I Owe You One(105)

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I say.

“No. Frankly, I don’t.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not as strong as you thought,” I snap miserably. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize.” His eyes are so hard and unforgiving, I wince. “Your life. Do what you want.”

Do what I want? How can he be like this?

“Seb …” I stare at him, tears hot behind my eyes. “Look. I know you’re angry. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But let me tell you why I’m here.”

“Really?” he shoots back, so viciously that I inhale in shock. “I have a better idea, Fixie. Let’s not talk about it. What do you want? Money?”

I stare at him, stung. Money? And I’m about to retort, “Don’t be silly, all I want is a bit of advice for Jake or maybe a contact, or even just a hug would do.…” when something in me snaps. If we don’t love each other, then why am I even hesitating?

“Well, you do owe me,” I retort, slapping the words down between us. And instantly Seb’s face goes blank and kind of scary-looking.

For a few moments neither of us speaks. The air feels hazy with tension. I feel like I’m in a bad dream and I need to wake up. I need to start again. Say different things. Make things go another way.

But I can’t. This is life.

“Yes. I owe you,” Seb says at last, his voice sounding like it belongs to someone else. “How much? Wait, I’ll find a checkbook.”

He gets up without looking at me, heads to a filing cabinet, and roots round in a low drawer. I watch him, motionless, faint with misery. I’ve achieved what I came here to do. So why do I feel so hollow?

Why am I here, anyway? What am I doing?

Trying to keep a grip on things, I remind myself of the facts. Jake. Debt. Family.

Except, sitting here, the facts seem to be taking a different path in my head. I’m thinking this all through in a way I haven’t before. Suppose Seb gives Jake a lump of cash. What then? What have I achieved? He’ll only spend it on a load of expensive lunches and tell us lots of bullshit about “deals” and we’ll be back to square one.

As Seb opens and shuts drawers, I’m light-headed with confusion. I feel like everything is out of my grasp. I can’t remember why I thought it was a good idea to come here. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have anything. Except the knowledge that I’ve destroyed any hopes of being with Seb.

I feel a dart of anguish, so painful that I drop my head into my hands. Random thoughts are running through my head, in such a bewildering stream that I can’t keep track. Family first. Tough love. Block them out. That’s what Seb said: Block them out. But how can I block out Jake? He said he’d break up the family. He looked like he meant it. And I love my family, I love them, despite everything.…

And then it comes to me in a kind of flash.

Love. It’s all about love.

Love isn’t blocking people out; it’s the opposite. If you love someone, you engage with them. You don’t block them out; you talk to them.

When did I last properly talk to Jake? When did Mum? He doesn’t let us in. He bats us away with his smart cars and drawling accent, with his lies and threats. But who is he underneath?

My head feels like it’s exploding. Everything is becoming clear. I don’t need to love Jake less; I need to love him more. We all do. Me. Mum. Leila. He needs the kind of tough, unconditional love that means we actually, properly, help him sort himself out.

Tough love. The toughest love. The lovingest love there is.

“OK.” I hear Seb’s voice and I lift my head to see him sitting back at his desk. “What do I owe you?”

A shaft of light from the window is catching his eyes, turning them a shiny green-brown again. I look at his face and find myself thinking, I love you. But what good is that now?

“Nothing.” I gather up my bag. “Actually, I don’t need any money, after all. Or any help. Thank you. Sorry to bother you.”

“That’s quite the volte-face,” says Seb expressionlessly.

“Yes, well. I’ve realized something. And, actually, it was you who helped me realize it.” My voice wavers slightly, and I clear my throat. “So … thanks.”

“Oh yes?” says Seb with stony indifference.

“Yes. You did.” His expression could not be less encouraging, but I force myself to press on. “When you talked about tough love. You helped me realize that if you really love someone, you don’t just shove cash at them. You help them become the person they’re meant to be. And that’s what unconditional love is.”

I gaze at him, desperate for some reaction, some warmth, something …

“Unconditional love,” Seb echoes at last, in an odd voice. His eyes look kind of scorched, as though I’ve dealt him some blow. “Well, I’m glad if you’ve worked that all out for yourself. But I have a busy day. So.” He pushes his chair back, as though to wrap up things.

I stare at him, feeling winded. That’s it? That’s his reaction?

“Why aren’t you more pleased?” My words tumble out before I can stop them, and to my horror, two tears spill over onto my cheeks. “I listened to you! I took your advice!”

“I am pleased,” he says. “I’m super-pleased. Good luck with your project. Goodbye,” he adds, standing up, and with trembling legs I rise too.