Page 42 of After Felix
First there was the red string bracelet he sent me with a cryptic message. It had arrived in the post a couple of days after that meeting along with a note that said in his appalling handwriting, “Come freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring.”Please accept this last thing from me, Felix. It’s a small token, but it’s supposed to keep the wearer safe, and I want that for you more than anything. Safety and sublime happiness.
Originally, I thought that the first bit was him making a crack about sex, but when I looked it up, I found it was a quote fromDracula,which left me more confused than ever. I don’t know why I still wear the bloody thing, but it seemed important to him, and I like the bracelet. It feels like it brings good luck.
Then there was the way he began to take up all of my boss’s time. Max started to drink heavily, and Zeb’s chief occupation for a while seemed to be picking him up from whatever hotel floor he’d ended up on, and getting rid of the ever-present bloke who Max had bedded that night. It would have been hypocritical of me to be angry at the endless procession of men as I’d moved on, but I can’t deny it hurt like a fucker.
And finally there was the annoying way Max began to make my friends like him. First it was through Zeb and his boyfriend Jesse, and then even my cousin Misha and his boyfriend Charlie fell for his charm. It even extended to my aunts who adored him and fluttered over him whenever they saw him as if he was Tom Jones coming to tea. And so I started to find him at everything that happened - weddings, engagements, even just down the pub.
At the start, everyone had asked me whether it was okay with me,and my pride had refused to allow me to say that I didn’t want to see him. Well, pride and a desperate urge toactuallysee him and still have him near. I would affect disinterest whenever we met which ably covered my hungry eyes that coveted him wherever he was standing.
And slowly over the years, his magic has worked on me again. I maintained the distance for a while, but then we seemed to sink almost naturally into a sort of caustic flirty banter. It’s a very faint shadow of the humour we used to share, but it’s still addictive to be sassy or sarcastic with him and see that smile on his face. It’s as it always was - proud and fascinated - and it still works like a drug on me.
And I know it’s not healthy. I know it’s not wise. But I’m equally buggered as how to stop it. So, I do the best I can. I minimise contact with him. When he talks to me, I move away. I make sharp remarks about the endless procession of men that appear to run through his bed, and cooing comments about my latest man. I’m cold and calm around him, and I know he thinks me disinterested. But I know the truth. Nobody has ever stimulated my brain and body like Max.
My phone rings, and I reach for it eagerly, needing the distraction. But I groan when I see the name on display. Carl. My ex. Obviously, the universe has decided that it’s my turn to travel down the memory lane called “Shitty” today.
“Hello,” I say over-brightly. “How are you?”
There’s a long pause. “I’m fine,” he says coolly. “Just ringing to see if you’ve changed your mind about coming to my work do?”
I wince. “Oh no,” I say stumbling over the words. “I told you I couldn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”
I really don’t want to go, as his best friend Lally will be there, and she’s passive-aggressive on the best day and reserves me for her extra-special victim. The thought of sitting with the two of them while they itemise my transgressions is extremely tiring.
“Hmm,” he says in that carefully critical voice he’s always used around me. “I suppose you’ll be down the pub with Tim as usual, getting pissed and making fools of yourselves.”
“God willing,” I say brightly, rolling my eyes. Carl was never as happy as when he could criticise. I suppose I was a blessing in thatrespect, as I was never well-behaved and the perfect subject for his reforming tendencies.
“I wish you’d find other friends.Betterfriends,” he emphasises. “Tim is such a bitch.”
He's got a point, but Tim hates him with a passion. Says he’s a sanctimonious wanker who wanted to change me into a secretary monk. Oddly enough, Tim always loved Max and was more devastated when we split than anyone. Apart from me.
Carl and I exchange a few more pleasantries before he rings off. I wince as I put the phone down. He was truly not my finest moment. We went out for a while, and he fell in love with me, but it was too soon for me after Max, and I couldn’t reciprocate.
Who am I kidding? I couldn’t have returned Carl’s love if it had been twenty years since saying goodbye to Max. My heart is obviously a duckling; it imprinted on Max a long while ago and won’t totally let go. Ironically, I leapt from the Max disaster to a relationship with Carl where I was the one playing the Max role.
It was horrible, but it gave me the clarity I needed to let a lot of my bitterness go. After all, Max had been in love with Ivo for years, and he tried to behave well towards me. Max and I had an agreement, and I was the one who broke it. It wasn’t his fault that I fell in love with him. After being in the same situation, I know how fucking difficult it is to be with someone when your heart is elsewhere.
Despite this, the thought of that time is still painful enough to know I’m making this meeting with Max as brief as possible. Because even though I let most of the bitterness go, there’s still a kernel lodged in my heart that rages against the fact that he didn’t love me back.
“That’s a grumpy face,” Zeb says, coming into my office with a bundle of papers. “Do you not want to do this? Jesse and I could always take a day and drive up there and do it ourselves.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, holding out my hand for the papers and putting them into a folder that I retrieve from my desk drawer. “You’re both busy, and it’s only a few miles away from where I’ll be. It won’t take long at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Course I am. Max means nothing to me. It’s fine.”
He nods, but his expression remains doubtful.
CHAPTER TEN
FELIX
I look over the breakfast table at my companion on this supposedly dirty getaway.
“How are you feeling?” I ask loudly.
“Ouch! For fuck’s sake, Felix,” he hisses. “Can’t you keep your voice down?”
