Page 77 of The Ghost of Exes Past

I stagger off the bed, fumbling past the bedside table and sending her glass of water tumbling over the edge, but I don’t hear it land. It’s then that I notice the clock next to it. It’s stopped. The seconds are frozen. Every hair on my body stands up and I turn slowly.

I’m frozen as I realise that in front of the creepy, old mirror stands Gabe.

‘Put your bits away, lad,’ Gabe says, his voice as gruff and deep as ever.

‘Fucking hell, Gabe!’ I say, pulling a cushion from the floor – one of the many decorative ones from the bed – and using it to cover myself. The tassels tickle my thighs.

‘Hello to you too, Jake.’

I’d forgotten how huge he was. He takes up far too much space in this room. Both his feet and shins would dangle over the bed if he tried to lie down in it. The grey, the stillness seems to radiate off him, like he’s brought the in-between with him, hidden in his waistcoat. The flat nothingness I’ve been living in for a decade. For a few hours I’d forgotten what it looked like.

I steal a glance at Belle in the bed, still in the same position, curled as if I was under her. Her brow is furrowed. I reach out and pull the duvet over her chest to hide her modesty and keep her warm, which is a stupid thing to do, given that time is frozen.

If he’s here, though, this must be the end.

His voice booms, gruff, as if he hasn’t properly spoken for a while. ‘So, how was it? Fun?’

‘You could have warned me.’

‘Warned you ’bout what?’

‘All of it. The exes … Mainly the exes, but also the fact I’d have to watch her – next to her – with others, all while my feelings came back …’ I stop. ‘You didn’t mention that.’

‘Would you have gone if I had?’

‘Hm,’ is all I can muster, because I know he’s right.

‘So a terrible experience, then?’

‘No, no …’ I look to my feet. How do I sum up how this past day has been? A whirlwind? An emotional rollercoaster? She was angry and then robotic and then sad, helpless, and then the laughter, the touching …

I sigh, move in front of the bed and perch on the edge. Cushion still to my crotch.

‘Parts of it were great. I could feel things … They were small at first, but then more … I could see colours. Her dress …’ I look at the silky gown I’d pulled off over her thighs, crumpled on the floor. ‘Then surprising things. I’d forgotten her laugh and how it made me feel … alive. At first, I thought it was too late, that she’d changed too much, but—’ The taste of her still on my tongue. ‘She’s still there …’

Gabe nods, once. ‘Go on …’ He strokes his beard.

‘I missed so much. But in a weird way things were still the same between us. The tension. The passion. We still fit perfectly, you know?’

‘I know.’

I’m sure I catch a flash of sadness on his face. Or what I think is sadness under those heavy brows of his.

‘You do?’ I do a double take, not expecting that response.

He clicks his neck to the side, the edge of his lip quivering. He looks around, then pulls out the tiny stool from under the dressing table, which is still laden with Belle’s products. The stool legs almost buckle under the weight of him, knees up to his chest. The carpet and floorboards groan.

‘His name was Dorian. I called him Dot.’

Oh. He’s done this himself? Of course he has.

‘What happened?’ I’d always wondered but had never asked.

‘I was like you once,’ Gabe says. ‘Selfish. Controlling.’

‘Thanks for pointing that out, mate.’

He ignores me. ‘I made him feel like he had to choose between himself and me. I didn’t feel good enough to compete with his ambition or his freedom. I treated all of it like a threat. I thought if he grew, he’d grow away from me …’ He sighs. ‘I wanted him all to myself.’