Again, Rachel, page 41
He was still and focused, listening intently.
‘I knew the facts. I did, Luke. But the picture they formed wasn’t a problem: my baby had died and I couldn’t sleep. I thought it was a temporary thing, taking the tablets. That I’d stop when the loss got more bearable. I genuinely thought it was a choice … it sounds mad but I never saw it as a relapse.’
‘Ahhh, okay, just give me a –’ He took a breath. Then another. ‘I’ve spent so long waiting to hear this and now I don’t know what to say … Okay, answer this – why did you think I left you?’
‘I thought you blamed me for Yara.’
‘How could you –’
‘Because I blamed me, Luke.’
‘God. Okay.’ A long pause followed. ‘Thing is,’ he eventually said, ‘I’m sorry, too. I was too hard on you. When I left I was so angry and like, hurt, that you’d choose drugs over me. But I’d forgotten how powerful addiction is. After I’d been gone – a year? More? – long enough to get some distance on it I started wondering, if I hadn’t been such a mess over Yara would I have handled things differently?’
Oh?
‘My first couple of years in Denver, I was drinking too much. Then it stopped working, I couldn’t get any relief. There was one night, I remember thinking, I’d give anything to make this stop. I should have got it then – how it had been for you. You were in agony, there was something that eased it and you took it.’
‘No. You’re being too nice. And I believe you about Mia –’
‘I’d never have done that. You know what I was like. So, I dunno, square.’
‘“Steady”, I was going to say, Luke. Or “loyal”. You were a decent man.’ My heart felt swollen and sore. ‘I’m sorry, Luke, we were happy and I ruined it.’
‘But our baby still died.’ Gently, he shook his head. ‘Nothing could fix that.’
‘Maybe we could have got past it? People do.’ I stopped because thinking that way wasn’t helpful.
Again, he shook his head. ‘You’ve got to play them as they lay.’
After several long moments of silence, Luke asked, ‘How are you now? Right now?’
‘Still in shock, I think. I swear to God, during all this time, I never thought I’d been in the wrong. Before your mum’s funeral, my life was good. Now it’s been upended, you know? It’s confusing to feel heartbroken about a time that I’ve already got over.’
He nodded.
‘It will all sort itself out, though,’ I said. ‘And worse things happen to people. Far worse. Like, I’ll never stop being sad about Yara but I can live with it now. How about you?’
‘Same. I’m not angry with you now – knowing that your version of reality matches mine, that’s a big help. Even though we didn’t get to know Yara, I’m still so thankful for her.’
‘Oh God, me too.’ My voice became watery. ‘I’d never change that.’
‘And I’ll always be glad that you and I were together.’ His voice was husky. ‘You were the love of my life.’
My breath caught in my chest. ‘And you were mine.’
‘But we’ve still got plenty of our lives to go. Still young. Ish.’ With a dazzler of a smile, he said, ‘There will be other loves of our lives.’
I nodded, impressed by his – our – wisdom, our mature perspective.
‘Rachel?’ His tone changed. ‘What made you stop? Taking the pills?’
‘I know this might sound insane but I think Yara …’ I shrugged, almost embarrassed. ‘I think she wanted me to. There was one morning, about two months after you’d gone. I saw a rainbow. It was more than that, it was almost as if a rainbow came into our apartment – the colours were on our bedroom floor. Remember at your Dad’s party I told you that I’ve always thought that rainbows were messages from Yara –’
‘I remember.’ He seemed sad. ‘But have you forgotten that we’d talked about her, about rainbows, about a week before I – before I … left? I’d been seeing them, I was sure they were signs, messages, whatever you want to call them. You and I were having a … conversation about your pills, when a rainbow popped up outside our kitchen window. I told you my theory, you liked it and said you were definitely stopping. I was convinced you’d be okay, we’d be okay. But then you –’
– kept on taking the tablets. I remembered, then facepalmed with regret.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. Stop. Please.’
The sun was low in the sky, the warmth of the day had abruptly vanished. I rubbed my chilly arms, wishing I’d worn more than a T-shirt and jeans.
