The Road to Her (21 page)

“You were looking at my arse, were you?” She dipped her head slightly and raised her eyebrow mischievously.

“No. Well, I guess, but that’s not what I meant,” I mumbled.

“And did you also see me trying to get his hand off me, as well?” Elise asked, turning her head and gazing out across the river. “God, I’m so sick of men mauling me sometimes, it’s unreal.”

She slowed her pace. “Can we go to yours?” she suddenly said. “It’s close. We could walk it from here.” She peered up into the night sky. “It’s a nice night for a walk by the river,” she said quietly.

My place? Why did she want to go there?

“Sure,” I stuttered, making a mental calculation of the tidiness of my apartment and figured that two pans left soaking in the kitchen sink plus one odd sock on the bathroom floor didn’t equal a squalid mess.

It took us about another fifteen minutes to walk back to my street, and by then, a heavy rain had started to fall, so we ran the last hundred yards to the apartment block’s front door.

“So unfit!” I breathed hard as I put my key in the door. “Although how anyone’s supposed to run in these shoes is anyone’s guess.” I lifted my foot, and Elise gave a knowing half laugh. We went up in the lift to my floor in silence, both damp from the sudden rain, and entered my apartment. I watched as Elise wandered about the lounge, whistling quietly in approval when she walked to the large open window and looked at the lights of London shining out in front of her.

“I’ll never get used to just how lovely it is here,” she murmured, turning back to look at me. “It feels like you can see the whole of London lit up like Christmas lights.”

I tossed my keys into a wooden bowl next to the front door, eased my pinching shoes off, and wriggled my feet into slippers with a sigh. The night was over. Time for some comfort.

“I’m gonna fetch myself a towel,” I called out. “You want one?” I grimaced as I took a look at my reflection in the mirror by the front door. The sudden downpour had messed up my hair, so perfect and neat earlier in the evening but now sticking up in all directions and beginning to plaster itself most unflatteringly to my forehead.

Elise nodded, then turned back to carry on admiring the view in front of her.

I hurried into the bathroom, hastily kicking a crumpled-up pair of sweatpants into the corner on my way, and returned with our towels. I stood next to her at the window, handed her one, and watched, from the corner of my eye, as she dried her hair and face. She raked her fingers through her wet hair, scraping it back from her forehead, and wiped at the remaining make-up on her face with her towel, the rain having washed most of it away. I watched as she stood gazing out the window, hair swept back from her face, completely unselfconscious about the fact she was now totally free of any make-up. She looked beautiful.

“Are you happy here?” she asked, still looking out the window.

“Very, yes,” I replied.

“And…are you happy?” she repeated.

“Yeah, I just said.”

She turned and looked at me. “No, I mean are
you
happy? In life? Happy with yourself?”

I shrugged. “I guess.” I looked at her, urging her to read my expression, needing her to know I was still struggling with the whole
just good friends
thing, and that I’d be a darn sight happier if she’d give me what I wanted: her.

“Would you be happier still if Grace were back in your life?” She wandered away from the window, looking back over her shoulder to me, and sat, with her towel still in her hands, on my sofa.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, remembering with a pang that Grace had texted me again that morning. “I sometimes wonder if she’d help me…take my mind off things.” I stayed rooted to the spot by the window, not wanting to move, my heart beating a bit faster than it was before. “Would you be happier with things if Stig came back into yours?” I asked, turning the tables on her.

“Stig? He was no one,” she said dismissively. “He was just company when I felt like I needed it. He took my mind off
things
.” She looked steadily at me and my insides lurched.

“Anyway,” I said, my voice wavering, “I guess I’ll find out about Grace soon enough.”

Elise looked up. “I’m sorry?”

I swallowed hard, watching her face intently. “I’m meeting her tomorrow night for a drink.”

Okay, it was a lie.

But I’d blurted it before I’d even realised. I have no idea why, but the barely disguised flash of jealousy that spread across Elise’s face suggested to me it might have been a good move.

“I thought she’d moved to Ireland.” Elise pulled herself upright on my sofa. “You told me she was living in Ireland.”

