right, that
it would be nice to have some company on a Saturday morning. Maybe I could make
him some lunch, and when he left it would give me
something to think about over the coming week while I wasn’t at work.
‘Okay, Lisa. I’m going to go away now.
Leave you be. I understand.’
I whipped around to look through the peephole again. He wasn’t meant to have said that, I hadn’t expected him to. He
was supposed to have kept on until I’d pulled up
enough courage to open the door, until he’d convinced me it was the right thing
to do. That he was giving up so easily hurt, and I
didn’t understand why. Didn’t want to delve too deep
and admit why. That would be going a
step too far into territory I’d walked into before and
had been left wanting. I’d been a mess of emotions — still
was — and hadn’t been thinking clearly as I’d blundered ahead, using Michael as
my safety net when all he’d been doing was being a kind person. I’d latched onto him — dangerous, that — and convinced
myself he’d been one ship who hadn’t wanted a limpet on his hull.
He took a step away from the door, and my heart rate skittered.
‘Don’t,’ I said.
He moved back to where he’d been. ‘It
will be all right, you know. If you open the door, it will be all right.’
Of course I believed him, and of course I
knew it would be all right to a certain degree. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, wouldn’t expect me to open the door if anyone else was
around. And who would be apart from the old man next door to the left and the
student to the right? Other tenants in the block didn’t bother with this floor, as all three of us tended to keep ourselves to
ourselves. Yet fear took hold again, the kind that would reopen the floodgates
if I let it, reminding me just how stupid I’d been
over Michael. How wrong I’d been. He didn’t know how
I’d felt about him — how I still felt — but if he saw me, maybe my secret would
be written all over my face. He’d know and then he’d
have to rebuff me and my pain would be worse than it was now.
‘So will you?’ he asked. ‘There’s no one out here but me, I assure
you. And I only came down for a social visit. I wanted to see you. Oxford is so
busy, so big, and after we last met I wanted to see how you were and —’
‘You could have telephoned to find that out,’ I said, damning
myself for saying such a thing.
‘I could, you’re right, but it’s hardly the same, is it?’
No, it wasn’t , but we’d have been safer
if he had. He wouldn’t see the longing, my need — my
stupid, stupid need.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, knowing full well what he’d meant. I just wanted to know, by his tone or
what he said next, whether…whether my need was one-sided. It would be, I was
sure of that, but still, I perversely wanted to torture myself some more.
‘Well, the telephone is impersonal, isn’t it? I wanted to sit with
you. See you.’
To ease his conscience? To see me one
final time so he could put this whole sorry mess to
bed and never have to worry about me again? It was an admirable trait he had,
worrying, being genuine in that he really did care about people, but I was just
a person, someone who’d been shoved into his life
without him wanting me there. Someone he’d had to deal
with just because I’d been related to his case. The last time we’d seen one another had been an unexpected surprise, too,
and I’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome in my life.
‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘But I am rather busy and —’
‘Are you? Too busy to even stop what you’re
doing for me?’
What had he meant by that? My hopes rose, images scooting through
my head of him coming in, sweeping me into his arms and telling me he loved me, that he’d loved me from the start but hadn’t been able
to act on it. Me laughing, back to being Rebecca again, confident, normal Rebecca,
kissing his face and bursting with so much happiness it had me crying.
Stop it.
it would be nice to have some company on a Saturday morning. Maybe I could make
him some lunch, and when he left it would give me
something to think about over the coming week while I wasn’t at work.
‘Okay, Lisa. I’m going to go away now.
Leave you be. I understand.’
I whipped around to look through the peephole again. He wasn’t meant to have said that, I hadn’t expected him to. He
was supposed to have kept on until I’d pulled up
enough courage to open the door, until he’d convinced me it was the right thing
to do. That he was giving up so easily hurt, and I
didn’t understand why. Didn’t want to delve too deep
and admit why. That would be going a
step too far into territory I’d walked into before and
had been left wanting. I’d been a mess of emotions — still
was — and hadn’t been thinking clearly as I’d blundered ahead, using Michael as
my safety net when all he’d been doing was being a kind person. I’d latched onto him — dangerous, that — and convinced
myself he’d been one ship who hadn’t wanted a limpet on his hull.
He took a step away from the door, and my heart rate skittered.
‘Don’t,’ I said.
He moved back to where he’d been. ‘It
will be all right, you know. If you open the door, it will be all right.’
Of course I believed him, and of course I
knew it would be all right to a certain degree. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, wouldn’t expect me to open the door if anyone else was
around. And who would be apart from the old man next door to the left and the
student to the right? Other tenants in the block didn’t bother with this floor, as all three of us tended to keep ourselves to
ourselves. Yet fear took hold again, the kind that would reopen the floodgates
if I let it, reminding me just how stupid I’d been
over Michael. How wrong I’d been. He didn’t know how
I’d felt about him — how I still felt — but if he saw me, maybe my secret would
be written all over my face. He’d know and then he’d
have to rebuff me and my pain would be worse than it was now.
‘So will you?’ he asked. ‘There’s no one out here but me, I assure
you. And I only came down for a social visit. I wanted to see you. Oxford is so
busy, so big, and after we last met I wanted to see how you were and —’
‘You could have telephoned to find that out,’ I said, damning
myself for saying such a thing.
‘I could, you’re right, but it’s hardly the same, is it?’
No, it wasn’t , but we’d have been safer
if he had. He wouldn’t see the longing, my need — my
stupid, stupid need.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, knowing full well what he’d meant. I just wanted to know, by his tone or
what he said next, whether…whether my need was one-sided. It would be, I was
sure of that, but still, I perversely wanted to torture myself some more.
‘Well, the telephone is impersonal, isn’t it? I wanted to sit with
you. See you.’
To ease his conscience? To see me one
final time so he could put this whole sorry mess to
bed and never have to worry about me again? It was an admirable trait he had,
worrying, being genuine in that he really did care about people, but I was just
a person, someone who’d been shoved into his life
without him wanting me there. Someone he’d had to deal
with just because I’d been related to his case. The last time we’d seen one another had been an unexpected surprise, too,
and I’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome in my life.
‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘But I am rather busy and —’
‘Are you? Too busy to even stop what you’re
doing for me?’
What had he meant by that? My hopes rose, images scooting through
my head of him coming in, sweeping me into his arms and telling me he loved me, that he’d loved me from the start but hadn’t been able
to act on it. Me laughing, back to being Rebecca again, confident, normal Rebecca,
kissing his face and bursting with so much happiness it had me crying.
Stop it.
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