Page 55 of Elijah
Amy
aged 28
There was a pain in my stomach that wouldn’t go away and every minute that I spent around Finlay, it was getting worse.
The morning after our night together, I’d hidden in my room for as long as possible, until finally he’d come knocking on my door, bringing with him a breakfast tray. He decided to sit with me while I ate, watching me carefully; my regret plainly obvious. After almost ten painful minutes of silence while I ate, he finally decided to leave.
“Don’t let whatever is holding you back spoil what we could have, Amy,” he said, as he pushed up from the end of my huge bed. “I think we could have a good time together.”
As I tried to swallow down a bite of toast, which suddenly felt like sand paper, Finlay left my room telling me not to rush as he’d spoken to the floor layers and got them started in the dining room.
The rest of the day had been filled with awkward silences or stilted conversations and I had never felt so grateful for dinner to be finished and to be able to scurry back to my room. Thankfully, Iain and Marcia didn’t appear to notice anything wrong – thank god, Finlay’s lost little boy look was enough guilt for one day.
I’d thought the days following would get easier seeing as Finlay knew I wasn’t interested in having a relationship with him, or repeating our night together, but it really wasn’t. Each day he tried a little harder than the one before to get me to change my mind. He wasn’t forceful or demanding, but charming and funny. His tactic was evidently to try and disarm me with jokes and smiles. Earlier, he’d even asked me out to dinner again ‘as friends’, but I’d said no, making an excuse about needing to sketch some ideas for my next job. Maybe, if I hadn’t been bloody obsessed with my ex-husband, I might have given Finlay a chance, but another time, another place.
With thoughts of Elijah, I picked my phone up from the bar, where I’d been sitting to work on some invoices. Knowing it was going to torture me, I flicked at the screen until the Facebook app was showing. With a deep breath, I pressed my thumb on it and before I could talk myself out of it, typed in Elijah’s name.
There were a few Elijah Coopers, but my Elijah was right there, his handsome face smiling out, third on the list. Taking care not to add him as a friend, I pressed on his name to load his page. As I thought, it wasn’t locked down, something I was always warning him about, and I was able to see everything on his page. I scrolled through his posts, smiling at some of the jokes and silly videos that he’d added and holding my breath whenever I came across a photograph. He looked handsome and perfect on every single one - his arms around Alex and Lucas standing on a beach, him and Sam with their mum and dad, him and Sam dressed as Shrek and Princess Fiona at a fancy dress party, him and-. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked down at a picture of him and his girlfriend. They were both smiling as he stood behind her, his arm across her chest and a bottle of beer in the other hand, while Mia held a glass of wine up to whoever was taking the photograph. The caption on it was ‘Sam’s 30th’. Acidic jealousy thrummed around my body, as I studied their faces. I should have been the one in that picture. I was the one who’d told Sam constantly that when he hit thirty he should have a party, for him to reply every time ‘It’s fucking years away, stop aging me before my time’. I should have been the one with Elijah’s arm around me – not her, but whose fault was that?
It had been posted just over two months ago, on the actual date of Sam’s birthday, a few days before we’d both started working on Tino and Sophie’s house and they looked…happy. I felt my throat prickle and coughed to push back the emotion. I couldn’t keep crying about something that was never going to change. Elijah was happy with Mia, and I’d already tried to show him how I felt at Ziggy’s, but he’d told me no – and I understood. I wasn’t sure whether I actually could if it came down to it, because would I ever trust him again?
I scrolled down through a few more photographs, finally stopping on one of Mia on her own, looking up at the Eiffel Tower. There was no caption, just a few likes, including one from Elijah even though it was posted on his page. I didn’t know whether he’d taken it, but I guessed he had because it was firmly focused on his girlfriend’s pretty face.
I’d been staring at it for several minutes, when Finlay appeared behind the bar, standing in front of me.
“Something interesting?” he asked, placing his palms on the newly varnished wood.
I looked up from my phone and shook my head. “No, just someone I used to know.”
“You’ve lost touch?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “A while ago.”
He nodded as his grey eyes studied me. “You could always friend request them.”
I looked down at the picture of Mia again before exiting out of Elijah’s page.
“No,” I finally said, laying my phone face down on the bar. “The past is the past and it should stay there.”
Sensing my sadness, Finlay smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder giving it a friendly squeeze. I hadn’t realised it was what I needed, but that along with his warm smile was welcomed, and eased the pain I was feeling.
He’d been right, I shouldn’t let Elijah hold me back. As much as it hurt, it really was time to move forward.
“I was thinking,” I said, exhaling to rid myself of all the unhappiness and grief. “Is that dinner invitation still open?”
