“Oh.” His words settled. Interview. Scotland. “Wait, Scotland?”
“Yeah. It’s my only option right now. I can’t afford to be without a job for long. Once the dust settles, I can start looking in London again.”
My insecurities bubbled to the surface mixed with anger and the familiarity of loss that defined my life. “So, you’re running away,” I said, losing my breath through anxiety and pain. “You can’t do that, Will. Tomorrow, go back to your boss and tell him he’s making a huge mistake. You were perfect for that job and you’re letting them treat you like this just because you helped me spread a vital message, not through filming some dirty porno!”
“It’s too late for that, Skye! This business is savage. I’m replaceable. We all are.”
“Don’t run,” I pleaded.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” he shot back.
“I’m not running, I’m seeking help. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”
“I want you to heal,” he replied. “I want you to forgive yourself.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I said pointing my finger and pacing. “You know my defence strategies too well. I should have seen this coming. I not sure if this is fuelled by anger or love.”
“What?”
“You’re leaving me.” I hated myself. Despised that my mind went straight to that place of familiarity.
“No, Skye. I’m pissed and I need space and yes, there’s a difference.”
“No, you’re taking my right to push you away.” He raised his eyes and sighed. “To get rid of the fall before I crash to the floor. To be in control like I always am. You…doing this–”
“That’s fucking madness,” he said, jumping up. “Can I just remind you that you came here to tell me you’re leaving.” I hated that he held so much anger, hated even more that I wasn’t sure if it was totally directed at me.
“When are you going?”
“Tomorrow first thing.”
“Were you going to tell me?” I asked. “You haven’t replied to messages for the last few days.”
He sighed and adjusted his glasses. “I think we both need space from…whatever this is.”
“Us?”
He nodded and I admitted defeat. We’d reached a conclusion. Found a mutual way forward. I joined him on the chair, and we sat in silence, my mind racing as I realised how selfish I’d been to expect him to put his life on hold and wait for me while I sorted my head out in Amsterdam.
“Skye, I think this will be good for both of us.”
“You do?” I whispered.
“There’s too much other stuff in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
He laughed lightly. “What I hope we can be.”
“I’m sorry it’s come this,” I replied as he put his arm around my shoulder.
“Don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “I think it’s exactly where we need to be.”
26
Will
2 months later
I hadn’t been in Brighton for a while and I missed the charm of the place, the quirks and the eccentricities but I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, whatever this was. Facing up to what I’d tried not to obsess about for the last couple of months or just enjoying a nice meal together, a casual catch up…I wasn’t sure.
She’d chosen her favourite restaurant and I liked the idea that we’d be surrounded by familiar people who could prop me up if I ended up drunk and sobbing at a table in the corner. I pushed the door open and saw her immediately, sitting at a table and taking a sip of white wine as she people-watched.
“Hey stranger,” she said when she noticed me approaching the table. “How are you?”
“Good,” I replied softly, realising how much I’d missed her.
“I’ve been worried about you. You fell off the grid for a while. Where the bloody hell did you go?”
“Snowboarding with some of the guys from uni,” I replied sheepishly, understanding how lame that sounded.
She twirled the stem of her wine glass with her finger as I sat down in the chair opposite her. “You should have come to me, you know. My two best mates just disappeared out of my life and I’ve been lost.”
“Sorry, Stace.” She looked tired but happy. Life with Matt was agreeing with her. “I should have contacted you more.”
“Knowing you were still alive every couple of weeks was enough to keep me sane.” She smiled. “Almost.”
We ordered more wine and went straight to mains. Stacey wanted dessert she’d had her eye on for a while so saved room by skipping starters. We chatted about inane topics, made each other laugh and shared stories we’d been desperate to share with each other. But we both skirted around the big issue, the one we both held close to our hearts. By the time I’d finished my steak and chips I couldn’t hold back any longer. “How is she?” The she we didn’t need to refer to by name. The she we both knew and loved.
“She’s good.”
I fidgeted with the cutlery, changing positions, turning the plate. I wanted to ask her more but didn’t know if it was my right to anymore, if Skye even wanted my concern, or my love. I started replaying the night she left, the things that had been said in anger and frustration. She was wearing a T-shirt that said woman up and it captured everything about her. I don’t know why that piece of fabric stuck in my mind as such a clear memory. Perhaps it hid my regret of what I’d said and implied. Christ, I just wanted to hold her and tell her it would all work out, but I couldn’t give her that guarantee, that promise, because I didn’t know myself. “What exactly does that mean, Stace? I mean good as in OK or good as in great, she’s finding herself, getting the support she needs through people…a guy…I mean…professional people…men or women.”
“This is madness,” she replied, dabbing her mouth with her serviette and putting it down on the table. “Have you been in touch with her?”
“No, I didn’t feel it was my place.”
“No.
