I Unlove You (36 page)

“
Yeah,
”
I say, shaking my head.
“
Maybe,
but
—“

“
Why was her phone in Bradford,
at the same address I found her at the other night? Why did she go
there, among lots of other sketchy places, during your little
sexless bet?
”
He closes the folder again and punches it into the
cushion.
“
I don
’
t want to believe
any of this either, but something isn
’
t right. Seeing her
like that the other night
…
she
’
s like
family.
”
He wipes his face, those striking blue eyes showing spikes
of red throughout.
“
I love that girl, too, Aus.
But
…
but
…
she
’
s a liar.
She
’
s a fucking liar, just like the rest of
them.
”

“
No,
”
I say, shaking my head.
“
I
’
d know.
I
’
d have noticed. She wouldn
’
t be able to
hide something like this from me. There has to be a mistake, Joe.
There has to be.
”

Taking a deep breath, he stands again and walks to the
floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the city below.
“
I
’
m not
sure you would. In your eyes, she
’
s perfect, but deep
down you must have known the dates didn
’
t line up. You
were at the doctors when they told you the time of conception.
We
’
ve talked about that stupid bet since, but you were
blind to it. Why wouldn
’
t you be? Why would
it even cross your mind that you weren
’
t the father?
You love her and trust her, but
…”
He twists to face me, leaning on the
glass.
“
I don
’
t know why she would
do this. I don
’
t know how long
it
’
s been going on for, but I know it
wasn
’
t a one-time thing.

“
It makes no sense to me,
because the
B
I know wouldn
’
t do this. But it
was
B
that night, and it
’
s
B
who appears in this
folder again and again. I don
’
t know why she would
do this, but
—“

“
I want more,
”
I say, standing and
squaring up to him.

“
More what?
”

“
Proof. I want proof. Get that
fucking Barry on the phone and tell him to get me actual
proof.
”

“
There
’
s nothing else
to find.
”

“
The hell there is. You want me
to believe? Make me; show me. Tell him to do that bullshit stuff he
does and find
—“

“
Stop it,
”
he shouts, placing
both his hands on my shoulders.
“
You don
’
t want to know
more.
”

“
Yes I do.
”

“
No, you don
’
t.
I
’
ve read what
’
s in that folder,
and it
’
s going to hurt you more than it did me. You
don
’
t want to know more. Whatever the truth
is
…
it doesn
’
t always set you
free, brother.
”
He sighs.
“
Do you really want to
know why she did this, or how often, or anything like that? Does it
matter whether she got bored or curious, or has some fucking
twisted fetish in that head of hers?
”

“
Fuck you, Joe,
”
I say, tears
streaming down my face.
“
I want to know. I need
to prove to you this isn
’
t true. Find
out.
”

Pulling me in, his large arms and
hands consume me. He shushes into my ear as I lose control of my
senses.

“
Get off me,
Joe,
”
I shout, my words muffled by his shirt.
“
Get off me. Get off
me.
”

“
It
’
s okay,
brother,
”
he says.
“
Calm down. Calm down.
”

Struggling in his grasp, I fight him and everything within
me, all my emotions and the tiniest sensations prickling my skin.
It
’
s on fire, an onrush of every painful memory
I
’
ve ever felt: the time I came off my bike when I was
eight years-old, skin ripping free from me as gravel mingled with
blood; when my grandma died, and her funeral afterwards, my father
crying and holding my hand as I realised I
’
d never see her
again; the moment
B
unloaded all these lies; the second my world
crashed to a standstill as she pulled my son away from me, a father
one moment, this wreck the next.

I
howl, sob and scream into Joey
’
s shoulder, wrapping
my hands around him and gripping as hard as I can. He holds firm,
unmoved; a mountain. I buckle under my weight, my knees giving
way.

“
It
’
s okay,
”
he whispers.
“
It
’
s
okay.
”

He
’
s wrong. It isn
’
t. This will never
be okay again.