I shook my head. “Only temporarily,” I said. “She plans to move back here eventually.” I watched her closely. I had the bit well and truly between my teeth; there was no going back now, I figured. “She, uh, she wants to get back with me,” I lied, my eyes never leaving her face.

“I see.” Elise’s face flickered with something new now. Not jealousy this time, but something else. Hurt? Confusion? “And you? What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to forget about you,” I said bluntly. “Grace can help me do that.”

That could have been partly true. At least Grace wanted me, didn’t she? Grace would be the easy option.

“And do you think that’s a good idea?” Elise’s voice sounded thin.

“It’s logical,” I said. “Grace wants me. You don’t. It’s a no-brainer really, when you think about it.”

“But you don’t want her anymore,” Elise said. “You already told me that.”

“Still,” I said. “I can’t keep on waiting in the hope that you’ll change your mind about me and you, can I?”

I remained standing by the window, clutching my own towel lamely in my hands. When Elise didn’t respond, I wandered over to her, holding my hand out for her to pass me her towel, just wanting to do something to break the uncomfortable silence now hanging in the room.

Our hands touched as she passed me her towel, making me pull mine away as if it’d been stung by static electricity. She looked up at me as I eventually took it from her, holding my gaze for a few seconds, then looked slowly away as I moved past her and over towards my bathroom.

I tossed the towels into the laundry bin and turned to come back out again. Elise was now in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the door frame, watching me closely. “Did I tell you just how nice you look tonight?” she said. “I meant to tell you. I don’t know if I did.”

“No,” I said, taken aback. “You didn’t.”

“Well, you do,” she said, smiling uncertainly.

“Thank you,” I said. “Uh, and so do you.”

Elise frowned, looking as though she was stopping herself from saying something else. With an exasperated sigh, she ran her hands irritably over her face, rubbing at her skin. “Why did you have to be a girl?” she asked, fixing me with a look.

“I’m sorry?”

“Things would be so much easier if you’d have just been a man.” Elise rubbed at her face again.

“Don’t,” I said, sounding stupid to my own ears.

She was anguished and exasperated and angry all at the same time, as if she was having a thousand arguments with herself inside her head. While she’d been wound up when she’d first told me she liked me, I’d never seen her quite as agitated as this before. “Don’t what?”

“Why say that now, Elise?” I asked. “Knowing how I feel about you? It’s not fair.” I remained rooted to the spot, waiting for her to answer. She didn’t. “Elise? Talk to me.”

“You know why!” Elise pulled herself upright again. “Because you know that I think that…that…”

“You think…?” I asked, looking straight at her. I took a step closer to her, noticing she was breathing fast. I stopped just in front of her and looked questioningly into her eyes.

She glanced away, focusing on a spot on the floor, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. She was breathing hard through her mouth now, running her thumb over her other hand over and over again, struggling to speak.

“Think
what
, Elise?” I pushed, wanting to take her hand.

“I think…” Finally she made eye contact with me. “That I can’t do this anymore,” she blurted, turning from me and walking quickly back into my lounge.

“Elise! Can’t do what?” I caught up with her, reaching out for her arm and turning her to face me. “What can’t you do, Elise?”

“This,” she said. “I can’t do this.” She walked to the door, wrenching it open and stumbling out into the hallway.

I followed, calling, “Elise! Wait!
Elise!
”

I scooped my keys back out of the wooden bowl, cursing as they fell to the floor. I snatched them up, then ran into the hallway, watching as the lift doors slowly closed. I jabbed on the lift’s button, urging the doors to open again, but instead, I saw the down arrow illuminate. I punched the button again, more out of frustration than anything else, then hurried down the stairs, my speed impeded by my stupid slippers. By the time I’d reached the ground floor, I saw Elise already out on the pavement, hailing a cab and disappearing into the first one that stopped.

It was too late. She was gone.

Chapter Nineteen

I stared at the door that Elise had just left through, my head in a muddle, my heart flailing wildly in my chest. Taking the lift back up to my apartment, my mind repeated her words over and over.

“I can’t do this…”

What couldn’t she do?

Me?

Jasey?

