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“Fine, fine,” she says, knowing when to concede. “But he’s got some really heavy shit going on in his life, Ad. Maybe he’s just trying to figure some of it out.”
“Well good for him. He can do that somewhere else. I am done being his punching bag. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” I tuck my blouse in and run back to the bathroom to put my make up on. My hair goes up into a tight bun, and I’m ready to go.
I look at my best friend; she is observing me with a look of concern on her face. “What, Cara?” I exclaim.
“It’s nothing. I just know you were really into him and you being so casual about him seems forced.”
“Maybe it is, but I gotta fake it until I make it.” I shoot back, starting to feel irritated and wanting to avoid the subject. “Anyway, tell me all about Paris. When do you leave? Are you excited? Etoile?”
My subject change works and Cara launches excitedly into the topic of her new and exciting opportunity. I am grateful for the reprieve and excited to hear her good news.
I push all thoughts of Simon Phillips to the back of my mind as we board the southbound Northern Line train toward London Bridge.
September 19, 2014
“Hey, Kyle, it’s me. Can you meet me back at the flat when you get this? It’s important.” I press end as I leave the voicemail for my brother and pray he checks it. Just to be sure he gets my message, I also send him a text.
I hate being cryptic, but I don’t want to say anymore until I can actually talk to him. I was reeling from the news about our mother last night. I went to the gym and put an extra-long session which meant by the time I got home Kyle was passed out with Henry splayed on his chest. I put Henry in his crib, but didn’t wake Kyle up. Part of me didn’t want to disturb him, the other part was afraid if he woke up I would just blurt out the bad news, and I had no idea how he’d take it.
His text response comes back almost immediately.
Kyle: Sure. I’ll be home by 5:30.
“Fuck!” I mutter to myself. It was a quarter to five, and I need to leave right away if I was going to make it home in time to meet him.
I grab my backpack and run out of my office and smack into Addie and Matthew. They were clearly headed out, too. Together.
“Hey, Simon, mate!” Matt says in a tone that makes me want to punch his stupid face. I notice his hand on the small of Addie’s back, and I feel my jaw involuntarily clench. “Matthew, hello,” I return.
I force myself to look down at her and find she had a strange, strained smile on her face and her eyes are completely devoid of any warmth as she meets my gaze head on.
“Hi, Addie,” I say, knowing I sound about as warm as she looks. I could have sworn her eyes softened for a moment, but then the hardness is back and she only nods in response.
“We’re headed to The Duck and Waffle for a drink,” Matt offers uselessly.
“That’s nice,” I respond, not taking my eyes off Addie. She is having a drink with this twat?
“You headed home?” He prods when I don’t say anything else. I bring eyes back to him.
“Yeah, but actually I’ve just remembered an email I forgot to send.” No way in hell am I riding down the elevator with these two. Without another word, I turn and go back into my office and shut the door.
I stand there, my back against the door. My heart is racing. I want to punch something. I have no right to feel this way. But fuck, it hurts to see her with him.
I wait until I hear the elevator ding before I leave my office. When I am sure they’re gone, I run down the hall, catch the next elevator, and hustle home as quickly as I can.
“Kyle!” I call out as I walk in. But it’s Mercy’s head that pops out from the kitchen. “You boys are both home early.” She says with a huge smile on her face. “It’s so rare.”
I walk down the short hallway into the kitchen to see her. “Henry’s already had his bath and is sleeping. He had his occupational therapy today. The poor fella was tuckered out.” She says as she stirs whatever she has cooking on the stove top.
I press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, Mercy, you’re such a dream.”
Kyle walks into the kitchen and sits down at the bar. He has obviously been home long enough to change from whatever he’s been wearing into what I call his “home uniform” of basketball shorts and white sleeveless undershirt.
“So, what’s up, Simon? No small talk, please.” Kyle says. For once, he isn’t smiling. I immediately feel gui
lt and anxiety. I haven’t prepared myself for what I’ll say to him. I look at Mercy, who has stopped her stirring, and is looking between both of us.
“Boys, what’s going on?” She asks, looking just as nervous as I am feeling.
