‘Wow, will you say yes.’
His face has lit up. ‘Guaranteed. My girlfriend is an amazing woman. She’s right when she tells me she’s a rare edition. She’s my best friend too.’
I recall Emily telling me after a few months of us dating that she felt like we were becoming best friends. My heart tries to compete with my head and lets out a series of aches.
‘Right, let’s get a scan of your head to see what damage you’ve done. You seem coherent and there’s no blurred vision, which is good. I will get you some more paracetamol.’
With a swish of the curtain, he leaves and enters the cubicle next door.
I am left with a mind awash with thoughts about my relationship with Emily, our late-night chats about our life dreams over a bottle of wine, her longing to have her own fashion business and my dream of writing a novel; our mutual love of board games, especially Monopoly, where we’d both try to bankrupt the other in record time, our long walks along Brighton beach when one of us was worried about something and we’d talk it out while throwing stones into the sea and swearing into the waves. The crazy parties at her flat where we’d sneak off with a bottle of champagne to go kiss in the empty bath; the adult roller discos we went to; helping her to gift wrap one of her amazing dresses, which she’d made for one of her mates, and the fun we had ice skating when we used to take Felix out with us. We were good at being best friends. Actually… we were bloody amazing at it.
My phone bleeps. Taking it out of my pocket, I see it is a text from Anna.‘Any news on your head? I am in the hospital concourse enjoying a late-night coffee. Let me know if you think you will be discharged tonight.’
Anna. Guilt takes hold of my chest and sets off a tightening sensation. What the hell am I doing in London with Anna?
My mind goes back to the first work night where we got talking. She claimed she knew me. I recall some bloke from the office overhearing and slapping me on the back like I was some prize-winning animal. Ignoring everyone staring at us, I studied her face for any signs of familiarity. Was she someone from school? Was she someone I’d got off with when I was a spotty, greasy-haired, cider-fuelled teenager? Was she someone I’d worked with?
‘You don’t remember me – do you?’ She smiled and stirred her colourful cocktail. ‘I’m cool with that.’
After taking a mouthful of cocktail I gestured for her to tell me.
‘You used to take your little brother to my mum’s ballet school.’
To say I choked on my sidecar cocktail was an understatement. By the time I had composed myself and wiped my streaming eyes, everyone around me was asking whether I needed an ambulance.
Anna twirled a long lock of black hair around a manicured finger. ‘Lawrence.’
I took in a large gulp of air and gripped onto my bar stool.
‘You must remember me from back then. I was the plump ballerina who was always being shouted at by the teacher.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Her own frigging mother.’
Shrugging my shoulders, I cast her a puzzled look. ‘I don’t really remember much from back then.’ My eyes were only on Lawrence. I wasn’t into ballet or any other dancing. Back then I preferred football, heavy metal music and playing war video games in my best friend’s bedroom. Lawrence and I were at different ends of the interest scale. However, I knew ballet made him happy and back then that was a big thing for me.
For a while Anna and I both went silent. I’d thought she’d dropped the subject of Lawrence. I was wrong.
‘Lawrence and I were at Brighton uni together.’
The words seem to hang helplessly in the air after they’d left her lips.
She drained her cocktail. ‘We were close friends at uni.’ I watched as she swirled the ice around the glass. ‘I miss him a lot, Rory. Lawrence was a good guy.’
The feeling I experienced while sitting opposite her and hearing all this was strange and surreal. For so long I’d locked away all my memories of Lawrence at the back of my head and thrown away the key. Anna had the key. In a flash, she’d opened it. Within a few seconds my head was filled with thoughts and memories of Lawrence.
‘You knew him?’ I croaked.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I remember him from ballet when I met him during freshers’ week. He made me promise not to tell any of his uni mates about his ballet days.’
My heart has started to thump away inside my chest.
‘Mum told me that you have started taking a boy called Felix to her ballet classes – is he your son?’
Felix’s cheeky face popped into my mind. We were great friends. He was my little buddy who used to come and sit with me when I accompanied Emily to Vivi’s house. Whenever he came over to the sofa, he’d always bring his latest school project or a certificate he’d received. I would give him a high five, sit him beside me and ask him to tell me about his achievement. We shared the same sense of humour and, after we’d talked about school projects, I would get out my phone and we’d play a game on it. I could tell he was a smart kid. He was quick to pick up games on my phone and would always end up beating me. I never told him or Emily about Lawrence. As far as they knew I didn’t have a younger brother who died in a car crash years ago. When Felix took me aside once and explained his mum thought he was weird, it was like history repeating itself. As he told me about his love of dance, I could see Lawrence in his eyes. He hugged me when I told him he wasn’t weird and how I’d once known a great ballet school and I would see if it was still doing classes. The following week Felix and I went along to his first proper class. I cried into my hoodie watching him and told him I had an eye allergy when he finished.
‘He’s my ex-girlfriend’s nephew.’
Anna nodded. ‘He must remind you of Lawrence.’
‘He does, and Lawrence would hate me for saying this, Felix is a better dancer.’
