I think I feel my heart physically crack.
We keep walking. Ahead of us there’s a square with some beautiful buildings in it.
I wave my hand around. ‘This is all lovely.’
I don’t have anything to say about our actual conversation.
‘Yep, beautiful. Anyway. If it’s okay, I’d like to explain why I…’ He stops and there’s an annoyingly long pause.
‘Why you…?’ Now my cracked heart’s beating very, very fast.
‘Why I didn’t get in touch again.’
I feel sick. I think I’m genuinely going to throw up.
It was allsoawful. He passed his driving test. He got drunk and tried to drive someone’s car. I stopped him. The next day, he proposed. He said he felt like passing his test was a sign that he was moving into the next phase of his life. I wanted so much to say yes but I couldn’t imagine a lifetime of watching him do so many insane things. So I gave him my ultimatum: start drinking sensibly or split up. He promised me he’d get clean and come back to me. And then I didn’t see him again for twelve years.
‘I need to sit down,’ I say very suddenly. We’ve reached the square and I make my way over to a marble statue on a stone plinth. I lower myself onto it and suck in air. We’re in the shade and the plinth is cold under my legs, which helps me get my light-headedness under control.
Callum sits down next to me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine.’ I suddenly just want to get it over with. ‘So… you?’
‘Yes. The reason that I didn’t get in touch is that I didn’t want to hurt you.’ He’s speaking slowly, as though he’s trying really hard to choose the right words. ‘I felt that I had already hurt you a lot. I felt that you wouldn’t have said what you said if you didn’t care deeply and that it must have hurt a lot to say it. I also knew pretty much immediately that it was the right thing for you to say and I’m very lucky that you did say it. I should thank you for saying it. I thought I’d stop living like an idiot and tell you I’d stopped and that would be that; we’d carry on where we left off. But then I worried that you wouldn’t believe me – that it would sound like empty words – so I felt that I needed to prove myself. That there had to be a period of time that I was sensible for before I got back in touch with you.’
He stops talking and I nod, because I suppose the time thing makes sense.
Then he continues, ‘And during that time I began quite a lot of self-analysis. And obviously, as you know, my family were tricky.’
I nod. His parents basically never really had any time for him and his siblings and when theydidpay them any attention it was only when they achieved highly. Callum rebelled against that and his siblings (when I knew them) were obsessed with success (and had the most amazing high-powered jobs, one in medicine and one in the City), which I always thought was as unhealthy for them as Callum’s rebellion was for him.
‘So then I worried that it wasmeand that I’d somehow destroyed my relationship with my parents and that I’d somehow do that with you and that if I didn’t do it with alcohol and stupidity I’d do it with something else.’
I nod again. I suppose that makes sense in a confusing kind of way.
Then he says, ‘So the micro timeline is that, after you made your ultimatum and walked away, I drafted and then deleted a million messages to you and then sat and thought for a bit. Thinking hurt so I went and got very drunk and at the end of the evening decided to drive myself home. Fortunately, someone called the police while I was still sitting in the driving seat trying and failing to get my keys into the ignition. My parents hired a very good lawyer, who got me off as scot-free as possible, which was to lose my licence but to have no criminal conviction. And I got interested in the legal side of things and decided I’d like to go to law school myself. So that’s how I turned into a corporate lawyer. And, yeah, maybe I was influenced as well by wanting to impress my parents but that’s well and truly in the past.’
He’s silent for a moment while I mumble meaningless words and then he says, ‘You know my parents ended up in a very, very nasty divorce?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I realise that I’m not at all surprised. They never really seemed to care about each other (or about their children).
‘Yeah. Thanks. Honestly, it affected me way less than it would have done if I’d thought we were a happy family.’ He pauses and then says, ‘Okay, I just heard what I said. That soundssobitter. I’m not bitter. It’s just… I’m not used to saying this stuff out loud.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For saying it out loud to me now.’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘I owe you the explanation.’
If I’m honest, I agree, and, while what he just said was genuinely interesting to hear, the big ‘why did you never get back in touch’ question is still unanswered.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asks. ‘I mean, from when you were feeling faint?’
‘Yes.’
Better butgetting really irritated. Justtellme what made you not ever get in touch again.
He stands up and holds his hand out to pull me up.
I put my hand into his and immediately regret it because all I can think is that we used to hold hands and he told me a few minutes ago that he really, really loved me when we were young and now… we’re holding hands. I can feel the strength in his arm as he momentarily takes my weight when I stand up and now my hand isstillin his. I’m looking up at him and I just want to drink in everything about him with my eyes. His wide chest. His square chin. The way he looks deeply into my eyes when he’s about to say something important, which I think he is now. His hair’s dark so the few grey ones scattered through are very obvious. I like his new more grown-up look.
