The beginning of everyth.., p.28
The Beginning of Everything, page 28
“I felt a bit sorry for the other woman; I guess she’d never seen him lose his temper. She left pretty quickly. We had a massive row—even though, you know, I didn’t care. I was pleased. Because I thought, now I can go, and he won’t look for me. I said I was leaving, and he was like, ‘You’d better fucking not.’ I thought that was quite funny. I was lucky, I suppose. That’s when people get killed, isn’t it. He didn’t kill me, though.”
“So then you left?”
“I’d been sort of planning it for a while, but I could never quite…I don’t know why I couldn’t make the decision. I’d bought my tent, though. Hid that in the shed with the garbage cans. He never took out the trash, obviously.” I smile at this, although it’s not a pleasant memory, thinking of dragging the trash bags downstairs in the dark and across the car park in the rain, just one more utterly grim and tiresome thing, back when my whole life was utterly grim and tiresome.
“But did you leave then? Like, immediately?”
“I should have done. But no. Next day when he was at work. But that’s why I said about…when we went to bed. Because that last night was…it wasn’t great.”
“Did he hurt you?” He looks so appalled; it’s very touching.
I smile reassuringly. “Well, yeah. A bit. But…it could have been worse. A lot worse. I was mostly worried that it would hurt my brain, you know. So I wouldn’t be able to do anything like that afterward. But as it turned out, it was okay. Because it was you, and you’re…” I pause. “Because I really liked you, and you’re so kind.”
“Jess, I—”
“People think that’s not important, but it is. It really is.” I sigh. “I suppose it was difficult to make the decision because I knew I’d have to leave everything. And although it’s not like it would have been twenty years ago—I mean, I am still in touch with my friends—I did have to give up everything: my job, my stuff, my…place in the world.”
“It’s…it’s a brave thing to do.”
I shrug. “I don’t know if it is. I think running away is…not terribly brave. Anyway, I should have left before. But you know, even though it was awful, it could have been a lot worse.” I pause for a moment, my face turned away from him. “He pushed his wife down the stairs. Broke her arm.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. I didn’t find that out for a long time. Eighteen months, I think it was, before anyone told me. Bastards. But that’s why I was frightened, you know. I thought—” I pause, considering. “I’m still not sure if it’s true, if I really thought this—but I was…I did worry that he might try to kill me. You know, and it would seem like an accident? Maybe it would be an accident? And I’d be one of those women on the news, and everyone would say how nice he was, and the defense would argue that I’d…pissed him off? I’d be very annoyed,” I say, trying to be funny, “to be a statistic.”
“I’m sorry,” says Gethin. “I’m sorry I’ve made you talk about this. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s probably a good thing. I’ve been trying not to think about it, but it’s always there, of course.”
“And then…but…”
“Yeah, so that was it. I don’t think he thought I’d go. Or maybe he did—I don’t know, I have no idea, maybe he wanted me to. He was sleeping with someone else, after all. But anyway. I sent him a text telling him I was gone, and blocked his number on my phone, and, you know, twelve hours later I was lying in my tent in the cemetery. And six weeks after that”—I hear my voice crack—“you bought me a bed to sleep in.”
“Ah, Christ,” he says, and he’s on his knees at my feet, grasping for my hands. “Jess.”
“Sorry. But there you are: that’s my story. And look, it’s not that…it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you about it, specifically. I didn’t want to tell anyone.” I pull a hand away so I can touch his face, my thumb on his cheekbone. “Anyway,” I add, “so I’ll always be grateful, won’t I?”
“I don’t want you to be grateful. I’m not interested in gratitude. Is this the problem? Have I…sabotaged myself by helping you? Would it be better if we’d met some other way?”
I consider this. “I don’t think so.”
“So it’s just that…you don’t want me?”
“Oh shit,” I say, and laugh. “Have I totally failed to communicate exactly how much I want you?”
“Er, yes? Well, unless it’s hardly at all, which is how I’ve interpreted this whole thing.”
“Not really, though?”
“I don’t know…how am I supposed to know?” He shifts, grimacing. “This floor’s not comfortable. And I’m not as young as I was.”
“Come here, then.”
He gets up, awkward, and stretches. “It’s late.”
“I know. And cold as well. You should probably take off your clothes and get into bed.”
He laughs. “Should I, though?”
“If you’d like. I’m going to.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if…”
“What is it?” I unwrap the quilt and stand up too.
“If…look, I think probably I won’t stay, if there’s…if you might decide tomorrow that you wish I hadn’t.”
“Yeah, I can see why you’d say that. But, um…I don’t anticipate that will happen.”
“You don’t?”
I shake my head. We frown at each other.
“Can you help me out here?” he says.
I take a deep breath. I have to get this right. It’s important.
“Please come to bed, Gethin. I’d like to spend the night with you and possibly—okay, probably, definitely—other nights in the future.”
“Really?”
I hold out my hands. “Really.”
