Entangled Page 15

‘Go on,’ he coaxed.

  ‘He … There was a level crossing. His car got hit by a train.’

  ‘An accident,’ he said.

  I nodded.

  ‘Grace, you can tell me the truth. You should tell the truth.’ He knelt in front of me and held my hand. His hand was cold. ‘I know you can do it. You’re strong enough now.’

  No point in lying now. ‘He drove onto the train tracks and stopped his car. He did it on purpose. He killed himself.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘That must have been very hard for you and your mother.’

  ‘Hard for her? It was her fault!’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  That stopped me dead. Why did I say that? Why had I always thought that?

  ‘It … She was a bitch to him.’

  ‘Was she?’ he said, and I was thinking the same question.

  I hesitated. ‘Yeah, she …’ The words disintegrated in my mouth. She loved him. Completely. She did everything for him. That’s the truth.

  ‘You’ve always blamed her, haven’t you? Why do you think that is?’

  Whywhywhywhywhy?

  ‘Because she was there.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘And he wasn’t, was he?’ His voice was hoarse.

  Tears came. I was amazed that I’d fended them off for so long. ‘He left me. On my birthday. On my fucking birthday! Why would he do that? How could he do that to me?’ I was sobbing now. I got up and threw myself onto the bed. Too many thoughts and memories were crowding my head.

  I felt Ethan sit on the edge of the mattress beside me. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know how someone could do that.’

  I spoke into the pillow, my voice muffled. ‘He never thought about us. He left us with nothing. How could he be so selfish?’

  ‘You’re right, Grace. It was a selfish thing to do.’

  A thought popped into my head. A thought I’d never had before. Not even when things were really, really bad.

  The moment I thought it, Ethan said it out loud:

  ‘I hate him.’

  day 27

  Nat got back from work, exhausted from changing barrels and being nice to people all day. I was feeling weird and embarrassed about cutting myself. How was I going to explain it to him? How could I have been so stupid?

  We ordered a pizza and lounged in front of the TV, neither of us saying much of anything. Nat ended up with his head in my lap and I stroked his hair. It was comfortable. Well, it would have been if I hadn’t been dreading him seeing what I’d done to myself. It got later and later and I could hardly keep my eyes open.

  ‘Come on, let’s get to bed, sleepyhead.’ Nat’s voice seemed far away. I opened my eyes and saw him clearing away the pizza box and our glasses. I rubbed my face and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was past two o’clock.

  Nat grabbed both my hands and hauled me off the sofa. He kissed my forehead before steering me towards the stairs. Each step was a mountain I reluctantly climbed. But what else could I do? I couldn’t stay downstairs forever. And I was so, so tired. When we got to my bedroom, I turned to Nat and kissed him. My heart wasn’t really in it and he could obviously tell.

  ‘Why don’t you change into your … er … pyjamas or nightie or whatever, and I’ll go and brush my teeth?’

  Pyjamas? Nat wasn’t supposed to know that I even owned pyjamas, let alone be able to see them – ever. And he was supposed to want to have sex with me at every available opportunity. Surely we hadn’t gone past that stage already? But I was falling asleep on my feet, and at least it postponed the inevitable that little bit longer. Still, I hesitated before pulling my PJs from their hiding place in the bottom of the wardrobe.

  When Nat came back, he laughed. ‘You never struck me as a Winnie-the-Pooh sort of girl! Nice!’

  I punched his arm, none too gently. ‘Shut up! And anyway, they’re not Winnie-the-Pooh – they’re Eeyore. Totally different thing. Eeyore rocks, and I won’t hear anyone say any different. You have been warned.’

  Nat kissed me right then. It was the best kiss and I don’t know why.

  ‘You’re full of surprises, Grace Carlyle. I wonder what other deep, dark secrets you’ve been hiding from me … Eeyore … Who would have thought it? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I think it’s adorable.’

  ‘Are you taking the piss?’

