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He walks through to the adjoining kitchen while I make my way out of the living area and down the corridor to the bedroom and en suite.
If ever there was a time for my conscience to take control, it’s now, I realise. On the bed are some of Ian’s things, scattered around. I don’t even know if I’ve changed the sheets recently. While the kettle whistles down the hall, I dig into the hallway cupboard, pulling out a new set of sheets. If I do this quick, he’ll never know.
“Tea’s ready,” he shouts through, just as I’m finishing smoothing out the duvet cover.
“Yeah, won’t be long.”
I wander into the bathroom, sweating from having changed the sheets in seconds. I dump the old sheets in the hamper and look in the mirror. I am totally screwed.
Do I even love Ian anymore? I don’t know. We haven’t had sex in over two months now, but does that equate to not loving one another anymore? Or are we just incompatible, or worse, a toxic pairing?
We could take this night for what it is and leave it there. It could be a really great night between two good friends who want nothing but happiness for the other. Maybe that doesn’t mean we can ever be together – maybe it just means we get one night and have to leave it there, before we go back to our real lives.
I start running the bath because I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs or bikini line. I suppose I would have probably tarted myself up a bit tomorrow morning before walking around to my parents’ house, but I can’t let Paul see me like this tonight.
I’ve dunked myself into the bath by the time he walks into the room carrying my cup of tea. He’s seen most of me already but for some reason, I look down at myself and am relieved when I see bubbles covering up the main stuff.
“Oh, is this what one calls freshening up?” He scans the bathwater but he won’t see anything.
“It’s… I wasn’t expecting this, tonight.”
“You don’t have to, not on my account,” he chuckles.
I laugh as loudly as humanly possible. “I feel gross and need to be clean for my own sanity, okay?”
He nods grudgingly and hands me the tea, which is very welcome after all that gross liquor and flat beer earlier, not to mention all the exhaust fumes as we walked home.
“Where are you spending tomorrow, then?” I ask, as he sits on the closed toilet lid.
“Ah, the usual. You?”
“Yeah, my parents.”
For a second, I wonder… wouldn’t it be wonderful if we both suddenly came down with colds and couldn’t spend Christmas being sociable? We could spend the whole of tomorrow in this flat, eating toasted sandwiches and watching films in our pyjamas – jumping into bed whenever we want.
Then I remember… his mother is very traditional and wouldn’t brook his absence. Until he has a family of his own, as far as she’s concerned, he belongs with her.
Stupid, Lily, stupid!
“So, you say Ian is visiting his parents.”
It’s a statement more than a question; he wants me to tell him all about my shitty relationship with my former boyfriend, now roommate, essentially.
“He’s gone to Dublin, yeah. He won’t be back until after New Year. He drove over so he said there’s no point just going for a couple of days when he can really spend some time with people… catch up, see old friends and make the most of it.”
The truth is, I was so happy when he suggested time apart over the festive period, and I think he was just as relieved and added on the bit about ‘making the most of it’. It’s been so weird between us lately, a break from one another sounded like a good idea – and he even said it’d be good to miss each other. I wondered if he meant in the way the heart grows fonder when lovers are apart, but I’m not sure.
I watch Paul as he sips from his own cup. I observe his leg jiggling, like he’s working up to something. Then he comes right out with it: “Are you happy, Lil?”
I stare at him, my heart breaking, then I stare at the tiled wall. After the tears have started to fall, I whisper, “No.”
“Then, why stay with him? You could have anybody.”
I take a deep breath. “It’s complicated. Besides, I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”
“Okay.”
I detect his wounded tone.
