Page 110 of Everything That Kills Me
Zeph saw a woman walking away from a van. She was pushing a cart of cleaning materials. His heart sank. “Can you give me twenty minutes to shower and pack, please?”
“Okay. We start outside.”
Zeph closed the door and leaned back against it with his heart clamping. He had no choice now but to accept Jack wasn’t coming back. He’d have known how much time they had left there. Why hadn’t he said? Zeph couldn’t even leave a note. Benoît would throw it away. He still wrote one and left it in the kitchen.
The owner wants the place back and since I don’t know how long you’ll be, I’m going home. I tried your phone and couldn’t get through. Come and find me. Z
Then he wrote another one.
I’ve had to leave. The owner is coming to the house. Don’t leave it so long next time. Z
He threw them both in the bin. He wasn’t saying anything Jack didn’t know. If Jack wanted to find him again, he would. And if Zeph was being sensible, he ought to not want Jack to find him. He was pissed off that Jack didn’t even have the guts to be honest with him. Really pissed off.
He quickly showered, dressed and packed. Before he lost Wi-Fi, he looked up how to get to Paris. Six days if he walked.Ha!Or around four hours by train via Bordeaux. But he had to get to Léon, then to Dax to catch the train to Bordeaux and that had to be by taxi. It was expensive. Eighty Euros for a cab. But he booked it.
Zeph took a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, three books—he’d left his own in exchange—put his straw hat on his head and walked out. Benoît and the woman went inside and closed the door.
It was only then that the enormity of it sank in. Sadness swamped his anger. Jack was gone. He wasn’t coming back. Even if Zephcouldwait for him, there was no point. The holiday was over. It was all over.
As he sat on the wall waiting for the cab, he told himself to be grateful, because ithadbeen fun. He might not know where Jack was, and had no way to get in touch with him, but Jack knew Zeph’s number. It was up to him.
Would he call?
Should Zeph want him to?Oh God. How can I not?
He spent the journey back to Paris switching between hope and despair, anger and worry. When he reached the capital in the middle of the afternoon, despair was in charge. He’d hoped to be here with Jack, doing touristy things…and non-touristy things. Instead, Paris was a means to an end. Zeph travelled from Montparnasse to Gare du Nord, bought a Eurostar ticket and reached London by eight. Another train, then a cab and he was home. He’d lost the straw hat somewhere.
Zeph had held himself together all the way back with little knots, tying them when he found his mind wandering, and it had worked. He’d been determined to keep doing that when he got home, but as he headed for the door, he could feel himself unravelling, all the knots coming undone.
As he went in, he called, “It’s only me.”
Martin and Paulo emerged from the living room and Zeph put down his suitbag and backpack.
“You couldn’t call?” Martin pulled Zeph into his arms. “We’d have collected you from the station.”
“Battery dead. Sorry.”
Paulo hugged them both.
“Are you okay?” Martin pinned him with his gaze. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Where’ve you been? Did you get to Portugal?” Paulo asked.
Zeph eased free. “No. Not that far. We stayed for ages in France. I was with Jack.”
The pair exchanged glances. “We guessed,” Martin said.
“I thought you’d try to persuade me not to go.”
Paulo shook his head. “Your choice. Your life. I’m sorry he let you down again.”
“It’s not that,” Zeph said, cross with himself for repeating Jack’s lie. “He had to go on an urgent job and wasn’t sure how long he’d be away so I decided to come home. Not so much fun on your own. I’m beat though. I’ve been travelling all day. Can I tell you all about it tomorrow? I need a shower and bed.”
“Nothing to eat?” Paulo asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. Just exhausted.” He managed a smile, but when he was curled up in bed, he silently allowed his tears to fall. What he felt for Jack was so huge, so overwhelming, it had changed something inside him. It made him believe in a future. But Jack had gone. Zeph might never see him again and his hopes lay shattered at his feet.
But broken hearts could mend. Zeph’s had before and it would again. Not completely. Never that. But enough. It would take time, but the pain would go and the humiliation would fade. He had to believe that or what was the point in anything? He’d miss him. Even as he told himself not to, he reached forhis phone and looked for his favourite photo. The only one he’d saved. When he couldn’t find it, he knew why.
