Page 35 of Taste

“They always say I’m their fairy godmother, that I’ve magically opened doors for them and given them this brilliant career. Mabel will have their own restaurant one day, and they will be bloody fantastic at it.”

“They had a degree in engineering underway and were completing a management apprenticeship on the side. They had a future, one that you ripped away from them so they could swan around in your flipping restaurant and feed your ego.”

“They were miserable, Finley. Fucking miserable. You’d already broken up, how many goddamn times?”

The memories were there, oh yes, they were. The more he prodded, the more I remembered. Then it came to me in a flurry that almost knocked me flat. “You hit them! You fucking beat them up!”

“Yeah, I did.” His voice was suddenly laced with pain. “It was one time only, one bloody night. They were throwing a tantrum, and I was already wound up so tightly that when they said it… My temper got the better of me. They said I was a pathetic control freak and a worthless piece of shit, then admitted to having slept with someone else, and that it wasn’t the first time. They threw all my shortcomings in my face and topped it with wanting a divorce. I took a couple of inexcusable swings at them in return, and they left. Then they came back. Then they left again.”

“You were in the wrong.”

“I was, and there’s not one day that passes that I don’t regret that evening. Every fucking miserable second of it.”

“They didn’t leave because of me,” I said. “They left because there was nothing left of what the two of you had. They said their husband didn’t fight the divorce, and they moved out while he was at work. Well, that was you, then. I remember holding their hand when they signed those papers.”

“I cried for a week after I put my name on those.” He was calm again now, thank God. “And I’ve spent a long time trying to blame you for everything that went wrong back then. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

The confession was unexpected. But then I suddenly realized that Finn Christensen had probably never been someone to play by the rules either. He just bent them and broke them, and somehow got away with it.

“I needed a fall guy,” he said. “And you were the easy target—easier than admitting I’d fucked up our marriage. I treated them like a child, held them back from exploring what they wanted, because I wanted them to complete their degree and become something big. I wanted them to be just like me, and that wasn’t what they were about. They resented me, more and more. We argued all the time. And yes, I was violent that one time. I have no excuse, and I admit that. It was inexcusable abhorrent behaviour.”

“But I didn’t take them from you, Finley. I was just a convenient lifeline, something to hold on to at the time. I’ve talked this through with Mabel, over and over again. They know. I know. You need to know that too. I never meant to hurt you. Fuck, I didn’t even know you. Actually…” Now I remembered why I hadn’t connected Finn and Mabel. “It was a different name on those divorce papers.”

“Yeah, I changed it years ago. I wanted to be a different person too.”

“Like Matty became Mabel?”

“Nah. I was always Finn. Finny. I liked the sound of Christensen, though. It was some actor I saw in a film. Sounded cool and kind of different, you know?”

“I’m not going to ask what your name was before. I might ask Mabel. Or is that a deadname too? Something we don’t speak of?” I couldn’t quite believe we were having this conversation. Delving deep and sorting things out.

He looked exhausted, his blonde hair falling over his face as he sat back and slouched against the sofa.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “Fintan Thomas Hornchurch. Fucking pompous name.”

“Your name’s not even Finley?” I sighed. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“I’ve been Finley for years. Fintan was a scared kid who didn’t have a clue how to be a partner, let alone a husband.

“Mr Hornchurch… Sounds like something out of a Jane Austen production.”

“You read Jane Austen?” He smiled. Almost.

“I watch TV. Don’t change the subject.”

He shuffled closer and cautiously leaned his head on my shoulder, then in a sudden burst of what must have been bravery, tucked his face into my neck, wiping the remains of snot and tears all over my shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have told you, way back when you came for your interview. I should have laid the cards on the table, because I knew who you were.”

I pushed him away and pulled my shirt over my head, bunched it in my hand and gripped his chin so I could wipe away his tears with the soft white cotton.

“I’m so tired,” he said in a voice that was just that. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of all the anger and lies and then this strange attraction that is all messed up in my head and all this getting frustrated around you. You once told me that you loved me.” There was no shrug of his shoulders as I looked up in shock, trying to follow his muddled cascade of words.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” he continued. “Thinking I was in the right and following my principles and being just stupid and overbearing. My life should have been great, and instead I screwed up everything, one little bit at a time. I need to fix that. I need to learn to…I don’t know. Some days, I just want to chuck it all in because I can’t see a way forward. My career has ground to a halt. My love life is non-existent, apart from when I get to spend time with you. I used to dread randomly running into you somewhere, and now I live for those moments. Every little second I get with you is maddening, because it reminds me of how much I’ve lost, and what I can never have. I need to change that. I need to fix everything.”

He was quiet for a while. Sat there with his hands on his lap and his head awkwardly leaning against my chest. But he was talking, and his words just kept coming. Truths and confessions and all those things that he must have had buried so deep in his chest. “All those years ago, I hated that Mabel was so obsessed with you. I see it now, I understand it. Because you are everything they said you were. You’re enchanting and free-spirited and funny and different. You’re everything I am not, and I love that. I go to work, and all I do is look for you because if you’re there, my life is worth living. That’s how I feel. About you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I said and immediately regretted it. I’d seen that look on him before. He was totally distraught.

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