Andy jumps to the defense. “Maybe it is right with Andrew.”
“What?” Mel laughs with amazement. “With some good-looking bastard who goes around breaking women’s hearts? With Andrew who Tasha hardly knows, who will undoubtedly turn out to be a pig?” She turns to me then. “Tasha, all your life you have had short-term passionate flings. Some of them have felt like relationships, Simon for example, but none of them have been real.
“I’ve never seen you comfortable in a relationship. I’ve never seen you relax and be yourself. I’ve seen you try and become a number of different women, women who you thought they wanted you to be. I’ve seen you be the doctor’s wife, the rock star’s girlfriend, the artist’s muse. I’ve seen you change your hair, your clothes, your friends, and there’s nothing wrong with that except you’ve never done it for yourself. You’ve done it because you’ve hoped it would make them love you more.
“But don’t you understand that that wasn’t love? That wasn’t real? That what you have with Adam, by the mere fact that it is so comfortable and natural, is real? That that feeling is called love.
“You have to grow up, Tasha,” she sighs. “Teenagers have crushes. Teenagers go from one relationship to the next and live their lives on that rollercoaster. You aren’t a teenager anymore. You’re thirty years old and you have a chance of happiness with another person, lasting happiness, happiness that could last the rest of your life.”
“BUT I CAN’T HELP THE WAY I FEEL ABOUT ANDREW!” I shout, stopping her tirade, leaving both of them sitting there open-mouthed.
“And if it’s not Andrew,” I continue in a softer voice, “then it will be someone else. Not that I’d be looking for it, but in a few years, or a few months or whenever, someone will come along who will be exciting, who I will fancy, and again I will look at Adam and know that I made the wrong decision.”
“I agree with Tash,” says Andy. “I know it’s desperately sad but she’s right. It happened yesterday and if she goes back with Adam it will happen again.”
“So you’ve made your decision.” Mel’s looking at me, and it’s impossible to read the expression on her face, or the tone in her voice because neither is there. Completely blank.
“Yes.” I nod. “I don’t know whether it’s the right one, but I think it’s right for me. I need more, Mel. And I also can’t help but feel that this is fate. That Andrew was meant to come over last night and it was meant to happen because Adam and I are wrong together.”
Mel rubs her eyes and sits back. “You know I love you, Tasha. You’re my best friend and I’ll be there for you, whatever you do, but if you do get together with Andrew, don’t expect me to befriend him too.”
I drive home feeling guilty, lonely but also relieved. I can’t help it. I can’t stand the pain Adam must be going through, but I have to think about me now. I have to stop the pain in the future. I have to stop “us” now.
But then just as I’m about to put the key in the lock, my front door opens and Adam is standing in the doorway, arms filled with boxes, piled up high under his chin. He stands there and he looks at me, not saying a word. Just looking with red-rimmed eyes filled with pain.
“We need to talk,” I say quietly, gently pushing him inside. I close the door on the outside world and walk into the living room and sit down.
20
What are you supposed to say when you are sitting opposite the man you love, the man you are not in love with but the man you love, and you are feeling his pain as if it is your own?
When you would do almost anything to stop his pain, but the one thing you could give him, the one thing that you know would surely make it go away, is the one thing you just can’t give.
I look at Adam and I want to put my arms around him. I want to cuddle him and tell him that it’s all going to be OK, but I can’t do that. I have to be cruel to be kind, I can’t give him a teaser, a taste of what he will be missing in the future because then he will collapse, and if he collapses I don’t know what will happen to me. Really, I don’t.
So we sit there, opposite one another, in silence.
“What did I do?” Adam whispers eventually. “I must have done something wrong.”
“Oh God. Ad, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, it wasn’t what it seemed.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t what it seemed? What was it then, were you just giving him a friendly kiss? Do you kiss all your friends like that?” He stops, as he realizes what he’s just said. No, I don’t kiss all my friends like that. Just Adam.
“Adam, it just happened, it was one of those things.”
“Things don’t just happen, Tasha. They happen when you’re not happy. They happen when there is something wrong with the relationship, and I have been up all night trying to think what is wrong with our relationship, and you know what the stupid thing is?”
I shake my head but he’s not even looking at me. “The stupid fucking thing is that I can’t think of anything. I cannot think of one single thing about our relationship that I would change. I must be stupid, because obviously there’s something fundamentally wrong, so what the hell is it? What is it that’s missing?”
That pit-stopping, heart-wrenching feeling that is passion is what is missing, but I can’t tell him that. Even if I told him that I loved him, that I respected, admired, trusted, and loved him, I couldn’t tell him that.
Adam starts again, his voice louder, the second person in two days that I have seen lose their temper, the second person who I thought would always keep their head, but then I am inspiring strange emotions in people these days.
You probably hate me by now. I know you’re on Adam’s side, and I can’t exactly blame you, Christ, if I wasn’t me I’d be on Adam’s side too. But can’t you see that it’s not fair on him, it’s not fair to stay with him until another Andrew comes along.
“I really try and understand you, Tasha. I’ve been your friend as well as your lover and I really thought I knew you, but you . . .” he splutters with rage. “You’ve really done it this time. You’ve destroyed the best relationship of my life. Jesus, of your fucking life too.
