Whichever, I should, basically, have gone for the sticking-plaster approach a lot sooner. And, having not done it then, I should at least learn from my mistake and do it now.
So I’m going to dive straight in.
‘I shouldn’t have told you I love you,’ I begin, and oh fuck, the look on her face; it kills me to see it. Just immediately broken. ‘Not because I don’t love you, because I do,’ and oh fuck now she looks confused rather than heartbroken, I need to justget on with it, ‘but because we can’t go anywhere. We can’t have a relationship. I cannot be with you. So I shouldn’t have said it.’
Emma doesn’t speak immediately. She presses her lips together and looks up at the ceiling instead of at me.
And then she swallows, and says, ‘I see.’
I close my eyes for a moment, because suddenly my eyelids feel incredibly heavy, as though they’re weighted down by tearsthat I am not going to be selfish enough to allow myself to shed. Then I open them and say, ‘I’m so sorry.’
Emma does a little nod, and then she shuffles herself up the bed, the sheets drawn very tightly round her nakedness, over her chest, and sits up against her pillows.
‘For me,’ she says, speaking very slowly, ‘I thought a few days ago that it was a very good thing to have seen you again, so that I could understand what happened all those years ago when you never came back to me. I was grateful to have had the opportunity to have got that closure. Well, it felt like closure. Now it feels as though I’ve had a deep wound reopened. So I’d be very grateful for proper closure. I would very much like to know why you can’t be with me so that I can understand everything and not spend any more time ever again wondering about you.’ Her words could be construed as angry, but I think she’s just deeply sad, just stating out loud how she feels.
‘Yep, I get that.’
‘Soooo?’ She looks slightly impatient, which is an improvement on devastation.
Of course I owe her a full explanation.
‘There’s someone else.’
There’s a long pause during which Emma just stares at me, frowning, her mouth slightly open.
And then she sits up straight.
‘There iswhat? Youarsehole. You know, that’s the one thing I never suspected you of. Youtosser. You’ve been sleeping with me while you have apartner. Youarse. You stupid, horrible, two-timing bastard. Your poor partner. You shit.’
‘No, no, no.’ Why did I word it like that? What’s wrong with me? ‘Not another woman. I have a daughter.’
‘What?’ Emma’s jaw almost hits her chest.
‘The first woman I was with after we split up – a long time afterwards, over a year later – got pregnant. We didn’t have arelationship. We’d broken up – I mean, it wasn’t even a break-up because we weren’t even together – before she found out she was pregnant. So, yes, I have a daughter. Thea.’
‘Oh.’ She just stares at me.
‘I’m so sorry for not having mentioned her before now.’ I feel as though I ought also to apologise for the upset that Thea’s existence is clearly causing Emma, but I can’t do that; I could never be anything other than infinitely grateful to have my daughter.
‘Yep.’ Emma pulls the sheet more firmly around herself and sits up even more upright. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat.
‘Yeah.’ She’s clearly beginning to gather her thoughts. ‘Small things first: a year wasn’t that long; I waited for you forthreeyears, because I did not actually know that we had definitely split up. Also: the whole “we didn’t have a relationship” thing? That you had – didn’t have – with Thea’s mother? I’m thinking that maybe that’s what you and I have had this week, without me realising. A lot of sex, no relationship. And the big thing:you have a daughter. We’ve spent nearly a week together; we’ve done so much together. We’ve talked; we’ve just been sotogether. I thought we weremaking love, not just shagging like pathetic rabbits. How could you not have mentioned her?’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’
As I say it, I realise it’s one of the most stupid things anyone has ever said.
Emma pulls the sheets hard, and then indicates where I’m sitting with an eyebrow-raise.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ I stand up hurriedly and she pulls the sheets even further around herself and then leans back against the headboard.
‘You can sit down again if you like,’ she says.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, trying to be polite.
‘I wouldlikeyou to sit down. I am wearing only a sheet and therefore have to stay in bed, and it is not pleasant being loomed over.’