  ‘Noooooo, I wouldn’t dream of it. I think it’s perfectly normal that my girlfriend has a thing about depressed donkeys …’

  I flounced out of the room, pretending (and failing) to look indignant. It’s hard to look indignant in pyjamas of any kind. In the bathroom I examined the cuts on my legs. They looked pretty bad. Rusty red raw and angry.

  Nat was stripped down to his boxers when I returned. He looked amazing. All manly, but sleepy and rumpled. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so tired after all. I kissed him. He pulled back after a while and smiled that beautiful smile. ‘Right, into bed with you. And no funny business, OK?’

  I frowned. ‘Why? Don’t you want to?’ I didn’t quite know why I was pushing it. But I wanted it to be my decision not to have sex, not his.

  ‘Of course I want to, but I’m knackered and so are you. We don’t have to have sex all the time, you know? There’s no law or anything.’

  ‘Well, maybe there should be a law. Or a commandment or something … Thou shalt drop thy pants whenever I so desire.’ I raised my eyebrow at him. He responded by throwing a pillow at my head.

  So we both got under the covers and I scooted up to him, nestling in the crook of his arm. It felt weird and not quite right at first. I blamed the pyjamas, but there was no way I was taking them off now.

  We talked about all kinds of things, half whispering in the darkness. It’s always easier to say things in the dark. Our words trailed off after a while, and I thought Nat had fallen asleep. I snuggled closer to his chest and sighed a contented sort of sigh. I drifted into that deliciously dreamy halfway world, but was jolted out of it by the sound of Nat’s voice, which was strangely loud. ‘Are you awake?’

  I made a sound which meant yes but came out more of a ‘mmmhm’.

  ‘Tell me about Sal. What happened with her anyway?’

  I made another sound, which roughly translated into ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why did you two fall out?’

  I was fully awake now. I opened my eyes and shifted to look at Nat’s face. ‘I told you: it was just something stupid. Not worth talking about.’

  He was quiet for a few moments. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘What?! Why?’ I sat up.

  ‘You two are so close. I don’t think you’d have fallen out over something that wasn’t important. Why won’t you tell me the truth? Don’t you trust me?’

  This was just plain weird. Why wouldn’t he just leave it?

  ‘Of course I trust you, but why does it matter? Everything’s fine now.’

  ‘It matters to me, Grace.’ He sat up and took my hands in his. ‘I want to know everything there is to know about you, from your Eeyore pyjamas to the way you eat a Creme Egg. I want to know if you had an imaginary friend when you were little. I want to know when you learned to raise your eyebrow in that sexy way you do. I want to know what you’re thinking all those times you drift away from me. I want to know about everything that matters to you. I love you.’

  What?! I hadn’t expected him to say it. Yes, I’d hoped, but I’d never actually believed it would happen. And certainly not then. But he’d said it – he’d really, really said it. I thought I might burst with happiness, or at the very least jump up and down on the bed like an overexcited kid. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

  Everything was going to be OK.

  Nat.

  Loved.

  Me.

  His features were a little blurry in the darkness, but his eyes were wide. I think he was almost as surprised as I was. I leaned across and kissed him. Not much more than a peck, very chaste.

  ‘I love you too.’

  We sa
t in silence for a moment or two. I didn’t know what to say or do. This was all new to me.

  I was the first to speak. ‘No one’s ever said that to me before, you know.’

  Nat kissed me the same way I’d just kissed him. ‘I find that very hard to believe. You are extremely lovable.’

  ‘It’s true. Not the me being lovable bit … but, you know …’ I gulped hard, trying to swallow the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

  ‘Well then … every other guy you’ve been out with must have been an idiot.’

  ‘You don’t know how right you are.’

  I lay back down and Nat followed suit. Side by side, hand in hand, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘You never talk about other guys before me.’

  This was dangerous territory. I had to be careful. ‘And you don’t tell me about your ex-girlfriends, do you? It’s all in the past. None of it matters now.’

  ‘Ex-girlfriend. Singular. There’s only one.’

  ‘Really?’ I tried (and failed miserably) to keep the surprise from my voice.