“And don’t tell me it’s not because I know that’s not true. Christ, we’ve been so good together, we’ve been so happy. How can you blow it? How can you do this to me?”
The questions come in a softer tone of voice, with an air of bewilderment, and I don’t know what to say.
“Haven’t you been happy?”
“Yes, I’ve been happier than I’ve ever thought possible.” I go over and sit next to him, and hold his hand gently as he looks up at me with hope in his eyes.
“But something in me is stopping me from accepting things as they are. I love you, I really do, but right at the beginning you knew I wasn’t in love with you, I told you I wasn’t in love with you, and as much as it hurts me to say this, I’m not in love with you now.
“I’ve tried so hard, Adam.” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, crocodile tears you might think, but they’re not, they’re genuine tears of dismay that this hasn’t worked out, that I haven’t managed to fall in love.
“I’ve tried to fall in love with you and sometimes I think I have, but a lot of the time I know I haven’t.”
“But if you think you have at times, then surely those times will become more and more frequent? I can make you fall in love with me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t, Adam. Jesus, if you only knew how I wish you could, how I wish I could, but it’s not going to happen, and I know that now.”
“What, because of a kiss from a bloke who’s supposed to be my friend?” He spits out these last words.
“No. Not because of that kiss. But because I’m not a hundred percent yours. Because I can’t stand the thought of not keeping my options open. Because I still find myself looking around at other men.”
“You bitch.” He says it quietly.
“I’m sorry.” A tear rolls slowly down my face. “But I can’t guarantee that
in the future there won’t be other Andrews.”
Adam flinches at the mention of his name, then looks at his hands before saying, “I don’t care. I don’t care about the future. I just want to be with you now.”
“I don’t know, Adam. I need some time. I need some space.” God how I hate myself for coming out with these words, these clichés that sound so futile in the face of this disaster.
“I need to be on my own for a while, and I think it’s a good idea for you too. I think we both need some time. We both need to think about what we want.”
He laughs bitterly. “I know exactly what I want, you’re the one who’s confused. And what makes you think I’ll wait?”
“You don’t have to. You have every right to tell me to fuck off. To say that you never want to see me again. I’ll understand. It will hurt me more than you’ll ever know but I’ll understand.”
He sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I can’t do that. You know I’d never do that. I love you too much.” He starts crying then, and I start crying too. We sit there on the sofa, arms tight around one another and we comfort each other through our tears, and eventually he whispers into my shoulder, “I’ll wait,” and I feel like the biggest bitch in the whole wide world.
Emma phones me early the next morning, breathless with excitement. I rush into the living room to get the phone, and when I hear it’s Emma I think she’s ringing to say how sorry she is, to ask if there’s anything she can do.
But within seconds it’s completely clear that she doesn’t have a clue what’s happened, and I don’t tell her, I don’t want to blemish the thrill in her voice, and I’ve got to tell you, she’s practically bursting.
“I’m getting married!”
“That’s fantastic!” (That could have been me.) “When did this happen?”
She’s bubbling over and I can almost picture her, curled up in a chair wearing her ivory silk Janet Reger dressing gown, a huge smile covering her face.
“Last night! Richard took me to Le Manoir and he proposed!”
How can you not feel delighted for your friend when she has achieved the one thing she has aspired to all her life? I am truly, truly, delighted, and for a few minutes my own problems recede firmly into the background.
“Did he do something revoltingly naff like drop a ring into a glass of champagne?” The old Tasha rears her head for a couple of seconds. Sorry.
“No,” she laughs, “he was perfectly old-fashioned. He waited until coffee and then said he had something to ask me. My heart stopped, Tasha, honestly, I couldn’t breathe. And then he pulled out a little black velvet box and I was shaking so much I thought I was going to fall off the chair.
“And the ring is beautiful, it’s exactly what I wanted.” Emma always gets what she wants and I can picture her now, walking past Tiffany with Richard and idly pointing to a huge solitaire diamond saying she’d like something just like that.
“So what’s the ring like?”
“It’s from Tiffany!” That would be the first thing she says. “And it’s a huge pear-shaped diamond with two smaller diamonds on either side. I love it!” And I know that as she says this she is holding her hand out, splaying her fingers and admiring her rock.
“So when’s the wedding?”
“Heaven knows. We rang both sets of parents last night and Mummy’s over the moon, so we’re all going out for dinner tonight to discuss it.”
You just know what Emma’s wedding will be like, don’t you? Three hundred of her parents’ closest business acquaintances, a wedding for the parents, a wedding that has nothing to do with Emma and Richard.
“There’s only one thing I’m absolutely sure of,” she continues, running out of breath. “I want all of my girls to be bridesmaids.”
I go back to bed smiling. That makes two of us who have got what they want. What, I wonder, will happen to the remaining two?
So I lie there and think about this for a while and then, as I’m drifting off to sleep, my mind starts wandering, as it so often does in those half-awake, half-asleep moments, and I start to think about Andrew, and seeing as we’re now so close I’ll share my thoughts with you.
