One Day in December(57)

Luke’s a fucking hyena, I want to say, waiting to pick over the bones of our relationship.

‘I notice you.’ I’m suddenly breathless, because one careless comment from a stranger at a party has turned out to be the lit flame to the last thread tethering us together. Slow, threatening slicks of realization that this is it slide through the soles of my boots, up my legs, into my body, freezing me to the spot when I know I should reach out and hold her. This has been coming for a long time, hovering on the seat beside us when we watch a movie, at an empty chair at the next table when we go out for dinner, standing in the corner of the bedroom as we sleep.

‘You need to actually be there, to listen,’ she says. ‘You haven’t been there for a long time, Jack. Not before the accident, and certainly not after.’

We stare at each other across Oscar’s fancy kitchen, afraid of what happens next, and then Oscar’s brother rolls in waving his empty punch cup in Sarah’s direction.

Ever the trained professional, she switches her smile on and says something chirpy to him as she reaches for the ladle. I press pause, watch her in action, and then let myself out into the garden for some air.

‘You shouldn’t be out here without a coat.’

Sarah sits down beside me on the garden bench ten minutes later and hands me a beer. She’s right. It’s bitter tonight and I’ll know about it in my shoulder tomorrow, but right now it’s preferable to the heat and forced bonhomie inside the flat.

‘We could just forget all about our conversation back there,’ she says, her knee touching mine on the bench as she sips her red wine. That’s my girl. She might be plying everyone else with punch, but she’s sticking to the good stuff. She’s one of the most stylish women I’ve ever known, and one of the very, very best.

‘But do you want to, Sar?’ I ask her. Something in me can’t help it. I don’t want to ask her – and yet I have to. ‘Do you want to pretend?’

She stays silent for a while, looking into her wine glass. Then she closes her eyes and I study her profile; so dear to me, so familiar. Tears glitter on her lashes.

‘Sarah, it’s okay to say it,’ I say, gentle now because this is going to hurt us both. You don’t throw yourself over a cliff and walk away uninjured.

‘How will it ever be okay?’ she says. She sounds about twelve years old. I put my beer down on the floor and turn to face her.

‘Because you’re you.’ Her hair falls over her face and I smooth it back behind her ear. ‘You’re marvellous, beautiful you.’

Tears run down her face. ‘And you’re you. Stubborn, gorgeous you.’

For a long time now I haven’t felt like a good man; this might be the most decent thing I’ve done for Sarah in months. I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much.

‘We were good though, weren’t we?’ She reaches out for my hand, her cold fingers wrapped round mine.

I can see her now, leaning on that stop button in the lift until I’d agreed to ask her out to lunch.

‘Really good, Sar. Close to perfect, for a while.’

‘Close is enough for some people,’ she says, ‘for a lot of people. The world is full of close-to-perfect couples.’ She’s wavering, searching my face. I get that. I’m wavering too. I can’t imagine what my life will be like without her in it. Who I will be.

‘Is it enough for you?’ I ask, and I swear if she says yes then I’m going to take her home, take her to bed and let it be enough for me too.

She can’t answer me. Not because she doesn’t know what to say, but because she knows that once the words are out there they can’t be unsaid.

She leans against me and rests her head on my shoulder. ‘I always thought we’d love each other for ever, Jack.’

‘We will,’ I tell her, and I feel her nod.

‘I don’t want to say goodbye,’ she whispers.

‘Let’s not do it yet,’ I say. ‘Just sit here with me for a bit longer.’ I hold her for the last time. ‘I’ll always be proud of you, Sar. I’ll see you on the news, and I’ll think there she is, that dazzling girl who changed my life.’ I’m not too proud to say I’m crying too.

‘And I’ll hear you talking on the radio, and I’ll think there he is again, that brilliant man who changed my life,’ she says.

‘See?’ I wipe her eyes with my thumb. ‘We can’t leave each other, not even if we try. I’ll always be in the background of your life, and you’ll always be in mine. We’ve been friends for too long to stop now.’

We sit there for a while longer, huddled together, watching as the first flakes of snow drift down from the midnight sky. There are no rings to give back, no possessions to tussle over, no kids to hand over in blustery car parks. Just two people, about to part ways.

One of us has to be the one to do it – be the one who gets up and leaves – and I know it needs to be me. She’s been the strong one for too long; I have to leave her here under Laurie’s protection. For a second I hug her to me, feeling the absolute impossibility of it. Every part of my body wants to stay here. Then I kiss her hair, and I get up and walk away.





16 February


Laurie


‘I made us some sandwiches.’