Page 105 of We All Live Here
Francesca lies inthe hotel bed in the gray morning light and gazes at Gene’s broad back, noting the slight sag in his skin, the gray coming through the dye in his hair, hearing his intermittent snores, and realizes, with the sickest of feelings, that she has made a colossal, colossal mistake. She could recall her reasoning:If I was to have an adventure, who would be the best possible person to do that with?Gene had been the obvious answer: who else did she know who was likely to offer her a night or two of fun and romance and walk away afterward without a backward glance? Gene had seemed like the safest possible option, the man-child of her twenties, the guy who was going to make her feel glorious and young again, then bounce happily onward from situation to situation for the rest of his life. And that was exactly how it had worked. The sex had been wonderful—he always was the most joyous and easiest of lovers—and she could remember the moment when she had felt she had occupied every inch of herself again, as if she had been restored to the person she once was.I’m here, she had wanted to shout, with surprise.I’m still in here.
And then Gene had ruined it.
She had climbed blearily out of bed and padded to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and already planning her escape. She would shower, hoping he would not be woken by the noise, leave him a note, and go out for breakfast, trusting he would be gone when she returned. And whenshe emerged, instead of being fast asleep as she had expected (he was always the type to drop off immediately after sex, and would stay soundly asleep until mid-morning), she had opened the bathroom door to find him sitting up and gazing directly at her. “I always wondered,” he said, “and now I know.”
He had this big, goofy grin on his face, and his expression was tender.
“Wondered what?” She had felt herself tense slightly. Some part of her already wanted to ask him to leave, but it seemed rude after what had happened.
“Whether we would find our way back to each other.” He pulled back the covers, waiting for her to get in beside him. “I never dared hope after what I did. But when you texted me, it was like this little light came on—like a lighthouse in an ocean—and I felt likeOh. Here it is. It’s all going to be okay.”
She climbed in, a little awkwardly. When she sat back against the headboard, she made sure her body was not touching his. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“Us. The old team. Back together.” His eyes had grown soft, and he had taken her hand in his two enormous paws, and kissed it. “I was an idiot, Francie. I was young and impulsive and I think the reason I never managed to settle with anyone was because I was always still in love with you. I spent years thinking about it, how I had thrown away the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she had said, laughing, and pushing his hands away. “You’re a free spirit. You always told me that.”
“No. No. I know you think I’m an idiot who doesn’t take anything seriously, but I never stopped loving you. When you got together with—with that guy, it killed me. I actually went a little nuts for a while. I knew that you and I were meant to be together. I never called you because I was trying to respect your decision. I knew how much I had hurt you,and I knew I didn’t deserve another turn around the block. But when you said you were coming out here, it was like something in me that had died suddenly sprang to life again. I’m just…I’m just so happy you gave me—gave us—another chance.”
Francesca started to feel a rising panic. “Gene, it’s not like that.”
“What do you mean, kiddo?”
“I—I’m still with Bill.”
He paused to take this in. “You’re still with Bill?”
“I came out here because—I don’t know. I was stuck. I just—I wanted to feel something again. And it’s been lovely. But…this is it. This stops here.”
He had looked so shocked and hurt that something in her had keeled over.
“You—you…This didn’t mean anything?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t think for a minute you’d have real feelings for me.”
There had been a long silence, his eyes never leaving her face, as if he was searching for evidence that what she had just said was wrong, that she was still joking.
“But—but what just happened with us. We’re good together, Francie. It’s our time.”
“No, no, it’s not.”
She had looked at the slow dawning on his face and wanted to die. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I made—I made a thoughtless mistake.”
He had looked so uncomprehending. “I’m a…mistake?”
He had left not long after that. The worst part of it had been how gentlemanly he had been. He hadn’t thrown a strop, or shouted at her, or accused her of misleading him. He had seemed so diminished, as if she had just sucked all the life out of him. She had watched him stumbling around the hotel bedroom picking up his things and climbing intothem and half of her had wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry she was, but the other half just wanted him to go, as quickly as he could, so that she could begin the awful business of pretending this had never happened. She had thought he might try to hug her before he left, but instead he had just stood awkwardly at the door and reached out a hand, touching her lightly on the arm.
“It was lovely to see you, Francie,” he had said, trying to raise a smile. “Be happy.”
And then, as she watched him walk down the hotel corridor he had turned, and she thought she had never seen him look so raw, so vulnerable.
“You know,” he said, “if you ever change your mind…”
She could have given him that. She could have just said, “I know.” It would have meant nothing, after all. But she had moved her head slowly from left to right and said quietly and firmly, “I won’t.”
•••
She had neverspoken to Gene again. She deleted his number from her phone, and spent the next day shopping almost manically, in an effort to persuade herself that she was the person she had been two days previously. She spent Gene’s money—two jumpers for Bill, cashmere round-necks she could barely afford, and a dress for Lila’s baby. She removed the bags and the price tags, so that nobody would guess they had come from Ireland, and the effort involved in this duplicity made her feel even worse. She ate alone downstairs in the hotel restaurant and watched television for the rest of the evening. By the time she flew home she had almost convinced herself she had been alone the whole time, that she had merely changed her planned location. And who could blame her for that?
