Long Story, page 30
He was watching me cautiously, but pretending everything was fine and wittering on largely to himself. ‘Will we watch a movie, Alex? Barbra Streisand works in any situation! Or maybe you’re not in the mood for singing … and maybe not a love story … I’ve got it! We’ll watch ET. Safe as houses.’
As he busied himself with the DVD, I felt the edges of my consciousness start to dull. By the time Elliott discovered the alien in his shed, I had rolled over and fallen into a dreamless sleep.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Tara was gaping at me, her huge purple hat dominating the small bathroom.
‘I didn’t know how to. You were so busy. You were far away. Obviously, I would have eventually, had there been anything to tell. But it was just … gone. Problem solved.’
‘Would you have kept it? If you could?’
‘Oh, Tara, I don’t know! I didn’t have to decide, did I? It was decided for me.’
‘And nobody else knew? Not your mam, not Sean?’
I scoffed. ‘As if he’d have cared! And no, I never told my mother. Only Darius. I don’t exactly like thinking or talking about it, even now.’
Tara looked shell-shocked, just like I felt. I hadn’t known I was going to tell her about the miscarriage. A sudden urge to confess all to her had come over me when we were alone in the hospital together, but fate had chosen that moment to take Darius from us. Rattled, I hadn’t dared bring it up again.
It was seeing Sean that compelled me to tell Tara now, with an urgency to unburden myself immediately.
‘In a way, it all makes sense,’ she said. ‘A horrible, awful sort of sense. Oh, Alex.’
Just then, the ladies’ room door slammed open. Jen stood there in her mauve rigout looking angry. ‘What the fuck are you two up to? The funeral is about to start – the coffin is idling in the hallway, for god’s sake!’ Then she clocked my face. ‘What’s going on? Alex, are you all right? It’s only a poem, for god’s sake!’
I managed a nod. ‘It’s … I …’
‘We’ll tell you after the service,’ Tara said, springing into action and hustling poor Jen out of the room. ‘Alex, do you think you’re going to be okay? We have to do this now, for Darius.’
I exhaled, forcing myself to return fully to the present, and gave myself a little shake. ‘Yes. I feel … not better, but better for telling you. Does that make sense?’
‘Absolutely.’ She took me by the hand and we walked out together.
It was a gorgeous service, just as Darius had planned. The funeral party followed down the aisle behind the coffin, which was another break from New York tradition. Darius wanted the drama of an Irish entrance, pallbearers carrying him to the front as chief mourners followed. A former student, a soprano named Gillian, was giving a powerful rendition of ‘Over the Rainbow’ – the Judy Garland version, of course. People were already bawling as we took our seats up the front, which was the desired effect.
Gazing upon Sean for a second time didn’t hit me quite so hard in the solar plexus; in fact, I felt able to sneak looks at him from across the room, to take him in from thirty feet away. He was shorter than I remembered.
I saw then that it wasn’t just Sean who had made the journey – his mother and two of the other lads from Higher Power were there, too. I recognized one of them, Ciaran, from That’s D’Amore, and then saw clusters of other past pupils standing around the room, both older and younger than us. I was touched so many students had come so far, but that was the Darius effect.
I noticed Tara’s publicist, Giulia, was there, and her mate David from LA. Shanice and Samuel, too, and Jordan Jones. Our friends old and new had come to support us, and it made me feel ever so slightly less frightened.
The room was jam-packed with purple-clad mourners, despite being the biggest the funeral home had to offer. Darius had insisted that the coffin would remain firmly closed, but there was a lovely photo of him placed on top of the casket from his wedding day, and it was exactly how I’d try to remember him.
Francisco stood up, supported by his very glamorous mother, and thanked everyone for coming. ‘My husband was the great love of my life. I didn’t know I could be so happy with another person until I met Darius, and I will miss him every day until I die.’ He hung his head. ‘He didn’t believe in an afterlife, but I believe that I will see my Darius again someday. If I get my way, heaven will be a Broadway theatre with a standing ovation for my beautiful husband every night.’