‘You know your mum invited me to her surprise party?’ Luke said. ‘So? See you there?’
‘Aaaahhh, I’d been thinking of giving it a miss …’
‘What? Why?’
‘The idea of all my aunties laughing at me because you did a runner –’
‘Hey, look, I won’t come.’
I thought about it. ‘You can come. It’s okay, I don’t feel as … humiliated. You had to leave me – not that I’ll be explaining that to Auntie Imelda.’
‘I’m not going if you won’t be there. You and Quin.’
‘Grand.’ Surely Quin and I would be okay again by then? ‘We’ll be there.’
Morrigan’s was closing up. ‘Time to leave,’ I said.
Luke grabbed his jacket and we stood. ‘I came on the bike,’ he said. ‘It’s out on the road.’
‘I walked here.’
As we made our way back out through the trees, he asked, ‘What you up to this evening?’
‘Committee meeting for Mum’s party. Last one before the big night. Hey. Luke. Can I ask you something?’ I said. ‘When Joey rang to tell me about your mum, did he do it off his own bat or –’
‘I asked him.’
‘Why was that?’
He stared into the middle distance. ‘Because even at my most angry, I never stopped wanting you to be okay.’ He went quiet. ‘I’m going to tell you something now and you might be … This is creepy. Stalkery. But I asked Joey to keep an eye on you.’
‘“Keep an eye”?’
‘Yeah. Look. I needed to know you were okay. Still alive, mostly. Not small details, I’m not that bad. But the big things like you moving back to Ireland. Getting a job in the Cloisters – from that I figured out you were clean again.’
A snarl of emotions seized me – humiliation, deep interest, offence and, again, interest. So he’d still cared?
‘How did Joey do this?’
‘Instagram, mostly.’
Well, he’d have had a job of it. For a couple of years after Luke had left, I’d barely posted anything. Even now, about 90 per cent of my content was Crunchie being adorable.
‘Why did you do that?’ I asked.
‘Because I loved you. That didn’t stop straight away.’ After a hesitation, he said, ‘I knew about Quin.’ His look was mischievous. ‘Now that was hard. What? I wasn’t macho enough for you?’
‘You’re a fine one to talk. You and your Kallie.’
‘Yeah, look at us.’ He smiled. ‘We survived. We rebuilt our lives. After what we’d lost, we should be proud. Thankful, anyway.’
We reached his bike and stopped walking.
‘I go up that way.’ I pointed to a turn off the road. ‘There’s a shortcut through the fields. Luke, do you think we could try being friends? Even if it’s just to talk once a year on her anniversary?’
‘Sure. Absolutely. We could give it a go.’
I remembered another question I wanted the answer to. ‘Luke, the other night, whenever it was – Thursday? – at my house. Why did you say you’d come in, then leave immediately? What did I miss?’
‘I didn’t say I’d come in, I said I’d like to.’
What?
‘You can figure it out, Rachel.’
Could I? I ran the sentence through my head again.
Oh. Seriously?
I could hardly speak. ‘But –’
‘My mother died less than a month ago. The past, the present, it’s all mixed up in my head. I’m a mess, babe.’ He stopped, mortified. ‘Old habits. Sorry for calling you …’
‘Babe.’ The one word brought back a multitude.
‘That.’ He took a breath. ‘Rachel, you need to know that even though I was very angry when I left New York, it soon changed to guilt. And, God, I missed you.’
‘Luke …’
Out of nowhere, the air felt thick.
I blinked, trying to break the tension.
His eyes were fixed on mine. Shimmering between us was the irresistible attraction we’d once shared, powerful and familiar.
I didn’t want this, it was dangerous. But all of my old responses were activated.
Startling me, he slid his hand around my waist, his index finger under my T-shirt, on the bare skin above my jeans. In one fluid movement our bodies were touching.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of my sudden longing for him, I watched his face, looking for clues on what to do. To my disbelief, I felt him begin to unfurl, then harden against me. Holding my gaze, he knew that I knew. Almost suffocating from such intimacy, I stopped breathing.
