Page 97 of The Happy Hour
‘Ash.’ She put her hand on his knee, but he flinched away.
‘No,’ he said. Then, more quietly, ‘I can’t do this, Jess.’
She went still. The breeze danced around her, rustling the leaves in the trees. ‘Can’t do what?’
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his food forgotten on the bench beside him. ‘This. Us. It wouldn’t be right to subject you to all the shit I’m dealing with. It’s the worst time for me to start something serious.’
‘But we aren’t starting,’ Jess said. ‘We’ve been meeting up for months. I know you. I’m really sorry about everything I said—’
‘It’s not about that.’
‘What is it about, then?’ She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice.
He squinted down the hill towards the trees. ‘You were the only good thing about the days I came here. You and Peggy. Having something to look forward to, instead of just the dread of seeing him; it made the whole thing bearable.’ He winced. ‘That sounds awful. You made me happy.’
‘But now your dad’s dead, you don’t need me any more?’
‘No! Jess – that’s not it.’ He sat up and turned towards her. ‘You know when we were shouting at each other the other night?’
She nodded. There was a sick inevitability to this scene, except this time, she wasn’t the one ending the relationship prematurely.
‘You accused me of not letting you in, of not being honest with you. And I do shut people out, especially when it comes – came – to my dad. If we made a go of this, if we saw each other properly, I’d push you away. I’d keep telling myself that you’d understand, and that you were happy for me to share everything, but I... I wouldn’t do it.’ He looked directly at her. ‘I’d be too worried about ruining it before we’d even got going.’
Jess swallowed. ‘So – what? You’re pre-empting it? Ending it before it has a chance to go sour?’ It was exactly the sort of thing she did. She hated that she couldn’t even have the moral high ground.
‘I’m saying that I am not great boyfriend material right now. If we tried, then I’d fuck it up and you’d never want to speak to me again.’
‘I don’t get it. You’re saying that, by walking away now, you’re hoping to save us both some heartache, and that we might be able to pick this up again later?’
‘No!’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean – maybe? I don’t...’ He rubbed his forehead, and all Jess’s anger leached out of her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. This time when she squeezed his knee, he let her.
‘I’msorry,’ Ash said. ‘I just can’t give you the attention – the commitment – that you deserve. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.’
Jess licked her lips, which were dry despite the three coffees she’d had earlier, waiting for the clock to tick round, far too slowly, to midday. ‘So even if I tell you that I’ll be here for you whatever happens, whatever you need to do, and that I want to help you through this so we can come out the other side together, you would still say no?’
He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer.
‘Right,’ she whispered.
On some level, she understood it. But she couldn’t ignore the voice whispering in her ear, telling her that she wasn’t worth it: she wasn’t good enough at this to be the one who looked after him; she wasn’t Peggy, with her natural ability for caring, or Lola, with her sunny smiles and can-do attitude. She knew this about herself, but it still hurt. ‘You don’t think I’m strong enough to be there for you?’
His hand came on top of hers so quickly that she jumped. ‘Of course you’re strong enough,’ he said firmly. ‘But I care about you, and I don’t want to push you away by being impossible to spend time with.’ He let out a harsh sigh. ‘We fitted, didn’t we? Into this neat box.’ He gestured at the park, with its dog walkers and ball games, and the proud, pale buildings kissed by the afternoon sun, the dark snake of the Thames and the winking skyscrapers beyond. ‘Our one hour a week, our subtle superpowers. Kissing you—’
‘We broke out of it, though.’ She tried sohard not to sound as if she was pleading with him. ‘We helped Felicity, we had cold pizza and breakfast together. We did more than kiss.’
He nodded. ‘Then the one time I thought I could be there for you, you pushed me away.’
‘But that was—’
‘I’m not accusing you, Jess. I’ve been doing the same thing ever since we met. Not telling you about Dad, keeping it separate, like I could actually control any of it.’ His voice cracked, and it broke a dam inside her, all the emotion rushing up, filling her chest and tightening her throat.
‘You don’t think we can get out of the box,’ she said.
She felt, rather than saw him shrug. ‘I don’t think so, no.’ He squeezed her hand and leaned gently into her, a solid wall of warmth down her left side.
The worst part of it was, everything he said made sense. Could she really comfort him through his grief when, the first time he’d come to see her spontaneously, she’d turned him away? Would she ever be confident that he wasn’t keeping something from her? Their time together had been fun and it had felt safe and – in the beginning, at least – there hadn’t been too many expectations. But the logic didn’t match the deep ache spreading through her sternum at the thought of not seeing him again, of not getting to kiss or hold him, or drink coffees with him on a windy day on a bench in the park.
