The Day Of The Wave (20 page)

Rick flips through his book, picks up a pen and chews on it. He furrows his brow, looks at us apologetically. 'Sorry no room. Ah, wait. I have one room.' He taps the book with a long nail.

'Just one?' Ben says, leaning his arms on the desk. I watch the rainwater drip from his hair before he runs his hand through it, scrapes the curls back from his face. My heart is thudding now.

'Sorry, yes,' Rick says. 'But it nice one.'

I try not to look like I'm even registering what's happening, even as a mild panic breaks over me like a rash. 'We'll have to share, is that OK?' Ben says, shooting a look at me. 'Unless you want to go find somewhere else?' 

Before I can speak, the thunder crashes overhead, as if to emphasize the fact that we probably shouldn't be walking around outside any more than we really have to. 'Not a problem,' I say quickly. 'We'll make do.'

'Good, good!' Rick beckons us back down the dank hallway, which still smells like someone smoked twenty Marlboro Lights and then vomited in it. Ben carries our bags right into the end room and puts them down on the bed. There's only one bed. My throat dries up when I see it. There's no sofa or anywhere else to sleep. 

Rick leaves us to it. I stand in the middle of the cold, tile floor, arms still around myself like an idiot. Ben's looking at me. 'Is this going to be a problem?' he says now in concern. 

I shake my head, swing my arms. 'No, God, Ben, why would it be a problem?' I say nonchalantly. 'Just don't tell Kalaya.'

'I wouldn't dare. You should probably get out of that dress.'

'I only just got here, Romeo,' I say. It comes out automatically because I'm nervous but I see his eyebrows rise in amusement. I curse my stupid mouth, unzip my bag, pull my clothes and Body Shop bath salts out. Then I head to the bathroom and change. When I come out, Ben's studying his scratched face in the mirror above the desk. He's taken his wet shirt off. My eyes trace the lines of his back up to his tattoo. Dear God,
why does he have to be so gorgeous
?

'I'm going to have to break it off with her,' he announces, running a finger over one of the marks and wincing. 

'Domestic violence towards men is a big deal,' I say, only half jokingly, getting out my hairbrush and running it through my hair. 'Have you read
Gone Girl
?'

'Very funny. Is that where you got all your tips? That was a pretty kick-ass move you pulled back there,' he says, turning to me. His shorts are so low I can see the cut of his abs and I want to touch him again. I smile at him instead, flex my arm muscles the same way he did when he first went to find Alan. 

'I was just following your lead. Really, though,' I say, 'I didn't mean to cause any trouble between you two, I'm sorry.'

Ben sighs. 'I was going to do it anyway,' he says. 

My heart short circuits on the spot. He scans my face, puts a hand to his chin across his stubble. He looks like he's going to say something else, but he stops himself and walks over to the window, leaving a trail of invisible eggshells between us. 

'How long was your longest relationship?' I ask him after a second, moving to the mirror myself with the hairbrush. I can't help it, I want to know. 'You must have exes all over the world, travelling as much as you do.' 

'Three months is my longest. I don't have exes,' he says, still looking out the window at the rain. 

OK. I wasn't expecting that.
'What do you mean?'

'I mean I manage to form friendships, usually, not relationships. So there are no exes.'

My heart's an actual drum now. 'Sexual friendships?' I say. 'So, basically you don't like to commit much?' 

'I'm an asshole, you can say it out loud if you want,' he says, turning around. The look on his face shocks me to the core; I've never seen it before. I almost drop my brush.

'I'm so sorry,' I say quickly. 'It's none of my business, Ben. You're not an asshole... really...' 

I'm still speaking as he strides towards me and catches my elbow. He leads me to the bed, sits us down, rubs his hands over his eyes next to me. He looks tortured.

'Izzy,' he says. 'You didn't deserve that.'

'It's OK.'

'No it's not, I owe you more.' He takes the brush from me now, puts it down behind us on the blanket, looks at me. 'I owe you so much more than that,' he says. He takes my empty hand in his and holds it against his thigh. The sparks travel up my arms, along my scars like they're wires to my internal organs. He doesn't have exes?

