Page 81 of The Best Book Boyfriend
When we pull off the dual carriageway and start on the single lane roads, he speaks again. “Do you think being with Adam held you back? In your life, I mean.”
“Wow, what a question,” I glance across at him and he’s studying my face. “You moonlight as a therapist?”
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
“It’s hard to think about. I suppose I thought that I was happy at the time, doing everything we’d planned to do. I love my house and it led to my business, so I don’t regret it, but I do sometimes wonder if I missed out on a chunk of my twenties.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were joined at the hip, so it was only when he left I realised I didn’t really have many friends or hobbies that were just mine. Everyone was out having fun and making memories and we were just at home watching TV or doing DIY. Hattie and Megan did loads of stuff together that I never went to. Weekends away, festivals, even just nights out, but I turned them all down to save money or because I wanted to be a good girlfriend. Looking back, I knew he wouldn’t approve of me doing things without him, so it was always an immediate no from me. I never questioned it.”
He’s quiet, giving me the space to process these things I haven’t really thought about before.
“I was a real mess, having to learn how to be by myself. I couldn’t sleep with the lights off. The girls stayed with me for ages. Then I read a book about a woman healing from a controlling relationship, and while it wasn’t quite as bad as that, there were some things that resonated.”
“Like what?”
“I guess I found it quite upsetting to realise how much of my personality was actually just copying him. I think when you’ve been with someone for so long, you get really used to doing things their way. We went where he wanted to go, we ate what he liked to eat. You find out that things that meant the world to you didn’t carry the same weight for the other person. I didn’t know my own mind for a while, it was as though part of me died.” I don’t catch myself in time, and I wince. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”
“It’s OK, I know what you mean. Heather died, but the man who was her husband went with her. You’re not grieving because he’s died, but your life with him was gone and that’s a loss too.”
“Yeah,” I nod and blink back the tears threatening to fall. “This is cheery.”
“This is everything, Kara. Thank you for sharing with me and letting me talk.”
It’s surprisingly easy to talk about this stuff while I’m focused on driving. There’s space for it to come out unfiltered, and it feels good to talk about it to someone who isn’t immediately jumping to slagging Adam off the way the girls do. Though there are plenty of scoffs and signs to tell me he’s not best pleased either.
“What we had together wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel broken to me. I was shocked. It really hurts that he didn’t respect me enough to do anything to make things better.”
“Maybe he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He left you.” I still don’t follow. “Do you ever think your life is better without him?”
The thought of it knocks the breath out of me. “Jesus Luke, you’re really getting into the raw stuff today, aren’t you?”
“Sorry. I’m in a contemplative mood.”
“I’ll need to think about it more. How is it for you? You were with Heather for a long time.”
“I guess I only look back on the happy stuff. I try not to think about how awful things were at times, but then those times were because she was sick, not because our relationship was bad. It’s not the same as your situation, if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“I know what you mean about feeling your identity is so wrapped up in another person. We were such a team, always together, it’s like a piece of me is missing. There’s only half of me left. Who would want half of me?”
“Even half of you is amazing, Luke,” I say without thinking. “I wish I’d been able to meet her.” Then he goes quiet, and I think that’s probably enough deep chat for a while.
Our destination is a small seaside town, and I find a quiet car park near the beachfront. While I pay for parking, Luke gathers our things and one of my furniture blankets from the back.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, passing a fish and chip shop on the boardwalk. He nods, so I order for us both and I read the adverts on the notice board while we wait for our fish to fry. A lost dog, a found set of keys, Irene’s ironing service. I say yes to salt and vinegar and we head off again, the wrapped parcels warm in my arms. We walk a little further away from the entrance to the beach, though it’s quiet enough that we’re not surrounded by people. Luke spreads a blanket out and we sit and eat. The sea breeze blows my hair into my face so I tie it back, though thankfully it’s not strong enough to whip the sand along with it.
I love fish and chips by the sea, though I cannot for the life of me remember when I last did this. When I was little, we had a few holidays further up the coast. Adam and I had the odd day trip in warmer weather when the beaches were packed. I’d always come home sticky, scratchy, and sunburned. It’s somehow nicer on a cool day like today.
Waves break on the shoreline and I zone out, senses taken over by the hypnotic crash and roll. I’ve never quite settled on whether I find the sea scary or comforting, constant yet unpredictable. I suppose powerful things are bound to be both. The ocean, brains, feelings. I’m drawn to it despite the fear.
After my food, I slip out of my shoes and push to my feet. “Paddle?” I reach out my hand to help Luke up, but he shakes his head. Pottering down to the water’s edge, I try to stay light-footed in the spiky shingle. It’s freezing, of course. I’m not bold enough to be a wild swimmer, but I let the water lap at my toes and bend to wash the grease from my hands.
