Gravitate (6 page)

“Whatever the lady wishes.”
He smiled, moving his hand off
my chin to pick up the package.
As he began unwrapping the paper, his smile deepened and his
dimples became more noticeable.
The serenity of his face was replaced by an excited joy, making him look younger, reminding
me of a child on Christmas day.
The relief washed over me, accompanied by a fluttering bu
zz of happiness.
I felt his smile reflected on my face.

“Do you like it?”

“No, I love it.
Nobody has ever got me
such a thoughtful gift before.
I’d made such a throwaway remark a
bout Blake, yet you remembered.
I am truly touched. Now, open my gift for you.”

My hands were trembling without my permission, and I felt
clumsy trying to open the box. I gasped.
Sat on the velvet interior of the box was a beautiful, silver locke
t attached to a delicate chain.
“Oh, Marty, it’s stunning – I’m overwhelmed, truly.”

“I thought you could put your father’s ring on the chain, and then, when you feel ready, you could put photos of
your parents inside the locket.
That way, they will always
be close to you.”
He sounded so sincere, so earnest, that my eyes started to w
ell up.
“Oh Claudia, don’t cr
y – I didn’t mean to upset you.
I’ll take it back, if you hate it.”

“I love it, I’m just…I
don’t know…how do I explain it? It’s so thoughtful of you.
It is the most beautiful locket I’ve ever seen.”

“In that case, may I help you to put it on?”

“Of course.” I could feel my pulse accelerating at the mere though
t of him being so close to me.
He skilfully took the locket and chain out of the box and threaded my
father’s ring onto the chain.
Then, standing behind me, he placed his hands in front of my neck, carefully letting the locket and ring use gravi
ty to find their central point.
I lifted my hair up and felt his fingers brushing against my neck as he secured the clasp of the necklace, leaving traces of raised goose bumps b
ehind.
I could feel the electricity in the air as I turned
around in my seat to face him.
He remained leaning towards me, wi
th his hand resting on my neck.
Our eyes were locked together and our lips began t
o gravitate towards each other.
I straightened my back to push myself closer to him, shortening the gap between
us to just a few millimetres.

And then the phone rang…

Chapter 4

At first, the shrill ring of my mobile phone sounded muffled in my ears and then it snapped me out of the trance I’d fallen into a
s I’d looked into Marty’s eyes.
He’d already broken away from my gaze as I gave my head a sma
ll shake and cleared my throat.
My phone was in my handbag and as I fished around for it, cursing it for ringing at such a crucial, magical moment, I could feel that
Marty had moved away from me.
The number lit up on the incoming call was from a mobile I didn’t have listed so I knew it was Ben – Marty, always true to his word, had told
me he had given him my number.
Marty was leaning on the counter across the kitchen, looking out of the window
, with his hand over his mouth.
I couldn’t read his facial expression but I coul
d see tension in his shoulders.
The ringing was getting louder and more insistent.

“Hello?” My voice sounded like I’d just woken up.

“Hi, Claudia? It’s Ben.”
He sounded perky and upbeat compared to me.

“Oh.
Hi, Ben. Marty
said he’d given you my number. How are you?”
Across the room, I notice
d Marty’s eyes flicker to mine.
He looked angry and I looked away.

“I’m
fine, I was worried about you.
The way you fainted last night scared me; are you alright now?”

“Yes, I just feel really embarrassed that you and Marty had to carry me home.”

“Actually, it w
as just Marty that carried you.
Um, since you’re feeling better,” his voice suddenly sounded a bit smaller, “wo
uld you like to go out tonight?
To the cinema, maybe?”

The question hung in the air an
d I didn’t know how to respond.
Marty was still looking at me and, though his body still said he was tense, he wa
s nodding encouragingly at me.
Ben clearly wanted a date with me but the last thing I felt like was going anywh
ere without Marty.

“I haven’t been to the cinema with friends for ages; shall I see if
Marty would like to come too?”

Marty’s voice cut into the air,
“I already have plans tonight.”
It was loud enough that I knew Ben had heard him, but to me, every word sounded like he didn’t want to say it.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be you and me then.” I felt sure I could hear just a hint of smugness mixed in with Ben’s bright tone.

“I guess so.
I don’t even
know what is on at the moment.
Is there anything in part
icular you wanted to see?”
I didn’t relish the prospect of sitting alone in t
he dark with Ben for two hours.
However, the same situation, with Marty instead of Ben, made my skin shiver with excitement.

“I heard they are showing Pride and Prejudice – you mentioned you were studying English; does a bit of Brontë appeal to you?”

“Jane Austen wrote Pride and Prejudice,” I could feel myself growing impatient, and mentally checked myself for being rude: it wasn
’t Ben’s fault he wasn’t Marty.
“I would like to see that, what time is it on?”

“There is a showing starting at eight o’clock; is that any good for you? I could pick you up at seven and we could go for a drink first.”

That was how I ended up on a date with Ben, e
ven if it wasn’t a date to me.
When I finished talking to Ben, I turned around to talk to Marty, but he’d left the ki
tchen without me seeing him go.
I desperately wanted to turn the clock back to the moment we’d shared before the phone
rang, but I knew it had passed.