'Honestly... I can be an asshole. I guess there's just this fucking empty hole in me that I know nothing can fill and that sucks. It winds up on my face and in my actions and I can't give people what they need from me in the long run, so it's always been easier to break things off and move on, you know?'

He's still holding my hand. It's big and strong and I know it's probably taking a lot to admit what he sees as a weakness in himself. 'You're right,' he says, 'I'm not really great with commitment. I'd only end up hurting people more if I tried.' He closes his eyes now. 'I've never actually said that out loud before.'

I let out a breath through my nostrils. I'm still trying to seem indifferent, friend-to-friend, but my heart is a flapping swan inside me, the more this new information sinks in. I'm aware of his semi-nakedness in every sense of the word. He's showing me his vulnerability. I owe him the same. 

'Colin told me I was only half there,' I tell him now, swallowing, looking down at our hands entwined. 'He was right.'

I can feel Ben's eyes on me. 'The guy you've been with for four years?' 

I nod. 'We met on my birthday, he was working in the bar. He was blowing up balloons for my party and he accidentally popped one against my boob. He was so mortified about it, he offered to take me for dinner.'

'That's romantic,' he says, nudging me with his shoulder. The wind is howling outside.

'It was good at first,' I say. 'He was good for me, but like you said, there was always this huge hole from what I lost and he couldn't fill it, even though he wanted to. He said I was a control freak... but I never had any control over anything. I never felt like I did, anyway. Not after the tsunami.' 

I pause as Ben squeezes my fingers. 'Izzy,' he says quietly, 'we all got messed up. And no one on the outside really knows how to deal with someone who's been through what we have. How
can
they?'

We're so close now. I can hear us breathing at the same time and I almost tell him. I almost let it out that Colin cheated on me with Claire; how I was feeding Sega in our brand new kitchen when he came home that night. I remember looking at the Whiskas can in my hand as I sank to the floor and told him what I'd seen on his laptop. I was thinking how when it had been closed, everything was fine, but soon as it had been opened, my life had changed all over again and I had no control anymore. No control over anything. I wished I'd never read that email, but more than that maybe, I wished I'd never fed his cat.

I look at our hands entwined. No. I can't tell Ben. He'll ask why I went back to him, just like Amy would if I told her. He'll know how bloody pathetic I was... am. I just have to break things off once and for all, stop being so weak, stop relying on his presence as my only constant.

'So, things are complicated,' Ben says now. 'But you love him, right?'

I turn my face to him, to his lips in a straight line now; his serious eyes that see through me. I can omit slight truths, but I can't lie to him. 'It wouldn't be fair to say no, but really, I don't know if I like him that much anymore,' I admit. 

'You don't
like
him? What did he do?'

'Nothing he doesn't think we can't work through.'

'OK...'

I don't have much else to compare love to, really, Ben. Colin's the only man I've ever been with. What do you want me to say?'

Shit
. I cringe to myself at what I've clearly just admitted, but Ben drops my hand, brushes my hair aside, tilts my chin up so I'm trapped in his stare. 'Nothing,' he says defiantly. 'I don't know much about love either, Izzy, trust me,' he says, resting his forehead against mine. 

An eternity passes. The contact and his breath on my skin and the dampness of his hair makes my blood fizz like Cola through my veins. 'Izzy,' he whispers now. It sounds more like a groan. 'It's time.'

Time
? My nose is touching his now. My hands flatten against his bare chest. 'Time for what?' 

He stands up quickly, pulling me to my feet and letting go. My hands fall to my sides. 'Time you had a bucket.'

Wait. What
? 

'Come on, British Izzy, it's bucket time. We're on Phi Phi, you got all your stuff back, you just bitch-slapped a thief like a badass, there's no excuse. We're celebrating.'

My pulse is still throbbing wildly as he unzips his bag, pulls on a loose green button up shirt, runs his hands through his hair again in front of the mirror. What the hell? I thought he was about to kiss me. Now he's dragging me out to drink alcohol from a bucket? 

'But it's still raining!' I say as I watch him grab his wallet from the waterproof pack.

'So we'll get wet,' he replies, heading for the door. '
Vamos aviando
, let's go.'