‘Fuck!’ He stepped back and spun away from me. ‘Rachel, I’m sorry. I forgot, I –’
Dazed, discarded, I managed, ‘… It’s okay.’
I was breathing again, and the oxygen wasn’t coming fast enough, I had to fight the urge to pant.
‘Just for a moment there’ – he was able to look at me now – ‘I was confused.’ With an awkward laugh, he said, ‘I could never behave myself around you. And with Kallie not here …’
What … did that mean?
That because Kallie wasn’t there to put out, anyone would do? Even someone as repellent as his junkie ex-wife?
I went cold. ‘I’m leaving now.’
He seemed wrong-footed. ‘Uh. Sure, yeah. Take care –’
Fucker.
Sleazy fucker.
I walked fast through the field, trying to put distance between me and that creep.
My God, he’d changed. He’d once been a good man but now he was –
‘Rachel!’
I turned. In the encroaching night, his outline advanced.
‘What?’ My tone was sharp.
‘I’m sorry.’ He was short of breath. ‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Like I was saying that if Kallie isn’t here to … deal with me, I’m a liability who’d ride anything.’
I was still waiting for an explanation.
‘Being in Ireland,’ he said, ‘seeing you, it feels like no time has passed. I’m a state. Kallie kept me anchored to the life I have now. But since she’s gone back I’m … I’ve so many emotions, mostly from the past but it’s like they’ve just happened. I don’t know which end is up and I shouldn’t have touched you … I’m very sorry.’
‘… It’s okay. Really.’ I meant it. I’d been affected just as badly. So much so, I had to get away from him. ‘Don’t worry. See you on Saturday.’
‘Okay, see – Hey! Do you have far to go?’
I turned once more towards him.
‘It’s nearly dark,’ he said. ‘There’s no light out here. Come down to the road, I’ll take you home on the bike.’
No. After what had just taken place, I was frightened. ‘There’s no need.’
‘I’ll walk with you then.’
‘But how will you get back to your bike?’ Then, ‘Okay. It’s easier to say yes than to spend fifteen minutes arguing in a field in the dark.’
He laughed, a proper burst of delight. It was a surprise to hear him so light-hearted, but maybe it shouldn’t have been – once upon a time he’d always been that way.
At his bike, he insisted I wear his helmet. Again, it was easier to just go along with it. I was being torn in two – desperate for him yet terrified by my want. The sooner I got on the bike, the sooner I could get off.
He climbed on first, swinging his leg over with easy grace, then I clambered up behind him.
‘Okay? Hold on tight.’ He kicked off the stand and we roared away.
My arms in a cautious circle around his waist, we sped through the narrow roads until a sharp swerve pressed me against him. The heat from his body was too hard to resist and I let myself relax, leaning into his back, inhaling the smell of leather.
If I moved my hand even four or five inches lower, I could cup his …
The graphic vision arrived in my head from nowhere. The thought – and it was an actual memory – of him hardening in my hand made me swoony, then very ashamed, then even more fearful.
Wanting this – him – was much too much of a complication. I was still dealing with my damage from the past. If I started fancying him again, I’d also ruin the present.
Outside my house, he stayed on the bike, his feet on the ground, the engine still throbbing. With fumbling fingers, I untied the helmet. ‘Thanks for the lift. See you Saturday.’
The movements of his hands, as they fastened the clasp on the helmet, had me somewhat hypnotized.
Bye, he mouthed with a smile I didn’t understand, and as soon as he was gone I missed him.
Crunchie was waiting by the door and, instead of her usual wild, barky delight, she greeted me with enquiring kindness. ‘I’m in bits,’ I told her.
It’s to be expected.
‘I feel like I’ve cheated on Quin.’
Random thoughts about Luke’s ‘region’ isn’t cheating.
‘What about emotional cheating, though?’
You’re hardly doing that. Some of your old feelings have got jumbled up with more current ones. The confusion is understandable but nothing to worry about.
‘You’re sure about this?’
Yes. Well, probably. Obviously, I can’t know for certain. I’m not Esther Perel, I’m only a dog.
