Page 80 of The Happy Hour
‘You meaning me, or a general you?’
Ash shrugged. ‘I mean... everyone?’
Jess shook her head. ‘I just want to put it out of my head.’
‘I get that.’ He took a step towards her. ‘We can do anything you want.’
‘I don’t... I just – I want to be on my own, OK?’
Ash stopped. He looked surprised, and Jess felt as if she was shrivelling to nothing. She was a yo-yo, trapped halfway between an outstretched hand and the floor, because he was Ash, and he’d been nothing but wonderful to her, but she couldn’t let herself needhim.
‘I’ll go,’ he said, and nowhesounded like a robot.
‘Ash.’ She was wavering. She’d never wavered this much before.
‘It’s fine, Jess.’ He turned to the door.
‘It’s not— it’s...’ Could she tell him how much this scared her? How the strength of her feelings for him went against the rules she lived by; how she stayed happy and safe and heartbreak-free? ‘I don’t often let people in.’
He turned back round. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘And I understand. But I felt helpless, sitting at work, knowing what had happened to you. I’m here for you, whenever you want me. It’s OK to need someone.’
It wasn’t, though. Not for her. And... how could he say all this, when it wasn’t OK for him to need her, either? ‘What about Sundays?’ She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. Terence wasn’t here, and the room was gloomy without the TV flashing bright colours in the corner.
‘I still want to see you on Sunday,’ Ash said.
‘No, I mean, what aboutyouon Sundays? You say it’s fine to need someone, and you’re here for me now, as if you’ve picked yourself to be the person I turn to when things go to shit, but you won’t tell meanythingabout what you do after we say goodbye, even though it has directly impacted our time together, every single week, and it obviously affects you a whole lot.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it?’
‘You’re such a good thing in my life, Jess, and—’
‘So I just get the fun bits? You’re filtering yourself for me?’
He shook his head. ‘All the things I feel with you – I don’t want to ruin it.’
‘But you want me to let you in when I’m dealing with crap? I can depend on you for comfort, but for you I’m only this fun-time girl? Don’t you trust me to be able to help you, too?’
‘Of course I do.’ He yanked at his tie, loosening it further. It made him look dishevelled, his eyes slightly wild, and she realised how much she wanted to take care of him. Never mind that she’d resisted him doing the same thing – maybe once he told her what he was dealing with, she’d feel like they were on an even footing. ‘It’s awful, Jess,’ he said. ‘The whole thing. I don’t want you to have that burden.’
‘I want to, though. You can’t dictate how we work, Ash. You can’t ignore me when I tell you I don’t want to see you, because your instinct is to come and look after me, then keep everything dark and gnarly about yourself hidden. Where’s the fairness in that?’
‘Life isn’t fair, OK? It’s just not!’
It was like an explosion, so different to the funny, charming Ash she knew. She felt the bite of the kitchen counter against her lower back as she leaned away from the shock of it. Ash stepped back, too, his hands pressed to his cheeks.
‘I’m sorry.’ He said it to the floor. ‘Jess?’
‘I need to go change.’ She pushed herself off the counter and walked to her room, not sure what she was doing, why she’d left Ash standing there. She kicked off her shoes, switched on her fairy lights, flung her phone on the bedside table.
She felt him in the doorway before she saw him.
‘My dad’s dying.’
She turned around. He looked blank, as if he’d wiped his mind of all emotions in order to be able to tell her.
Her stomach clenched. ‘Oh Ash, I’m so sorry—’
