Eighteen Kisses (15 page)

There was no warmth in his words. It was like he was talking to a stranger. The word ‘exhausting’ echoed in my head. I was trying to make things right, why was he being like this?

‘I just find you so draining.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling anger rising inside me. ‘It must take a lot out of you to have to send one text message every
four
days.’

He didn’t seem to have a comeback for this, so I kept talking.

‘No, I’m serious,’ I said. ‘Poor you! You should probably go on a holiday or something. Try to recover from how
exhausting
I am.’

‘Will you just drop the texting thing?’ he said. ‘I told you I had a lot going on this week.’

‘Yeah, I know. But what’s the point of all this if you don’t even want to talk to me? You must not like me very much
any more!’ I was practically shouting at him, and still he refused to look me directly in the eye, which was making me even angrier.

‘I do like you though,’ he said, finally looking at me. ‘That’s what’s so frustrating about all of this! I
do
like you, but nothing is ever good enough!’

‘Oh, come
on
, Nick, don’t try to turn this round on me. If you had made even the slightest bit of effort, then we wouldn’t be having this fight! What am I supposed to do? Ignore all the crappy stuff you do? Sit back and say nothing while you act like a total jerk? I’m not going to let you walk all over me. I tried keeping everything inside, I really tried! It didn’t make things any better!’

This was so infuriating. I couldn’t believe he was blaming me for this. I wasn’t the one who’d changed. I wasn’t the one who’d stopped caring.

‘I don’t see what the big deal is,’ he said. ‘So I didn’t text you – wow, what a crime.’ And he had that indignant look on his face. I wasn’t going to censor my words any more. He was being so cruel, I wasn’t going to hold back either.

‘I think you were punishing me,’ I said. ‘For not going to your gig.’

‘Well then, you’re crazy. I didn’t text you because I just didn’t feel like it. I knew I’d be seeing you today. I was going to tell you then. Can you just drop it?’

‘And the fact that you never want to call me means that we have a problem,’ I said, moving down the bench, away from him. I couldn’t believe he was acting like this.

‘Why didn’t you call
me
, huh?’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you ask
me
how
my
gig went?’

‘Why should I?’ I was actually shouting now. ‘I’m always the one making the effort!’

He just shrugged.

‘Why can’t you just say sorry?’ I said desperately. ‘Why can’t you just admit that you were wrong? Would that really be so hard?’

‘I’m not saying sorry. Because I didn’t do anything!’

I was aware that most of the people in the smoking area were now watching us, but I didn’t even care. I was so angry I was about to cry. I pressed the tips of my fingers against my eyes, as if hoping to force the tears back in. Neither of us said anything for a while, until Nick finally spoke.

‘I think we should break up,’ he said.

‘
What?
’

‘I don’t think we’re right for each other any more. I don’t think we should keep going on like this.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ I said, lifting my head. But when I saw the look on his face I started to panic. There was no anger there. He just looked like he wasn’t bothered any more. He was serious. I felt like everything was collapsing around me. I felt like nothing else mattered apart from what was happening right now on this bench. I told myself he meant everything to me. I needed to fix this, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to reverse the damage I’d done.

‘I can’t do this any more,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we’re right for each other.’

‘We are,’ I said, fighting back tears. I couldn’t bear this. We were meant to have made up by now. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ I said. ‘I was just angry. I’m under a lot of pressure. I didn’t mean to say those things. I didn’t mean that we should actually break up. Stop for a second and think about what you’re saying. Think about what you’re throwing away.’

‘I’m sorry, Jacki,’ he said. ‘This is how it has to be. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I don’t think we should force this any more.’

The indifference in his voice upset me so much. He didn’t seem upset at all; it was like he didn’t care what this was doing to me. He didn’t care that I could hardly breathe, that I was about to burst into tears. Why was he doing this to me now? He knew how much stress I was under. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I started to cry. He just sat there, watching me. Chris and Fitz walked in our direction and then hovered awkwardly near the bench. They seemed to be as shocked about this as I was. Chris looked at me sympathetically, but Fitz just glared at Nick as if to say hurry up.

