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Chapter 9

During the cab ride back to the hotel, I texted my friends. I’d already let them know in the afternoon that I wasn’t sure when I’d be free. Now I didn’t know if I was still up for meeting them. But they seemed enthusiastic, and at this point, I was overtired and wired, so sleep was out of the question. I was also feeling a bit depressed from the whole meeting with Poppy. Life was so strange, and it hurt; like the line from that David Bowie song, my stomach felt small. I closed my eyes, and just willed away the panic that was bubbling under the surface and threatening to ruin everything. If fear was the mind killer, I was centered in the sights.

We were due to meet up at a Greek place in Primrose Hill we all liked. Maybe some chilled Retsina and their conversation would at least put off the gloom, if not dispel it. The hotel seemed like a cavern, some open wound of loneliness that was looming ahead. I couldn’t figure out why I had such a bad feeling about the place. But it struck me that if I went back, I’d tuck my head under the covers and never look up again. After a minute of imagining that, it took about a second to make up my mind. I rapped on the glass, telling the cab driver to take me to the restaurant instead, gave him the address when he didn’t know it, and texted my friends to let them know I was on my way. Now. Perfect. They wouldn’t have to wait for me at the bar, while I got ready, and I wouldn’t have to face the emptiness of my hotel room. Anyway, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. I sprayed some perfume on, and checked my face quickly. A little bit of eye liner, applied carefully at the red lights, some lipstick. Nothing could be done about the huge circles under my eyes. I’d now been up for a long time. I couldn’t even get my head around how long. The morning with Tristan? It seemed like another lifetime.

When I got out, the restaurant was busy and festive; people waiting outside, groups laughing and talking. The pretty green and white flowered tiles that decorated the floor and walls provided a sunny counterpart to the polished red stained wood and made the place seem both cozy and openly welcoming. I wondered idly if Tristan liked Greek food, and where he was right now. I had checked my phone when I got out of the taxi. No texts. That was ok by me—I wasn’t ready to leave one for him yet either. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to say to him. All the questions I had were piling up like a car crash in my head—nasty, bloody, and possibly fatal. Us. Together. That’s what he had said. Maybe. A few questions could make neat work of that idea. I was still reeling from the interview, and the ride from the airport, and the jet lag, and I could not string my ideas together properly, no matter how I tried. So I couldn’t even text him. Not yet. I wanted to be in control of what came out, not my dangerous emotions.

I pushed through the people waiting, and I spotted my two friends, Nick and Sarah, sitting in a corner table by the window, on the other side of the bar. Perfect. A little quieter, so we could hear each other speak. We all hugged, and it felt good, really good, to see them again, easy after all the drama. We had talked every so often on the phone, but it was mostly emailing, only the occasional call. I hadn’t seen them close up in person for a couple of years. But they looked great, exactly the same. And there was the bottle of Retsina, chilling in the bucket and a bowl of olives. Some things never changed.

“Lily, you look fabulous!” Sarah said, kissing me on each cheek. “Exhausted, but fabulous.” Sarah was her usual quirky social self. But when I told her how great it was to see her, and gave her a hug, something seemed off. In her eyes? Her hands behind her back? I couldn’t make it out. Nick seemed ok. Still good looking and distantly cool in appearance, but easy to talk to once you broke through the surface. The two of them chattered to me, and I heard about half of what they said, trying to nod and smile at the right places. God, I was tired. But about halfway through my glass of cold resin flavored wine, I perked up a bit, and made an attempt to ask them some questions. This was in between the three of us reading the menu out loud, discussing the specials, and then, laughing, ordering what we always did.

“One day,” I giggled, finally starting to enjoy my state of complete mental disequilibrium, “we’ve really got to order something else.”

“You always say that. But you never do.” Nick laughed at me, but with a wink and a quick squeeze of my hand.

“So tell me about what’s been happening,” I said, pouring them out more wine, filling up my glass, and waving the empty bottle at the waiter to show him he needed to bring us another bottle. I suddenly felt very expansive. None of it mattered anyway. It was all going to end up painfully, we might as well enjoy it. Enjoy this. I loved this place, and I hadn’t been here for ages.