He hesitates and then steps toward me. He takes my hands, and we look at each other for a moment, before I step closer again and he puts his arms round me. I lay my cheek against his shirt and close my eyes. I feel his heart beating, the firmness of his flesh beneath the crisp white cotton. It’s funny how you live in your own body but nothing feels like someone else’s. He smells lovely: fabric softener and expensive soap. He tightens his grip, squeezing, and when I look up, he kisses me.
“I love you,” he says.
“Yes. I love you, too.” My God, it’s a relief to say it.
“You do?”
“I have done for ages. I’m sorry about everything. I’m not much of a catch.”
“Oh, seriously. Shut up.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“I was freezing,” says Gethin. “I’m a bit warmer now, though.”
We face each other, just far enough apart that we can focus, the duvet pulled up to our noses.
“Mm.”
“I think you’re very beautiful,” he says.
“Oh, come on,” I say, amused. “You mean you think I was, like, thirty years ago, when I had pink hair.”
He laughs. “Yeah, but also, no. Now.”
“I’m all old and baggy, though.”
He laughs some more. “Baggy? You’re not baggy.”
“I am a bit. I don’t mind. Old is better than dead.”
“Yeah. But listen, I’m trying to tell you. I really fancy you.”
“Ha. Yes. Likewise.”
“Funny, and clever…”
“Clever? Hardly. And extremely ordinary.”
“Not remotely ordinary. Brilliant, amazing. I love you. What’s that line? ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ ”
I laugh. “You’re delightful, aren’t you? Quoting Pride and Prej? When did you memorize that? Thought it might come in useful?”
“Ha. Yeah, I watched it with Mum about a month ago. I didn’t think I’d get to use it.”
“It’s a good line.”
“It didn’t work for him though, did it.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually. Yeah, well that’s appropriate, right?” He leans to kiss me.
I close my eyes, still astonished by everything. “I love you. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. I know you don’t want me to thank you again…”
“I really don’t…”
“But I’m so grateful. For everything, all your kindness.” I’m looking at him again now, intent on learning every line and crease and freckle.
“You deserve it, don’t you.”
“Probably not?”
“Ah, you do, though.”
We rest our foreheads together. I’m so happy, I can’t begin to describe it. Perhaps I should try.
“I’m very happy.” Ah, not an impressive attempt, admittedly.
“Yes, me too. Never been happier.”
I laugh. “No, come on.”
“Seriously, Jess.”
“I feel like…I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. Please let it be okay.”
“It will be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he says, and sounds so confident I laugh.
“I hope so.”
“When can you move back? Do you have to give notice? I mean…do you want to come home?”
“Home. Yes.” My eyes fill with tears.
“Hey. It’s okay.” He leans to touch his nose to mine.
“Can I…will I have my bedroom back?”
“If you want? I was kind of hoping you might sleep in my room, with me, like.”
“Oh, yes.” I laugh. “Yes.” I try to imagine this, but I can’t really.
“Yeah? I mean, if you want your own room…”
“I don’t know. I might. Even if I never sleep in there.”
“Well, that’s fine. If you want. But when will you come home? Tomorrow? You’ll be home for Christmas? I’ve been dreading Christmas.”
“Bea’s going away,” I tell him. “I thought I’d be on my own.”
“On your own? Bloody hell, has no one invited you?”
“I haven’t told anyone, so, no. Anyway,” I add, “she said I could sleep in the guest room. It’s got a really amazing bed, and there’s heating, so I was going to do that.”
“Heating, eh? That does sound better than in here.”
“I quite like it here, though. But you’re right, it’s very cold. I had to buy an electric blanket.”
“Shit, do they still make those? Wow.” He pauses for a moment. “But when will you come home?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I should stay here for a bit, and we should, you know, go out? Because what if it’s awful? Or…I don’t mean that. I mean, what if it doesn’t work out? I’ll be homeless again.”
“We know we can live together, though.”
“Yes.”
“But you must do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to put any pressure on you.” He kisses me. “Just know that you’re very, very welcome to come home whenever you like.”
“Ah. Yes.”
We lie in silence for a while, smiling at each other. Actually, if you could see us, it would turn your stomach.
* * *
When I wake in the morning I’m briefly confused. It’s light, with a bright stream of sunshine pouring through the skylight, so it must be quite late. And there’s something—no, someone—in the bed with me and oh my God now I remember. I turn round quickly and there he is, head pillowed on his arm, eyes closed, breathing deeply. My heart contracts. I gaze at him, disbelieving. Is this us, now? I stroke his arm very lightly, put my finger to the tip of his nose, and then to the curl of his ear. He twitches slightly, frowns, and opens his eyes. I see him realize where he is, and then we’re grinning at each other.
“Hey, you,” he says.
“Hey.”
He blinks. “Shit, it doesn’t get warmer, does it?” He puts his hand over his face. “My nose is cold.”
“Ah, you poor wee thing. I’ll light the burner.”
I feel under the pillow for my pajamas.
“Oh, don’t get up,” he says.
“I’ll be back, but you can’t be naked in this room,” I explain, dragging the top over my head. I stand up, step into the bottoms, and push my feet into my slippers. I pull a large, shapeless jumper from under the bed and put that on as well. My breath condenses in the cold air.
