The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (39 page)

Yesterday after I had spent the day being violently sick and he was so supportive and caring and generally bloody lovely, I had nearly given in and begged him to stay. But I didn’t. He started to play guitar for me, just softly playing in the background as I lay curled up on the end of the bed and it sounded so damn beautiful I knew I would not be able to say anything. Not ever.

It hurts to let him leave but it would hurt even more to be weak and ask him to stay.

31st May

7.30 a.m.

It's our last official day of lectures. Praise the lord that we will not actually be lectured at, but instead are going to the National Gallery to look at something very interesting. No idea what it is, but I am sure it will be interesting.

After lectures yesterday I excused myself from study/football watching/boyfriend ogling/duties and nipped into Putney. I ordered a little something for Ben last week and it was finally ready, so I went to grab it. Tonight is the last Digby shindig but Ben and I are out on our date, so we will miss it. I am trying very hard to ignore all ‘last (fill in the blank) of terms.’ Every time I see it written somewhere, I have crazy butterflies in my stomach.

I’m blaming my erratic retching and gagging on the mutant butterflies and the anxiety they bring. It is embarrassing. Ben offered me toast yesterday morning and I just stood there gagging right in front of him. The same thing happened with dinner once I got home from Putney. Ben keeps banging on about me going to the doctor in case it is a bug or something but I am sure it is just my nerves causing it. I don’t want to tell him that. If I do, he might decide that we should calm down for the next three weeks until he leaves.

That would be bad.

I really hope that he likes his present. I have gone out on a limb a little and he may think it is a bit odd but I have done it anyway. Since I came up with the idea I knew I wouldn’t change my mind.

Right then I had better get ready for this last ever date.

Our Very Last Date

Oh goodness. I think I may actually be suffering from a broken heart and he has not even left Halls of Residence yet, let alone the country.

Ben saved the very best date to last.

1:45 p.m.

“So where is the date?” I ask.

I am excited to see what he has come up with, and rightfully so since the last two have been amazing.

“Well, I just thought we would go for a walk and a drink,” he says.

I’m slightly surprised. This sounds like a normal afternoon to me.

3.30 p.m.

Yep, just a normal afternoon: pints of beer, packets of crisps, and endless conversation. I have no idea how it is possible for two people to talk as much as we do, but we manage it all the same.

5.30 p.m.

The Story of Ben’s Gran

Why do we always end up getting drunk on our ‘dates?’ We are both looking at each other through one eye.
Again.

“Are you ready for a story now, Lilah?” Ben asks.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, make yourself comfortable. I’m going to tell you the story of my Gran.”

“Excellent!”

It comes back to me. The story he said he was saving for a special occasion.

“Please proceed,” I say with an official wave of my hand.

He flashes me a grin.

“When my nan was nineteen she moved to India with her family,” he begins and then takes a sip of beer. “Everything was a bit different back then, and her mum and dad were expecting her to make a good marriage. However when she got to India she fell in love with the place. It completely set her free from the life that she had before.”

I wonder where this is leading. “So, what happened?”

“She fell in love.”

“She fell in love?”

“Yes, she fell in love with an Indian man who worked in the same office as her dad. It was all a bit hopeless. They used to spend lots of time at dinners and functions together. She told me once that he was the most handsome man that she ever saw, with the most beautiful eyes.”

“Really? What happened? Did they get married?”

He looks at me, like it is strange I have come to this conclusion.

“No. The guy asked her dad, and the family went nuts and arranged to go back to England.”

Ben takes another sip of beer.

My mouth has gone very dry all of a sudden.

“So when it was clear that she was going to have to leave, she told her family that she would never forgive them if they did this to her, and that she would never marry anyone else. I think they decided it was better for her not to marry than to marry him.”

“Blimey! Did she get her own way?”

“No, not at all. She came home and carried on with her life and tried to forget about him.”

“Oh. That’s really sad. Did she manage to forget him?” I ask, but already know the answer. There is no way she could have.

“She said she nearly did, until the day I was born, and then she took one look at me and said it felt like she was looking at his image.”

“Why? Did you remind her of him?” Before he can answer, I have worked it out. “Your eyes!” I gasp. “That’s where you get your eyes from!” I am completely gobsmacked.

