Page 77 of The Layover
‘Someone who’d actively plot to steal someone else’s man,’ Francesca offers, with a self-deprecating smile now, and she nods. More seriously, she says, ‘It’s alright. I get it. If he has made me into a bit of a joke, even if it’s just to try and clear his conscience or pretend there’s nothing between us, I don’t imagine I made a very good impression before you even met me.’
‘I don’t imagine I made a very good impression evenafteryou met me,’ I say, and when she catches my eye, we both break into grins.
And, because I didn’t say it earlier when she asked, I nod in the direction of my bag – Dad’s bag, covered in all his mementos, and tell her, ‘I don’t really travel much because I feel like I needto be around for my family. Because my dad’s not well. It’s hard to shake how responsible I feel, sometimes, for them. I guess I do it so much they all just rely on me by default, so then I feel evenworseabout … It’s kind of a cycle. It’s nobody’s fault. And I don’t mind it, really; Iwantto be there for them. But … yeah. Mostly I live vicariously through my dad’s stories of all the places he visited when he was younger.’ I turn a macaron in my hand. ‘I think I thought this was pretty much what going to Paris would be like, too.’
Francesca smiles; I can sense it even before I look up to meet her eye again. She reaches over to put her hand on my arm, and … I kind of appreciate that she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell me I need to get a grip, get a life, like some of the girls I’ve dated have done; doesn’t tell me how sad and pathetic that sounds. Just smiles, like she’s thanking me for telling her. It’s … kind of nice.
The two of us lapse into quiet again, picking through some more of our macarons. Gemma is fast asleep now – her breathing is slow and steady and even, and her face has tilted to one side a bit. She looks peaceful. Her glasses sit at an awkward angle where she’s got her face pressed into her arms, so I gently pull them off to keep them from breaking, setting them down safe, before Francesca pipes up again.
‘Leon? Can I … can I ask you something?’
I look over, and she flushes.
‘You don’t have to answer. I don’t expect you to, I mean, and I know I don’t have much right to ask, so you can tell me if I’m sticking my nose in …’
Is this about what happened in the toilets?
The almost-maybe-might’ve-been kiss?
I wait, apprehensive, but Francesca asks, ‘Why do you feel so responsible for the rest of your family? I realise your dad’s not well and you want to help, but this talk you want to have withKayleigh, the stuff you said about it being okay if she cuts you off as long as the rest of your family don’t have to go through that, too … That’s so much to take on, so I guess I just wondered … Why?’
She’s the first person who’s ever actually asked me that; even before I answer, I can feel relief sinking into my bones, a gladness to open up about it.
‘It’s because Iamresponsible for them. Maybe that seems stupid because both my parents are still around, but … I was thirteen when Dad got diagnosed with MS. He’d been sick for a while, but it reached a point where he and Mum were constantly going back and forth to all these appointments, trying to get answers, figure out medication and therapies and regimens that would help keep it under control and stuff, so I had to help take care of the girls a bit. Myleene was only a toddler, and Kay’s world was basically plans with friends and hockey practice and new pencil cases and lip gloss, so she wasn’t as aware of everything that was going on.
‘We had Nana, of course. She was around a lot. And nobody asked me, but it was … it was like this unwritten rule, I guess. I was the oldest: I needed to step up, I needed to help out; so I did. And now we’re pretty much all grown up … I mean, Myleene still lives at home, and Dad’s still not well. He’s okay,’ I add quickly, when Francesca’s face falls in sympathy, ‘and he can still do most things, but when he does have an episode, it’s – it’s hard to see. It’s tough on everyone. It takes him longer to recover these days than it used to, and that’s only going to get worse as time goes on.’
It’s why I never went away to uni. I got my qualifications from a local college and through online courses instead. It’s why I haven’t moved away, even now – so that Kay and Myleene are free to, and so someone is still there for Mum and Dad when they need help. It’s why I find dating hard, because even thoughmy family aren’t a burden to me, it feels like I’d be burdening someone else who didn’t choose it.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I tell Francesca, ‘I love my family, I’m happy to be there for them; I wouldn’t have it any other way. But when my nana got sick … She always told me I’d need to look out for them, but it always felt like we were a team; now, it’d just beme. And I told you guys what it’s like when Kay and Marcus visit: it really hurts my parents to see her pushing them away. Myleene absolutely idolises her, too, so she’s willing to overlook it all just to feel like she’s still got her cool big sister around.’
I can’t help but glance at Gemma again. Maybe she’s more like Myleene than she is like Kay; maybe I haven’t been giving her enough credit, all these years.
‘And this feels like something I can fix,’ I tell Francesca, only realising how true it is now that I’m saying it out loud. ‘Instead of just trying to hold it together or patch it up afterwards. I can’t fix the fact Nana’s gone, I can’t fix my dad’s MS, but – I thought at least I could fix this.’
I surprise myself when the words crack, and Francesca goes a bit blurry. I blink a few times, clearing the tears from my eyes. She makes a soft sound and sets her macarons aside to prop herself up on her knees, leaning forward. She clasps one of my hands in hers, and her other rests on my left knee.
And I blurt, ‘Except maybe I can’t fix it after all. And I’ve failed.’
‘Oh, Leon.’
She shuffles around, and even though, sitting, I’m still a head taller than her, Francesca wraps an arm around me and pulls me into her side so my head rests on her shoulder. She smells like coconut, which I noticed in the bathroom, but this time it doesn’t make me repress the urge to bury my nose in the crook of her neck – it just makes me sink into her side and close my eyes.
‘I know that it’s easy to say, but in case it’s helpful to hear it: you can’t be responsible for how Kayleigh acts, and you haven’t let anybody down if she keeps pushing you all away – whether the wedding goes ahead or you talk to her or not. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think it counts as failing if you try. That’s more than most people would do.’
Maybe she’s got a point, I think.
But maybe it’s still not enough.
Time Until ‘I Do’
6 ½ hours
Chapter Thirty-six
Francesca
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I know, there’s a sound that’s half a shout and half a grunt, and my eyes are snapping open. They’re bleary, crusted with sleep, and it takes me several seconds to get my bearings.
