Friends Like Us (21 page)

Here we go again. Melissa looked around for empty bottles, and checked her mother's face for signs of drinking. She didn't see any.

‘I made her a cup of tea,' said her father. ‘But she won't drink it.'

‘Mam?' Melissa scraped out one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table and sat down. ‘You okay?' There was no response. ‘Mam? What's going on?'

Melissa exchanged looks with her dad. He looked wide-eyed.

Her mother spoke. ‘I had a letter…' she started and then stopped.

‘A letter?' Melissa prompted. ‘Go on…' She tried to look encouragingly and kindly at her mother, but she was feeling furious with her. All the drama, all this bloody drama, all the time. ‘Do you want to tell me?' Melissa managed to speak gently in her journalist's voice.

Silence. It was pointless wondering why they couldn't do life like a normal family, such as have a simple conversation. They never had been able to. Instead, everything had to be so complicated.

‘Was the letter from the doctor's or from the hospital?'

Her mother shook her head.

‘Mam, are you ill?'

The slight shake of the head again.

‘Right, so you are fine. So what was this letter?'

There was no movement.

Melissa turned to her father, who was standing in the doorway. She shot him a look as if to say why did you make me come here for this?

‘I can't speak,' said Mary. ‘I can't say it.'

‘You can't say? Or you don't want to say?' Melissa felt enraged, like so many times before. She was being shut out again. ‘Do you know?' she shot at her dad, accusingly. ‘Has she told you?'

He said nothing, looking his usual stricken self. This wasn't his fault, she knew that. Her mother always seemed to be at the centre of everything, all the dramas, all the crises.

Melissa softened, for his sake and realized that she would have to revert to type, let's pretend everything is normal and nice. There wouldn't be any great revelations here today.

‘Okay, then,' she said, ‘I'll make a fresh pot of tea. Maybe it's your tea-making skills. Maybe that's why Mam's not drinking it?' She put on a funny voice, letting him know she wasn't annoyed at him and she was sorry. ‘Did you warm the pot?'

Her father smiled shyly and shook his head.

‘Ah, that's where you went wrong. You see? I'll show you.' She took out clean mugs and found the teabags. She set a fresh cup of tea in front of her mother.

‘There you go.'

She handed her father one. ‘Now, look at this. It's a good cup of tea. I should be charging you for this, you know, for tea lessons.' She smiled at him and took out a packet of pink wafers she had found in the cupboard. She bought them when she visited months ago. They were untouched and unwrapped. ‘Biscuit? I wonder what the sell-by date is.' She turned it over. ‘I knew it! September 1973. No wonder they taste stale. Ah, they'll do for me!' She took one out and winked at her father.

Melissa sat there for half an hour, chatting away, in a meaningless soliloquy, making zero progress on the contents of the letter. But eventually, she couldn't do it any longer, her performance had left her totally drained. She was sucked dry. She knew it was time to leave. And she had eaten all the pink wafers. There was a very big chance that she would never find out the contents of the letter and she had already spent her life with so many unanswered questions. This was just another one of those. She would be left wondering and wondering about her mother for the rest of her life and she just had to accept it.

Sitting in the car, she wanted the one person who she knew would make everything seem so much better. She texted Cormac.

Can I come round? Need to vent.

She wondered would he see her… she felt nervous and she didn't expect a response but she couldn't give up on him even if he had on her. But the next moment, she had a text back.

Yes, I'm at home. Call in.

Happy and almost giddy with relief, she turned on the radio and sang all the way to his. He may have been distancing himself lately, and perhaps if it was because he had noticed that she was acting weird around him, all she had to do was stop that and then maybe everything would be okay.

Finally, he was going to have to finish things with Melissa once and for all. He'd been dithering for too long now and it would have to be done with the conviction of Robespierre. No pussy-footing. His indecision hadn't done him any good.

Not that there was anything to finish, but he had to… what was he going to do? End the non-relationship? Dump his non-girlfriend? Walk away from the person he loved most in the world who he shouldn't love? The person he was only supposed to love totally and utterly and depressingly platonically.

