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I struggle for breath as my arse plummets to my chair, my breathing coming quick and fast.
She was saying goodbye.
She didn’t pull away from my kiss, but that was because she knew in that moment she wasn’t going to see me again. She was saying goodbye, and I didn’t even realize it. I’ve fucked up. What was I thinking? I rest my elbow on the arm of my office chair and drop my forehead to my palm. I don’t know what to do.
So I do what instinct is telling me to do. “Come on, Steve.” I get up and throw on my Ralph Lauren gilet over my jumper, grabbing Steve and his lead and heading out. I drive to Lo’s house in a haze of despair, constantly running over that goodbye, trying desperately to find another explanation for her elusiveness. There isn’t one. I imagine her walking into her house that night. I imagine her husband waiting for her. I imagine him telling her that he saw her on the street kissing another man. Would he have gotten angry? Would he have taken his anger out on Lo? Jesus, I can’t have her taking the blame for my stupidity. It was my fault. I’ve thrown away a friendship I value in a moment of foolishness. I smash my fist into the steering wheel, praying I’m wrong. Praying for that simple explanation that’ll settle me. I’ll explain to her husband. I’ll tell him it meant nothing.
When I pull into Lo’s street, I park at the end and pull out a dog treat from my pocket, giving it to Steve to keep him occupied, before I get out of the car. I remain on the opposite side of the road, walking slowly, my eyes trained on the front of her house. The subtle glow is coming from the front bedroom window again. I come to a stop opposite the door, my hands stuffed deeply in my jeans pockets. And I think, what now?
My pounding heart won’t let up, and my whirling mind refuses to stop spinning. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I tap out a message.
Just let me know you’re okay.
I click send, and immediately regret it. She could reply, tell me she’s fine to appease me. It doesn’t mean I’ll believe her. In fact, I won’t believe her. I wait and wait, my worry growing with each minute that passes with no reply. Pushing my mobile into my forehead, I use all of my might to think clearly. It’s too hard when my head is a fog of worry and questions.
Let me know, or I’m coming to your house to find out myself.
I don’t mean to threaten her, I truly don’t, but I’m losing my mind, and I’m at a loss for what else to do. My phone lights up in my hand.
I’m fine.
My lungs balloon with my intake of oxygen, but not in relief. Her short, simple reply, albeit what I asked for, only amplifies my concern.
I need to see for myself. I’m outside.
The light in the hallway immediately comes on, shining through the window in the top section of the door. I stay where I am on the other side of the road and wait. The door doesn’t open, but I catch the curtains at the downstairs window twitch. She’s checking to see if I’m here. I step forward, putting myself under the glow of the streetlamp so she can see me, and only a couple of seconds later, the front door opens.
Lo walks out, tugging on a huge, knitted cardigan, pulling the door closed behind her. Taking a few steps that put her on the street, she stops, saying nothing, staring across the road at me. My eyes scan her willowy body, working up to her face. I try to zoom in on her, but the distance is too great, the darkness not in my favor. I need to go to her. Yet I don’t move, mindful that through my own selfish need, I’m risking putting Lo in a very difficult situation just by being here, and that sudden comprehension fills me with guilt.
I need to go, leave, but before that, I just need to see her face one last time. I know this is it. I know I won’t see her again.
And my fucking heart is breaking.
I don’t get a chance to talk my legs into moving. Lo starts to cross the road toward me, and I can’t explain how thankful I am when I get clear sight of her features, not a scratch or blemish in sight.
Coming to a stop, she lets me scan every inch of her, her body language telling me she knows what I’m doing and why. “What are you doing here, Luke?” she asks, the warmth of her voice gone completely. She sounds irritated, and I hate it.
