‘Hey.’ Even his voice is different.
‘Hello.’ I swallow. Some of my righteous anger has gone. Who is this man?
He sits slowly, like he’s had flu, and we regard each other for a moment. I take a deep breath. Even if he’s been ill, I still get to say the speech. He still did all the bad.
We sit in silence for a moment. I have lost my words. How was I going to start?
I clear my throat, trying to find a way to begin. It’s then he leans forward. ‘Er, um, before you say anything, Esther,’ he stutters in a very un-Rich-like tone, ‘I want to say thankyou for messaging me. There’s so much I’ve needed to say to you. It’s weighed on me so heavily since we broke up.’
It’s weighed onhim?
He takes another ragged breath. ‘I owe you an apology.’ He leans in, looking haunted. ‘A huge apology. I am so ashamed of the way I treated you.’
I feel my mouth open and close. Wait, what?
‘I have felt so terrible about everything that happened and how I treated you. I was incredibly unfair and horrible to you.’
‘Um.’ I had been ready for these words, but from my mouth, not his. ‘Yeah… you were.’
‘It wasn’t about you.’ He rocks a little and I note the dark circles. ‘It really wasn’t. I was… going through some things.’ He leans back away, distancing himself from the words. ‘I’ve suffered for a long time with my mental health and the time we were together was one of my worst periods. I could keep it together for the odd evening, when I was seeing you, but mostly I was a mess. And I couldn’t bring myself to open up or tell you.’
I wasn’t expecting this at all. I had no inkling of anything like it during our year together. I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent. But the sincerity in his words is crystal clear.
‘I tried to reach out a few times, y’know after we’d split up, to say sorry and explain but—’
‘I’d blocked you,’ I confirm simply.
‘Quite right,’ he nods and falls silent.
‘I’m sorry, I had no idea,’ I say at last and he shakes his head fiercely.
‘No, please don’t say sorry.’ He reaches across the table but doesn’t quite take my hand. ‘You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I know that if I’d actually talked to you – instead of punishing and torturing you – you would’ve been kind. You would’ve tried to help me. But I didn’t want help at that point.’ He shakes his head, remembering. ‘But after you’d gone, I did reach a very bad place and it forced me to confront some things.’
I wanted him to confront things. But pettier things about being nicer to women and not ignoring WhatsApp messages, not this. I wouldn’t have wished this on him.
He coughs weakly. ‘I’ve been in therapy for a few months now, and I’m starting to get there with a couple of big things.’ He looks away, scanning the pub. ‘I’m speaking to someone brilliant – a psychotherapist – and I know she’ll help me. I’m also working with my doctor to find medication that works best for me. It’s going to be a long process but I’m ready to do the work.’
I nod, taking it in. I thought his behaviour back then was about me, but it was about him. Some of it becomes clearer; his regular disappearing act, where he’d go cold and silent for days or weeks, then come back all sweetness and apologies. His refusal to let me in properly or introduce me to his life. It makes some sense at last. I understand – as much as it’s possible for me to.
‘I’m just so sorry that you got caught up in my awful mental health crossfire.’ He looks down at his hands. ‘Depression is not an easy thing to admit to having, especially as a man.None of my friends ever talked about anything like this. I felt like a freak.’ He pauses. ‘The stupid thing is, when I did finally speak to them about it, a few others were suffering with similar issues. We’d all kept it bottled up.’
‘I wish you could’ve told me,’ I murmur, knowing it’s unhelpful.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, eyes searching mine. ‘I’m so glad you were finally willing to speak to me so I could explain. I know you didn’t think you meant anything to me, but you did and I really needed you to know that. All those nights…’
‘You mean when I thought you were off with other women? When you turned off your phone and wouldn’t answer…’ There’s still a hint of accusation in my voice.
‘I can tell you now, I was actually in a very dark, black hole in my own room at home.’ He stops, watching my face a little anxiously. ‘I don’t know if that helps or makes it worse. But I am truly sorry.’
‘Stop it.’ I shake my head. ‘Don’t say sorry anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t know.’
‘Well, if I’m not saying sorry anymore, you shouldn’t either.’ We exchange small, wary smiles, acknowledging a strange sort of truce between us.
My stomach pools with so many strange emotions. My heart aches for this man I never really knew anything about. I loved him, but I only knew the superficial layer Rich let me see. He didn’t trust me with the rest of it and that hurts, but I also understand. It’s scary – much scarier than love – to let people see all the broken bits of who you are.
He sits up a little straighter, like he’s let go of something heavy. ‘It’s so good to see you, really, Esther.’
‘Same,’ I smile, taking in the new Rich. The Rich who has been brave enough to get help. The Rich who has started to take himself apart to make himself better.
