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Owen looks at me. And he sighs, like he’s deflating. Shame drags on his face, and it falls. ‘I’m fucked, Millie,’ he says defeatedly. ‘I’m .?.?. I dunno what to do. My mum. She’s at home, alone. She .?.?.’ Then it’s like he sobers up for a second. ‘Your dad. I need to call him. Maybe we could go there? See the old man. I miss them.’
I swing back and look at Jack, whose face has changed. It’s all hard, rigid lines, a muscle pulsing in his neck. ‘He needs to go home,’ I say. ‘He’s wasted.’
‘I’ll get him an Uber,’ says Jack coldly.
‘What did he just say?’ slurs Owen.
‘I’ll do it,’ I say. ‘Owen, why don’t we go outside? Get some air?’
Jack turns and looks at me as Owen closes and opens his droopy eyes and nods. ‘Good idea, Mills.’
‘I guess I’m going outside then,’ says Jack as if to himself and his tone is irritated. Flat. Something blooms on my cheeks. Why do I feel responsible for this? Why does this feel like my mess?
‘No, no, it’s fine—’
Owen stumbles and I put an arm out to steady him. Owen laughs and stands. ‘Fuck.’
‘I’m going outside, Millie,’ Jack says again.
Outside, it’s bitter cold, and dark, the air damp. The sea roars behind us like a caged animal, and Owen leans against the brick of the pub. Muffled chatter and music emanate from inside.
I scroll through my address book. I’m sure I have a taxi company’s number in here.
Jack stands by me, but away from me, his hands in his pockets, the atmosphere hanging over us all, like thick, bonfire smoke.
Owen gets his phone out. ‘I can order myself an Uber, I’m not a child.’ He holds his phone, realises it’s upside down, starts laughing.
I don’t have Uber. I don’t haveapps.And for a second, it’s like everything freeze frames. Me, out here, a stupid phone that barely works, Jack who is leaving, Owen who left me, slumped and drunk on what should have been his wedding day, me trying to keep it all tick tick ticking over as usual .?.?.
‘Booked,’ says Jack, slotting his phone into his pocket. ‘Ten minutes.’
Owen raises a thumbs up. ‘Appreciate it, Shurlock.’ Then he laughs, groans, places his hands over his face and says, ‘God, Mills. I’m fucked.’
‘You need sleep,’ I say.
‘I need something.’
Jack stands like a guard, silently, then steps back towards the door. ‘Safe journey, mate,’ he says flatly, then he looks at me, a silent, ‘You coming?’ on his face.
I look at Owen, broken, under the glow of the street light, mizzle starting to drift from the sky, like dust. I think of today. What was meant to be his wedding day. Before he got my email. And all of the mess, following Jack into his final farewell.
‘I’ll wait with him.’
Jack stares at me in the darkness. Then nods. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Right.’ And then he turns and opens the pub door.
‘My Mills .?.?.’ Owen slurs, and Alexis’s voice is suddenly in my head.Er, what’re you doing MC? Seriously, what are you doing?
Oh, I miss her. I miss her so much.
I stride to the door, grab it before it closes. ‘Jack?’
He turns, looks at me.
‘I’ll just wait until the taxi comes,’ I say. ‘He’s .?.?. he’s really drunk and messed up and it feels wrong to leave him. He’ll just cause a scene inside.’
Jack hesitates, and I can hardly bear to look at him. Those hazel eyes, that look sad for the first time ever, that expression full of things he wishes he could say .?.?.
‘Millie, it isn’t my business what you do,’ says Jack.