“Shit,” he says, “this is ridiculous. I can see your breath. It’s probably warmer outside.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s chilly all right. Brr.” I hurry across the room to hook open the burner. I feed it with wood, light it, clang shut the door. “D’you want a cup of tea?”
“Go on, then, since you’re up.” He pummels his pillows and props himself up.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything that would fit you, like a jumper or anything.”
“That’s okay, I’ll stoically put up with it.”
I put the kettle on and rinse the mugs from last night, make a pot of tea. It’s very slightly warmer now that the burner’s going. I give Gethin his mug and kick off my slippers before climbing into bed beside him. I lean against his shoulder and drink my tea.
“You should take some of these clothes off,” he says, tugging at my jumper.
“Should I?”
“It’s warmer now. You must be too hot.”
“I wouldn’t say I was, actually,” I say, but I take it off obediently.
“I love your pajamas,” he says.
I look down at myself. “Really?”
“You always look…cozy.”
“Ha, yeah, that’s me. Cozy, not sexy.”
“Yeah well, you might think that,” he says. “But you’d be wrong. I mean, obviously I tried not to think about them, or…”
“I see. That could have been very awkward. I was worried it would be, after the party. But then”—I press my lips to his throat—“then I remembered you’re not a dick.”
He laughs. “I don’t know about that. But I was determined.” He sighs again. “When I said I didn’t want to be a bad thing, and you said you thought I was a good thing? That was…it was a significant moment in my life. Although it did mean I allowed myself to hope.”
“I think my body knew better than my brain,” I tell him. “That’s not always the case. But…I had some stuff to do, before I was ready.”
“I know. I do understand. Even though it was confusing, and difficult, and even though I’ve been…I’ve been miserable. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too. But I suppose that helped, really. I kept thinking, of course I miss him, we’ve been living together for months—and I’ve been quite alone here, you know.” I shake my head. “I knew it was more than that, but…I had a lot going on, in my head. I did think it might be better for me to…just be me, by myself. For a long time. Because…even when I’ve been very sad, you know, after a breakup, I’ve never felt like it was too risky to try again. But last time…it made everything seem very risky. Frightening. And then there you were, almost immediately. It was confusing for such a long time.”
We kiss for a while and then he says, “I feel like this is something we’ve earned, though. Is that silly?”
I shake my head. “Not silly. And you’ve been very patient, haven’t you? I’ll never forget that.”
“I wish I hadn’t slept with that girl.”
“Oh, don’t—it doesn’t matter. I think I needed to spend some time living somewhere else. I think that…I mean, that’s why I left, because I suddenly saw how you could meet someone. But it’s this space between us—even if it was horrible, and I’m sorry you were miserable—it’s this that’s made it okay. I had to be by myself and prove that I could do it. And then—now—I’m still grateful—shut up—but not in the same way. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise. If we were still living together—there’d be no catalyst, would there. Perhaps we’d have slept together again, and it would have been difficult, and awkward, and I would have been confused and annoyed with myself, and unsure, and…”
“You don’t feel annoyed and confused now?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
I look at Gethin, this kind and wonderful person. I smile at him, and he smiles back. “I’m sure.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
It’s May. May! How can it be May? The last five months have gone in a flash. It’s disturbing. But here I am, more than eighteen months into my new life. Everything’s…well. It’s as annoying to hear people banging on about how happy they are as it is to hear them complaining about being miserable, but I’m pretty happy. I got to see the bulbs flower at Sunnyside. My home, where I live. Where we do all the things we did before, except now when we watch films we sit much closer together, and at night we sleep in Gethin’s bedroom. We went away to Shrewsbury for Valentine’s Day and stayed in a tiny house full of beams. It was cold, and wet, and lots of things were closed, but we still had a lovely time. For my birthday we went out for dinner—not that this was the first time, obviously; we go out to dinner now, because that’s an okay thing to do. Because we’re allowed to go on dates. It’s pretty much a requirement.
Today we’re going for a picnic. As we pack the car with food and drink, Gethin says, “We should go to Dryslwyn. It’s a year since the last time.” He slams the trunk and we get into the car.
“Is it really? I suppose it is.”
“Yeah, I thought we should take a picture. To match the other one.”
“Ah! What a lovely idea. Yes. Let’s do that.”
It’s not as hot as it was last year, but equally, I don’t think we’re expecting a storm. Everything’s bright and cheerful, the leaves on the trees with that late spring sparkle. I like all seasons pretty much equally, enjoying whatever is actually happening, but there are certain things I love, like the moment the beech trees come into leaf, and then when all the trees are out but everything’s fresh. High summer is good, but late spring might be better. We eat our picnic in more or less the same spot as last time, but this year we don’t need to rush away as the rain starts. There is no rain, and we lie in the sun for an hour or more, talking about all kinds of things. I’m still surprised, sometimes, by how easy everything is. I wondered if we might have arguments, or bicker, at least, because although he’s right, and we already knew how living together might be, things are different once you’re seeing each other, and there are things you might get annoyed about that are none of your business when you just share a house. But I needn’t have worried. We’ve never had an argument.