Francisco sat back down, and Mam, who was acting as master of ceremonies, introduced Tara.
I knew my friend was nervous about reciting Shakespeare, but Tara looked every inch the movie star she was, her waist cinched to the gods and her enormous hat giving the drama Darius would have wanted.
Tara had memorized her monologue and, like any good actor, she gave it socks. Near the end, as she got to the part about a world too wide for his shrunk shank, she seemed to startle at the sight of something at the back.
I didn’t have long to wonder why, because it was my turn to read. Unlike Tara, I wasn’t looking up from the script because I was too afraid of catching Francisco’s eye and bawling like a baby.
‘For Darius,’ I managed, taking a deep breath.
He’s gone too soon, but it would have always been too soon.
The world’s too quiet – I keep listening for that distinctive boom.
He filled up every space, in every room, unsubtle as an ostentatious bloom.
Never sure what to call him, but he was the best.
More than friend, more like family, more than the rest.
He held my deepest secrets close to his chest, lived and loved with zest.
How do I go on without his light? Even these words feel trite.
He was passion, talent, gusto burning bright.
He was human, flawed, adored, nearly always right.
I chanced looking up and saw instantly what had thrown Tara. Standing in the back with Xavier and Storm was Rory Vaughan, handsome and solemn in a dark suit and tie. I gulped and continued, realizing as I read how Tara must be feeling. There’s no funeral when a marriage is over, no public mourning. You just have to get on with it.
All we can do now is carry on as if he’s still here.
Carry with us what we’ve learned, love as if he’s always near.
Miss him every day that dawns anew, force ourselves to persevere.
He’s gone, and without him we are lost.
But knowing – loving – him was worth the cost.
When I finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house except my own. I felt proud then, that I’d done Darius justice. My mother came up and gave me a squeeze, before announcing that refreshments and drinks would be served in the reception room and thanking the congregation again. I walked straight to Tara in the front row and fell into her arms, allowing myself only then to briefly fall apart and sob.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Jen said, shaking her head. The three of us were still in our seats in the suite, deep in a hushed conversation as mourners mingled next door. I’d whispered the sorry tale of loss in its entirety for only the second time in my life, and the three of us wept quietly together as guests ate miniature bagels and drank champagne mere feet away. ‘Alex, you poor, poor thing.’
I nodded. ‘It took a really long time for me to acknowledge how traumatic the miscarriage was, even to call it that.’
‘Is that why you went to France after Christmas that year?’ Jen asked.
‘I guess so. I just wanted to be far away. A semester on Erasmus in Lyon sounded perfect, but god, I was so lonely once I got there. I was also in complete denial that anything had actually happened. In my mind I was pregnant for about a week, and then before I had to decide anything, I wasn’t again.’
‘I can’t imagine it,’ Jen said. ‘For all my messing in life, I’ve only ever been pregnant when I wanted to be.’
I felt Tara stiffen, so I moved things along. ‘I think it’s why I ended up moving to London after college too, you know. I didn’t want to live somewhere with memories of it all. I threw myself into work and for years I was able to forget. Then I started having very bad panic attacks around the time you met Rory, remember?’ I said to Tara, who nodded.
‘Well, I started going to therapy when they became debilitating – I had one on the Tube once and was convinced I was going to die. I couldn’t breathe, and my NHS doc referred me once he figured out it wasn’t a physical issue. After a lot of work on myself, everything I’d been through began to come out in fits and starts. The counsellor diagnosed a generalized anxiety disorder but also PTSD, which I thought was crazy. I was under the impression then that only soldiers had that, from combat situations. The more I read up on it, I realized she was right. The whole experience of abandonment and then loss was very traumatic, and in trying to run from it all, I made things even worse.’
‘Alex, you must have been so scared. No wonder …’ Tara trailed off, and I let out a little guffaw at her suddenly guilty expression.
