, at that point and, eyes closed, just nodded, apparently trying not to cry some more. I started looking around me for some tissue but stopped suddenly. Oh my fucking God – she was about to tell me she was pregnant. I sat up so fast I banged my head on the glovebox. My whole life literally flashed before my eyes. Dad going ballistic, Cherry screaming at me, Alex’s husband coming round to our house and trying to kill me, then a baby being born. An actual baby. I knew it. I bloody knew it!
‘Can you please just tell me?’ I stammered.
‘You’re going to think I’m mad,’ she whispered, looking down, ashamed.
‘No, I’m not,’ I lied. ‘Just say it.’
She turned her head slowly. ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’ she asked desperately. I could see the tears glinting in her eyes as she waited for my answer.
What? I was momentarily thrown. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘You don’t ever find yourself thinking “urgh, she’s really old?”’
‘No,’ I said. Where the hell was this going?
‘So if you saw me in the street and you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t walk straight past? You’d notice me?’
‘Yes. Alex, what’s wrong? Could you please just tell me?’
Her eyes welled up again. ‘I know how this is going to sound – to you, of all people – but my husband told me this morning…’ She trailed off.
I waited, now really worried. That he’d found out about us? Was coming looking for me? ‘Told you what, Alex?’
She was crying again and shook her head. ‘Nothing – forget it. Forget I said anything. It’s nothing to do with you, really. I’m sorry.’
So she wasn’t pregnant? I began to exhale slowly with relief, like the gasp of air releasing from a pinprick hole in a balloon. Thank you, God. Oh, thank you so much.
‘You won’t know this yet, Jonathan, but you can be with someone all day every day and be the loneliest you’ve ever been,’ she said suddenly. ‘They don’t touch you, they don’t kiss you – you try so hard and it all just dies anyway.’ She closed her eyes again and leant her head back on the headrest tipping her face up to the car roof. ‘You wish you could go back in time and make different decisions. Be the person you were then and start all over again.’ She breathed in deeply like she was trying to get herself under control.
I remembered her lying on the carpet in her house, sobbing, and not letting me go upstairs. I didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m really sorry.’ It was about the best I could do.
She exclaimed. ‘Don’t you apologise! I shouldn’t be telling you this! You’ve done nothing wrong, not once!’ She turned to me suddenly and her voice cracked completely. ‘I’m so sorry, Jonathan! I’m sorry for what we’ve done and why I did it. It was complicated, but I’m sorry that I’ve even brought you here now. I was trying to prove things to myself that involved me using you to do it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t genuinely attracted to you. Of course I was! Even though I shouldn’t have been. This is all such a mess. Such a sad, stupid and dangerous mess.’ She let her head hang. ‘Just get out of the car, Jonathan. You’ve got such a good heart and you shouldn’t be near me. I’m toxic. I’ve lied, I’ve tried to hurt people, to make them see that they’re losing me, and none of it has worked. I’ve just done more and more damage. Please!’ She begged. ‘Throw away your phone. I won’t ever contact you on it again, and I’m so, so sorry for dragging you into this. It’s all so wrong! I don’t even know who I’ve become any more.’
After that little speech, I knew I wasn’t even slightly equipped to deal with whatever she was talking about. I hesitated after I’d unclipped my seatbelt. ‘Are you going to be all right?’
She nodded, silently, but she looked broken.
I slowly reached out my hand to hers, took it and held it tightly for a moment. She gripped it back.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and then let go of me, gently.
I opened the car door to the sounds of happy and drunken shouts from people starting to make their way down the hill running parallel to us, on their way to the local nightclub, and climbed out.
I started to walk back up to rejoin Olly and the others, turning at the sound of her car starting. I watched her pull away and drive off. I tried hard not to mind about her being so blatant about having used me – it wasn’t as if I’d got nothing out of the experience after all, she didn’t force me to do anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her saying it was wrong.
I walked back up to the pub feeling suddenly really unhappy in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on and went off to find my mates, to get as pissed as I could. Later on that night, I got into my first fight in a club. I threw a punch at someone because I thought they’d shoved into me on purpose and it kicked off. I remember being really angry – a rage I’d never experienced before. The bouncers chucked me out, and I tried to get back in again. Olly and Rufus managed to stop me, and I flounced off to the park apparently. Ol messaged Ruby, who came to pick me up with her new boyfriend, Matt. He was really good about it and they took me home.
What is clear in my mind is that the exact word Alex used was ‘wrong’ – and she definitely told me to throw away the phone. But I didn’t, I kept it. By that point, I was actually a bit worried about her.
I didn’t hear from her for another three whole weeks after that. If Ibiza hadn’t happened, I like to think that would have been the end of it – but it did happen, and she lost control completely.
11
Jonathan Day
‘Come on, we’ve got to go!’ Ruby wheedled as she did her make-up. ‘It’s tradition.’
‘Pacha is a giant cliché, Rubes,’ I said lying back on the hotel bed. ‘I can’t be arsed. Plus, I’ll just get hit on by a load of old boilers.’
‘Oh shut up!’ she said, irritated, her reflection glaring at me in the mirror. ‘It’s Paris by Night – there’ll be loads of half-naked dancers in Marie Antoinette wigs.’
I gave her a look. ‘How shallow do you think I am?’