The Lie(12)

Still, I found it flattering that she wanted to emulate me, and she ended up being a true friend through thick and thin. She hadn’t really approved of what I was doing with Brigs, even though she met Brigs only once, but she was by my side after the incident and during my breakdown. When I moved to France to be with my father to get my head on straight and piece my heart back together, we’d lost touch, but as soon as I found my strength to step back into London in May, we reconnected. And when her last roommate moved out, I moved in.

Melissa eyes me like she can hear my thoughts. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going. Besides, I haven’t seen what guys are in my classes yet. Maybe I’ll luck out and get someone with a hot arse.”

“Maybe your teacher has a hot arse,” I tell her, grabbing my bag from the back of a chair. “Text me when you’re done with your mystery class and I’ll meet you.”

She waves goodbye and I run out of the building. The rain has let up for a moment, but it doesn’t matter much since my hair is still wet from the shower. Ever since I died it honey blonde, I swear it’s gotten thicker somehow.

As I hurry to the tube station at Wembley (we have a view of Wembley stadium from our balcony, which is great for reminding you about all the concerts you can’t afford to go to), my mind flits back to something it shouldn’t.

Him.

Brigs.

All because I said her teacher might have a hot arse.

Because, f*ck, did Brigs ever have a hot arse. It’s like he was born to do lunges.

“Stop thinking about him,” I tell myself. Out loud. Because I’m crazy like that. Luckily there’s no one around to hear me, and honestly that would be the least of my problems if my train of thought continues. Brigs is a trigger. He was once the man I loved more than anything in the world. But he was also the man who would never be mine. There was that beautiful, brief period where I thought we had a chance. We were so close to being together, to putting an end to the guilt. Then it all fell apart.

And by falling apart, I mean his life imploded and I was sucked into the blast.

It was my fault.

It was our fault.

And I’ll never stop blaming myself for what happened. For what happened to them, and what I did to him.

If I didn’t exist, if I had never met Brigs and fallen for him the same way he fell for me, his wife and child would still be alive.

My love killed.

My love ruined that man’s life.

I’m shocked to find a tear rolling down my cheek. I wish I could blame it on the rain like the song says, but I can’t. I haven’t cried over Brigs, over the incident, in months. It’s what my old doctor would have called progress. And this tear is what my father would have called “humanity.”

“Embrace your humanity, Tasha,” he would say to me. “For if you didn’t cry, your soul would never heal.”

It hasn’t healed, and I don’t think it ever will. But I don’t think crying has anything to do with it. It’s just that there are some things in life that you can’t walk away from.

But I’m trying. I’m trying.

One foot in front of the other.

Starting over.

As long as I keep focused on the future and not the past, maybe, maybe I can come out of it. This is a new life, a better life. I’m even going to a better school now: Kings College. If I can just keep moving forward, maybe then my soul will have a chance.

I get on the train and head to school.

***

Well that was a fun class, said no one ever, I think to myself, getting out of my seat. The lecture hall is absolutely crammed with students leaving, and I have a feeling that myself and the other two TAs, Devon and Tabitha, will be expected to stay behind and talk to Professor Irving.

The man is such a chauvinistic piece of shit. With his balding head covered in liver spots and the permanent scowl etched upon his wrinkled face, he’s the kind of teacher that obviously just crawled out of the stone age. Even though all we had to do during this lecture is listen to him and watch the film along with all the undergrads, the sexist remarks he made to me and Tabitha at the start of the hour were uncalled for. He told me if I want the students to respect me, I shouldn’t come to class like a slob. He said the same thing to Tabitha too, even though the woman is wearing a damn pantsuit. I think he said it because Tabitha is borderline obese, and he knows he’d get into some major shit if he commented on that.

Meanwhile, Devon with his penis and his nonexistent chin gets all the praise and glory, just for knowing a few answers.

“What are you still doing here?” Professor Irving says as he spots us standing around. He waves his hands at us. “Go on with your day. I’ll email you about the tutorials later.”

I turn around, happy to get the f*ck out of there, when he says, “Wait, you. The girl who had a break.”

I stop and take a deep breath. How did he know about that?

Tabitha shoots me a sympathetic glance, while No Chin Devon looks a bit butthurt that he didn’t get called on.

I slowly turn around and give Professor Irving a big smile. “Yes, sir?”

He narrows his eyes at me, raising his chin in appraisal. It’s not a good appraisal. “You did take a break, did you not?”

I nod, rubbing my lips together. “I did. Four years.”

“And why was that?”