‘I have to get the bus,’ said Nick. ‘Will you be all right?’

Was he for real? Did he actually just say that?

‘Oh yes, I’ll be fantastic,’ I said, then buried my face in my hands.

‘I’m sorry, Jacki,’ he muttered.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t look up. When I eventually did, they were gone. I rooted around in my bag for my phone. My hand was shaking as I scrolled down through the numbers, heavy tears dripping on to the screen.

‘Hey,’ said Hannah, picking up. ‘Sorry I bailed – had to catch the bus. I have rehearsals at half eight.’

‘He broke up with me,’ I sobbed down the phone.

‘What? Where are you?’

‘The smoking area.’ I wiped my eyes.

‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘No, it’s OK. I thought you were still here. Go home, I’ll be fine.’

‘Stay there,’ she said. ‘I’m getting off.’

‘Seriously, it’s –’

‘Stop the bus!’ she screamed, and then hung up.

‘I mean, who the hell does he think he is?’ said Hannah.

‘What a total dickhead,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m so angry with him. SO angry with him … I hate him.’

‘He’s not even that hot,’ said Hannah. ‘He has a really big forehead.’

‘That’s true,’ said Sophie. ‘He does have a really big forehead.’

We sat in the ice-cream parlour across from Rage. It was empty apart from us and the ice-cream guy, who was drawing in his sketchbook and not taking any notice of our ranting. My mint choc-chip was melting into gloop and I swished it round with my spoon, unable to stomach it. Hannah and Sophie had been bitching about Nick for the past ten minutes, which did actually help to ease the pain a little. I wasn’t taking part any more; I was writing him an extremely long text instead, trying to explain why I’d been so difficult.

‘And he used the word literally in totally the wrong context once,’ said Sophie.

‘Yeah, that’s a real deal-breaker,’ said Hannah with a laugh.

‘What? I’m trying to be helpful!’ said Sophie.

‘You’re not texting Nick, are you?’ asked Hannah, breaking off from their we-hate-Nick session and finally noticing what I was up to. I didn’t even bother trying to lie. Hannah was an actress – she could spot even the most skilled of fakers.

‘Jacki, give me your phone,’ she said sternly.

‘But a lot of it is my fault,’ I said. ‘I threatened him. I gave out to him for not sharing stuff with me. I said if he couldn’t do that then what was the point of us?’

‘Listen,’ said Hannah. ‘It’s not your fault, OK? Something was obviously not right. You said so yourself last week.’

‘I know … but I never really thought we’d actually break up. I just need to –’

‘You should wait,’ said Sophie. ‘Wait until you’ve calmed down a bit, looked at things rationally, before you text him.’

‘Whatever you say now is going to sound a little crazy,’ said Hannah, ‘no matter how good your intentions. I know you feel like the only thing you want to do right now is fix it, but you have to let him go. He chose to break up with you. He’s a moron for doing it, and either you two weren’t meant for each other, or he’ll realize what a complete idiot he was and come running back. But he’s going to have to realize that for himself. You couldn’t control what happened tonight, but you can control what you do now.
Don’t call him
.’

It was the only thing I wanted to do right now, but I could see Hannah’s point. I deleted the half-written text without sending it and handed her my phone.

‘You’ll thank me later,’ she said.

‘They should really teach night classes on the subject of boys,’ said Sophie, folding her napkin into the shape of a ship. ‘Forget metaphysics, relationships are the real predicament.’

‘Life is one big long relationship night class,’ I said with a sigh.

Sophie smiled. ‘A friend-ship,’ she said, handing me the folded napkin. I giggled. I was so lucky to have such nice friends. Friends who convinced bus drivers to brake at undesignated stops and bought ice cream to cheer me up and lied about the level of my ex-boyfriend’s hotness. I did wish Colin could be here too, even if he would just say I told you so. He’d been right about Nick. He’d said I was going to get hurt, and now I was hurting a lot. But even though Nick had hurt me so much, I was still sure I loved him. And I really wanted to talk to him. I wouldn’t though. Not yet … I’d take Hannah’s advice.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ said Sophie as we arrived at my gran’s gate.

‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ I said.

Hannah handed me back my phone. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ she said.

‘I will.’

‘And don’t call him,’ she added.

‘I won’t.’

They forced me into a bear hug, only letting go when I’d been suitably squashed.

‘Bye,’ they said in unison.

‘Bye,’ I said, then pushed open the gate.

I opened the front door, stepped into the hallway, then closed the door as gently as possible behind me. It was so quiet, all the lights were off and Gran had gone to bed. In the silence the sadness suddenly hit me like a blow to the chest. I climbed the stairs, went into my bedroom, lay down on my bed and called Nick’s number. It rang out. He didn’t want to talk to me, he didn’t want to see me, he didn’t want to be with me. I felt so empty. I threw my phone on the floor, curled up into the smallest ball my body would allow and cried myself to sleep.

There’s something comforting in being alone. When you’re alone, you can’t get hurt. And yet we just keep going back for more, keep setting ourselves up for more pain. Because the hope for something great overrides the fear of getting rejected. And I think that’s a wonderful thing, that we’re willing to risk heartbreak because there is a very slight chance that this person might be the right person, that this person might actually love you forever. But I also think it sucks because at that moment I felt so, so horrible.

I couldn’t get angry, and that’s what I needed to be. I needed to get angry in order to get over Nick. When I could see him for what he really was, then I would be able to get over him. I was angry at myself for not being honest with him. Part of me knew he was moody and selfish and didn’t deserve me, but just then all I wanted was for him to hold me. He’d told me he didn’t want to be with me, that he didn’t want to talk to me, but the only thing I wanted in the world right then was for him to put his arms round me. I knew it was completely illogical and I knew I shouldn’t want it, but I did.

I lied to Gran and told her I had a migraine so that I
wouldn’t have to go into work at the magazine. I just wanted to lock myself away, but at the same time it was torture to be alone. I wanted to talk to somebody, to get out some of what was in my head before I drove myself insane, analysing it over and over again, wondering how things would have gone if I hadn’t been so stubborn and called him. But then the next second I was thinking,
No, why should I have to do everything
?
Why should I give in to his sulky moods and act like everything’s great when it’s clearly not?
Part of me hated Nick for doing this to me. Could he not have waited a few more days? He didn’t know I was working on a case, but he did know I was working at
Electric
magazine. I wondered how long I could get away with calling in sick.

I heard my door creak. I pulled myself up, thinking it would be Gran offering me more tea. I couldn’t stomach anything at the moment, not even tea, so I really didn’t want any. To my surprise, I saw Hannah standing there.

‘Jacki King,’ she said, barging into my room. I’d just dumped all my stuff inside my door last night, so she had to climb over everything to get in.

‘Yes?’ I said.

‘Get out of that bed.’

‘I’m never getting out of this bed,’ I said.

‘So you’re going to stay there forever?’

‘Yes. I’ve decided I’m going to die of a broken heart.’

‘You can’t die of a broken heart, it’s not possible.’

‘Johnny Cash did.’

‘He was seventy-one!’

‘So?’

‘And he and June were
meant
to be together.’

I ignored the last comment. Hannah was just being mean now.

‘When was the last time you ate?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘How come you didn’t go to work today?’

‘How did you know I didn’t go to the magazine?’

‘Dillon told me. He was worried about you.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, trying not to think about the fact that Dillon had said he was worried about me. ‘If I lie perfectly still and try not to move and try not to think, then I’m fine.’

‘Have you heard from
him
?’

‘No.’

‘Are you going to the magazine tomorrow?’

‘No.’

‘Jacki, are you honestly going to let this take over your entire life? You need to get up.’

Hannah pulled the covers off my bed. I was wearing fleece pyjamas, bed socks and clutching a hot-water bottle.

‘I’m cold,’ I said. I actually did still feel sick and cold from yesterday. Having someone break up with you was obviously as physically painful as it was emotional.

‘That’s because you haven’t moved in fifteen hours. Get up, we’re going shopping! Sophie needs a new lens for her telescope and I need a new bra.’

‘I don’t want to go shopping.’