Page 15 of The Truth About You and Me
I hazard a brief look at Jack, but his face is unreadable as he focuses on the screen. ‘Just nipping to the loo,’ I explain, gathering myself and leaving the room. ‘I’ll check the doors too.’
‘Want me to come with you?’ he asks then chews the corner of his mouth, ‘to check the door, not to the loo.’
‘I’m good,’ I reply and hurry from the room.
In front of the mirror, I take in my appearance. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright. I wash my hands, give my underarms a quick sniff. Passable. I rearrange my boobs. The elastic in my bra gave up a long time ago, but it was either a new bra or a replacement dust bag for Henry.
‘What are you doing, Mags?’ I shake my head recalling his words:There is a sense of safety around wanting something you know you can’t fail at.
I can already feel myself stepping towards the threshold of tomorrow. I imagine it will feel something like homesickness.
I check the doors. They don’t budge.
I smile.
9
JACK
The credits are still rolling, indecipherable symbols flashing and fading; the film crew lost to me while Maggie and I discuss the ending. Is it the best movie I’ve ever seen? No. But is it the most I’ve enjoyed watching a film? Unequivocally, yes.
‘So… what now?’ Maggie asks.
‘I guess we should check the fire door?’ My suggestion is immediately followed by an unfamiliar urge to cross my fingers like my nieces when they ask me for one more piggyback around the garden. My body is behaving oddly, like it belongs to a different man than the one who walked into this cinema a few hours ago. Maggie’s green eyes flash towards the door; I’m hoping she feels the same reticence as I do for this night together to come to a close. This strange, mystical realm filled with shoulder-padded angsty teens and drum-machined music that smells like popcorn, citrus, and ginger biscuits.
‘We should,’ Maggie replies. ‘There could be a zombie apocalypse happening out there and they’re outside right now waiting to eat our brains,’ she says, green eyes widening. I resist the thought that they will find mine lacking.
‘Damn it, I forgot my’ – my voice drops off while I try to find the word…mash, mash– ‘axe.’ I recover quickly, tapping my trousers down. ‘Of all the days to choose style over concealed weapons.’
I make my way towards the fire door, Maggie at my side.
‘Shall we both push. Again?’ she suggests, flipping back her mittens so her fingertips are free.
We both clamp our hands on the bar.
‘Ready?’ I ask. ‘On three?’
She nods and we both begin pushing but it doesn’t budge.
‘Maybe if we put our backs into it?’ she asks turning around. I follow suit. It’s such a strange thing, to be feeling such happiness in this moment. My thoughts are loud in my head, the past year banging and clattering against the inside of my skull. How much I’ve lost, how this is the first time that I can feel that dark, suffocating cloud of depression lifting. How much I miss my old life, the old me, and how, right now, this is the most alive I’ve felt for a long time. Maggie’s feet slip as she pushes back; instinctively, I reach out to steady her. My hand holding hers, fingertips cold against my skin. She doesn’t pull away immediately but the colour and humour drains from her face and she steps back and I realise what I’ve done.
‘I…’
‘It’s nothing.’ She waves her hand dismissively but secures the gloves back in place. ‘Let me have a look.’ I step aside, cursing myself for not thinking when I reached out to help her. It must be so difficult to live a life where even the simple touch of a hand can force her to distance herself. A fleeting thought of how that would work for us, if wewereto have a relationship after tonight. I push it away quickly. It’s way too soon to be even thinking that, and yet… No. Shut that down right now.
She opens the door a fraction, cold wet air blasting her face through the small crack. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ she says into the dark cold street. She looks over my shoulder.
‘Zombies?’ My hand dramatically clutches my windpipe. My appalling attempt to lighten the mood.
‘Worse.’ Her words are faux sincere.
‘Aliens?’ I shudder. ‘I hate aliens.’
‘Me too. Green. Slimy. Big googly eyes.’ She widens her eyes and I laugh. Thank God. I haven’t blown it. She peers back through the crack. ‘It looks like a truck is blocking it. I doubt it’s going anywhere soon,’ she concludes, meeting my eyes and closing the door back in place.
‘Oh. Well, that’s a relief.’
‘It’s a bit of an anticlimax, actually. I was hoping you were going to go all Rick Grimes fromThe Walking Dead.’
