Page 87 of The Notecard
‘Nick?’
‘What was wrong with him?’
What’s wrong with Nick? Not much, actually. He’s just about perfect.
‘Nothing.’
‘So why did you let him leave like that after such a huge romantic gesture? He’s a doctor too. A doctor, Meg. What does he have, a tiny penis or something?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Let me get this straight. A man you haven’t even slept with, a handsome doctor, comes to my wedding, tells you he loves you and you say no? What’s wrong with you?’
‘I wish I knew,’ I say and Laura laughs. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Us. I’m unhappy because I have everything I ever wanted, and you’re unhappy because you have no idea what you want. I blame our parents,’ says Laura, and we both laugh.
A rare moment of solidarity. We’re bonding over our unhappiness. Laura laughs and then her laughter suddenly turns to tears and she’s crying.
‘What’s the matter now?’ I say.
She looks at me and then she says something that completely shocks me. It’s more shocking than Nick coming to the wedding and telling me loved me. It’s more shocking than Ray pissing against the marquee. She looks at me with tears in her eyes and says.
‘I’m going to miss you so much while you’re away travelling, Megs.’
And then before I know it, she’s hugging me and telling me that she loves me. I tell her I love her too and it’s a very rare but surprisingly tender moment between us. Laura says that she relies on having me around and she knows she can be hard, but she loves having her big sister in London. I’m shocked that she’s being so vulnerable and emotionally open with me. It’s nice. It must be the occasion and the amount of alcohol she’s drunk. Eventually we straighten up, finish our cigarettes, and get back to normal.
‘You know your wedding is fucking amazing, don’t you?’ I say after a moment.
‘I suppose it’s alright,’ says Laura with a smile. ‘Actually, could you help me with something?’
‘Sure. I am head bridesmaid after all.’
‘We need to leave before Simon gets any drunker. I need you to tell the band. They’re going to play All You Need Is Love. Then make sure you organise a proper goodbye. Get everyone to stand in two lines, put their hands together in the air to form a human bridge.’
‘I understand how it works, Laura.’
‘Then when we’re gone, I need you to help stack up the chairs, and then the band might need a hand, so if you could stick around for them. I think that’s it. Make sure Mum and Dad get back to their room okay because they’re both hammered.’
Stack up the chairs. A roadie for the band. Mum and Dad’s carer.
‘Any questions?’ says Laura. I shake my head. ‘Thanks for the cigarette. They’re disgusting, by the way. I don’t know how you do it.’
I smile. Laura is back to her old self. Although she does smile at me before she leaves.
I finish my cigarette and think about Nick. You just know. What if you call someone at midnight from a wedding, and say you made a mistake, and that actually you wish they were there because being alone is miserable, and all you want, actually, is to spend the night with them because that would make you really happy? But you can’t because you’re too afraid, and it’s too complicated, and you can’t tell them now after they made such a big romantic gesture. What if you want to stop talking and thinking and just be with them? Kiss them and hold them and have sex with them. What if that’s what you want, but you realise when you’re smoking a cigarette that can’t have that? Not now. Maybe never. And so what do you do? I’ll tell you what you do. You finish smoking your cigarette, then you go back inside the marquee and talk to the band about the bride and groom leaving. Then you organise a human bridge for them to run through, squealing and laughing with joy so they can go back to their room and not perform their wedding night duties, and then you hang around to help stack up the chairs and make sure the band are fine, and then you walk your drunk parents back to their room, and they kiss you and tell you they love, and Mum cries because you’re leaving in two days, and you say it will be fine, and put them in bed. You go back to your room, and drink a glass of water because you don’t want to be hungover in the morning, take off your makeup, brush your teeth, check your phone for messages and you have none, you get in bed, turn off the light, and you cry yourself to sleep. That’s what you do because guess what, you don’t fucking know anything.
Part Seven: Six months later
Nick
It’s raining and I’m driving along the M1. I’m in my old blue Volkswagen Golf. It really is on its last legs. I think it’s almost time to buy a new car. I just can’t stand the idea of getting rid of it. Dad and I bought it together and it’s seen me through the last ten years. Arguably the most important ten years of my life. It’s so much more than a car. It’s a time machine. When I’m in this car, I can be with Dad again. I can listen to The Beatles as I am now, and I’m transported back in time. I keep on driving, the rain is coming down, and I look down at the seat next to me and at the envelope. It’s ten-thirty in the morning and today is the day.
Mum and Michael are still in Ibiza. They left three weeks ago and they’re still there. Mum says she isn’t coming back to a wet, cold, miserable English winter when she can stay in beautiful Ibiza with Michael. They really have nothing to get back for and so they’re staying put. She’s got a new phone and keeps sending me photos of them by the pool or eating the wonderful fish somewhere. She looks happy, and that makes me happy.
It turned out that moving to Nottingham was the best thing I could have done. Within a few months of moving, I bought a two-bedroom house near the hospital. It has a good sized garden, and I can walk to work. I’ve even bought furniture and I’ve decorated it so it looks more like a proper house where a doctor might live, and not like my flat in London that looked like the sort of flat you might hold a hostage. My new job is working out brilliantly, and because of my new role and the fact we’re not in London, I have had more time off. I’m even planning on going out to Ibiza with Mum and Michael. I’m going to lie on the beach and do nothing for a whole week. I know, it’s ridiculous. I’ll have Mum flitting about, probably offering me tea and biscuits or perhaps something else more Spanish every ten minutes. But the idea of it fills me with nothing but joy.
There’s a Welcome Break service station just north of Milton Keynes and I stop to get a coffee. I have time. I get out and have a little wander around. I’m so excited and nervous. I just need to stay calm and remember what happened at the wedding. It’s still hard to think about that day. The day I rushed to Meg’s sister's wedding with Dotty and told Meg I loved her. Standing in front of an entire room full of strangers and pouring my heart out. I really thought it was going to work. I thought Meg felt the same as me. But she didn’t and it took me a long time to get over that. To finally accept that Meg and I just weren’t meant to be. Timing. I’ll never forget the drive to Nottingham afterwards. Sitting in my car on my own, driving towards my new life, my heart broken, the occasional flurry of tears crashing down my face. It feels like a lifetime ago now.
