Page 44 of The Way We Fell

“That’s great, Princess.” He lifts the darkest beer from the tray and takes a sip. “I had no idea you were interested in counselling. Is that why you’ve been so keen for me to speak to a shrink?”

“Counsellors aren’t shrinks, Jay,” I say patiently, for the hundredth time. I imagine I’ll be saying this a lot more in the future, and a giddy thrill fires through my veins. I fiddle with the straw in my sparkling water. “And I didn’t know I was interested either, until I met you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you inspired me, Jay. I wanted to help you, so I started reading, and I spoke to some people and—”

“You spoke to people about me? About my personal life? Things I’ve told youin confidence?” He leans in over the table, and something dark and cold flashes in his eyes. Something I’ve never seen before. It’s not the hazy, distant look from his dissociation, and it’s not the fear of his panic attacks. I wonder for half a second if I’ve overstepped, if this is all a big mistake. If the coldness in his expression and the tension in his posture is a precursor to a physical manifestation of his anger. But then I remember everything I’ve read, everything I’ve learned so far. This iswhy.He is my why.

“I asked for confidential advice on how best to help you,” I say calmly. I don’t feel very calm right now. Actually, I feel anything but. Pieces of conversation from the group support sessions echo in my ears. Flights and Fancies is quiet, only the distant hum of the espresso machine, light clangs of cutlery and glassware, and the low buzz of scattered conversation from the handful of other patrons filling the air around us. It feels like the entire building can probably hear my pulse racing.

“You know how you can help me?Notblabbing my personal life to fucking strangers, for one,” he sneers. “If you gave a shit at all, you might even askme.” He sits back in his seat, jaw twitching.

I close my eyes, dropping my head. Tears burn at my eyelids, and I fidget with the hem of my skirt under the table. Fuck being an empath. Fuck being driven by emotion. Tears coat my lashes, and I stuff my hand into my bag beside me, pulling out a couple of folded notes. I choose one and unfurl it, throwing it down on the table, before stuffing the rest into my pocket. Then, I haul my bag onto my shoulder as I stand, and stalk out of the door, ears ringing and face burning. I don’t look at him at all. I don’t look back, either, as the door closes with a softwhooshbehind me, and I think it traps and splinters my heart in its frame.

I walk home instead of taking the bus. As chilly needles of rain prick at my skin, I wish I’d brought my car. But there’s nowhere to park it near Flights and Fancies, and the bus stops outside my house anyway. And it’s not that long a walk. Besides, the rain feels appropriate for my mood, and I trudge along the river, dragging my feet, until I make the final turn to propel myself up the hill on autopilot.

I fumble in my oversized tote for my keys, pricking my finger on the sharp corner of a laminated bookmark before closing my hand around the keys in a fist. I pull them out triumphantly and let myself in, inhaling deeply and congratulating Past Katy for lighting spiced plum candles earlier in the day. Their scent lingers, filling the air with warmth. Despite being spring, it’s grey and damp outside today, and I need the comfort of cinnamon and autumn.

Did I fuck this up? Did I do this on a whim—a fanciful, kneejerk response to a schoolgirl crush? The more time I spend with Jay, the deeper he burrows under my skin. I find myself thinking of him constantly—at inopportune moments, even.

His shy smile pops into my mind unbidden when I’m waiting at a red light, and the cars behind me honk their horns to shake me from my daydream as the light turns green without my notice. His tired eyes, distant and lost, plague me as I push item after item through the checkout at work.

Maybe Jay began as a schoolgirl crush. But he’s become so much more. He’s shown me exactly who he is. He’s the kind of man who—if we’re being truly honest here—I thought would never give me the time of day. He’s charming and funny, selfless and smart. And over the last couple of months, those walls I once saw around his heart have slowly come down. He’s the kind of man I always imagined falling in love with.

And then, in true Katy fashion, I had to take a step too far. I had to go and spoil it all. One of the best things that’s happened to me in a long time, and I’ve just ruined it—maybe irreparably.

Fuck, I hope we can fix this. Because losing Jay—I don’t know if I could cope with that. In a matter of weeks, he’s become one of the most important parts of my life.

I waste no time gathering everything I might want or need for the rest of the afternoon. Freshly washed pyjamas to go with the fresh sheets I put on my bed this morning. A glass and a bottle of wine. An entire sleeve of custard cream biscuits. I carry my wares to the bathroom, grabbing my candle lighter from my bedroom dresser on the way.

I switch on the water and let the bathtub fill with warmth and foamy, raspberry-scented bubbles while I pour wine into my glass and strip out of my clothes. I tuck the bottle down by the side of the tub. I’ve a feeling I might be needing more than just one glass this afternoon. A few candles later, the room is filled with a sweet, fruity scent and a warm glow, and I flick the switch on my heated towel rail so my towel is warm and ready for me when I’m done. God bless small luxuries, especially on a day like this.

In the water, I stretch out, letting the heat seep into my muscles. The last time I took a bath like this, it led to the most overwhelming fantasy of my life. I laid here in the tub, fucking my own hand to thoughts of my best friend’s brother. Tonight, I’m too emotionally drained. I’m too exhausted. Too sad. Instead, I pick up my phone and text the one person who knows everything.

Katy

think I did something dumb

Amie

uh oh

hair or vagina?

Katy

LOL

neither

big dumb brain

Amie

UH OH

Katy

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