Page 77 of Big Nick Energy
‘It was lucky I came along then,’ I say.
He sits there, his scissors and hands hovering over the coffee table. ‘I remember we had sex on a washing machine once? At that house party, the one where that bloke surfed down the stairs on a tray and then left a hole in the wall,’ he says, chuckling to himself.
I try and laugh along but is it terrible that I can’t remember that? Were we clothed? Was that washing machine on? ‘I remember you had those jeans with the patchwork pocket. Do you still have those?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say curiously. He’s going to have to give me more than a memory of a pair of patchwork jeans. ‘I remember you were very gentlemanly, smart, it felt easy to be with you,’ I say, trying to prompt him.
He looks at me. ‘Yeah, it was easy. You were easy,’ he smiles. ‘You know what I mean. You’re not like other girls.’
OK, this is warming up. I hate to do this but a few days ago, another Nick floored me with his compliments, he made me back into an armchair in an empty library and sob quietly with just a few sentences, so I need to do this to know I’m choosing the right Nick.
‘Some girls are pure histrionics, nothing’s ever good enough, there are terms and conditions, complications, nothing is ever black and white. So yeah, in that way, you’re easy. I’m glad you get it.’ He says this plainly, one eye on the film, the other battling with Sellotape, never quite looking me in the eye.
I sit there and take another sip of wine. I don’t quite know what I’m feeling but I think it could be nothing, absolutely nothing.What do I get? You? Us? Who are these other girls who I’m assuming you’ve dated in the interim?I’m both wildly unamused but confused by all of what he has just said.
‘Oh, remember that one time we went to the zoo in Bristol? We saw that monkey that was the spitting image of Will Ferrell. Remember how funny that was?’
My face is completely creased with confusion now. I have no idea what he’s talking about. And for a moment, I do worry that I have romanticised this. I thought back to key moments, physical intimacy, conversations that would last for days. Does none of that stick in his mind? Why can’t I remember this monkey? And suddenly, a flashback jumps into my mind. Not just one, a few. Moments where I waited for him outside lectures and he forgot about me and I shrugged it off. A time when he regularly drank all of my apple juice straight from the carton and said he’d buy me more. A time when he told me he had a cold sore forming so he wouldn’t be able to go down on me or kiss me but if I wanted to go down on him then that would be fine. A Valentine’s card that was a note written on the back of a coaster. And then a break-up. A conversation in a pub where he decided we would go off and do his own thing. I remember how blindsided I felt by all of that, but we broke up, and I nursed that heartache alone and without question because I was ‘easy’.
‘How upset were you when we broke up the first time round?’ I ask him.
‘Pretty hurt,’ he says, bobbing his head around to gauge the feeling. ‘I was young though and confused. In your late teens, everyone’s a teeny tiny bit self-obsessed.’
‘Some more than others,’ I comment, smirking.
‘I’ve changed though, no?’
I nod. I think he has. I hoped he had.
‘I like that you haven’t. I really like that.’ But I have. Haven’t I? We both have. And there’s a reason I’m here. He’s shown me kindness, generosity. He’s still handsome and the sex is good. It’s more than good. This could be good. ‘You’re great.’
I’m great. I think that is all I’m going to get here. I turn my head to one side, now starting to wonder if I’ve drunk too much red wine. I don’t think you’re wrapping that gift very well either. ‘So tell me, what exactly does Kevin’s dad do, because that house is massive? I’m counting six bedrooms at least.’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I really don’t know.’
THIRTY-THREE
‘So what happened is that the ingrown toenail grew out to the other side of my toe so they basically had to lob the whole thing off because of the pus and the infection,’ Mrs Michaels says as I sit by her bed.I’m glad you’ve had help but seriously, I’m just here to give you a free book. Please take the book.
‘Well, I hope you feel better, madam.’
‘That’s very kind, love. Have a very Merry Christmas.’
It’s the last day of my book drive today and we’re in a local hospital. A mate of Lucy’s has a husband who’s a doctor, and he’s allowed Nick and I to visit a few wards, give out books, and spread our very own version of festive book love amongst the patients. A hospital is a sobering place at Christmas, and it makes my heart ache to see people who will likely be here over the season, suffering and trying to get better, but also to see the selfless many who work here, who will spend time away from friends and family to help others. It makes my book drive seem a little ridiculous in comparison but it feels good to give all these people little pockets of joy where I can. And Nick is here. Santa Nick. It’s our last stop today on this adventure and he’s come through. He’s here to finish the drive with me and to assist. Hesits next to a lady on a bed by the window, chatting to her and nodding, holding her hand.
‘Well, I really hope you get better. Try and have a lovely Christmas,’ he says, signing off before posing for a requested selfie. I wait for him by the doorway, watching. His words still echo somewhere in my heart from last week. Who does that? Who just stands there and says words so profound, so moving to someone they hardly know? I hear them all the time, at night before I sleep, they play to me like a song over and over, like a lullaby to make my heart calm, peaceful.
‘Hold up there, Kay,’ he says as he wanders over to me. ‘You’re tangled…’ He comes over and reaches up to my face. I would flinch but his hand moves to my hair where it would seem I’ve got myself caught up in one of the ward’s foil decorations. That would be the other way the staff are trying to make these people feel better, they’ve lined every space and corner with decorations so bright and reflective that you have to close your eyes not to be blinded by all the light. ‘You are free.’
I smile and look at him before averting my gaze. ‘Thank you. Was she OK?’
‘Gall bladder removal. Yours?’
‘Ingrown toenail,’ I say, pulling a face. ‘Though I can’t tell if they amputated the toe or just the nail.’
We look at each other and smile. I will miss this. I’ll miss his company, but how do I communicate that? Can we still be friends? Is that a possibility in the future? But recently, I haven’t really known what to do with the other Nick. The other night while we were wrapping gifts, I realised that I’m more confused than ever. We might be going to Paris. But he likes me because I’m easy to be with. None of it sang to me, not in the same way as when this Nick stood opposite me in the library telling me everything that was in his usually quiet soul.
‘Hi, Kay and Nick, yeah? I’m Joe.’ The man approaches us from a desk, dressed in scrubs, classically handsome as if he’s on the set of a medical drama. Next to Nick, they make quite the duo. They could both be in some sort of handsome-man stage show and we could sell tickets for that. I shake his hand as he adjusts his stethoscope.