When his phone rang, he always,
always
hoped it was her. Arranging to meet her somewhere and seeing her hand shoot up in a wave, her face in a huge grin. Or taking ages and ages to buy her Christmas present and wishing he could just give it to her even though there were still weeks to go. Or talking and talking and laughing and laughing while sitting on the sofa, her feet touching him, the heat of her body making him itch with desire. But he had to commit to his new life. And Melissa was holding him back, from a fresh start, the bakery, seeing his other friends… Erica? That was going well. She was fun, sexy, a breath of fresh air. Maybe not funny like Melissa was, but that wasn't everything, was it? The most important thing was that Erica was into him. So it was time to say goodbye to Melissa.

*

As soon as Cormac answered the door, Rolo jumped up into Melissa's arms. ‘Hello sweetheart!' she said. ‘I've missed you too!' She stroked and kissed him on the head.
‘I need a cup of tea,' she said, putting Rolo down and facing Cormac. ‘I've just been at my mother's house and let's just say it was a trial of epic proportions. The Hague has got nothing on Beach Court.'

He was filling the kettle and not looking at her, but she was acting slightly jumpy, like she didn't know whether to sit or to stand, or to talk or to listen.

‘And work is a nightmare,' she was saying. ‘Liam is being a total pain in the arse. Everything is more tabloid, as you know, and I think I am going to have start writing quizzes and articles such as My Dog Is Too Fat for the Flap or, more likely, My Parrot Beats Me At Mastermind. He's not a fan of Breadline Lives, even though questions were asked in parliament the other day. And, you'll never believe this…'

‘I can't do this anymore,' he said suddenly, ‘I'm sorry, Melissa.'

‘Do what? Make the tea?'

‘I can't. I just… I just…' He suddenly realized that this was going to be harder than he had thought. He saw Melissa's eyes swim with confusion. He stumbled on. ‘I just can't be your friend anymore, listening to your problems. It's just not working for me. It's all about you.'

She began talking, fast. ‘It doesn't have to be. I am so sorry if I have always been rambling on about me all the time. I am so incredibly sorry. Cormac, please.'

He stood up, as though he needed to get away from her, as though suddenly drained by this friendship.

‘Listen, Melissa, I'm about to open the bakery – this is my dream. It is stressful, exhilarating, amazing and the most frightening thing I have ever done in my life. And I need to look after myself, put me first from now on. I can't be there to mop up after your next crisis, okay?'

He looked away. He couldn't bear the tears in her eyes.

‘Cormac…' she began. ‘We can be friends, can't we? It's all a bit dramatic, isn't it? Have you been at the teen fiction again? Or watching
Hollyoaks
?'

‘Sorry Melissa. Listen, will you go? Erica's coming round. We're driving to Dun Laoghaire for an ice cream.'

‘Eric?'

‘
Erica
.'

‘Who's Erica? Why didn't you tell me about
Erica
?'

‘My girlfriend.' This was as hard as he thought it was going to be. He was hurting her. He was like all the other stupid men who had been in her life. He was the one who was meant to make everything alright and yet he was a bad as all those losers. ‘Me and Erica, well, we've been seeing each other for a couple of months now, and it's going well.'

Melissa stood up and put Rolo on the ground. ‘Well, I'm really pleased for you. That's great.' She walked to the front door. ‘See you Cormac. I'm sorry I've been so selfish.'

‘Yeah,' he said, not making eye contact. ‘See you.' I am such a coward, he thought.

‘Bye Rolo,' she said and walked away.

He closed the door and stood there, not moving, hearing her footsteps recede. He looked down at his hand and noticed it was trembling.

Melissa, he thought. Oh Melissa. I'm going to miss you so much.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Without opening her eyes Melissa realised the horror of where she found herself. Jimbo's bed. And worse, she was naked.

She desperately tried to piece together last night. Drinks, yes, lots and lots of drinks. Did she start to cry or was that Jimbo? Probably both. Jesus, she really couldn't remember much more than that. Did he say something? That he really,
really
liked her? Oh bloody hell.