I had a few hours to spare before I was seeing Ben, and I had some reading to complete before my next lecture; I thought immersing myself in hard work would free
my mind from this predicament.
Despite my good intentions, I found myself listening out for signs of Marty moving around. I started plotting how I could find a way to see him again – if I heard him go to the kitchen, maybe I could also just happen to need something from
the kitchen at the same time.
Unfortunately, I never ev
en heard his bedroom door open.
It wasn’t until I finally decided to go to the kitchen of my own accord that I noticed a piece of paper lying on the carpet, having been slid under the door.  It
could only be from one person.
My hands were shaking as I opened it:

Dear Claudia,

Have fun with on your dat
e with Ben tonight.
I would wave you off myself, but I have some
studying to do at the library.
I’m sor
ry about my behaviour earlier.
I don’t w
ant to overstep any boundaries.
I think you an
d Ben will make a great couple.
I could see you being together
forever.
Perhaps you should wear your hair up to
show off your beautiful face.
Give my regards to Ben; he’s a very lucky man.

Your friend,

Marty

I read the letter three times,
and began to shake with anger.
I was angry with Ben, with Marty and with myself
.  I wanted to scream at Marty. I wanted to shake him.
I wa
nted to yell “It’s not a date! I didn’t ask him to call me!
I wanted you to come with us! You could be that luc
ky man, if you only asked me!”
I knew I’d fallen hard and fast for Marty and I couldn’t believe he was writing me off for a lifetime with an
other man over one phone call.
I’d been sure he felt the same after he gave me the locket and I had also been certain that he was going to kiss
me, before we were interrupted.
Yet, as I thought about it more, I s
tarted to doubt my convictions.
After all, in the pub Marty had decided to sit away from me, lea
ving Ben the seat next to mine.
Marty had been the one w
ho gave my phone number to Ben.
Marty had
nodded when Ben asked me out.
It was like he was trying to push me
into a relationship with Ben.

Then there was the other side to Marty:
the caring, protective manner.
The thoughtfulness: covering me with the blanket, carrying me home from the pub, buying me the beautiful locket, sitting with me while I went through my parents’ belongings – those surely we
ren’t acts of random kindness.
The connection I felt to Marty was also strong and I knew I hadn’t imagined the looks across the table in the pub, or the kiss that very nearly happened, or the way he happened
to always be ready to catch me.
My fuzzy memories from after the fight also dredged up a faint recollection of him ca
lling me ‘baby’ as he held me.

I decided that whatever the deal was with Marty, I clearly didn’t have all the facts
.
I wondered if perhaps Ben might know more than me and, if I was obliged to go out with him, at least I might be able to extract some more pieces of this c
omplex jigsaw at the same time. Poor Ben.
I didn’t want to lead him on, and if I couldn’t have Marty, I certainly wouldn’t be treat
ing Ben as a consolation prize.
I pondered on the possibility of what would have happened if I’d met Ben first – woul
d I have been attracted to him?
He was a nice guy, but it was like comparing sand and water – I knew at that moment, I didn’t want to
live without Marty in my life.
I’d never believed in love at first sight, or in falling in love really – I believed you could be in love, but that you arrived at that destination in baby steps, you didn’t fall uncontrollably
.
In my mind, whirlwind romances were just for people wh
o didn’t think things through.
Now, here I was, overanalysing as usual, and yet I’d fallen in love with
my lodger in a matter of days.
I was drawn to him in a way that seemed inevitable, as though, if I fought against it, I could only lose – yet I didn’t want to fight the attraction – I wanted to rev
el in it, taste it, absorb it.
The part that worried me most was that I had no idea if
he felt the same way about me.
With a growing sense of disbelief, I realised I wasn’t that worried that I hardly knew anything about him – nothing else mattered, as long
as he felt the same way as me.
It was like I hardly
knew myself these days either.

True to his word, Ben
picked me up exactly at seven.
I’d taken Marty’s advice and worn my hair up in a ponytail, more in the hope that Marty would come home early a
nd see it than to impress Ben.
I should have known Marty would also be true to his word and wou
ld not be there to see me off.

Ben had parked in the driveway and stepped into the kitchen for a few moments,
while I finished getting ready.
The kitchen had a completely d
ifferent atmosphere to earlier. Less intense, less exciting.
Nice, but dull.

Ben’s car was much fancier
than a lot of the student cars I
saw parked at the university.
He unlocked the doors, I opened the passenger door and
slid in.
I couldn’t help but compare him to Marty, who would have undoubt
edly held the door open for me.
Ben smiled as I did up my seatbelt.

“Marty said you were a bit nervous in cars, since, well…” Ben trailed off.

“Since the accident.
Yeah, I’m working
on being brave.
I may shut my eye
s when we come to roundabouts.
It doesn’t help that I never finished learning to drive myself – I hated turning right and I nearly hit t
he wall in front of our house. This is a really cool car.
What make is it?”