Page 71 of Into the Dark
Cursing silently, I turn around to face her dad, immediately feeling two feet tall.
My father is the best man I know.
The best man she knows is tall, tanned, gray-haired, and has a kind look about him. Alex slides off the stool to go to him, and I watch as he pulls her into a tight hug before they both turn to face me.
In my head I say the same words over and over again.
Don’t fucking hate me.
Please don’t fucking hate me.
This man is everything to her. He doesn’t need to like me. But at the very least, he needs to not think I’m the scum of the fucking earth.
Yeah, good luck with that, you piece of shit. Tell him what you were up to last night, why don’t you?
“Dad, this is Jake,” Alex says, pulling him toward me, her tone all pride and love. It gives me the strength I need.
“Jake.” He nods. “Hello there. Good to meet you, son.” He takes my hand and puts his other hand over it as he shakes it, firm.
Her dad has a slightly different accent to Alex and her mother—a touch northern, I think, but hidden under years of living in the south.
“Good to meet you, Dr. Marlowe,” I say. His grip is firm and his eyes are smart in almost exactly the same way Alex’s are. Like he’s trying to figure me out the way she does. There are bits of her in him—more than is in her mum, just like she said there would be. The height, the shape of the mouth, and the nose are all the same. Wonder if he plays piano as well.
“Oh, it’s just Tom these days, Jake. Alex is the only doctor in the family if anyone asks.” He laughs, releasing my hand. “By god, that beer looks like the best idea anyone’s had all day.” He heads toward the fridge.
Only when Alex, her dad, and I are sitting at the dinner table do I start to feel more relaxed. She takes my hand in hers and strokes my fingers slowly and constantly as I listen to her and her dad talk about her new job and the NHS and about how she still isn’t sure it’s what she wants to do with her life. I didn’t know this. That Alex doesn’t always enjoy being a doctor. That she finds it repetitive and boring sometimes. Why didn’t I know that? Then they move onto some political move against junior doctors by the government, which I know less than nothing about but which makes her and her dad raise their voices even though they seem to agree with each other about it.
After a while, she turns to me and apologizes, saying how boring it must be for me and that they need to change the subject anyway because it makes her too angry. I tell her she knows I don’t mind her angry, but she shakes her head, cheeks going slightly red.
When her mum sets a dish of roast lamb on the middle of the table the subject moves onto Robyn’s wedding. Alex’s piano piece is mentioned first before it turns to us “reuniting,” as her mum calls it. This just kinda makes me feel awkward and guilty, though, but then I think about her passing out and carrying her to bed. Her dad says he’s sorry he never got to meet me that night but he’s glad I got to see Alex play. He’s clearly proud of her and says so a few times.
“Me too. She was incredible,” I agree.
“Did you know she could do that?” he asks me, smiling. “She tends to keep it a secret from most people.”
“I did, but I found out by accident. I was staying at hers and woke up to this noise coming from upstairs. I thought I was dreaming,” I explain.
Alex’s cheeks go a little red, and I know it’s because she’s thinking about what happened after. I’m not though. I’m thinking about how she looked sitting there that night. Talented and perfect and mine. I’d never even seen a piano in real life until that moment, and there she was, sitting at it naked, long, dark hair draped down her back, making this fucking magical noise come out of it.
“Well, you gave Bach a run for his money that day, that’s for sure, sweetheart,” says her father proudly.
Alex shakes her head and breaks off a bit of bread to pop it in her mouth, a little uncomfortable with all the praise, I think. That’s when it hits me how surreal this is, me sitting around a dinner table in a mansion in Camberley talking about piano pieces. I think back to what I was doing last night, and I can’t imagine two worlds farther apart. I know two things for sure at this point.
One: I can’t exist in both for much longer.
Two: this is the one I want.
After I finish my plate her mother offers me some more roast lamb—which I accept because it’s honestly the best thing I’ve put in my mouth since Alex—before the conversation returns to the room upstairs, which her mother calls a craft room. Apparently, it’s a spare room she’s going to start flower arranging in, but because that might be a bit messy—she doesn’t know exactly—she adds that we can all definitely expect to receive handmade birthday and Christmas cards from now on. Caleb is the only person I get either birthday or Christmas cards from, and they’re always handmade, so it seems like a nice idea to me.
“So your father and I were thinking of going out to Tasha’s for Christmas,” her mum announces while we’re tucking into dessert. Dessert is a lemon cheesecake with a thick, sweet cream poured over it, served in fancy glass bowls. “I hate the flight, but I really want to see the Malibu house, and it would be so great to be there at Christmastime, don’t you think? We were thinking the nineteenth to the third or a couple of days either side. You should come, darling,” she says to Alex.
“I’m not sure…” Alex says, thinking out loud. “Work is always insane over winter, Mum—you know that.”
Her mum looks disappointed but leaves it at that. “Did you speak to Nicholas yesterday?” she asks.
Alex swallows her sip of water and nods. “Mmm, I texted him. He’s in Bristol for work this week. But I’ll speak to him this weekend when he’s back.”
Her mum nods, looking concerned.
