Page 73 of Just a Number

“I was seven or eight, I think.”

“And your father…”

“I think he stuck around for a while after I was born, but I don’t remember him. There’s no contact. And anytime I bought it up with Mum, she brushed it off. In the end, I stopped asking.”

He’s shuffling the deck and the rhythmic motion of his hands with the cards draws my attention. He’s so good with his hands—the cards, the pottery,my body. I shut that thought down immediately.

“And you never got on with your stepfather?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“No. He and Mum had this whirlwind romance. They were only together for a couple of months before he moved in and they got married. The more I think about it, the more I think he saw an opportunity to own half the house. I guess they were happy together to start with, but I never see my mum smile anymore.” He pauses to draw in a breath, his focus on the wall. “And whenever Laura and I try to do stuff with her like take her out for brunch on her birthday, he just ruins it. Gets all shitty that we don’t invite him and whines at Mum until she says he has to come too. Then he usually picks apart the place we choose and the food and expects us to pay for his meal as well as Mum’s.” Our eyes meet, the reflection of the candlelight flickering in his.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

“It’s easier now that I'm older. I tend to avoid him at all costs. I just wish I could spend time with Mum without him there, but I can’t see that happening anytime soon.” He shrugs. “I’m grateful for the place to stay, Mel. It’s refreshing being away from that toxic environment.”

I give him a sad smile. He’s such an amazing guy that I wish things could be different, but hearing more about his family life just confirms I’m doing the right thing in letting him go. He needs to experience all the joys of being in his twenties with no responsibilities.

“I just wish…” his voice is pitched low, his stare intense. “... I just wish things could have worked between us.” His throat bobs with a swallow.

What can I say?I don’t know how to explain why I think he needs to do his own thing. I don’t want to sound condescending. My teeth worry my bottom lip. “I think it will be good for you to be footloose and fancy-free without a care in the world. Take this independence and run with it, Alex, before you’re tied up in responsibility. You have so much talent. You shouldn’t let anything hold you back from exploring that and seeing where you end up.”

“I can do that whilst being in a relationship.” He frowns as he says it.

“You don’t want to be stuck with me. I’m fifteen years older than you.”

“You don’t think I can decide that for myself?” His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing, and tension fills the space between us. A moment ago, we’d been chatting. Now it’s as if we’re preparing for battle. I can’t have him hung up on me. I can see all the possibilities that lie before him and I refuse to get in the way.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can decide. But I’m removing myself from the equation. I think you should take this opportunity to go and sow your wild oats.” I smile, trying to lighten the situation, but a cold sense of dread trickles over me as he pulls in a deep breath.

“You really want rid of me?” The pain laced in his voice makes my chest tight.

“No, but I want you to go and be a twenty-five-year-old. Go and live your life. Don’t tie yourself to me.”

“How long?” The question comes out between his gritted teeth.

“What do you mean?”

“How long should I go for? What is a suitable length of time for finding myself and sowing my wild oats?”

“I don’t know.”

“A month?”

I sigh. “No, more like a few years.”

“A few years?” His eyes bug open. “Six months.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Alex. I don’t expect…” My voice trails off as the heaviness in my chest deepens.

“You don’t expect me to come back to you.” He tips up my chin with a solitary finger, his gaze boring into mine. “Do you?”

I shake my head, desperate to contain the emotion threatening to bubble up inside me.

“Humour me, Mel. Tell me how long I need to stay away for. I’ll move out, you won’t see me. I’ll go live my life, but if I’m still thinking of you when that deadline hits, I’m coming back to you.”

Tears well in my eyes. He looks so fucking earnest that hope flutters within me and I allow myself to think about the possibility of him coming back to me. But I know it won’t happen. He’ll get on with his life and forget all about me. “A year,” I whisper.

He nods. “Okay. But you should know, I’m coming back. Mark the date. I’ll see you in a year.” He moves to touch my cheek and leans over the coffee table, pressing a kiss against my lips to seal his promise. “I’m gonna go. I’ll stay out of your way. And I’ll move out as soon as I can find somewhere.” He stands, looking impossibly tall, while I still sit on the floor, my legs tucked underneath me. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks.

---