Page 47 of Still Falling for You

The waiter from earlier comes to take their orders, and when Jane orders herself a margarita, Alex goes for green tea. Silence settles over the table; it’s going to be a long evening.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Jane starts asking Lydia questions about her job. I end up tuning in and out of their conversation as they seem to entertain each other while I’m surreptitiously watching Alex, who radiates discomfort with the intensity of a subatomic particle. Where I join in a few times as they talk, Alex doesn’t speak at all.

‘I’ve heard about your trip to the farm.’ Jane tries to lightenup the atmosphere. I blink in horror.

I cannot stop myself from throwing daggers in Alex’s direction, and for a moment, there’s a fragment of amusement on his face, but it’s gone in a second.

‘Which part have you heard about?’

‘Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her about a pig licking your calf. I left that for the next inset day.’ He speaks for the first time. His tone is so deadpan I choke on my curry. Lydia openly cackles, delighted.

‘Have we all finished amusing ourselves with Holly’s animal-themed disasters?’ I ask, but I’m suppressing a laugh.

The conversation steers to neutral topics after that, and Alex even occasionally contributes. It’s marginally less awkward, but we reach a natural pause after Lydia and I have finished our dishes.

Jane excuses herself to visit the ladies, and Alex offers to order her another drink at the bar. It’s his move to avoid staying alone with us, and I can’t blame him.

When we’re alone at the table, I lean into Lydia. ‘Can we please go now?’

‘If that’s what you want.’ I nod.

I hesitate as I get to my feet. ‘Wait. I think I’ll go to the bar first and talk to Alex.’ I promised myself that I’d be brave from now on. I’m a big girl, and I can admit when I owe an apology to someone. Lydia nods in understanding.

But when I weave through the tables heading towards Alex, I hear two raised voices.

‘Why are you being like that?’ Jane asks sternly, her lips pursed in disagreement.

‘Like what?’ Alex grates and leans against the wooden counter, pretending to look relaxed, but his stiff back says otherwise.

‘Unreasonable. Talk to her. There’s clearly something going on between you. You can’t carry on pretending like youdon’t care.’ Jane’s tone turns insistent.

I shift nervously, torn between making myself known and waiting for what they’re going to say next. My curiosity wins, and I hide behind a potted palm.

‘There’s nothing to be said.’ Jane’s eyes turn sceptical, and she reaches for his hand. He shakes her off and pushes away from the bar. ‘I don’t care. She’s nothing to me and there’s nothing between us. I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She’s bad news. A walking disaster. Once she passes her ECT time, we don’t need to talk to each other ever again and good riddance to that.’

My breath snags in my lungs, and I must make a sound because they both spin on their heel. Alex’s cheeks drain of colour, and Jane’s mouth falls open.

I turn around and head woodenly towards Lydia who is chatting to a male couple she must know.

‘Hey, Lydia. I’m ready to go home. I don’t mind if you want to stay.’ I eye the two guys, and they both nod to me in hello. I return the gesture stiffly because inside I’m boiling, unsure how long I can keep pretending I’m calm.

‘You’re OK? I promised to share a taxi with you.’ Lydia sounds uncertain like she can readme.

‘That’s alright. I’ll take a bus; I’m just feeling really tired.’ I dismiss her worried look. ‘I’ll see you next week, OK?’ She nods, and after we embrace, I collect the rug and leave without a backwards glance.

I walk to the closest bus stop a street away from the restaurant. On my way, a few onlookers gawk at my load, but I scowl at them.

‘Why did you bring a rug with you?’ Alex asks from behind me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to compose myself without success. He’s got some nerve.

‘I didn’tbringa rug with me. I picked it up to take home,’ I say lamely.

He pauses next to me, but I still don’t look at him, scanning the road for the bus instead. ‘I’m sorry about what I said. I was harsh.’ He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

‘I guess I can’t stop you from speaking your mind,’ I say, teeth chattering in the cold. I detect an edge to my words that I don’t quite manage to tame.

‘I was cross with you, so I said some things I didn’t mean, but what I don’t understand is why you’re cross. You’re the one ignoring me five seconds after I had my hand under your skirt.’ His tone turns exasperated.

I turn around, and the rug slips in my hands, almost making me topple. I laugh humourlessly. ‘That’s why I went to the bar. To apologise – I overreacted.’ My knees feel weak under the weight of the rug and this conversation, and I don’t know how long I can carry on standing. ‘But I have to admit that I found it a little hard to digest your passing words after you, as you put it, had your hand under my skirt. One never knows how to react when someone says they want you to only get you out of their system like some tool to be used. That doesn’t exactly give one a post-orgasmic glow. But I understand now, we never promised each other anything and you don’t owe me anything. We are two consenting adults…’ He grimaces at my words.

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