Portobello Road?

Back in my apartment, I fumbled for my phone, hidden somewhere in my bag, and rang her. She’d been so distressed—there was no better way to describe her—that I worried she wouldn’t get home safely. I sank on my sofa, my mobile clamped to my ear, and listened to it as it rang out, going eventually to Elise’s voicemail.

“Elise.” My voice sounded strained and panicked. “It’s me. Are you…are you all right? I don’t know what just happened there, but I need to know you’re okay.” I paused, hoping she might pick up when she heard my voice, but she didn’t. “Call me?” I said. “Just let me know you got home safely, yeah?”

I put my phone down and looked at it, willing it to ring, like you do when you’re desperate for someone to contact you. I thought if I stared at it long and hard enough, my message to Elise would get through, she’d pick up and call me back, telling me everything was okay. But she didn’t. When I tried ringing her one more time, again getting her voicemail, I sent her a text, telling her I was worried about her, and urging her to text or call me back, no matter how late.

Tired of staring at my silent phone, I wandered to the kitchen and poured myself a drink. I leant against the kitchen unit, cradling my glass with both hands, my mind both whirling and completely blank. I don’t know how long I stood there, gazing empty-headed at the floor, before I heard my phone beep from in the lounge. Downing my drink, which had remained untouched until then, I went straight to it and felt a rush of relief as I saw Elise’s name flash up in front of me.

“I’m fine,”
it said. Nothing else. Just, “
I’m fine.”

*

The ringing of my phone woke me with a start. I peered, bleary-eyed, at my alarm clock and saw that it was three a.m.—I’d gone to bed just an hour earlier, feeling slightly more able to sleep since I’d had a text back from Elise and knew she was okay, but now panic seized me, having been awakened so soon after drifting off. My heart thumped wildly, thinking it was bad news about one of my parents. I blinked at my phone, the backlight on it making my eyes hurt in the pitch black of my bedroom.

It was Elise.

“Elise.” I sat bolt upright in bed, pinching my eyes tight shut against the bright glare. “Thank God,” I breathed.

“I’m sorry,” Elise said. She sounded drunk.

“You all right?” I asked. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Elise repeated, her voice thick. “I don’t know what to do.”

I ran my hand through my hair, starting to get alarmed. “What’s happened?” I asked.

“I don’t know what to do,” Elise said again. “Can I come over?”

I leant back, propping myself up on one elbow and looked at the alarm clock again.

“Please?” Her voice was urgent.

“Where are you?” My pulse thudded in my neck.

“Outside.”

“Outside where?” I frowned.

“Your place.”

I instinctively looked at the window, my breath coming faster. “You’re here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or not?” Elise slurred.

“Of course!” I jumped out of bed, hopping on one foot as I pulled on pyjama bottoms that had been cast off, as always, during the night. “Wait, I’ll buzz you up.”

I cancelled her call and looked at myself briefly in the mirror, running my fingers though my hair, trying and failing to get it to behave before giving up. I pressed the buzzer on the intercom, then replaced it and waited for Elise to knock on my front door.

When she finally came to the door, I was shocked at the sight of her. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her hair, normally so perfect, was plastered across her face. She was dressed in a scruffy grey hoodie and baggy blue sweatpants, a total contrast to what she’d been wearing just a few hours earlier and a bit of a surprise to see, considering she always looked so immaculate.

“Blimey, Elise!” I looked at her, stunned, as she meekly stepped in through the door and stood, head bowed, in my hall. “You really aren’t okay, are you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

She looked up at me through tear-clogged eyes and sniffed loudly. I stood facing her, not saying a word, just not knowing what to say.

“I could use a drink,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Sorry, of course.” I stepped back from her and gestured for her to follow me in. I made my way to the kitchen, then paused. “Elise, do you think you might have had enough already?”

“Not nearly enough, no,” she said, tears welling in her eyes again.

“Even so.” I made my way back to the kitchen, pouring us each a tumbler of water, and returned to the lounge, sitting down next to her on the sofa. I slid her glass across the coffee table towards her. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” She stared down into her glass and, with one gulp, drained the water inside.