Page 47 of Close to You
There’s a crack from somewhere off towards the bushes and we both turn at the same time. There are no lights around the edge of the car park and the slick mud of the autumn months has turned into a thick, solid blend of muck and ice.
I continue staring, remembering the flash from the bushes I saw years before, though there’s nothing there.
‘Are you OK?’ Andy asks – and it’s only when I turn to him that I realise this is the second time he’s asked. It’s as if I blanked out for a moment.
‘Yes…’
He goes to take my hand, but it doesn’t feel as if there’s enough strength in my fingers.
‘I know that look,’ Andy says.
I’m still watching the bushes, although I’m not sure whether anything has moved since we heard the crack.
‘What look?’ I ask.
‘You’re thinking of him…’ Andy tails off but the twinge in his voice is hard to ignore.
‘Who?’ I reply, although of course I know.
‘David.’
I bite my tongue to stop my first reply from emerging. It’s always hard to hear Andy say David’s name; as if he’s too pure for it. Like a toddler using the F-word.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘I don’t mind.’ Andy takes a breath and then grips my hand.
‘Can I stay at yours?’ I ask.
‘Of course.’
He pulls me gently away from the bushes and then puts both arms around me, pulling me into him. I press into his shoulder, wishing he wasn’t so damned understanding all the time.
Twenty-Two
THE WHY
Three years, one month ago
David’s alarm goes off at half-past-five. There’s little more annoying than a morning person – and David does his best to prove that as he springs out of the bed as if he’s on a trampoline. It’s an ungodly hour, but he turns on the bedroom lights, leaving me hiding under my pillow.
‘Best time of the day!’ he says.
‘Will you turn the light off?’
‘I’m finding the right outfit.’
‘You could’ve done that last night.’
‘Bit late now.’
David bangs around the bedroom like a cow on a stairwell and, by the time he’s dressed, I’m wide awake, too. I sit up in the bed, squinting vampirically into the light. I’m not entirely sure how we got to this point. Perhaps I valued my own space more than I thought? The longer we’ve been together, the less we seem to have in common.
‘Big day,’ David says, giddy like a kid on Christmas morning.
‘So you said.’
‘I’ll see you later.’