‘No wonder I’ve been living in arrested development ever since? Does it all make sense now?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ she said, but stopped once she saw my wry smile.
‘No, Tara, you were right when you said that, even if you were being a bitch. I have been scared of living my life. A part of me is still twenty, abandoned, pregnant, terrified and madly in love with the boy who knocked me up and then fucked off. The girl whose baby died before she even had a chance to decide if she wanted it or not.’ I sounded bitter, even to my own ears, but it felt so good to tell my closest friends the truth I’d been holding so tight to my chest. ‘I’m still angry too. I think on some level I always hoped Sean would eventually come back to me, and I could tell him what happened. Once he got all the rock-star stuff out of his system, you know? We could be together, and all the trauma wouldn’t have been worth it exactly, but it would have all made some sense.’
The girls nodded silently, unused to me being so open.
‘That’s why I wouldn’t let Darius call him at the time – I wanted Sean to come back to me on his own. Then I thought he was finally going to, nearly eighteen years later.’ My voice broke. ‘I thought it was clear to him now, that he’d loved me all along without realizing. Even though there’s no child, we could start over and just be happy. Jesus, our baby would be seventeen now. Can you imagine? My life would have been so completely different.’
Sometimes I allowed myself to imagine the child that might have been. Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would it have been blonde like me, or dark-haired like its father? Would it have been musical, talented in the arts? Then I remembered there was no point in wondering, because it hadn’t happened. It was a world of possibilities stolen away.
Tara shook her head. ‘Alex, I’m so sorry. I had absolutely no idea. I’m distraught I wasn’t there for you, and had I known anything, I never would have carried on with him …’
I swatted away her apology. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t, but you didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. So I can’t exactly be on my high horse about keeping secrets, can I?’
Jen’s phone pinged then; a message from Brian. ‘He’s asking me to kindly get my ass outside and talk to the guests at the reception. He’s stuck with Francisco’s auntie.’ She put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a firm kiss on the forehead. ‘We have lots more talking to do on this subject, yes?’
I nodded. ‘I’m only sorry it’s taken me this long.’
Tara and I watched Jen stroll out into the crowd, always so at ease in herself. I envied her that comfort, that confidence. I felt hot and sweaty and cold and clammy all at once, and my hands were still shaking. But then Tara enclosed them in her own.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to face going out there if I’m there with you? It will mean facing Sean, more than likely.’
I nodded again, summoning a courage I didn’t fully feel. ‘Do you know what, Tara? I think it’s about time I did.’
35. Tara
It didn’t take long for Sean to pop up in front of us, like an apparition. It was so strange seeing him up close and in motion, this man I hadn’t laid eyes on in twelve years but was now seeing in a whole new light after Alex’s revelation. It was bizarre to realize that he had actually aged, like the mere mortal he was, pushing forty now, with thready wrinkles on his forehead and laughter lines around his eyes. He had no idea what might have been, and I felt sort of sorry for him and furious with him at the same time.
Sean was wearing a tight cashmere polo T-shirt and high-waisted trousers, and was still hot, of course. In real life, though, his painted nails and cartoonish tattoos looked a little bit ridiculous in such a sombre setting. The thought crossed my mind that he could’ve laid off the rock-star shtick for one afternoon, but I guess that’s not really how it works.
When he leaned in to kiss Alex and then me, I felt her wobble beside me as I offered him my cheek and tightened my grip around her waist. Sean smelled of Gucci Pour Homme, an upgrade from his Cool Water days, but also cigarette smoke and … hash? Was this eejit stoned at a funeral?
‘I’m so sorry, girls,’ he said, looking between us. ‘I loved Dar – the man was a legend. I just want to say, if it’s not very inappropriate, that you both look absolutely stunning.’
There was that old charm, oozing out of every pore, but I wasn’t letting him get away with it.
‘You’ve a nerve, licking up to us after all your troublemaking,’ I hissed under my breath, but kept my expression outwardly serene.
Sean looked perturbed. ‘What? Me?’
