Page 90 of Still Me
Sam put his mug down. He dragged his hand over his face and looked off to the side. “I don’t love her, Lou.”
“I don’t really care what you feel about her.”
“Well, I want you to know. Yes, you were right about Katie. I may have misread the signals. She does like me.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “And you like her.”
“I don’t know what I think about her. You’re the person who’s in my head. You’re the person I wake up thinking about. But the thing is, you’re—”
“Not here. Don’t you blame this on me. Don’t youdareblame this on me. You told me to go.You told me to go.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. I found myself staring at his hands—the strong, battered knuckles, the way they looked so hard, so powerful, but were capable of such tenderness. I stared determinedly at the mark on the cloth.
“You know, Lou, I thought I’d be fine by myself. I’ve been on my own a long time, after all. But you cracked something open in me.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault.”
“I’m not saying that!” he burst out. “I’m trying to explain. I’m saying—I’m saying I’m no longer as good at being on my own as I thought I was. After my sister died I didn’t want to feel anything foranyone again, okay? I had room to care for Jake, but nobody else. I had my job and my half-built house, and my chickens, and that was fine. I was just... getting on with it all. And then you came along and fell off that bloody building, and literally the first time you held on to my hand I felt something give in me. And suddenly I had someone I looked forward to talking to. Someone who understood how I felt. Really, really understood. I could drive past your flat and know that at the end of a crap day I was going to be able to call up to you or pop in later and feel better. And, yes I know we had some issues, but it just felt—deep down—like there was somethingrightin there, you know?”
His head was bowed over his tea, his jaw clenched.
“And then just as we were close—closer than I’ve ever felt to another living soul—you were... you were justgone. And I felt like—like someone had given me this gift, this key to everything, with one hand, then snatched it away with the other.”
“Then why did you let me go?”
His voice exploded into the room. “Because—because I’m not that man, Lou! I’m not the man who’s going to insist that you stay. I’m not the man who’s going to stop you having the adventures and growing and doing all the stuff that you’re doing out there. I’m not that guy!”
“No—you’re the guy who hooks up with someone else as soon as I’ve gone! Someone in the same zip code!”
“It’s apost-code! You’re in England, for Christ’s sake!”
“Yup, and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t.”
Sam turned away from me, clearly struggling to contain himself. Beyond the kitchen doors, although the television was still on, I was dimly aware of silence in the front room.
After a few minutes I said quietly. “I can’t do this, Sam.”
“You can’t do what?”
“I can’t be worrying about Katie Ingram and her attempts to seduce you—because whatever happened that night I could see whatshewanted, even if I don’t know what you wanted. It’s making me crazy and it’s making me sad, and worse”—I swallowed hard—“it’s making me hate you. And I can’t imagine how in three short months I’ve got to that point.”
“Louisa—”
There was a discreet knock at the door. My mother’s face appeared. “I’m sorry to disturb you both but would you mind very much if I quickly made some tea? Granddad’s gasping.”
“Sure.” I kept my face turned away.
She bustled in and filled the kettle, her back to us. “They’re watching some film about aliens. Not very Christmassy. I remember when Christmas Day was allWizard of OzorThe Sound of Musicor something that everyone could watch together. Now they’re watching all this whiz-bam-shooting nonsense and Granddad and I can’t understand a word anyone’s saying.”
My mother rattled on, plainly mortified at having to be there, tapping the work surface with her fingers as she waited for the kettle to boil. “You know we haven’t even watched the Queen’s Speech? Daddy put it on the old recording box thing. But it’s not the same if you watch it afterward, is it? I like to watch it when everyone else is watching it. The poor old woman, wedged in all those video boxes until everyone’s finished the aliens and the cartoons. You’d think after sixty-odd years of service—how long has she been on that throne?—the least we could do is watch her do her thing when she does it. Mind you, Daddy tells me I’m being ridiculous as she probably recorded it weeks ago. Sam, will you have some cake?”
“Not for me, thanks, Josie.”
“Lou?”
“No. Thanks, Mum.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled awkwardly, loaded a fruitcake the size of a tractor wheel onto the tray, and hurried out. Sam got up and closed the door behind her.
