THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES(13)

“He’s a bloody dick,” Marlow said, leaning back in his chair. “Someone needs to knock some sense into him.”

“Are you offering?” Joel asked. “Because I’d seriously pay to see that.”

“I’m not denying the fact he’s a dick,” I said. “He is. I’m just cutting him some slack, that’s all. He’s had a rough few years.”

“He’s had a rough few years?” Vinnie huffed. “And, what, you’ve been skipping through daisies by comparison? You’re letting him treat you like you’ve done something wrong. You haven’t. He needs to get that through his thick head and back the f*ck off – that’s all I’m saying.”

For God’s sake. It was like talking to a revolving door. I took a gulp of beer.

“Did you ever stop to consider that by letting him get away with treating you like shit, you’re just playing right into his hands?” Vinnie was on a roll. “He thinks, because you’re letting him do this, you’ve got something to hide. This bullshit – this taking a pop at you every time he’s had a drink, or even a bad day – I mean, Jesus, are his ears painted on? How many times does he have to hear it?”

I shook my head, my patience with this subject wearing thin.

“Y’know, that’s not even what pisses me off the most anymore,” Vinnie said. “The issue for me is why you let him do this to you in the first place. You’ve got nothing to hide. When are you going to stand up for yourself?”

“Oh right,” I said, frustration and anger warring inside of me. Wasn’t my word good enough? “So I should just throw a few punches and that’ll sort it out? How do you think that’ll make Bridget and Henry feel? I’m trying to spare them some heartache.”

“Spare them some heartache? Don’t you think they’d rather see you happy than have this black cloud hanging over your head because that jumped-up little arse-wipe is making your life a living hell?” Vinnie said, indicating Alex with a nod of his head.

Did he really think that Alex was to blame for the hole in my heart, in my soul? “Do we have to keep doing this? ‘Cos I’m over it, to be honest. Can we change the subject please?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I picked up my beer and drained it. Let Alex blame me for what happened – he was entitled. I wish I could argue with that, but the cold hard truth was that deep down, sometimes I blamed myself, too. I could’ve done something, anything. I should’ve stopped her. I could’ve changed things. I should’ve known. She’d still be here if it wasn’t for me.

“Bridget’s taking in waifs and strays again,” I said, attempting a subject change. “She has a new kitchen-hand, at the café. I stopped in on my way to Henry’s this afternoon, and I met her. She seems nice.”

“Nice? Define nice,” Marlow said, immediately interested.

“I don’t know. She’s nice. She’s… actually, she looks a lot like Em. As in, when I saw her, I think I did the classic cartoon double-take. Which was really smooth.” I felt like an idiot all over again, just thinking about it.

“Really?” Vinnie said, leaning forward, Alex all but forgotten. “What’s her name?”

“Maia something – can’t remember a last name. But y’know how they say everyone’s got a doppelganger?” I said slowly, aware I might come off sounding like a total fruitcake.

“A what?” Marlow stared at me blankly.

“A doppelganger – a double. Someone else in the world that looks exactly like you.”

“Like me?”

“Jesus, Marlow, keep up. Her – Maia. She looks like Em – and not just a passing resemblance, either. Even Bridget commented on it. It’s kinda freaky, actually.”

“Shit, really? That is weird,” Vinnie said, taking a slow sip of his beer.

Joel cringed. “Poor Bridge. Last thing she needs – a reminder.”

“I would’ve thought so, too. But she hired her, I mean, on the spot. Said she thought it was a sign, or something. You know how she is about signs and shit.”

Everyone mumbled their agreement.

“What’s her name again?” Marlow asked.

“No, dude,” Vinnie said quickly. “Just… no. Hands off. Walk away. Find another victim. This is not the droid you’re looking for.”