My first thought: Actually it’s not really a thought, it’s a memory. I lie there and press rewind, go back to the night Andrew taught me to smoke cigars. Pause for a while as I remember his words, the look on his face as he told me he wanted to take me to bed, to make love to me, and I shiver at the memory.
My second thought: A memory. Adam was there that night, and he was quiet. He was in love with me then and he knew there was chemistry going on between Andrew and me. What must he have been feeling?
My third thought: I want some deep, lustful, animal sex. Sex with no strings attached. I need to go on a quest for passion.
My fourth thought: Andrew is the most likely candidate, if, and it’s a big if, he’ll still want to know. He is, after all, Adam’s friend.
My fifth thought: Adam. A memory. Adam’s arms around me, Adam kissing me, Adam inside me. No. Go away. I will not think about this.
My sixth thought: If not Andrew, who?
My seventh thought: David.
My eighth thought: David’s perfect, handsome, tele-friendly features. His height, his strength, his fanciability factor. David’s arms around me sobbing my heart out in his dressing room. David buying me a coffee in the canteen and flirting, asking me for a drink.
My ninth thought: No. Too close to home. How could I explain that it’s just a fling, a quest for passion? What if he refused to accept it? What if he had me “let go”?
My tenth thought: Andrew.
“Andy?”
“Hmm?” I can tell I have woken her up, that she is still in her bed, has just reached a sleepy arm to the phone.
“Did I wake you?”
“Hmm.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I need your help.”
“What with?” She’s whispering.
“I can’t explain now. Do you want to meet me for breakfast?”
“Hang on,” she whispers, “don’t go away.” The phone is put down and picked up again.
“Sorry. I couldn’t talk, I had to come into the living room because the man’s still asleep.”
“I thought Chris didn’t work out.”
“Chris who?” she laughs. “No, this is a new one, a guy I met last week. Cor, what a night, I can hardly walk.”
“Did you hear about Emma?”
“She woke me up about half an hour ago to tell me the good news. Fantastic, isn’t it, and she didn’t even have to issue an ultimatum.”
I laugh. “So you weren’t properly asleep when I called, which means you’re awake enough to meet me for breakfast?”
“I’ve got croissants in the fridge,” she grumbles. “I was planning a nice long romantic breakfast in bed with Mark.”
“All you’d be missing is the sunlight streaming through the windows,” I say, looking out my own window to a dark gray sky threatening rain. “Please,” I plead.
“Oh, OK,” she says. “If it’s urgent.”
“It’s on me,” I laugh. “And you can always leave Mark in bed and bring the papers home. Just think how romantic that would be.”
“OK,” she says. “Deal. See you in fifteen minutes.”
I pull on my jeans, slip a sweater over my head and jump in the car to go to our local café, and just as I’ve ordered and I’m sitting at a small round table tucked away in a private corner, Andy walks in. She’s wearing her trainers, a black tracksuit, big gold earrings and the ubiquitous Jackie O sunglasses. She orders at the bar and then turns to look for me. As soon as she finds me she bows her legs and walks to the table moaning and groaning. “The pain,” she says, “the pain,” sitting down and grinning widely. “This is my Hollywood housewife look. What do you reckon?”
“Very Hollywood housewife.”
“That’s what I thought. Understated but glam.” She grins happily. “So what’s so important you have to tear me away fro
m a gorgeous man for breakfast?”
“I need your help.”
“You said.”
“I’m on a quest for passion.”
Her eyes widen with excitement. “That’s fabulous. How are you going to do it?”
“That’s why I need your help. It’s got to be with Andrew, I have to sleep with him. I have to know whether what he makes me feel is real. But how the hell am I going to do it?”
“Just ring him up and ask him over.” She’s looking at me as if I’m mad.
“But what if he says no? I mean, for God’s sake, he’s the reason Adam and I broke up, he’s hardly going to go steaming in again.”
“I see what you mean.” We both sit there and scoop the chocolate off the top of our coffees. I lick the back of my spoon and regard my upside-down reflection. I look horrible.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Andy’s looking at me intently.
“Andy! Of course I’m sure. You have always been the one who said hold out for passion, don’t settle for anything less. How can you be asking whether I’m sure?”
“I don’t mean are you sure, I mean, are you sure you’re ready for this now?”
No, I’m not sure at all. I’m not sure I am ready to climb into someone else’s bed, to feel a body that isn’t Adam’s, but this is why I need to do it. I need to be reassured that I’ve done the right thing, and what better way than to fuck a man who is 100 percent fuckable?
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grin at her.
“OK,” she says. “Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“So? How do I do it?”
“Presumably you don’t want to do it in your flat.”
I shake my head vigorously. “Too many memories.”
“So what about his flat?”
“Nope. It needs to be on neutral territory.”
“Wanna borrow my car?” We both laugh.
“It really needs to be a hotel. Somewhere that doesn’t mean anything to either of us.”
“But how can you get him to a hotel?” And then her face breaks into a huge smile. “I’ve got it!” She leaps up, jumps up and down, attracting stares from everyone in the restaurant. She sits back down again, “I’ve bloody got it!”