Page 34 of Taste

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think of anything to say. His nervousness was driving me crazy.

“I need to come clean with something, which will explain…well, I hope it will. I want you to understand how I came to be…so angry with you.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Okay…” I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to face whatever ugly truth he was going to throw in my face. We were both as bad as each other. We fucked our way through life leaving trails of destruction and splintered hearts behind. I knew he must have because I knew I had. Deep in my pathetic heart, I wasn’t a good person. I was everything that other people claimed I was behind my back. Self-obsessed, irresponsible, out of control and stupid. Always.

“Talk, Finley.”

My hands shook as I let my jacket drop to the floor, my body once again brewing with irrational fire. I toed my boots off, wincing in pain as my frozen toes landed on his sleek wooden floors.

“Can I sit?” I asked quietly, wondering how on earth we would make this right. How to melt this frosty wall between us, because we kept going from one extreme to the other. We’d had full-on intercourse less than an hour ago, and now here I was, terrified he would think he could touch me. I wasn’t sure I could handle him any closer than this right now, but my body was failing me. My legs buckled. Without waiting for his answer, I fell onto his sofa, then sat there, all stiff and awkward.

He moved painfully slowly, not daring to make any sudden moves as he next to me, leaving an acceptable space between us. Taking a deep sigh, he wrung his hands on his lap.

“Do you remember the first time you met Mabel?” he asked. I could hear in his voice the effort it took to sound composed.

“Night out in some dodgy drag bar in Soho. They worked the door. I was drunk.” I shuffled back and tucked my feet under me for warmth. I still couldn’t feel my toes, and I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Did you fuck them?”

“God, no. Mabel has never been… No. Not my type. Not interested. We’ve always been something else. They’re an amazing human being, and I adore the shit out of them, but no. We’ve never been intimate…more than…you know. What we are.”

“Co-dependent,” he said. “That’s the word they always say. But when you met, where did they live?”

“I don’t know!” I snapped, confused by this weird-ass conversation. “Flat somewhere south of the river? Why?”

“Who did Mabel live with?”

“Some egocentric violent bastard?” Here we were, both of us losing the tiny shred of control we had left.

“You fucking well know,” he growled, then his face fell into his hands, and his whole body shook.

“With their controlling dick of a husband who beat them up and threw them out? It was so long ago, how am I supposed to remember? There was a divorce? It was…God knows. Fifteen years ago or so?”

“You’re their best friend and you fucking don’t remember?”

“I don’t!” I was getting more and more annoyed with his irrational behaviour.

“They lived with me,” he said into his hands, which he couldn’t seem to keep still, and he was breathing heavily, leaning forward on his knees. “We’d been living together for two years. They were married to me, Mark. Then you walked in and put some insane ideas into their head, and they left me. They left me because of you. Because you convinced them I wasn’t good enough for them, that I was holding them back and that you were the answer to all their troubles and could magically make them happy. You supported their every whim and they adored you. They still do. They are so in love with you they can’t see what’s right in front of them.”

“I only knew what Mabel told me,” I said, not knowing how to process any of what he’d said. “I never met their husband.”

“And all these years later, the two of you waltz into my place of work, with all that shitty song and dance and expect me to just sit there and fucking take it? I loved him, Mark.”

“They,” I corrected. “Their pronouns arethey.”

“They were Matty back then. My Matty, and he fucking left me. For you. Have you any idea what that does to a person?”

He was shouting now, and he was frightening me. Not only did he have a temper on him, but somehow he had once again swung from love to hate. And I didn’t blame him, not one bit.

“I know Mabel is in love with me,” I said. “I’m not bloody blind. I’ve spent the last God knows how many years pushing them onto other people. I’ve told them, I know I’m not perfect, but I haven’t led them on. I haven’t made promises or…fuck. I don’t know. Have I?”

He was still breathing too fast, clutching at his hair, his shoulders hunched over. I wanted to reach out and stroke his back. I wanted to apologise for the monumental hurt I never realised I’d contributed to. Lies again. I knew. I didn’t remember all the details, but I knew I’d pushed because that kid I’d met all those years ago had been such a brilliant human being, and they’d been unhappy and confused and bloody terrified of their own shadow. I’d always seen Mabel as my greatest achievement, the one person to whom I could say I’d been a good friend, a decent human being. Now I wasn’t sure of anything at all.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me before now, Finn? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You should ask your best friend that. It wasn’t my story to tell. Not my place. They should’ve told you, and I have no fucking clue why they didn’t.”

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