  ‘Yes, really. Amy. I went out with her for three years. We broke up before I went to Nepal. And that’s it – my entire relationship history.’

  I was surprised by how it made me feel, hearing about this girl who must have known Nat so much better than I did. Three years is a very long time. Jealousy bubbled up inside me, turning everything sour.

  ‘Did you … love her?’ I had to ask.

  ‘Yes.’

  I said nothing. Nat raised himself up on one elbow. ‘But it doesn’t mean anything now. Like you said – it’s all in the past.’ He brushed my cheek with his hand. ‘So … what about you? You can tell me – I can take it.’ He smiled down at me, expectant but relaxed.

  I’d hoped that we’d managed to bypass this awkward moment altogether. Surely we would have talked about it sooner if we were ever going to? But no … It had to raise its ugly, stupid head now, trying to ruin what should have been the best moment of my life so far. I wouldn’t let it happen. I wasn’t going to tell Nat about my past and see that happy look on his face replaced by hurt and disappointment and disgust. No way. Things were going too well. But I didn’t want to lie to him by conjuring up some kind of semi-innocent, rose-tinted version of my past. He deserved better than that. So I did something despicable instead …

  ‘Sal got pregnant.’

  The ultimate diversionary tactic. Hardly a subtle, sleight-of-hand trick, but it did the job.

  Something’s wrong with Ethan. I can’t wake him. I shake him and shout at him but nothing happens. His breathing seems normal, but he won’t wake up.

  He lay down next to me last night. He didn’t say anything after the mind-reading weirdness. I was freaked out and confused and aching with sadness. So many questions in my head. But I didn’t ask any of them – something stopped me. And now it might be too late.

  Got up this morning and left him lying on the bed. He looked peaceful.

  But now he won’t wake up.

  What if he doesn’t wake up?

  I’m scared.

  I won’t leave him. Not now.

  I have to finish this. I have to.

  My despicable tactic with Nat certainly worked. A little too well. There was a moment or two of silence before Nat responded.

  ‘What?’ His voice was croaky.

  I sighed. ‘Sal got pregnant. That’s why we fell out.’

  Nat sat up and turned on the bedside light. I shielded my eyes and shuffled myself into a sitting position. Then I looked at Nat. His expression was hard to read.

  ‘Wha—When did this happen?’

  I felt sick that I was doing this to my best friend in the world. Betraying her trust, just to get myself out of a slightly sticky situation. But there was no going back now.

  ‘I don’t even know. She won’t tell me what happened.’

  ‘Seriously? You must know something. Why on earth wouldn’t she tell you?’

  ‘Nat, I don’t know. She completely shut me out. All I know is it must have happened around Easter. She … um … she had an abortion a couple of months ago. I would have gone with her, but we fell out and …’ I didn’t know what else to say without sounding pathetic.

  Now Nat looked like he was the one who felt nauseous. ‘Jesus. I never thought it was anything like that. How … is she? Now, I mean. It must have been awful for her.’

  I was touched at his concern. ‘She’s doing OK, I think. It’ll take her some time to get over it, I suppose. But I think she’s doing better.’

  ‘And you really have no idea what happened? Who she … slept with?’

  ‘No! I told you. Why won’t you believe me?’ I hated being asked the same thing twice. It drove me crazy.

  ‘I’m just … surprised, I suppose. It seems like the kind of thing best friends might talk about, that’s all.’

  He was right and it made me angry. Angrier than it should have done. ‘Look! Will you just stop talking about it? She didn’t tell me anything. I haven’t got a fucking clue what happened, and I probably never will, so just … leave it.’ I turned away, not wanting Nat to see the tears that were beginning to blur the edges of my vision. I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I shook it off.

  ‘Grace, I’m sorry. I just wish you’d told me about this sooner.’

  I jumped up from the bed and whirled round to face him. ‘WHY? What difference does it make? Why can’t you stop going on about it? It’s none of your business anyway!’ I made no effort to hide the tears now. And I didn’t bother to wipe them away as I stood over Nat, breathing heavily. He looked stunned. He’d never had to witness my temper before.

