Page 93 of After Felix
“I’m not dead. Works of art are meant to be appreciated.”
He smiles, and there’s an added warmth there for the sunshiny man who was his best friend for so long before they finally got together and earnt me a fortune on a bet I had with Zeb.
“So, what’s up?” he says, after he’s taken the first few mouthfuls of coffee in a reverent silence. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“That’s because Max kidnapped me, blackmailed me into being his assistant before taking me to Venice via the Orient Express, and then fucked me senseless. Then yesterday we met the man he thought he was in love with, and Max told me he was wrong and he’d been in love with me forever. Then he left me behind the Benson and Hedges kiosk at Heathrow Airport, demanding I meet him at sunrise on Vauxhall Bridge.”
He blinks. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me, then you really don’t have to. There’s no need to make up stories,” he sniffs.
I laugh and shake my head. “It’s all true.”
There’s a short silence as we watch a bird edging close to a lady eating a sandwich on a nearby bench. Finally, he stirs. “I suppose it’s good that you finally know that Max has been in love with you all along.”
I shake my head. “Why didn’t I know?”
“Because you didn’t want to.” He hesitates, and then as usual for Misha, he just goes for it. “I think if you’d admitted it to yourself, then you’d have had to give up that shitty banter the two of you used to indulge in. You’d have had to let real feelings in, and you weren’t prepared to do that.”
“Why?” I ask harshly.
He smiles and pats my arm. “Because your feelings for him made you vulnerable. And then he hurt you. You put on this air of not needing anyone and not having feelings. Then the one time you develop them, the bloke chucks them straight back in your face. And the first time that happens to you, it really fucking hurts. Although, if we’re being really brutally honest here?” He looks at me with a question in his eyes, and I nod. “It’s not the first time for you, because the people in your life never put you first and always chose someone else.” I flinch slightly, and he grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Your dad is a wanker and chose anyone else over you and your mum. And youwere second place with your mum because she never let go of your dad. She couldn’t see you for all her pain.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
“It’s not surprising you don’t want to let Max in again, because you don’t quite trust that he feels what he says he does.”
“That’s it,” I say. “How can I trust him again, Misha?”
He shrugs. “You can’t just decide to trust him, Felix.” He smiles gently. “That only comes with time. You let him in, and after a bit, your heart will decide it’s safe again, and you’ll fall all the way.” He drains his coffee. “Of course I think that’s already happened, but you’re such a stubborn little fucker that you don’t do anything easily.” His eyes become very serious. “Just be sure that it’s not your pride that decides what you’re going to do, because pride doesn’t keep you warm and put its feet on you at night.”
I shake my head and crumple up my cup. “I’m not sure I want pride putting its feet on me. I’m not a doormat or wherever this weird euphemism is going.”
“It’s love,” he says, and there’s a simple power to his voice. “It can hurt you and tear you to pieces, but at the same time, it can lift you and make you a better person.” He ruffles my hair. “Whatever you decide, I’ll always love you and be here for you.”
“I know,” I say softly and reach for my phone. I need to see Max. “Thank you, Misha.”
“No problem. Make sure to tell Charlie how good I am at advice. Maybe he’ll start listening to me.”
“Not if he doesn’t fancy utter disaster and maybe the coming of the apocalypse.”
The morning of my meeting with Max dawns cold and clear. I get off the bus and start to walk down the long length of the bridge, the sky a deep blue shot through with lemon and pale pink. At this time of the morning, there are hardly any people around, but give it an hour, and this place will be packed with commuters walking to work.
I walk, and then walk some more, the Thames stretching out coldlyon either side of me and lights twinkling in the nearby buildings. “When he made these grandiose arrangements you’d think he could have possibly told me which bit he was going to be on,” I mutter out loud, startling a man going past on a bike. “This bridge is fucking huge. Why couldn’t we just meet at Costa like normal people?”
Finally, I see him. He’s leaning against a balustrade looking out over the stretch of water. He’s dressed in old jeans and combat boots with a black jacket and a big scarf wrapped around his neck. The cast is off now. His cheekbones are red from the cold, and the wind blows his black hair about his face. My footsteps falter as I’m suddenly slammed with the most ginormous surge of feeling at seeing him again after the last empty few days. It makes my fingers tingle, and my heart beat faster, and suddenly I know.
Misha was right. I made my decision about Max ages ago. Maybe it was when he took me to my bookshop again, or when we lay together in a narrow bed on an expensive train and he told me secrets, or maybe it was when he listened to me and gave me my heart’s desire even though it was a tatty Christmas annual. I stop dead, and he looks up and sees me. A wave of emotion flows over his face, and as I begin walking towards him again I can see his eyes are burning with feeling.
“You came,” he says. He makes an abrupt move, as if he wants to drag me into his arms, but he stops himself, his hands curling into fists.
I’m suddenly nervous. “Well, I had to see St Paul’s.” He looks surprised, and I flood the air with more speech. “You can see it from here if you look under the bridge. There’s a full-scale replica of the cathedral on one of the buttresses. No one sees it now. I think—” My words abruptly run out.
“Really?” he says with that sudden enthusiasm he shows for so many things in life. “Let’s see.” He hoists himself over the balustrade and dangles.
“Oh, Max.Jesus, be careful,” I shout, darting to his side.
“I can see it,” he calls.
“That’s brilliant. Now try seeing it from a standing position. On the ground.” I tug his coat until he comes back down next to me. For a second, we stare at each other.