'Sang Som, Red Bull and guava juice from a box! This right here is a Phi Phi Dream,' I tell her, putting the silver bucket down on the sticky table in front of her. Izzy turns up her nose at the pink drink. 

'That looks like it's already been vomited up.'

'No, no,' I say, pulling out the chair next to her. 'That's an elixir that will fix ya.' I put my feet up on the empty chair. 'I just made that up, do you like that, writer?'

She laughs at the same time as she shakes her head and I watch her take what looks like three small sips through the straw. 'Sugar cane rum,' I say, studying her lips in the pink flashing lights. 'Sang Som's the cheapest you can get, pretty much, but it's a specialty. What do your esteemed taste buds think? Would it make it into
Sweet
Eats?'

'No way in hell, it's disgusting,' she shouts over the music, but she takes another three sips anyway, grinning.

'That's right, get back to those boozing roots,' I tell her, pushing the bucket even closer to her. 'Your country would be proud.'

She swipes a hand across her mouth, leans her elbows on the table and runs her tongue along her lip in a way that's not supposed to be sexual at all, but really is. 'It's not that bad. Are you trying to get me drunk?'

'Why would I do that?' I say.

Izzy opens her mouth to say something flippant that I know will be bordering on what we both know is the truth; that we have to share a bed tonight and that there's a very large possibility that we might not want to keep our hands off each other. I think we're both a little more uncomfortable with the situation than we're letting on. But she closes her mouth, drinks more through the straw and pushes the bucket back to me.

The bar is busy. We're two minutes from the hotel so it's not on the beach, it's on the street, and a guy on the mic is trying to get everyone to sign up for karaoke. I hate karaoke, but I will sing ten Abba songs in a row if it means I don't have to go back to that room just yet. I almost kissed her before. I almost crossed that line.  

We're silent, passing the bucket back and forth, watching a guy get up and start with a really bad, drunken rendition of
My Way.

'I wouldn't do anything his way,' Izzy says to me, halfway through the chorus. 'His way is terrifying.'

'Terrifying,' I agree. 'At least he's drowning out the storm.'

'Silver linings,' she smiles. My eyes stay on her lips. I was literally one millisecond away from caving in before I stood up and dragged her out of that room. I can't initiate anything, I keep telling myself that. It's not right. She's got Colin, whatever the hell's going on there, and I don't even know where I am with Kalaya. Plus, she's not just some tipsy tourist looking for a one-night-stand. What good would ever come from me starting something? Nothing ever does.

My phone buzzes on the table. Izzy's eyes flash to it. It's my mom. I stare at it, put my feet to the floor as the usual battle starts off in my brain, but Izzy nudges the phone with a finger. 'You should answer that, I'll be OK with Frank Sinatra here.'

I have no choice. I put the phone to my ear, stand up and head to the doorway. Mom starts talking at me a million miles an hour as soon as I pick up, but all too soon the line goes quiet and there's nothing left to say. I watch a plastic chip packet blow down the street in the wind as a girl starts destroying a Taylor Swift song in the key of wasted behind me. Izzy's words won't leave my head, what she said before:
So you don't like to commit, much?

She's right. I never commit and I never really deal with any of the consequences of that because usually I cut people off clean before any shit hits any fans. But hearing that one observation from her mouth made me feel like more of an asshole than ever, not least because I want to kiss her as much as I did when I was a teenager. More than that, now. I want to pick her up and make love to this amazing miracle girl who's shaking up my life like another fucking earthquake.

I ball my fist. 

Stop before she falls. Before you fall. Nothing breaks another heart harder than one that's already broken.
I read that once, I can't remember where, but it's true. I need more alcohol. I need to get drunk so I fall asleep and don't do anything stupid when we get back. I head back inside as the girl's finishing up her murderous song. 

'Everything OK?' Izzy asks.

I put my phone back on the table. I remember what my mom told me. 'Yes, funnily enough my mom's going to be in London in a few weeks. She's going there with my step dad on some business thing. She wants to know if I'll fly there and meet her.'

Izzy twists her hair around her fingers, looking at me. 'That's a great idea, will you go?'

'I don't know,' I say, pulling the bucket to me. It's almost all gone and she pulls a face that says oops. 

'So you and your mom don't see too much of each other, I guess?' she asks.