Page 100 of The Rest is History
My throat tightens. ‘Thanks angel.’
She hovers. ‘Would you like a hug?’
‘I’d absolutely love one.’ I shuffle away from the middle of the sofa so she can curl in next to me, folding up her lanky limbs and tucking her head under my arm. Her skinny little arm goes around my stomach.
I sit there like a zombie and allow the weight of her body against me to blunt the edges of my pain ever so slightly. My body feels leaden. Everything hurts, inside and out. Pain has hijacked my brain, shutting down its basic functionality.
I can’t think.
I can’t do anything.
‘Why did Charlie break up with you if he threw us all a big party together yesterday?’ Olive asks me, her breath warm through my t-shirt. Thank God for this kid. I love her too much.
I wrap my arm around her more tightly. ‘I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t understand it either.’
‘He’s really silly.’
I sigh. ‘He certainly is.’
‘He told everyone you were his girlfriend, and then he changed his mind.’
‘Exactly.’ I’m glad it’s not just me. Even a nine-year-old can see that Charlie’s actions are totally fucked up.
My sister comes in, a glass of wine in her hand, and takes the armchair next to us. She glances at the tray. ‘Would you like some crisps with the wine?’
I pull my mouth up into a weak smile. ‘No, the KitKat’s perfect, thanks.’ I keep my arm clamped around Olive and lean forward to grab my glass. May as well avail of the miraculous mind-numbing effects of alcohol.
‘Have you heard from him?’ Grace asks.
Numbly, I unlock my phone and hand it to her. He sent me a message while I was in the shower, attempting to drown out the pain under a torrent of water.
I can’t tell you how much I regret hurting you. I’ve never met anyone like you, and please know this isn’t a reflection of how strongly I feel about you. If that was the only consideration, I’d never let you go. But I promise you, it’s for the best. I’ll see you tomorrow.
She chucks it back. ‘Dear Lord. I don’t get this guy. Anyone can see he’s head over heels for you. He’s admitted it, for God’s sake. So what’s his problem? Is he some kind of self-flagellating monk who can’t allow himself to be happy?’
‘There was definitely nothing monk-like about his behaviour last night,’ I say, raising my eyebrows meaningfully.
Grace leans over and pats me on the knee. ‘She made a little joke! Well done, Lid.’
I lean my head heavily against the back of the sofa, wincing at the discomfort my wet hair is causing. The back of my t-shirt is damp, but I couldn’t be arsed to towel-dry my hair properly.
‘I don’t get this relationship thing,’ I tell my sister. ‘It takes two people to make one work, but then one person gets to decide all by themselves that it’s over, and the other person just has to sit there and take it.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she says quietly, and I shut my eyes in realisation.
‘I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry. Whatever this is, you guys have had it worse.’
‘Just because we’re sad, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be sad too,’ Olive whispers.
I bury my face in the top of her head and squeeze her tightly. ‘You’re a wise little owl, aren’t you? How did you get so wise?’
She shrugs in my grasp. ‘Dunno.’
‘My amazing daughter’s right,’ Grace says. ‘There’s no hierarchy of misery. You’re allowed to be pissed off. Jake and Charlie are both twats. And no. There’s nothing more disempowering than having a guy walk out on you and being able to do fuck all about it.’
‘You sweared,’ Olive says, but there’s no conviction in her voice.
‘So sue me,’ Grace tells her, and they both giggle.
