Love Your Life(71)

“I never said I was vegetarian,” Matt interrupts.

“I’m not saying you did, but you could make an effort—”

“Why?” says Matt, and I nearly scream in frustration. How can he even ask that?

“Because you should! Because you said you would! Because the scientific evidence shows—”

“Ava, I’m telling you now,” says Matt flatly, “I will never be a vegetarian. Limit meat, yes, buy responsibly, yes, give up completely, never. Never,” he repeats, as I gasp. “I like meat.”

I feel as though he’s slapped me. For a few moments I can’t even draw breath.

“OK,” I say at last. “So…that’s it, is it?”

“I don’t know.” Matt’s face tautens. “Is it, Ava? Is that some sort of deal-breaker for you?”

“No!” I say, taken aback. “I don’t believe in deal-breakers.”

    “Because you could have let me know in Italy,” Matt continues relentlessly. “That’s all I’ll say. You could have let me know if being vegetarian was some kind of requirement.”

“Well, I could ask the same of you!” I retort. “Is my being vegetarian a deal-breaker for you? Because, equally, you could have let me know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Matt irritably. “You know it’s not.”

For a few minutes we’re both silent as rain starts to thunder down on the car roof. Hurt is crackling around the car like a lightning storm. I can’t bear it. How are we like this? Why are we like this?

We were so happy, standing on the Pugliese hillside. If I close my eyes I’m back there, under the olive trees, the garland round my head, suffused with love and optimism.

Then I open my eyes and I’m back here in the rain and misery.

“So, are you regretting what you said in Italy?” I say with an offhand shrug.

“What did I say in Italy?” Matt squints at an electronic sign about delays on the M4, and my face flames—because how can he not remember? Was it not important to him?

“Oh, sorry, you’ve forgotten.” My voice ripples with hurt sarcasm. “Obviously it wasn’t very important to you. I thought you said, ‘I love this woman for keeps,’ but maybe it was ‘Could you pass the olive oil.’?”

“Of course I’m not regretting that,” says Matt irately. “And of course it was important to me. I didn’t know what you were referring to. I said a lot of things in Italy. You always expect me to read your mind—”

    “I do not!”

There’s another silence, then Matt breathes out.

“Look, Ava, we need to talk. Properly. This is just…Shall we go for a drink or something?”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes with a new WhatsApp and automatically I check it, whereupon an incredulous, bitter smile grows on Matt’s face.

“There we go. Chat to your friends. Greater priorities. Don’t worry, Ava, I know my place.”

My face flushes again, because that was an instant reflex. And if I’d been thinking harder, I wouldn’t have opened it. But it’s on my screen now, and—

Oh God.

My heart falls to the floor as I take in Sarika’s words. For a moment I can’t react. But at last I raise my head and say, “I have to go to Nell’s. Could you take me there, please?”

“What?” Matt emits a disbelieving laugh. “That’s your answer? I ask you out for a drink, I’m trying to build bridges, I’m trying to do something about this…and you say you want to go to Nell’s? Ava, you accuse me of not caring, but…”

As he continues, I’m hardly listening to him. My mind is torn in two. I can’t tell him, I never tell people about Nell without her permission, but this is different, he should know, he has to know…

“Nell’s ill.” I cut him off, mid-stride.

“Ill?” His combative tone falls away and he shoots me an uncertain look. “What do you— Has something happened?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you till…I mean, she likes to tell people herself, but…Anyway.” I take a deep breath. “Nell has lupus. So. That’s…what this is. That’s why I need to go there.”

    “Lupus?” Matt turns his head briefly toward me and away again. “That’s…Shit. I had no idea. I mean, she doesn’t look…I would never have guessed.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so hard. It comes and goes. She was going through a really good patch, so…”

“Lupus.” Matt still sounds a bit shell-shocked. “I’ve never—I mean, isn’t that serious?”

“Yes. I mean, it can be. I mean, it depends.” I blow out in frustration.

I know I sound short. Angry, even. But I’m not angry with Matt, I’m angry with sodding lupus. With illness. With all the shit.

“OK,” says Matt after a long pause. “Got it.”

He reaches out and puts a hand on mine and squeezes hard. I squeeze back, harder than I meant to, and realize I don’t want to let go. So we stay like that, clinging tightly to each other’s hands, till he has to change gear and releases me.