“No, we’ve got news for you!” Sarah said. Ah, now I’d see what was different. I knew it. I always could read people. It could be an annoying talent. Fuck it. More wine. The waiter came with the new bottle, and I drained my glass while I studied his hands quickly opening the bottle with an opener that he pulled out of his hip pocket. Nice hips. I shook my head, and put my glass down, watching his hands pour out more wine for all of us.

Once he left, I looked at Sarah. “Ok, spill. Make it quick. I want to know.”

She opened her mouth to reply, and got as far as “you’ll never guess what we…” when Nick suddenly interrupted her. He spoke more slowly, more deliberately than she did. He never just raced in, instead always weighing up the situation.

“Are you sure Lil? I promise you, you’re going to be surprised,” he said.

I looked up at him, exasperated. “Come on, just tell me. I’m a big girl.”

He shook his head, and shrugged, turning to Sarah. “Well, darling?”

She burst out with it, so loudly some of the other tables turned to look. “We’re engaged!” And then she did it, actually went ahead and thrust her hand out theatrically to show off the rock. Well, that explained the hands behind the back thing. Why did women always do that with the ring?

“Wow, that’s a stunner. Well done Nick.” I forced my smile to grow wider. A million uncharitable things to say flew through my mind. You broke it, you bought it, was the first that came to mind, and I swallowed it down before I said it out loud and acted like a total jealous bitch. “Sarah. Wow. Guys. Congratulations.” I wanted to sound happy for them, I really did. I wanted to really be happy for them. And he hadn’t knocked her up, she was drinking, I had checked, so this wasn’t a shotgun sort of thing. That was good. And Nick. He looked really settled and happy, with her hand on his shoulder, sitting up a bit straighter. All sorts of thoughts were flying through my mind. Why them? Why hadn’t he asked me, back in the day, although I thought I knew the answer to that already. What did I want? That was a bigger question. And I had no fucking idea on that one.

I asked more questions, heard about the wedding plans—an autumn wedding. They hated the idea of June weddings. That was something, anyway. And Sarah moaned happily about her in-laws to be, and the endless demands her own mother was putting on her, and their list at John Lewis. When I asked about children, they both giggled. It was kind of cute, even though in a really irritating sort of way.

“Soon,” Sarah said, gazing at Nick devotedly.

He smiled, and held her hand. “Once we are a little more settled.” I wasn’t sure if he was telling me, or reassuring her. And then he told me about the architecture project he was involved with, another one of the buildings cluttering up the landscape, but it was a big deal, and meant more money, and Sarah gazed at him proudly.

And I just looked at both of them, and wondered why. Listening to them bicker over china patterns and their honeymoon plans—scuba diving in Pattaya—was sweet. Reassuring. But weird. A million miles away from my day. And maybe that was a good thing.

Then they remembered about what I was doing there in the first place, and wanted to hear all about the interviewing. I made them laugh describing “tits from Oz.” I briefly mentioned Poppy. Tristan. The concert. They whooped when I said they would be on the guest list, and that we should meet up before the show.

“Damn,” Sarah said, “Tristan Hunter. He always was such a pretty thing. And talented.”

And Nick punched her arm. “Hey, it’s in the contract that came with the ring, you can’t say that anymore,” he said mournfully, trying to kiss her as she dodged him, smiling.

“Sure I can, darling, because you know I only have eyes for you. But he’s hot. Really hot. Like on fire. Don’t you think so, Lil? Back me up on this.” And Sarah looked over at me, and I could just feel the blush creeping up my neck. Damn tiredness. Damn wine. Did I just giggle? I met her eyes, and we both laughed out loud. “See Nick, look at her. She’s a quivering mess. Knickers in a twist.” He looked right at me, and I was embarrassed all of a sudden. If they only knew. And then just at that moment, in some kind of bizarre synchronicity, my phone started vibrating in my bag.

