I Unlove You (33 page)

“
You okay?
”
he asks, sliding a glass towards
me.
“
I mean, I know you
’
re not okay,
but
…”
He takes a deep breath.
“
Tell me what
happened.
”

“
I told you,
”
I whisper, my throat
dry.

“
I know you did, but there has
to be more to it.
”

I
shake my head.
“
If there is, I don
’
t know
what.
”
I look at him, his blue eyes not quite as blue as
normal
“
What did my dad say?
”

“
Not much. He
’
s
worried. He wants you to go home.
”

“
I can
’
t. Not yet.
”

“
I know. I said
you
’
d call him, though.
”

“
I don
’
t have my
phone. I think I threw it into the canal,
”
I say, recalling a
snippet of last night as I tossed the chunk of plastic into the
water.

“
The canal?
”

I nod.
“
I
can
’
t call her if I don
’
t have a
phone.
”

“
Understandable. So, you walked
along the canal all night?
”

I shrug.

“
Were you
drunk?
”

“
I don
’
t know. I
don
’
t think so. It all seems like a bad dream. Like none
of it
’
s real.
”

He
comes to sit next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder.
“
It
’
s okay.
We
’
ll figure this out.
”

“
What
’
s to figure
out? He isn
’
t mine. Apparently,
she isn
’
t the girl I thought I knew.
”

“
It doesn
’
t make
any sense,
”
he sighs.
“
There has to be more to it. Maybe she was just
hormonal and needed to vent.
”

“
Who
’
d lie about
something like this?
”

“
I know, but
she
’
s pregnant and her hormones are all over the place.
Maybe she snapped and lost it. Don
’
t they call it baby
brain, or something?
”

“
You weren
’
t
there,
”
I say, rubbing my thumbs.
“
She was in control of
everything she said. It was all so
matter-of-fact.
”

“
But there has
to
—“

“
Joey,
”
I say, raising my
voice.
“
She told me our son wasn
’
t mine and that she
fucked someone else. That
’
s it. She
wouldn
’
t tell me who. Or why. Or where. Or when. She
ripped my heart out of my chest, and told me to leave.
That
’
s it. That
’
s all there is to
say.
”

“
Okay,
”
he groans, grabbing a cushion and
holding it against his chest.
“
I
’
m sorry. I
’
m just
trying to figure all this out. It makes no
sense.
”

“
I know,
”
I whisper, my tender
eyes aching and struggling to stay open. I lift my half empty glass
and place it to my lips, sipping its harsh
elixir.

“
So, she just told you and made
you leave? Nothing else?
”

“
Pretty much. I tried to ask her
questions, but she refused to answer any of them. She just blamed
everything on me.
”

“
I don
’
t understand
how she could blame you. For what?
”

I
recall last night and her room, and her face that
wasn
’
t her face. The way she propped herself on her desk,
arms folded, as though protecting our son from me. Her son. A
little boy I love, but can
’
t.

“
Please,
B
,
”
I said, pleading for her to
explain.
“
If I
’
m not the father,
who is?
”

“
It doesn
’
t
matter,
”
she said, gritting her teeth and looking
away.

“
Of course it matters.
We
’
ve been together since we were kids. We were happy. We
tell each other everything, so what you
’
re saying makes
no sense. When did you cheat on me? Why? Please, just help me
understand this.
”

“
You should
go.
”

“
I can
’
t.
”

“
You have to.
There
’
s nothing else to say. You
’
re not
the father, and I think it
’
s obvious this will
never be the same again. I
’
ll always love you,
but I
’
ve never been able to give you the love you
expect. You ask for too much, Aus. I can
’
t do it
anymore.
”

She
didn
’
t cry. She didn
’
t shake or tremble.
So matter-of-fact. So definitive. Calm, collected, and in control,
she shattered me and battered me, threw me to the floor and sent me
out into the wild.

“
I eventually
left,
”
I say, sipping the whisky.
“
I
don
’
t remember much. I walked. I just walked and cried,
and tried to figure out what had happened. I tried to make sense
out of it, but there is no sense in this.
”
I look at him, eyes
swelling and lip still quivering.
“
That girl last night
wasn
’
t
B
. Not the
B
I know. Not the
B
we know. She
wouldn
’
t do this.
”
I shake my head, tears streaming
down my cheeks once more.
“
She
wouldn
’
t do this, Joe. You know her, and she
wouldn
’
t do this to me, right? There has to be a
mistake. There has to be.
”

“
Hey, brother. Come
here,
”
he says, bundling me into his large arms.

He
’
s never seen me cry or sob, not even as a kid. I
can
’
t hold it in or be strong right now. I have no
strength to offer, barely enough to stay awake.

“
It
’
s okay, I
’
ll figure this
out. Somebody has to know something. There
’
s more to this
story and I
’
ll figure it out. I
promise. I know that girl
’
s distant, but she
wouldn
’
t do this to you.
”

“
She
’
s not
distant,
”
I say, wiping my eyes and pushing him off.
“
Not with
me. She tells me everything. I know her. I know her,
Joey.
”

“
I know,
”
he sighs.
“
But that
girl
’
s always had secrets. You know her better than anyone,
but
…
Hey, it doesn
’
t matter. I
’
ll figure
this out. Someone knows something and I
’
ll find out
what.
”
Standing up, he walks towards the room-spanning window with
glass in hand.
“
I
’
ll figure this out,
”
he says again under
his breath.

I
remember when he first moved here; he invited me and
B
to spend
the night. Drinking, watching movies, listening to music and eating
snacks, we laughed and lounged and shared stories late into the
morning. When he gave in and sloped off to bed,
B
and I curled up under
a blanket, watching the night sky lighten.

“
Leeds looks so beautiful up
here,
”
she said as night transformed to dawn.

“
I know. It
’
s crazy
to think how small it all is,
”
I said, pointing towards our old
library.
“
It seems so big when you
’
re down there, but
up here you realise how small everything truly
is.
”
I smiled and curled closer to her.
“
I could watch this
every night.
”

“
Me too,
”
she said.
“
It makes
you feel like anything is possible in the future, and that the past
is just that. I can
’
t wait to live a
future with you, Ausdylan Elvis Ashford.
”

“
I love you,
”
I
whispered.

“
I love you
too.
”

OCTOBER 4
^TH
- JOEY
’
S PLACE:

Each day gets darker earlier. Long gone, summer seems
distant and vague. It
’
s hard to believe
only a few weeks ago the sun shone and the days were warm. The days
overran into the night, light and bright and lasting. Darkness
creeps in now, the street lights blinking to life at an earlier
hour each evening. In a couple of weeks, the clocks change, and
with it, the seasons. True autumn with a hint of winter. Days
barely kick into gear at all, remaining murky, dark and bleak
throughout.

Waking in darkness, commuting in darkness, working in
fake-light offices, and returning home in time for yet more shadowy
despair. Fitting, I suppose, as these short days coincide with my
dark state of mind. I wouldn
’
t know what to do
with bright sunlight. Even now, sitting in Joey
’
s huge
living room with nothing but a dim lamp, it isn
’
t dark
enough.

It
isn
’
t dark enough when I close my eyes, or pinch them
tight. Too much light, too many memories, her face and her
son
’
s
…

I
’
ve never met him, but I continue to dream about
him. I don
’
t know whether to
smile or cry, because part of me is unable to give him up, or
accept he doesn
’
t share my eyes. But
he isn
’
t mine, yet how can she be so sure? How can she
be so cruel? How am I here, when a week ago I sat on my bed and
imagined holding him in my arms? The girl I love and the little boy
I helped create, the three of us a family that no one and no thing
could come between.