After I fed Crunchie, I checked on my seedlings and eventually trailed up the stairs. I’d really need to get moving, the committee meeting was scheduled for eight thirty and it was already almost eight o’clock. Instead, I shut the bedroom door, kicked off my sneakers and lay on my bed, thinking about Luke. I knew I shouldn’t but my body was so full of longing for him.
Putting my hand on my waist, I pretended it was his. And that he hadn’t stopped when he had.
Behaving like this was insanity, it would only make things worse, make them real. But the feelings were too strong.
Until, making every nerve in my body flare, my phone beeped with a text.
From him.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Staring at it, the rush of elation had me paralysed. I read and reread the six short words, shocked and grateful. Then the text disappeared. It just … disappeared. Stabbing at the screen, I hit refresh, trying to find it. Nowhere. It was gone.
Unable to stop myself, I texted, Did you just message me?
Sorry. It was meant for Kal.
Slowly, I lowered the phone to the bed and curled on my side. I am pathetic. Utterly, utterly pathetic.
Moments later my phone began to ring – him. ‘Sorry about that text,’ he said. ‘My clumsy fingers. Listen, wanted to tell you, flight’s booked, I’m going home Sunday.’
‘Oh-kay.’ This upset me a ridiculous amount.
‘We’re having Mum’s one-month mass on Saturday. I’ll stay for your mum’s party Saturday night, then fly back Sunday.’
‘… That makes sense.’ I made myself say. ‘Thanks for telling me. You didn’t have to.’
‘Yeah. But I did. Well, I wanted to. We’re going to try being friends, aren’t we? Well, we are friends?’
‘Sure.’ I didn’t know what we were.
He must have picked up on my desolation because his tone changed to Let’s Cheer Up the Poor Sap. ‘Hey! How about you and me hang out on Saturday? Maybe go for a walk. I’ll see you and Quin at the party but that’ll be crazy, like. No chance for the chats there. But Saturday? Anytime you like, just you and me?’
It was all soooo Pity Poor Rachel. ‘That’s sweet of you, Luke, but it’s going to be insanely busy on Saturday. Mum, Anna, Angelo, everyone, you know?’ I made myself laugh.
‘Cool, cool.’ He sounded so unbothered. ‘Listen, what present should I get your mum?’
‘God, I don’t know …’ With a nervous giggle, I said, ‘A photo of you.’
A moment of startled silence followed before he spoke. ‘Estée Lauder Night Repair.’ He’d decided to behave as if I hadn’t just been really weird. ‘That’s what my mum always asked for. So, ah, see you there.’
76
Say what you like about Claire, she was organized. Despite her setback with the swinging, she was still all over Mum’s party. Every single task was allocated to someone – plus a back-up person, just in case the first one had a nervous breakdown.
There was a spreadsheet and multiple parallel timelines.
People’s phones were set to ping to remind them to …
Leave their home.
Eat something.
Yell, ‘SURPRISE!’
I was twenty minutes late when Dad met me at the front door. ‘You’re always on time,’ he said. ‘What kept you?’
Too overwhelmed to lie, I said, ‘I was out with Luke. It did my head in.’
‘Ah, now.’ Tentatively, he patted my back. ‘Now, now, now.’ Then, ‘Now. Now, now, now.’
‘That fucker Costello?’ Helen called. ‘Where’d you go?’
‘Morrigan’s.’ I stood in the sitting-room doorway. They were all in there.
‘Aaaand?’ Helen asked. ‘What d’you get up to?’
‘Gave him a hand job by the stream.’
‘Must you?’ Mum demanded.
The answer was yes. Acting coy was the worst thing you could do with this lot. Invent an outrageous scenario and they were far more likely to lose interest.
‘Are you okay?’ Margaret asked.
‘No, but I will be.’
‘Do you have any noise-cancelling headphones? JJ needs to borrow a pair.’
‘I have. I’ll drop them in tomorrow after work.’
‘Now that you’ve sorted out your son’s headphone needs …’ Claire was a little sour and it was hardly fair to take it out on Margaret, but when were emotions ever rational? ‘This is the plan for Saturday. At fifteen hundred, I will arrive at the SugarLoaf Inn –’