“Yep, she brought up my mum by herself and she never spoke to her parents again.”

“Oh. Did she ever see him again?”

“No. I don't think so. She went to India again much later, twenty years later, but she never told anyone what she found there.”

This is the saddest thing I have ever heard, not helped by the fact I have drunk four pints of Stella. I start to cry.

Surprise, surprise, Lilah McCannon is crying again.

“That is really awful.”

“Yes, it is.”

The blues are intent and watchful. “You’re trying to get me to change my mind, aren’t you?”

“Lilah, I constantly hope that you are going to change your mind, but I know you well enough to know that you won’t.”

I just nod at him.

9.00 p.m.

“Come on, Miss McCannon. It is time for the second half of your date.”

“Yay!” I say as I chug down the rest of my drink. I need a change of scene. My chest still feels heavy after the earlier conversation.

He grabs hold of my hand and leads me into the cooler night air. I follow like a lost sheep. I do not really know where we are as we head down a dodgy back road somewhere.

A few turns later, I instantly have my bearings. I come to an abrupt standstill. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. That’s because I have never seen Trafalgar Square at night before. Truly amazing. The fountains are lit and glowing like swimming pools. The sprays of water are catching the light and falling in golden droplets all around. Ben leads me over to the edge of one and we sit watching the beautiful water swirl around our fingers. It is incredibly romantic, the most romantic thing I have ever seen. Ben’s fingers are linked with mine and he studies me as a silence settles over us.

Minutes pass and we just sit there looking at each other and listening to the water splash. Finally, he pulls me towards him and kisses me in the deepest, most romantic, knee-wobbling kiss I have ever experienced. My legs go to jelly and he slides himself closer along the edge of the fountain towards me so we are as close as can be. There we sit for what might be hours or just minutes.

Finally, I pull away and look at him. I need oxygen or something. My head is all over the place.

“Thank you,” I say, though it sounds silly. It's like saying, "Thank you for kissing me and making me swoon in Trafalgar square."

“You’re welcome,” he says, and then I watch as he slides his hand into his pocket.

I assume he is going to get out a cigarette. I am about to say that is not at all romantic, when I see a ring sitting there in his palm instead.

Oh, my god!

Palpitations!

“Calm down, Lilah. I am not proposing. It is just that this is where I was going to do it, and I wanted to give this to you."

I examine the ring. A Sapphire solitaire in the lightest blue I have ever seen, sitting on a slim plain band held in place with just four discreet claws.

“It’s beautiful, Ben.”

It really is. It matches his eyes exactly. Then I realise that it also matches my necklace. The necklace that I thought was topaz and came from Meredith. I lift my hand to my throat and touch it. I have not taken it off since my birthday. He smiles when he realises that I have put the two together.

“This was from you?” There, I have managed four words.

“Yes. I knew you would go nuts if I turned up and gave it to you, so I asked Meredith to help. I’ve seen you wearing it every day since.”

“You told me under our tree that you were going to propose that night.”

He nods in agreement. “Yeah I was, but then when everything went wrong I decided to give you Gran’s necklace instead.”

“What? This is your Gran’s?”

“No, it is yours now.”

I am completely dumbfounded. “And the ring?” I ask.

He nods again. “She gave it to me before she died. She said that it had to belong to me, as I was the only one who had retained any physical part of the person who had given it to her. She used to joke that with every baby that arrived she waited with baited breath for them to open their eyes and was always disappointed, until I came along and saved the day.”

Oh, God.

“It’s from him? I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can. I want you to have it, and so would she.”

“You might want to give it to someone else one day.”

He looks at me like I am crazy. “That will never happen,” he says in a voice that's soft, but firm.

He puts it onto my right hand ring finger and I watch it twinkle, illuminated by the shimmering fountains behind us.

I sit there for the longest time, flicking my gaze between him and the ring. This could have all been so different back in November. He was going to ask me to marry him, not because it was the right thing to do, or because it was expected of him.
Hell, we hardly knew each other.
He was going to do it because he loved me and he did not want history to repeat itself.

Now history is going to repeat itself like the unstoppable force that it is.

People making the same mistakes over and over, and I am one of them. I slide my hand into my pocket and give him a stern look. “Don’t laugh!” I warn.

