Entwine (20 page)

If Nicholas was the same guy he was at nineteen, he’d make sure his whole night was free on the off-chance Sarah would magically call or appear. Even though it was now almost nine-thirty, if he was that same guy, he would still be waiting.

Sarah took off and remembered his words, “My number’s still the same” and didn’t hesitate on calling him through her Bluetooth as she drove.

“Sarah?” he answered.

Of course. Sarah shouldn’t have been surprised he’d kept her number. She did, too, but only because she hadn’t consciously deleted it. She hadn’t come across it in years.

“Yup,” she said.

Sarah wasn’t crying, sad or nasally. Sarah was fine. Nicholas had no business knowing or laughing at her crap luck.

“What are you up to?”

He chuckled. “Watching this really bad rom-com. Has this dreamboat guy with a real twangy accent, and some rake-thin chick, washboard chest, yet she still wears draping necklines.”

Sarah burst into laughter. Those words were exactly hers. “Why the draping neckline?” Sarah had once told Nicholas, back when they were dating, “If you don’t have boobs, cover up, and create an illusion that you do, even if you have to stuff chicken breasts in your bra—and don’t ask, they’re not real chicken.” Nicholas had just shaken his head. Sarah had promptly said she could overlook that movie oversight because of Matthew McConaughey’s dreamy look and accent.

“You are gay.”

“No, I’m just some sad, straight guy, bored out of his brains.”

“Well, would you like company?”

“Err, what about … you said it wasn’t appropriate …”

“Want the company, Nicholas? Yes, or no.”

So Sarah wasn’t teary, but she was high on rage, and Nicholas would know how to handle her. Yet another reason why Nicholas and her had so much history, and her and Malik had nothing, just some whirlwind, as he’d described. It meant, at a time like this, Nicholas knew to say he’d love the company, leave it at that, and run off his address.

• • •

THEN

“Hey mum,” Sarah asked. She was sitting at the swivel barstool under the kitchen bench. “What about the dude? How is he coping?”

For weeks, Sarah watched her mum lose her passion for everything and become somewhat of a gremlin, inside and out. He hair now remained in a constant matted state. What used to look like beautiful porcelain skin and plump, pink lips now looked wrong. Her pallor was sickly, and her lips flopped too big for her face. Sarah couldn’t tell if she’d lost weight but she looked so twiggy. Not even a woman with a skinny figure pre-childbirth, but just twiggy, like the awkward shape of a teenager.

“Who, Sarah?” her mum replied, all the while sorting pots, plates and cutlery from the dishwasher.

“Alyssa Fawnheart’s husband. I remember you saying she had a husband. Are they still together?”

“I don’t know.”

Sarah watched her mum go from pot to drawer, stack of plates to cupboard. She didn’t lose motion, didn’t stop to look at Sarah. She had the motion of a robot.

“Do you think they broke up?”

“Oh, hell!” Her mum finally reacted, throwing her hands up instead of retrieving more plates. “I don’t care for him or her. I want nothing to do with any of that lot.”

Sarah tucked her chin into her chest, and flicked dirt from under her nails. She didn’t know how long it was that she sat there, head low and playing with them, but she sensed her mum come around. As she looked up, she saw her fix herself onto the barstool next to Sarah and give her a thoughtful, sorry smile, crossing her arms on the edge of the bench.

“Have I been crabby lately?”

“Well, that’s one way to describe it,” Sarah said.

She gazed into her mum’s eyes, and saw some feeling for the first time in a long time. Her mum didn’t slip away back into her hole; her eyes seemingly searched Sarah’s and recognised something, perhaps also missing the time they’d once spent together.

They laughed for minutes, not able to say anything, and only laughed harder once they tried to stop and chat. Eventually, they used up their laughter that had been hidden all that time.

Her mum said, “I heard he’s not coping. Apparently he’s an alcoholic. He doesn’t even get to see their little baby much, and I know I’d be going insane with the heartbreak, anger, and time alone, feeling so hopeless. He’s a drunk mess, apparently.”

“How sad,” Sarah said.

“I know.” Her mum pursed her lips, rubbing something along the bench. “Such a loss,” she added. “Alcoholics lose a lot in their lives: money, health, relationships, and happiness. I really do hope he recovers and finds peace.”

