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But Dad and Sherry might still be up, and I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to them yet.
My feet take me across the lobby to the bar. I pause in the doorway. I wondered whether there might be wedding guests here, but once again it’s nearly empty, everyone obviously deciding to get an early night so they’re ready for the big day. An older, tired-looking businessman sits at a table nursing a whisky, studying his phone. A young Japanese couple talk quietly in the corner.
I go to the end of the bar by the wall and sit on one of the stools. The bartender is a striking young woman with short dark hair, wearing black trousers, a white shirt, and a black bow tie. She smiles at me. “Can I see some ID?” I take out my driver’s license, and she runs her gaze over it, then nods. “What can I get you?”
“A G&T please.”
“Gordon’s or something else?”
“Gordon’s is fine.”
She makes the drink and brings it over. For a moment I think she’s going to ask me what I’m doing here alone, but to my relief she returns to cleaning glasses, leaving me on my own.
Turning so my back is against the wall, I prop my feet on the bottom bar of the stool next to me and have a big mouthful of the G&T. The alcohol threads through me, and I exhale, releasing the tension in my shoulders and spine.
My insides are like a huge ball of knotted wool. My thoughts and emotions are tangled, and I can’t unravel them and make sense of them. I feel angry and sad and resentful and hopeful and bitter, and they’re all interwoven.
I’m furious that nobody has told me the truth: neither my parents, nor Alex or Gaby. And I can’t even start to disentangle my thoughts about my father. He had an affair first? That revelation has shaken my foundations like an earthquake, and little aftershocks keep shooting through me, making me tremble. I want to go and find him, and scream at him for ruining their marriage.
But the thing is, I’m not twelve anymore. I’m a grown woman with several failed relationship behind her. Cole had a lot of issues, but I wasn’t innocent in our breakup. I wasn’t vocal or forceful enough—I should have made it much clearer what I did and didn’t want both in and out of bed. I don’t blame myself for that—I didn’t know any better at the time—but Damon has shown me how important communication is in the bedroom, and I know it would have improved things between me and Cole.
So I understand that it takes two to tango. Mum obviously has to take some of the blame as to why Dad had an affair. He’s a decent guy, and I don’t think he would have slept with Sherry if he hadn’t been driven to find affection elsewhere. Or would he? Maybe I’m being incredibly naïve. Once again, I think of Damon, and the way things have blown up between us over the past few days. I used to think it ridiculous when two people said they couldn’t fight their attraction—I used to think it childish, because we’re all in control of our actions. But when he’s near me, I struggle to think straight. Can I really blame Dad if he felt the same way about Sherry?
I’m angry that Mum said she left because Dad asked her to. I’m upset that he blamed her for what happened. But he was just protecting me. Again, is he really at fault for that?
I remember something Alex said once when I was young, hurt, and frightened that my parents were separating. “Everyone’s doing their best,” he said. “Some people are just better at it than others.” He was only eighteen, but it seems very profound to me now.
I’ve spent so long being hostile to my mother because she abandoned me. All these years, I’ve resented her, even hated her, for leaving me. But I’ve never thought about it from her point of view.I met Tom, and I fell in love with him. I can only think about the man with contempt and hatred. But she loved him. The events of that year must have torn her apart. She’s had to live with that knowledge for nine years. She blames herself, and that’s why she’s kept her distance from me.
I finish off the G&T and beckon to the bartender. “Another, please,” I tell her.
She pours it and brings it over. “Are you okay?” she asks kindly. “Can I call anyone for you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She hesitates, then goes back to cleaning her glasses.
I drink the G&T slowly. Then I order another.
I’ve had several glasses of champagne tonight, and the G&T with Mum. So it’s not long before things start to feel fuzzy.
I should go home. But instead I keep sitting there, staring into my glass.
After a while, I pull out my phone. Damon is probably asleep now. I was so close to going to bed with him tonight. I know he wanted me—I could feel his desire radiating from him. Have I fucked it up? My eyes prickle again. I want to text him, but I don’t know what to say.
In the end, I just send him a red heart emoji, then order another drink.
The bartender slides it across to me, then leans on the bar and says, “I think we’ll have to make this your last one, sweetie.”
“I’m not drunk.”
She just lifts an eyebrow. Then she glances at the clock on the wall. It’s 11:45. “We close at midnight anyway.”
“I’ll go soon,” I whisper. “I swear. I’ll get an Uber home.”
“All right. You wanna talk?”
“No. But thanks.”