  After a moment, he spoke quietly and deliberately. ‘None of my business? Is that how you really feel?’

  ‘Yes! I should never have even told you!’

  ‘Why did you, then?’

  He had me there. ‘Look, Nat. Could you please … just go? I can’t deal with this right now.’ I was surprised at my own words, but part of me knew that if we continued this conversation it was going to end really badly.

  ‘If that’s what you want.’ I’d more than half expected him to try to reason with me. Or at least be angry that I was kicking him out in the middle of the night. But he didn’t even seem to care.

  I nodded and watched as he pulled on his clothes. I wanted to say sorry, to tell him to stop, to stay with me. But the words wouldn’t come.

  Nat turned to face me when he reached the door. We looked at each other for the briefest of moments. Here was a last chance for one of us to say something, anything, but neither of us took it. His face was an emotionless mask; tears were still trickling down mine. And then he was gone.

  I waited to hear the front door close before slumping on the bed and crying so hard I thought I might never stop. I was angry and sad and confused. I’d made a terrible mistake. I knew full well that I’d taken all my frustration and resentment at Sal for not trusting me and dumped it on Nat. All because he cared enough to ask about it. All because he loved me.

  But what was with all the questions? Asking over and over again about what I knew and didn’t know and why I hadn’t told him. I didn’t have the answers.

  I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, I took the knife from my desk drawer and slowly and carefully re-opened the cuts I’d made on my legs that day. And then I made some more.

  I examined the damage the next morning. It was not a pretty sight: like some kind of modern art gone badly wrong. There was so much blood on the sheets – more than I’d have thought possible. The blade of the knife looked rusty.

  I couldn’t face it. I pulled the duvet back over my head and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  When I woke up, there were a few blissful seconds of not remembering, before it all came crashing back. I replayed things over and over in my head, and kept returning to the image of Nat’s face just before he’d left. He’d looked at me the way you’d look at a stranger on the street. How could you go in a
matter of minutes from telling someone you loved them to looking at them like that? How was that even possible?

  I knew the whole thing was my fault. It would never have happened if I hadn’t been trying to weasel out of telling him about my past. I could have just lied, or been vague, or told him he was my first. Or maybe not. Maybe I could have told him the truth and maybe he would have understood and maybe I would have felt as if a gigantic weight had been lifted and I could finally breathe again.

  I checked my phone, hoping to see the little envelope in the corner of the screen. And there it was!

  My heart hammered in my chest and I knew that everything was going to be fine. Until I saw that it was a SIM update from the bastard phone network. Bastardbastardbastard.

  I threw the phone on the floor and gave it my best evil stare, considering what punishment to inflict on it next. Then I thought better of it and texted Sal: ‘Come round? PLEASE? Nat’s not here. x’. A few minutes later I got a message back saying she was on her way.

  I had a quick shower, trying my best to ignore the pain of the hot water running down the cuts on my legs. I felt much more positive about things as I got dressed and put my damp hair in a ponytail. Sal would know how to fix things with Nat. I couldn’t tell her exactly what we’d argued about, but I felt sure I could come up with something plausible. She’d kill me if she found out what I’d told him. And she’d have every right to. Best friends didn’t do that to each other, not ever. I was the worst best friend in the world.

  The doorbell rang much sooner than I’d expected. I hadn’t had a chance to put the sheets in the wash. I grimaced as I looked at the state of them. It was OK though, Sal and I would just stay downstairs. Still, I quickly stowed the knife back in the desk drawer and chucked my dressing gown over the bed, somewhat haphazardly. It was the best I could do.

  I bounded down the stairs and opened the door to let Sal in, and then accidentally burst into tears before she could sit down. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Sal manoeuvred me over to the sofa and let the tears run their course. She hugged me and told me everything was going to be OK, which was nice to hear even though I didn’t believe it. When the crying died down to a mere sniffle, Sal offered to make a cup of tea. I waited on the sofa.