“I feel sorry for him. You have me. He has no one, Mum.”

Sarah wanted to curl up. As she started to bend down to lay her cheek on the cool surface, her mum dragged her closer in her chair.

“We can’t do anything for him, Sez. We just have to hope he deals with his demons before his soul is too far gone.”

“Why? What happens then?” Sarah asked.

“The alcohol will be a part of who he is. Poor guy won’t ever have a proper relationship again.”

Resting against her mum’s chest, safe in her arms, Sarah thanked whoever was out there that they had each other. It had been a crap few weeks, but with the two of them together, they would make it. Sarah would do whatever she had to in order to help her mum be happy again. She could even work all weekend, and most weeknights, if they needed more money.

But that poor man, she thought. He had his daughter taken away, his wife destroyed his life, and now he was destroying what was left of him. She wished she could help him, but she didn’t even know his name, let alone a way to help a grown man who drank himself to sleep.

AFTERMATH

NOW

Sarah locked her car in the apartment block’s guest parking spot, and looked up at Nicholas’s complex. It was gated-off, located off the main road in the outer city. The grass was bright green, or, Sarah could tell it would be during daylight, as the lights spilled over the edge of the path dividing down to the rotating doors. She walked between two thick pillars and wondered how on earth she would get upstairs to meet him, when she saw him with his hands in his pockets, standing in the middle of the entrance foyer.

He was in tracksuit pants, which at this time, during the night, felt too intimate with the material loose over his hips. He had a T-shirt on and a hoodie over the top.

Nicholas looked down at himself, and said, “Hey, um, I forgot I was lounging around. Hope I don’t look like a big slob.”

“Never,” Sarah replied, kissing his cheek.

“Did you want to head out? I can chuck on some jeans, and fix up a bit.”

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t feel like being out, actually.”

“All good. I’ll show you the way.”

Nicholas led them to the lifts, and they got off a few floors up. The carpets were plush as Sarah’s wedges sank into them, making her want to hook her shoes over her fingertips and feels the fibres between her toes. They walked down the main hall. It all seemed so Hollywood movie-ish. Cream carpets, light cream walls—everything gave off warm vibes.

Nicholas led her off to one side and he opened the door for her to enter first into an apartment.

“Impressive,” Sarah said, gazing around at the rather orderly room. It was in a lived-in condition—a few cups and plates were in the sink, coasters on the coffee table, DVD cases piled up and some DVDs lying on top of the player—but there wasn’t half-eaten food or random wrappers lying around, like most other bachelor pads she’d seen in movies or been in.

“Well, a small apartment isn’t what most people are impressed by, but hey, I’ll take your compliment.”

Nicholas winked at her, and it hit her. How wrong this all looked. Sarah, angry, heartbroken, and calling up her ex late at night. She hadn’t come here to make a stupid mistake, or to stoop as low as Malik. She just felt so immensely lonely that, at the moment when her heart broke, she needed company, and no one made her feel as safe, before Malik, than Nicholas did.

Sarah didn’t reply, but moved on, weaving around the back of the couch and past the dining table to look down out of the window. She parted the curtains; from here, it was high enough to almost see the tops of some small buildings and other illuminated structures in the city. Neon signs stood out amongst the cars lighting up the streets, as the city bustled below; it was breathtaking to see.

“This certainly looks better than the view from my room.”

Nicholas came up beside her and rested his hands on the windowsill, his arms tensed as he leant forwards and peered out, too. “I liked the view from your room. Something about it felt right, real. There were always the same runners and dog duos, families—sometimes there was that weird white van that would do laps on weekend nights.”

Sarah stiffened hearing Nicholas talk. How, or why, did he remember all that? It wasn’t like Sarah forgot. They’d be kissing or curled up on her bed and hear the distinct engine sound of that van, and peer up like meerkats over the sill to look at what it was. And all the other little details. They rushed into her mind, and made her feel young, and fresh once again. Safe, as she always did when Nicholas was with her.

“You remember …” she said softly.

Silence followed, and Sarah counted the seconds until he would say something; something bad. So she turned and left him gazing out the window, and looked further, then afterwards relaxed back into the couch and crossed her legs.

“Tea?”

“Irish coffee?” Sarah asked in reply.