OCTOBER 21
^st
- OUTSIDE
B
’
S
HOUSE:

The
night
’
s chill seeps into my bones, but the
whisky
’
s buzz keeps the pain at bay.
I
’
m not sure what time it is or how long
I
’
ve been here. I still don
’
t own a phone.
I don
’
t miss it. I only used it to talk to
B
, and now
she
’
s gone there
’
s no need to possess
a piece of plastic that weighs me down. A phone brings nothing but
temptation: the temptation to call her
…
text
her
…
search for her online, or check old pictures of when I knew
her and trusted her and loved her.

I
still love her. I can
’
t help it. Despite
the secrecy and doubt, I want to hold on to her and forgive her and
plead with her to tell me it isn
’
t true. It
can
’
t be true, and although I don
’
t know what it
is, I can
’
t accept what
’
s in that folder.
How can I? How can there ever be light at the end of the tunnel if
what
’
s in there is even remotely true?

It
’
s only been a few weeks but already it feels
like a lifetime. All I remember is darkness and cold, and I
can
’
t accept that this is it. No light. No end. No
explanation or hope. A life without her is bad enough, but a life
with only this? This feeling. This emptiness. I keep telling myself
it
’
ll get easier, because that
’
s what
they
say
…
time heals all wounds. But
they
didn
’
t have
B
.
They
didn
’
t need her like I
need her.

The darkness. The cold. The
emptiness. The heaviness.

Fitting, I suppose, that I sit in this hole between two
overgrown bushes. I haven
’
t come here every
night, but I
’
m drawn to it on
most. Here, crouched, and hidden from the light, I slip invisibly
in the shadows. I don
’
t know why I come. I
don
’
t know why I
’
m here. I hate
myself. I hate that I hate myself more than I hate
her.

I
’
m here because I need the truth, but
I
’
m not sure I can handle it if the truth is what Joey
found.

Each day I edge closer to the shop she may or may not still
work at, but I never get near. I want to see her but I
don
’
t. I can
’
t, because if I do,
I fear I
’
ll need her more than I need her now.
She
’
s everywhere I walk already, so much of my life
consumed by her side. Everything reminds me of her. Every aspect
reminds me of us.

Letting go of her means letting go of me. I
don
’
t know why I
’
m here in front of
her house, or what I hope to achieve, but me being
here
’
s necessary. My feet insist on bringing me here. My
mind distracts me as I subconsciously walk from the train station
to this hole. If I
’
m here I can protect
her and that little boy within. If I
’
m not, who
will?

As
they have all night, two lamps illuminate two rooms within her
house; hers and her mother
’
s. I
’
ve never
noticed how much she loves the darkness, but I now recall her
insistence on switching off the bigger lights, preferring
candlelight and lamplight, and the gentle glow of her laptop
screen; I wonder what else I missed. I wonder how many of her
secrets and quirks stared me in the face as I turned a blissful
blind eye.

I
remember her fondness for old movies, the black and white kind that
always made her cry. Never hard. Never more than a trickle, just
glassy-eyed and saddened after each. I keep searching for signs in
our memories, a moment that may help make sense of this.
I
’
m sure I know her and trust her, and I
haven
’
t been blind this entire time, but maybe
Joey
’
s right.

“
We know so little about
her,
”
he said the night he bared all.
“
The more I think about
it, the more I realise we know nothing about her childhood. Who was
she before she came to Halifax? I assumed I knew, but I
don
’
t. I can
’
t recall a single
time she spoke about her father or where she grew up, or anything
about friends when she was younger. Can you?
”

I
opened my mouth but didn
’
t say a word. I know
her. I know her past, yet I couldn
’
t remember a time
she talked about her home before this home.
“
What are you saying,
Joe? It
’
s all a lie? She
’
s been lying all
along?
”

He
shrugged.
“
Who knows? After a while, maybe a lie stops becoming a lie.
It becomes part of your life, I don
’
t know. What I do
know is, when I think back to the times I asked her about something
personal, she put me on edge with the way she stared and fell
silent. I never thought much about it because who the hell wants to
delve back into their past? But now
…
I
don
’
t know, it
’
s hard to
explain.
”