“Why would I laugh?” he asks. Then his jaw drops open as he looks in my palm at the slim white gold ring that rests there.

“Oh shit,” is all he says, and then we both start to laugh hysterically.

Tears drop down my cheeks, tears that are an equal combination of emotion and laughter. “I just wanted you to have something to look at to remember me by.”

He gives me the crazy girl look again. “The Gibson was not enough?” He smiles.

It’s a fair question, but I shake my head.

“Something personal,” I explain, putting the ring onto his hand. He moves the band in the light and reads the words.

“
Foi Vainquera
? What does that mean?” he asks.

I give a smile at my own cleverness!
Hurrah, I know something he doesn’t.
“Faith conquers.”

The blues hold mine, then he kisses me.

“I hope it does,” he says after an age. “I can’t believe that we are about to reach our end,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“I like to think it is just the end of the chapter. The end of a chapter in the story of us.”

I kiss him again for good measure.

That was it. Ben and Lilah’s last date. It’s three in the morning. We only got home half an hour ago, after sitting on the fountain at Trafalgar for hours. I can’t sleep. I just want to sit and stare at him because soon I will not be able to.

Taylor Swift is singing “Tim McGraw”, and I get her meaning. I hope that Ben remembers all these little perfect moments for the rest of his life. I know that I am going to remember them for all of mine.

June

1st June

I do not want to get up. I do not want to eat. I do not want to do anything apart from lay under my duvet.

I am going to stay under here until July when this is all over. Good thing I have the most beautiful ring in the world to look at whilst in my duvet hell.

Taylor is performing a long running show in my head. I also think she may be having a sing-off with Avril.

It’s a mash-up to end all mash-ups and it sounds terrible.

Avril is belting "Things I Will Never Say" whist Taylor is singing "Love Story." I think my brain might explode. It’s going to be messy and the coroner is going to announce it was death due to excessive abuse of teenage music.

I might eat some cereal. Or I won’t because the thought of it makes me want to throw up. Great. Now I cannot even face my main source of sustenance.

I wonder if Anne Elliott spent seven years throwing up at the prospect of being separated from Captain Wentworth.

2nd June

“Lilah, are you asleep?”

Ben must be joking. I can’t remember what sleep is.

If I was to sleep, then I would miss all opportunities for staring and memorising and I cannot risk missing one moment.

Not one.

“I’m awake. What do you want?”

“You.”

3rd June

I roll over and plant a kiss on Ben’s lips.

“What’s the plan for today?”

“Library. Delilah, we have to get ready for those exams.”

“Oh, you are so boring sometimes.” I wiggle closer, aiming to change his mind.

“We can study later . . .” I leave the thought hanging there.

“We have to be in the library in an hour. You will pass those exams.”

He sounds determined.

“I will pass them. Do you doubt my ability?”

“Lilah, you have not studied once the whole year.”

“I did, too.”

“What?”

You.

“Oh stop nagging. You are wasting my hour!” I giggle as I make the duvet into a tent.

We make it to the library . . . Eventually. I don’t bother studying, though, I just watch Ben in the window as he scribbles away at his notes.

“Are you going to stare all afternoon?” he asks after an hour.

“Yep. Problem, Chambers?”

“Not at all, but you may find it easier if you just scoot your chair around.”

I give a little “yes,” under my breath and then drag my chair around to his side of the desk.

“What book are you looking at?”

“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, Ben.”

He just gives a little chuckle and slides one of his books towards me.

10th June

“Seriously, are you going to sing Guns N' Roses all fucking day? Because I may have to take desperate action like go to the library or kill myself,” remarks Meredith with her typical drama queen flair.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Well, I don’t.

“Delilah, it is not November and it is not raining, so please stop with the depressing.”

“It might rain later!”

I hope it does. It’s humid, hot and sticky.

“Where is Ben? You wouldn’t be assaulting our ears if he was here.”

“I don’t know. Band stuff.” I know I have my Lilah child’s voice on.

“Do you fancy going into town? We could go and have one la—”

I leap off the bed and smother her. “Don’t you dare, say ‘one last something!’”

I may kill you. I may sing Guns N Roses for an entire year.