He nodded, a small smile biting at his lips. He came back with hers and what smelt like regular coffee for him. When he sat down, she felt the couch tilt her toward him, though he left a respectable gap. It felt like instinct to nudge closer, but she had to remind herself not to do anything too suggestive.

“I can’t believe it. He fucked me over, exactly unlike he promised he would.”

“Who?”

Sarah dropped her chin and stared at her stupid beautiful jeans, all the way down to her beautiful wedges. She didn’t look beautiful anymore. She looked silly. If Nicholas asked her now, that’d be the only response she could give him.

“Malik. He just … what a fucking shit. Isn’t life fucking shit, Nicholas?”

Nicholas turned to look at her. She felt two things, both overwhelming, so she focused on the anger, because now, finally talking about how bad her heart ached was saddening, she discovered. The last thing she wanted to turn into was a blubbering mess all over Nicholas on his couch in his apartment. But the look in his eyes was easy to distract her from her crazy mind. It was warm and calming. That almond-shape and warm brown colour she had committed to memory from when she was with him.

“Have to agree.” He picked up his coffee mug, and slotted a few fingers between the handle and the cup. “My ex’s name is Brittney. She’s started texting in the last couple of days. Apparently, she made a mistake letting me go. And, apparently, she really needs me. The hell, ya know?” He drank some of his coffee, letting Sarah digest that. “What about me having to deal with not needing her? It’s fucking shit. Agreed.”

Sarah met his eyes and smiled. He smiled back, and they fell into easy conversation about Malik and Brittney.

Though Sarah didn’t see a photo of her in a frame anywhere, she had drawn a mental picture of her. Tanned, olive skin that wouldn’t go pasty in winter, cool grey eyes, a beauty spot beside her lips that Nicholas probably kissed when they were together, and a body type that would hold up a strapless bra just fine. Beneath skin-deep, she seemed the frenetic type. Not what Sarah had initially guessed for him at all. Brittney didn’t commit to dates with friends in case she forgot, plus she didn’t ever think to organise something. She got up and went out when she felt like it. She rarely covered her legs. Even in winter she stuck to stockings, leggings, and dresses, teemed with knee-high or over-the-knee boots. Brittney lived with her parents still, and rescued dogs from the pound.

“Nicholas, you shock me.”

“Why?”

“I just expected someone more … normal? Not, like, boring, but she sounds like a bucket and a half of fun. All. The. Time. And sometimes half a bucket more than one person can handle.”

Nicholas continued to describe that Brittney also hated being restricted, physically, socially or mentally. She did what she wanted on almost every occasion.

“Did you expect someone like yourself?”

Sarah choked on nothing at all. Maybe she just swallowed the air the wrong way. Nicholas patted her back, but she wiggled to escape his hands. Any touch or contact with him now seemed weird, like she had said that because she had feelings for him. That thought alone made her want to hide. She wanted a hug, to lie with a man, and she hated Malik at the moment too much to do it with him, and Nicholas
was
becoming more appealing in that sense.

“God, Nicholas.
No
. She just doesn’t seem like anyone’s sticking-around type.”

“She is. Or was.” He frowned. “And now she is again, I suppose.”

He looked down to his pocket and withdrew his mobile. He read a message, and then shook his head as he put it back away. Sarah questioned him with a confused look. He continued, “She still has her own beep. That was her.
Again
. You should know I’m quite desirable. You may not have much longer to get in with me.”

Sarah shook her head at his ridiculous humour, but still giggled. Nicholas got up, and instead of a coffee, Sarah asked for a glass of wine instead, the hint of alcohol from before having her crying out for more. She finished it in between some small talk.

“What’s he like?”

“Malik?” Sarah asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, Mr Lover Boy.”

“Boy?” Sarah chuckled. “He’s a bit older than me. Nothing boy about him. I loved that he was strong, confident and honest. What I saw tonight was the opposite, and it just shits me. I knew we were too different, you know? And there’s so much more shit. He’s someone with history between us that made being together weird at first, but we got over that. Now? It’s all fucked again, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re too different, and at different stages of our lives.” Sarah gestured to the space between Nicholas and herself. “We’re young kids, still figuring everything out, careers, relationships, goals. He’s mid-thirties, with all of that behind him, and has a kid. Just makes me think if this is just a lovely moment in time, not something forever.”