‘Yes, you. Do you not recall putting me on blast in your little book? The media circus that ensued?’
‘Ah, Tara, I don’t remember half of what I said in that book. I was jarred for most of the interviews.’
He looked so innocent I believed him. I had enough experience of famous people to know that he likely considered himself too busy and important to read the memoir bearing his name and life story.
‘What about going on Kelly Clarkson and saying you were still in love with a girl back home from your past? Did you or your publicist not think that might lead back to me as well? I should sue, you little bastard.’ I was inordinately angry with him, and I knew it wasn’t about me, but on Alex’s behalf.
He gulped. ‘Uhh, yeah, well, that might have been accidentally on purpose. Look, I had books to sell. There were loads of girls from way back when – you were only two possible candidates. I knew you wouldn’t have to actually confirm or deny anything.’
He was still beaming at both of us, attempting to worm his way out of any acrimony with his winning celebrity smile. Part of me wanted to smack the smugness out of him, and part of me wanted to smile back. I couldn’t help it. That’s the effect Sean has on people.
I looked at Alex and saw a pained smile painted on her face. I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. Then something seemed to click with her, and her complexion flushed.
‘So you were full of shit, then?’ she exclaimed, and Sean gaped at her. ‘You did some real damage with your big mouth, do you know that?’
‘I wouldn’t say I was full of shit exactly. A man never forgets his early conquests, but, er, I’m kinda seeing someone pretty high profile and I wanted to throw the press off the scent. You girls didn’t really mind, did you?’ His eyes were a bit bloodshot and he had a dopey grin on his face. Yep, definitely stoned.
I caught Alex’s eye, and the two of us started giggling. Within seconds we were hysterical, all the emotion of her confession and our grief mingling and combusting in laughter.
‘What?’ Sean asked, his eyes widening at our frenzy. ‘Don’t laugh. Look, it’s actually a member of the royal family. The British royal family, and quite high up. Hey, it’s not funny!’
Alex and I were howling, his protestations falling on deaf ears. It was suddenly hilarious, that we’d been squabbling like children over this absolute fool, while he’d been riding a blue-blood Brit on the DL. Poor Alex had never got over Sean, not because she was emotionally immature but because of so much I’d never known. It was awful and chaotic and unbearable, and we were frenzied. I clung to her and laughed until I wept, until Sean got sick of our carry-on and stalked off.
Then I looked up and stopped laughing. Alex was still going like a hyena as Rory took Sean’s place in front of us.
‘Oh, Jesus! Excuse me,’ Alex breathed, her giggles abruptly subsiding as she realized I was face to face with my estranged husband. She released my hand and stumbled off as best she could in her ridiculous shoes, and I was left alone with Rory for the first time in weeks.
Had it really only been weeks? It had been what … a couple of months since the incident in London, yet it felt like much longer. When was the last time I had seen Rory clearly before that? Maybe it had even been years since we’d stood eye to eye and really looked at one another.
I couldn’t really take him in up close; he looked so familiar, yet also like a complete stranger. He was wearing his funeral suit, a tailored Tom Ford number he’s had for ever, and I wondered when he’d taken it from the apartment.
‘Storm fetched the suit for me,’ he said, and I realized I must have been frowning noticeably at his lapels.
‘Th—thank you for coming,’ I managed, all semblance of togetherness leaving me at the sight of him. ‘And for everything you did for the family this past couple of weeks.’
He nodded. Rory was so tall and startlingly handsome, but he looked tired. He had bristly stubble on his chin, the kind I knew he hated. I wondered if it was a new addition to please his younger girlfriend. My heart ached then, because I longed to reach out and stroke it, but it was no longer my place.
‘Can we talk, do you think?’ Rory’s voice was gruff, but his eyes were soft. I was already exhausted from Alex’s revelation, but I heard Darius in my head saying I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. Our friend would also want to know about every word exchanged, so I hoped he was nearby somehow and had the ability to listen in from the great beyond.