“Sorry,” she mumbles from under my hand.

I concede and let go. I do not let my guard down completely, though. She could say something annoying at any moment.

“What were you thinking of doing?” I grudgingly ask.

“Lilah, I am too scared to speak. You are freaking me out!”

I shrug. I’m taking no prisoners these days and should be wearing a badge which says ‘Approach With Caution.’

“I promise I won’t pounce.” I sit on my hands to prove my point.

“How about we go to your favourite pub and have a glass of wine?” she suggests.

“Maybe we could squeeze in some dancing somewhere?” I add hopefully.

“That is a definite. Let’s do it. Come on, Lil. I hate to see you like this.”

I look at her for a moment. “I hate feeling like this, Mer. I truly do.”

She turns to my cupboard, pulling the doors wide, and yanks out my Ben-catching outfit out.

“Blimey, is it one of those nights?” I ask.

“Yes. It definitely is. Come on. There is a glass of chilled wine calling to us right now.”

What have I got to lose? It is just a glass of wine with Meredith. Beats sitting around waiting for Ben to come home.

11th June

Oh, shit. Ugh, I did it again.

When I woke up I didn’t move for a little while. I was just grateful Ben was not around to see me that drunk. It would have been awful if I left him with that impression of me. Probably best to just pretend that nothing happened.

“How’s that locomotive, Lilah?”

I feel Ben shift next to me in the bed.

Crap.

“Loud.”

“Excellent.”

I can’t deal with this right now. There is not a single bit of me that does not hurt. “Would you like me to tell you what you were doing last night?” he continues.

“Ugh.”

“You and Meredith got thrown out of our favourite pub, something to do with harassing a regular’s dog.”

“Ugh.”

“You then decided to go for Tapas, where you proceeded to try and turn the restaurant into a karaoke bar. The thing was you were the only one singing.”

“Ugh.”

“You then proceeded to call me and demand that I come and pick you up because you wanted sex.”

I have nothing to say to this so pretend to fall asleep. I even manage a little snore.

“Then you asked me if I would visit you.”

Crap balls.

I pull the duvet up over my head.

“Will you?” I ask in a small voice.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Quick, move. I’m going to be sick.”

3.00 p.m.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Like I need a new stomach.”

“Can I get you anything?”

God, I feel useless. I have lain here the whole day with the locomotive giving free rides. I have managed to manoeuvre myself so I can lie with my head in Ben’s lap whilst he reads a book, but that is as far as I have got. Well, apart from when I have been upright to be sick.

“Can I have an herbal tea?”

“Do we own herbal tea?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I will go and get some,” he says, trying carefully to move out from under me.

I wrap my arms tight around his waist. “No, no, it’s okay. Sod the tea. Don’t move an inch. You’re the best pillow in the world.”

10.00 p.m.

What a way to waste a day. Twelve days to go and I spend it in bed in no way participating in sexy time but instead throwing my guts up.

I truly am useless.

12th June

Gosh, I can’t believe I have managed to get us barred from our favourite pub. That is an achievement even for me. Where will we go during the summer holidays when Digby Bar is closed?

I owe it to the others to find us a new drinking hole. I may make that my little challenge as soon as Ben has left. It’ll give me something to do.

Twelve days until he leaves; eleven until we say our goodbyes.

My brain is starting to think of self-preservation. I am wondering if I should move back into my own room. I don’t think I can do that. Can I honestly deny myself eleven more blissful days with him?

No, of course I can’t.

Right. I have to study. There is an exam on Friday and I have no idea what it is about. Ben is out doing band stuff (blah, blah) so I shall get lots of fabulous work done.

2.00 p.m.

Buggerations! I have just woken up. I might go and attempt a snack.

2.30 p.m.

Cheerios, it is.

2:45 p.m.
Oooh!
Grease
is on the telly. I wonder if Meredith wants to watch it with me.

4.00 p.m.

Bollocks – No studying just singing instead.

13
th
June

I have awoken with a deep dark sense of foreboding in my stomach. I want to be sick before I have even opened my eyes. I lay with my eyes screwed shut, trying to think of what could be making me feel that way—apart from the obvious.

Nothing comes to mind.

Nope, nothing.

Still nothing.

Oh shit! It’s the first exam today!