“Fuck,” I said. “I can never get my phone when I need it.” I tried to rummage through what suddenly seemed like an endless sea of papers and receipts to get to the phone before it shut off. Success. I pressed the button, trying to steady my voice and ignore the pointed stares Sarah and Nick were giving me. I knew who it was already though, thanks to Devised’s first single as the ringtone. How inappropriate I was. I thought I’d better try and sound professional though.

“Lily Taylor here. Hello?”

“Lily.” His warm voice melted through me, and suddenly, this morning swept over me in a rush and I was wet, wanting his arms around me, hiding the worst of the world.

“Hey there,” I said, and I knew my voice had changed by Nick’s open mouthed stare. “Hold on a sec, I’m just at dinner with my friends here, let me take this outside.” And I nodded to them, and headed for the door. The fresh air, fresh as it could be here, felt good. “Hi.” I suddenly felt really drunk, standing up, and I leaned against the building. “Wow.”

“Hey doll, are you alright?” His buttery voice sounded calm and soothing, and I just wanted to be next to him, and have him make it all ok.

“Yeah, it’s just been a really long and weird day.” How much detail? Did he know where I’d been? He was a friend now. Right? Not just a lover. I didn’t have to pretend I was endlessly perfect anymore. Right? Or not? Second guessing. God. Play it safe. “I’m sorry, don’t mean to whine.”

“No, darling. It’s alright. I told you to call...,” he hesitated. “I knew you’d been hurt by something when you didn’t. You were bound to hear things you didn’t like.” His voice changed, grew harder. “Of course that was the idea. And now—you will judge me as well.” He was silent for a moment. “You know, when I asked you to call, I meant it.” The last line sounded distant, sad.

“Oh, Tristan, it’s not like that.” I sighed. “I didn’t know what to say. What to tell you. What to ask.” I stopped for a minute. The world was spinning again. “I needed to process it all.”

He breathed. “So you’re not leaving? Did she show you the pictures? She’s a broken person, Lily. She was then too.”

He knew already. Everything. “So it’s not just because of you.” Shit. That came out without thinking.

“I didn’t help, no, I won’t lie to you. But I couldn’t stay with her, and she knew that.” I heard him breathe in, and I could almost imagine him looking down at his hand, thinking. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had anyone want you and you couldn’t give them what they wanted.”

I nodded in the dark. I knew what he was saying. It was true. But still. “It scared me. I don’t know what the truth is yet. I don’t know what I want. And I’m not even supposed to tell you what I want. You’ll run, right? That’s what we learn, right from the first primary school dance.” I felt like crying all of sudden. A big gulp of air stuck in my throat, out of nowhere, and I swallowed, loudly, trying to get rid of it.

“Darling. Sweet Lily. No. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be. Let me look after you.” His voice was soft, coaxing.

The tears started again. “I’m so tired, baby, so tired.” I sniffled. “I can do this, but oh man, I’m so tired.” I wiped my eyes. “My friends…” I broke off. I didn’t even know what I was saying.

“I want to see you. No, rephrase that—I am going to see you.” He was silent for a minute. “The hotel is crawling with photogs. I guess our little entrance this am wasn’t as stealthy as it could have been.” He laughed, and my heart lifted a little.

“No, guess not. I had the impression they were quizzing me at the front desk.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I think someone,” he emphasized the one, ironically, “might have tipped off the press.” He muttered something to himself that sounded like “and I know who.”

“It’s kind of depressing there anyway. Pink. Little baskets.” I said it perfectly seriously, but he started laughing.

“Lily, you are divine. But listen. This is the question. Do you trust your friends? Are they the people you’re bringing? I’m assuming they are coming to the show,” he said, as though he were putting pieces together.

“Yeah, they’re cool. I just found out they’re engaged. Discussing patterns. I was going to ask if I could stay the night with them anyway.” I leaned against the wall again. I had the feeling the ground kept sinking an inch, then coming back up. “I’m a bit trashed.”