Just Last Night(97)

Ed frowns.

“I thought we were deeply in love, in the same way,” I continue. “The grand delusion of it for all these years depended on me believing that. But you know why we definitely weren’t? I’ve figured it out. This has never given you any pain. From the letter going missing onward, what happened hurt so much, for me. But until now, until Hester lost her patience with this ménage à trois bullshit, it’s never damaged life for you at all. Quite the opposite, you liked it. The secret drama, the girl in your back pocket. The little romantic comedy playing out. Giving me the ‘c’mere you!’ consolation hug that lasted seconds too long. You loved the way I looked at you. You say you care about me, but you never cared what it did to me. You’re a sensitive, perceptive person. I don’t think you would’ve had no idea there were nights I went home and wept, not if you thought about it. But you were careful never to think about it.”

I have sweat on my top lip as I pause for breath, but I don’t regret a single thing I’ve said.

“OK, my God,” Ed says. “That’s quite the onslaught of things to think about. And I will think about it all, obviously.”

His Nicest Guy in the Room act—in the face of me naming what’s been happening, turning the lights on—is so inadequate. It’s a way of him not thinking about it, again.

“. . . I didn’t consider our friendship as keeping you hanging on, Eve.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s what allowed you to do it.”

“You’re making this sound like something I perpetrated. Neither of us spoke up. Neither of us said, what if we were together?”

“True, and I could have, but you were committed to Hester. I thought it was up to you to change your mind, because I was always available. Which is how it suited you, me tragically yearning. What did Hester call it? Perma-single. I don’t think it was a total coincidence you slept with Susie right after I met Mark.”

“Oh come on, why would it not be . . . ?”

“For some of the same reasons I tried to hook up with that barman the night you got engaged.”

“I was a coward when it came to you, Eve. That’s the truth.” Ed rubs his temples. “The letter going astray ruined everything between us, didn’t it?”

I shake my head.

“Hah, no, I used to think that. I was desperate to think that, it was the . . . what’s the film phrase? MacGuffin of our origins myth. We were each other’s soulmate, separated by circumstance. The truth is, you didn’t choose me. That’s it.” I shrug. “That’s the whole story of Ed Cooper and Evelyn Harris. You didn’t want me enough, when choosing me became harder. You didn’t even risk a phone call, or wait a term, to check why I didn’t write back. Do you know what? That’s fine. I understand, and we were kids. I own my part in victimizing myself over this, you can own yours. But let’s stop blaming bad luck or misunderstandings.”

“People aren’t always brave. They make mistakes. You’ve still been my best friend.”

“No, Susie was my best friend. We’re close friends, with this added manipulation. Friends with drawbacks. You pulled the ‘best’ thing out of the bag once I found out you’d slept with her, and I needed to be thrown fresh hope of my specialness. Because you knew that men who sleep with your best mate aren’t anyone’s romantic hero. And that’s what you wanted to be, whatever cost it had for me.”

Ed looks staggered. I’ve kept my temper, but I’m finding this far too powerfully cleansing to pull any punches.

“I’m blown away that you’d think I’d deliberately—”

“It’s not deliberate, in the sense you plot,” I interrupt. “It’s instinct. The trouble with your lies, Ed, is you tell them so fast and so easily, you don’t see yourself constructing them. You believe them yourself. Look at the way you altered the story of our fight to Hester just now, to gain an advantage from it.”

Ed doesn’t speak for a moment.

“You make me sound a proper monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re someone who naturally takes on responsibility, you’re always the responsible adult and the map reader, but won’t take responsibility for himself with women.”

“Today’s turning out to be a helluva day for self-discovery,” Ed says, after a short pause. “I’m sincerely sorry for having hurt you. I didn’t intend any of it.”

I never thought of the story between Ed and me being a circle. I thought it was open-ended, it would run forever. Yet here we are—him finally declaring himself again, and me closing it. I’m glad. My life’s been short of moments of closure.

“Apology accepted. I’m sure you can see why I think I’m worth more than someone who spent sixteen years making up his mind about whether I was worth the hassle.”

Ed looks fairly stunned and yet is without comeback.

A heavy silence ensues. The door handle cranks and Justin appears, rubbing his hands, Leonard skittering ahead of him.

“Apologies, on the one hand you two seem to be still full Jerry Springer. On the other, I have shotgunned half a bottle of champagne, my battery is on twelve percent, and my dick is an icicle.”

“It’s fine,” I say, looking at Ed. “We were finished.”