The sheets didn't smell especially clean, not like her own at home. She wished, wished,
wished
, she was back there, teleported home, or better still, just back to yesterday and she could make sure the whole thing would never happen.

Leaving Cormac's, and walking out in the bright sunlight, she had felt devastated. From the moment she had seen him again, she was so pleased, so thrilled to be in his orbit again. She'd had that lovely, delicious feeling again, that she wanted to touch him, to be able to… kiss him. She looked at his mouth as he spoke, his lips moving, and could feel this sensation of being drawn towards him. I love him, she had thought. I love him. I want him. But then he mentioned something about a girl named Erica. And then everything started swimming and she can't really remember the rest. He mentioned he didn't want to be friends anymore, like they were schoolchildren, and so of course she had to leave straight away and did she even say goodbye? She couldn't remember. She had got back into her car and cried until a few people noticed her and she went home and realized that there was nothing comforting to eat apart from that jar of rhubarb jam so she had a spoon of that and it tasted disgusting. Her mother had been right. It hadn't been a good present

She knew one thing, very clearly. She was never drinking again. Yes, they all say that, but she was determined. Not one drop, ever again. There was – she hadn't quite admitted it before – but there was a propensity for her to drink too much. She had never thought she could be like her mother, but drink got the better of her far more than she was comfortable with. It was something she would have to manage far more assiduously. She had a tendency to use drink as a way of softening life's blows. She wasn't going to do it anymore. When did she call Jimbo to go for a few drinks? When she realized that a spoonful of rhubarb jam wasn't going to quite cut it in the soothing stakes.

She closed her eyes again. Melissa. Will you never learn? Jimbo? Of all people! Now, that's going to make working together a breeze, isn't it? She opened one eye to a slit. Yes, there he was: Jimbo, large as life and snoring away. Life was shit enough as it was, without this happening, and it was all her fault and all so avoidable.

Was there a chance that she could sneak out? Maybe he was so drunk last night that he wouldn't remember? It was worth a chance. She began to peel back the duvet cover.

The bed creaked, so she moved even slower and began inching in increments so small that a snail would find the going slow. Come on, easy does it. Get out of here alive.

Her feet touched the floor. Yee-es! That's it, now get yourself upright. Brilliant, she was out of the bed. Now, clothes. She looked around for them… scattered in a hideous paper chase around Jimbo's flat. Socks, jeans, T-shirt, knickers, bra… coat, bag, phone still inside, thank God.

After leaving Cormac's, she had called Jimbo to see if he was about. He'd suggested a drink… which had turned into multiples. She had felt a little better initially but now things had definitely taken a downward turn.

Right, she tiptoed, to the door. She turned the latch… quiet, quiet, that's it. Nearly out…

‘Where're ye going?'

Melissa screamed. ‘Jimbo!'

He stood there naked except for an old towel, tied around his waist.

Why, why, why, had she allowed this to happen? Who makes such a stupid mistake at the age of thirty-eight? If she was twenty, it might be considered necessary, even sensible to sleep with a friend. But this wasn't what grown-ups did. Next, she'd be off drinking Buckfast and eating cereal for dinner. Two not altogether unattractive propositions, it had to be said.

‘I'm so sorry, I mean, you know, it's just there's something I've got to do… and I've got to get there…' she realized her head was throbbing.

‘Slipping off without saying goodbye?' He was looking at her, emotionless. She knew it was bad form. They were colleagues. He wasn't just some randomer.

‘Well, yes.'

‘It might have been better if you had said you were going.'

‘Yes, but you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb…'

‘You okay?' he said.

She smiled as much as her headache would allow. ‘Of course! You?'

‘You know…'

‘Listen, Jimbo. I'm really sorry about last night. I don't know what happened. You know, I was so drunk. You know me, useless around drink.' She was speaking rapidly, panicky. ‘I'll see you… I'll see you later, at work. Thanks Jimbo. Take care.' Melissa gave a cheery false smile and disappeared to the other side of the front door. The relief was enormous.