Michael began to eat, feeling her eyes boring into him. It would have felt unnerving if he hadn’t been so hungry.
They hardly spoke during the meal, and no sooner had he finished his last mouthful than she reached over to clear his plate. He attempted to circle her waist with his hands but she removed them slowly.
‘We need to talk, Michael’
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘This is serious.’
She dragged her chair closer to his. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, forcing him to make eye contact.
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘You know what I mean.’
He knew all too well. They’d been here once before, yes, he remembered now–about a year ago.
‘You said six months.’
‘I know…’
‘That was two years ago, Michael.’
Two years? ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she replied sharply. ‘I’ve known you for three years now.’
He hadn’t realized it had been that long.
‘“Just give me another six months or so to sort myself out,” you said. “Then we can be a couple.”’
Michael felt utterly and totally in a bind. At the time he was sure he’d meant it. Hoping to have improved his living/job/financial status somewhat, but, as that had yet to materialize, well…
‘Well?’ she folded her arms, and Michael swallowed. ‘I need to know we are going somewhere. That this…this relationship, if you can call it that, is leading us to something bigger…’
‘I just need time,’ he said.
‘Yeah, another few months,’ said Jen, clasping her arms even tighter.
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Because when is it ever going to be the right time? You seem to think we have all the time in the world! That when you decide you are ready, things will just snap into place!’
Sounded feasible to him.
‘I think I need to wake up and realize that I’m not it, am I?’ she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. Michael hoped she wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t handle that.
‘What aren’t you?’
‘I’m not The One. If I was, you wouldn’t need to make all these excuses, we’d just be together. It shouldn’t be this hard, Michael.’ She sighed heavily.
‘You know I don’t believe in all that “The One” stuff, Jen. Come on…’ He extended his arm in a warm gesture, but she just looked at him blankly.
‘Just think about what I’m saying, Michael.’
He looked at Jen and knew that if he began to explain, she just wouldn’t understand.
‘Michael, I am not getting any younger–neither of us are. And I’m sick of waiting. For some reason you seem to think we have all the time in the world. Newsflash: We don’t!’
‘Jen–’
‘I’m sick of you coming round here when you please, without a thought for me. I don’t even have a toothbrush at your flat! You don’t even like me coming over!’
Because, he wanted to reply, my flat could double up as a rubbish tip and I’d much rather you didn’t see it. Especially as you own your own flat, drive a decent car and buy your hair stuff from Self ridges! Whilst I don’t have anything to give you really. Nothing of value. Not at the moment anyway, but someday. Soon. Definitely.
Yes, when he got his act together, things would be different and only then would he begin to live the life he’d always craved–now he just had to tell Jen that, knowing that he’d probably sound like a commitment-phobe.
She continued. ‘And I’ve only met your family twice. Both times in the supermarket. By accident!’
‘Well it’s not as if we’re in a proper re–’
The expression on her face switched to frightened anguish…and so he shut up.
‘What did you say?’ Her eyes squinted and then widened just as quickly. ‘What am I doing?’ she said to herself with a hint of resolution.
She ran her hands through her hair as if to physically get her head straight.
‘What am I doing?’ she reiterated.
‘Jen…’
‘Michael, please leave,’ she then said, her demeanour suddenly composed.
‘Jen, I’m sorry,’ he said, meaning it. Making her all upset was never part of the plan; he still cared about her after all.
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s over, Michael.’
As he walked the short walk from the bus stop to his flat, he realized that, whilst he’d hated hurting Jen, he couldn’t shake off the huge feeling of relief he’d felt ever since she’d said; ‘It’s over,’ just over thirty minutes ago. They’d hugged, she’d stuffed a couple of gifts he’d given her into his pocket, and they’d said their goodbyes like the civilized human beings they were. It felt right. And if it felt right, then it must be…right. Jen was a nice enough girl and he really hoped she would find someone else. A bloke who would appreciate her more and be able to give her what she needed. And she would, he was sure of that. In fact, he had to believe that, otherwise he’d feel like the biggest bastard ever to have walked the streets of South-East London.
So, he was free to focus on what really counted at the moment: getting a promotion, moving out of the flat and into his own home; oh, and mustering up the motivation to put those wheels into some type of credible motion.
And he would find it.
Somewhere.
He hoped.
Two and a half weeks later…
‘She just looks asleep to me,’ said Ade.
‘Peaceful,’ said the nurse.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Serene even,’ she added.
‘I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.’
‘Oh, give me a break! She looks far from beautiful hooked up to a tube and I’d much prefer it if you stopped talking about her like she’s dead! She’s just been asleep for a while, that’s all!’ Eleven days, actually. ‘And she’s not going to be here much longer, either. Doesn’t anybody get that?’ Now Cara was feeling irritated. Again. In fact her moods switched from hopeful, to hopeless, to frightened, to angry, and all the way through to irritated. She was beginning to forget who she was.
‘No, you’re right,’ said Ade awkwardly as the nurse with the northern accent shifted nervously on her feet, as if to say, ‘who are you trying to kid? The longer this girl stays like this, the worse it will be for her when she finally comes round.’
But Cara knew different. She knew that Lena would soon be out of that manky bed and safely following her round a branch of Kurt Geiger ready to spell out the disadvantages of spending £150 on a pair of killer heels when half of that money could be used to buy a couple of goats for a third world