Page 50 of Elijah
Elijah
aged 28
Working at Tino’s for the last week without Amy, and Claudia for that matter, had become boring. Over their last week or so, I’d become used to spending time chatting with them over a coffee. I’d become used to seeing my ex-wife tottering around the house on her bloody high heels and I’d become used to watching her and wishing for things that I didn’t have a right to wish for.
Things with Mia and I had become a little strained in the last week. I couldn’t get it out of my head what I’d been about to do at Ziggy’s before I spotted her walking in. It made me feel like shit that I’d almost done something that I’d never done before – not unless you counted me kissing Sadie Pardew when I was supposed to be Poppy James’ boyfriend. We were only seven, but my ‘cheating’ had still made Poppy cry.
That night with Amy though, I couldn’t stop myself, because call me stupid, I felt as though she and I were joined and I was unable to pull away from her. What was that thing we were taught at school; The Common Law of Attraction, which states, we magnetically attract circumstances, events, and people that are in harmony with our dominant thoughts, emotions, and patterns of self-talk. Well, Amy was most definitely one of my most dominant thoughts. She was the one who, for over ten years, had evoked most of my emotions, be they deliriously happy or fucking heart-broken, it was always her, so it was no wonder my feet followed her without thought.
I had wanted to kiss her so badly, I could practically taste her lips on mine, feel her tongue against mine. I was a thirsty man and at that moment I could only imagine Amy quenching that thirst. I almost did it too, and then I saw Mia coming into the club and it shocked me back to reality. I couldn’t do that to her – I loved her, maybe I did love Amy too, probably more than I did Mia, I’d loved her first and that wasn’t something that was easily erased from your heart. The point was, I was with Mia, not Amy.
The fact that I didn’t do anything didn’t stop the guilt I was feeling and Mia wasn’t stupid, she knew that something was wrong, but had no idea what. For some reason I hadn’t told her that Amy and I were both working for Tino. Another reason why I felt like I couldn’t look her in the eye. Sam had told me that withholding such information should tell me something about mine and Mia’s relationship. I told him to fuck off and look at his own love life. Needless to say, I was currently on top of my big brother’s shit list.
All the guilt and regret swilling around my body was the reason that I’d told Mia we should go away for the weekend, seeing as I had a free one coming up. I thought it might be a good way for me to reconnect with her, and for me to push aside all the thoughts and feelings I’d been having. Mia was excited about the idea which was why we were looking at places that had last minute vacancies. It hadn’t escaped my notice that my first instinct had been to type Scotland into the search engine, which was ridiculous because I had no idea whereabouts in Scotland, Amy was.
“What about this?” Mia asked, turning her laptop towards me. “It’s an apartment overlooking the river.”
As she scrolled through the photographs, I murmured my agreement that it looked good, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm there. Mia sensed it because she grinned at me and started to type into the search field.
“I know, what about York. It’s supposed to be a great night out. I went with the school years ago, and it was lovely if I remember rightly.”
As Mia scanned the results, I pinched the bridge of my nose, not sure whether anything she showed me excited me, but knowing I needed to try for her sake. Endeavouring to look interested with the hotels she suggested, I almost sighed with relief when my mobile rang. It was an unknown number, but I didn’t care, answering it gave me the excuse I needed.
“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic smile. “It might be work.”
“Okay, babe,” she answered, with her usual brightness.
Pushing up from the sofa, I gave Mia one last regretful look as I left the room, answering the call as I did.
“Elijah Cooper,” I said, walking into the kitchen and closing the door.
“Oh hey, Mr Cooper, my name’s Johnny Kavanagh and I was given your number by Tino Grimaldi. He said you’re doing some landscaping for him.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I replied, trying to place the name that rang a bell. “I’ve almost finished there actually.”
“Yeah, he said. I met him at an event this weekend and he also said what a great job you were doing.”
My eyes widened as it suddenly hit me. Tino was at a sporting dinner at the weekend and he’d told me all about talking to ‘the big man with funny shape balls’. That, with the accent, made realisation hit. This was fucking Johnny Kavanagh, Ireland Rugby’s former star Centre, winner of numerous trophies and one-time Young Sports Personality of the Year.
“Well, that’s good to know.” I quickly grabbed my diary and a pen, excitement making my heart thud. Two star sportsmen would be fucking amazing references to have. “So, how can I help you?”
“The thing is, Mr Cooper-.”
“Please call me Elijah,” I interjected.
“Sure, and please call me Johnny. I can’t say I like being called fucking Mr Kavanagh, it makes me feel as old as my da, and he’s a good looking fella alright, but he’s old. Although I’m sure my ma would disagree.”
We both laughed and continued to talk for another twenty minutes about the reason for Johnny’s call. It seemed that having retired from competitive rugby, he was taking up a role as a rugby pundit for the BBC. That meant spending a great deal of his time in London, so he and his wife, Shannon, were moving there for a time. Apparently, the gardens of the house they’d bought weren’t ideal for their two rugby mad boys, Rory and Connor.
“So, you’re happy to come over and see it?” Johnny asked.
“Yeah sure.” I flicked through my diary. “How does this weekend sound?”
In the depths of my mind, I knew I was letting Mia down over our weekend away, but surely she’d understand – it was work.
“Perfect. Shannon and I will be over for the last time before she can’t fly any more. We’re having a little girl in four weeks,” he added, with a huge amount of pride in his voice. “Caoimhe. Shannon insists she’s born in Ireland, like our boys.”
“Well congratulations.”
My mind wandered, then Johnny telling me that he’d be travelling back and forth until the house and garden were sorted, broke my thoughts.
We made our final arrangements for me to visit them and ended the call. As I closed my diary and pocketed my phone, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of relief that the search for last minute weekend breaks would have to be curtailed.
