“Well, judging by his face, and his muscles, and the way he always looks at you like he’s about to jump at your throat, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s been acting like a bastard.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right, I don’t know. And you know why? Because you haven’t told me anything. And it’s not like you.”
“I don’t have to run everything I do past you.”
“No, you don’t – but you usually do. We’ve always had such a good bond, so open and trusting. I tell you everything about my life and you do the same. But this time it’s different.”
“Only because there’s nothing worth talking about.”
“I actually think that there’s a lot to talk about. But, for some strange reason, you don’t want to.”
“Your imagination’s getting a bit out of hand.”
“No, honey. I’m worried. You’ve been distant, you’ve shut yourself off. You’re down, and you never normally are.”
“It’s just one evening, okay? I’ll be fine again by tomorrow,” I say, getting up and pushing him towards the door. I just want to be by myself, to bury myself in blankets and wallow in my own regrets. “Go on, Evan’s waiting for you.”
I open the door and he steps outside. His gaze is suddenly kind, and he wraps his arms around me. I let Martin hold me once again, even though I know it isn’t healthy – not for him, or me, or Evan. But Martin is the only man that has stayed in my life – even though it isn’t in the way I’d hoped.
He slowly lets me go and strokes my cheek.
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“And I don’t like feeling like this, but I can’t do anything about it.”
“Will it go away?” he asks, smiling.
I nod.
“You know you can always call me, for anything. I’m here for you, you know that.”
He hugs me again, and this time I feel myself crumble a little in his arms. I almost want to ask him to stay, to hold me close through the night, to console me and tell me that I won’t be alone forever. That, sooner or later, there’ll be someone out there for me. But it would be wrong, and I really need to let him go – in every sense, once and for all. I need to think of my son, of my family, of the café. All the concrete things in my life, the real things that make up my day-to-day, that will always be there – unlike someone who takes your hand then lets it drop.
“Go,” I say, pulling away from Martin, “Or you’ll miss the booking.”
“I’ll bring you something back, okay?”
I smile gratefully as he lightly kisses me, walks away and slides into the car. He switches on the ignition and backs out of my driveway. I watch them leave and sigh, resigned to another lonely, empty evening listening to the silence in the walls, a song as depressing as my mood flowing in the background.
I go back inside and close the door, but something blocks it suddenly, swinging it back open in front of my eyes.
“So that’s what’s going on here?” he asks, his stare icy. “I turn my back for one second andheresurfaces?”
Ryan storms into my house, as I back away, terrified. He slams the door behind him, and in two strides has me pushed against the wall.
“What was he doing here?”
“Are you serious, Ryan?”
“No, I’m…I’m…Fuck!” He takes a step back, running his hand nervously through his hair. “I can’t stand the thought of him being here, hugging you. He kissed you, Christine!”
“You have no right to come here and spout all this bullshit, Ryan!”
“No?”
“No,” I say, determinedly.
