Page 95 of Falling for You
And then I start crying all over again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Nate
The thing is, I should know better. I know that life isn’t this bullshit you see in films. I mean, fuck. I’ve lived it for the past five years! From the moment Mom let the bath water run over the third Sunday in a row, the moment she burnt chicken to a charcoaled shell one too many times, the moment I caught her looking at me with genuine fear in her eyes. Like she doesn’t quite know who I am, or what’s going on. I know how cruel and fucking horrible life can be. And yet, I still let myself fall for the idea that maybe my life could be brilliant. And it was all because ofherand one weekend we had together.
I angrily fire off another email, my fingers fizzing. I’ve been in the office since eight this morning, glued to my laptop and avoiding conversation wherever I can.
I got out of the shower and she’d gone, completely disappeared. She’d gone from holding my hand, kissing me in the streets and laughing uncontrollably to just … vanishing. Without a trace. I was in the shower for less than five minutes for fuck’s sake, what the hell could have happened? All I got was this message:
We’re not right for each other.
It was like the final bit of light I had in my life had been snatched away from me. I tried to chase after her, but she was nowhere to be seen. I thought I might hear from her later on in the day, I even tried to call her myself, but all I got was the monotone drone of an unrecognised number. She’d blocked my number. I tried to find her on social media, but she’d blocked me there too. It was like she was a ghost. She’d stripped herself from my life completely; it’s like she was never there before.
Except, she was.
I turn my phone over as it starts vibrating and I see Dad’s name flash up. I pick it up and walk to the other side of the office, where the desks are empty.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I say. ‘How are you? How’s Mom?’
Since her terrifying message landed in my phone a week ago, Mom has behaved pretty much as normal. We’ve spoken almost every day, we’ve FaceTimed and she gushed over the photos of Annie’s house that I sent her and all the scenic pictures of the Cotswolds. It’s like nothing has ever happened. In her mind, anyway. For me, all it did was reawaken the hot fear that simmers under my skin like bubbling lava.
‘Oh, she’s fine. We’re all fine,’ Dad says, in the way he always does where I can’t quite work out whether he’s lying or not. Is she really fine? Or is she fine now, but earlier this morning poured boiling coffee over her hand because she hadn’t realised that she’d forgotten to put a mug there?
‘Good,’ I say, running my fingers through my hair. ‘Listen. I think I’m going to come home.’
‘Home?’ Dad repeats. ‘When?’
‘As soon as I can,’ I reply, turning back to face the rest of the office. Brian and Helen are milling around, holding their cups of tea and chatting to the rest of the team. They won’t miss me. They’ll barely notice I’ve gone.
‘Really?’ Dad says. ‘Are you sure, Nate? Is everything okay?’
I press my lips together. ‘Yup. Fine. I just want to come back home.’
‘Okay,’ Dad says after a pause. ‘So long as you’re all right.’
‘Yup,’ I say again. ‘I’m fine.’
Just like Dad, just like Mom, I’m fine. We’re all fine.
I’m going home. There is just one more thing I need to do first.
I rap on the ruby-red door then quickly stuff my frozen hand back into my pocket. I got on the first train to Epping as soon as I’d finished work. I didn’t bother calling Aunt Tell to tell her I was coming; she’d sent me her show schedule so I knew she’d be in, and I didn’t want to risk her putting on some form of show for me. I don’t have time for pleasantries any more. I just need answers.
‘Nathaniel!’ she gushes as she pulls open the door. ‘How are—’
‘Why won’t you come home and see Mom?’
I’d spent the entire journey thinking of different ways to say this, whether I should be polite or try and coax the answer out of her. But I don’t have the energy. I’m sick of people not telling me the truth. I just need answers.
She blinks at me, and I can see the different responses whizzing through her mind. She opens her mouth to speak, but I’ve got more to say.
‘We need you. Mom needs you. I messaged you for weeks, I called and emailed and you ignored me. Then I show up here and you act as if nothing has happened. Why won’t you see her? She’s your sister! She talks about you all the time and how much she loves you, and you barely even acknowledge her existence. You’re here in your big house and your fabulous life and it’s like we don’t exist. I’m not going to ask you to come see Mom any more, even though she’s sick and getting worse by the week, but I just need to know why.’
I break off, my heart racing. Aunt Tell just stares back at me, her eyes wide.
‘I see,’ she says, her voice hollow. ‘I think you’d better come in.’