I sit bolt upright in bed then instantly feel Ben’s arm snake around my waist.

“You just remembered the exam, didn’t you?” he murmurs into his pillow.

“Oh God! I am going to fail,” I moan loudly. “I have to be the worst student this University has ever seen!”

He chuckles and pulls me in for a Ben snuggle.

Let’s be honest, no amount of snuggling is going to make the pain of sitting a two-hour exam go away, especially when it is an exam for which I have done no preparation.

Later.

Yep, I was right. No amount of snuggling was going to make any of that better. I am thinking that I should have made it to Asda that day back in August and got that application form. Clearly I am not cut out to be a student at all.

I am just going to pop out for a quick drink to get over the shock of it all.

14th June

2.00 p.m.

I can safely say that the first exam did not go well. Everyone else sat there writing furiously away, filling reams of paper. I sat there and could think of nothing to write at all. I managed a few sparse answers here and there, but nothing flowing or eloquent, or vaguely intellectual. To make matters even worse, instead of coming back and sensibly studying and trying to catch up, afterwards I ended up at Digby bar drinking wine instead.

I really do need to try harder. Even Ben is trying harder than me and he is not even coming back next year. If I do not pass these exams then I won’t be coming back either, then what will I have achieved since starting University? Absolutely nothing. I came here to do something for me, and I am even failing at that.

So I am at the library where I am actually going to do some serious last-minute studying. I am not leaving until I know the basics of everything that I should have learnt over the last term. That is a promise. I am scanning indexes and flipping through pages at a speed I would not have thought possible. There are Post-it notes everywhere.

4.30 p.m.

“Can I help, Delilah?”

Ben is standing by my desk/cupboard watching my frantic searching.

“I don’t know. Can you?” I reply, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, unlike you, I have actually been listening in class. And fortunately for you, I am more than willing to share.”

I do not know about this. Normally the presence of Ben equals the absence of study, but then I am pretty desperate.

“Okay, then. What do I need to know?” I ask, budging over to make room for him.

He settles in beside me and we spend three hours straight going through his notes and finding other reference books with which to expand our knowledge. Now if I had done this from the beginning of term instead of just stalking Ben, I would not be in this position right now.

“Thank you,” I say, after a while.

“You are most welcome, Lilah. I will miss this.”

His blues are catching the late-afternoon sun.

“So will I,” I whisper back. Then I shake off my melancholy. “Hey, at least in the exam I will be able to have a peep over at you and catch some clues.”

He says nothing.

“Ben, won’t I?”

“Lilah, I am leaving that day so I am going to be taking the exam separately, on Friday. Normally they would not let me see anyone on campus afterwards, but because of Sound Box playing at the ball they are relaxing the rule.”

I have not really heard all this. My brain shut down at the bit when he said he would not be there at the last exam.

“I can’t believe you won’t be there.”

“I know,” he says.

That is all he has to say.

We sit and finish up our work, and I try very hard not to concentrate on the final countdown.

15th June

I am thinking about my book. It is important that I get the blue just right so that everyone reading it will know exactly what I am trying to describe.

I am scared that I am going to forget.
I won’t, will I?

Surely it is not possible to forget that shade of perfection. I don’t know. Then I remember my ring and the pendant nestled at the base of my throat and I know I will not forget, not until I have to pass them on myself and, maybe then I will not have my daily reminders anymore. I will just have to sit outside on a sunny day and wait for the sky to change to the colour that I most want to see.

2.47 p.m.

“
Lilah, quick, quick! Come outside!”

Ben is grinning at me like crazy and pulling my hand.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“You’ll see. Hurry up!”

We run down the stairs and get to the doors and push through. Outside, I realise what he is excited about. It is a perfect summer storm: the rain is slashing down in sheets. The temperature is warm and muggy, even the rain is tepid.

Ben pulls me toward the lawns and the pond.

“I was so hoping this would happen before I left,” he shouts through the loud din of the rain hitting the pond.

We are drenched through. My feet are sliding in my flip-flops and we are giggling like school children as we get to my tree. At the tree, he pushes me against the bark. The rain slides over our faces as his mouth comes down on mine. Our clothes are soaked and cling to us as we push ourselves closer and closer together.