No Kiss Goodbye (16 page)

After all Ava’s moaning at me to hurry up, in the end, she takes an hour longer than I do to get ready. I’ve drunk two glasses of wine rather quickly while waiting. I must have fallen asleep because I’m groggy and not really listening when Nigel shakes my shoulder and asks me if ordering pizza is okay instead of going out. I mumble something incoherent, and he leaves me alone.

It’s late the next morning before I finally wake up. My cheek is cemented to the armrest of the sofa. A gooey streak of lipstick and dribble marks the spot where my face has spent the night. I have a horrible crick in my neck and my tongue feels as furry as a sheepskin rug. I’m still wearing the blue dress. It’s twisted around me awkwardly now, and a dark stain somehow made it all the way down the front in a large, obvious splash. I’m horrified at the state of myself. I’m a disaster. I destroyed the beautiful dress and the couch all in one subconscious motion. I dread to think how Nigel will react.

I peel back the blanket that I assume Ava was kind enough to cover me with and dash to the bathroom. I cross my fingers that I won’t bump into Nigel or Ava on the way.

I emerge a new woman. Well, a new woman in some old clothes. I wear a pair of skinny, grey jeans and a loose Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt that has shrunk in the wash and doesn’t fit Mark anymore. I ball up the dress in a towel and stuff it into the laundry basket. I assume with Nigel’s money he sends his laundry somewhere to be washed for him. There is no washing machine in the penthouse, and he doesn’t seem the type to hang out in the local laundrette on a Saturday afternoon. I hope the dress will come back as good as new and it will be one less embarrassment for me.

I rummage my way around the kitchen presses, hoping to find something that I can use to clean the couch. There’s nothing. Not even washing up liquid. The presses are bare of food and the fridge houses just a few bottles of white wine with very fancy labels and a tray of strawberries. I smile as I confirm my suspicions that Nigel isn’t the domestic type. He must eat out – always, or get an unhealthy amount of room service.

I sit on the couch for what feels like an eternity. I flick through all the television stations at least twice. I can’t find anything to watch. I wonder how late Ava and Nigel plan to sleep in. Maybe they’re sleeping off an even worse hangover than mine. I looked around for any evidence of a drinking session last night, but the only bottle on the shelf is the white wine I lashed into last night.

My tummy bubbles angrily. I squirm on the spot when I realise I was the only overindulgent one. Of course, Ava wasn’t drinking. I snort at myself for forgetting her pregnancy. Even the smell of wine probably drove her morning sickness crazy. I used to hate the stuff when I was pregnant. And Nigel is some sort of finance investor, Ava finally told me. High flying businessmen didn’t dabble in midweek binges, I’m sure.

I’ve made a fool of myself. I hope I haven’t pissed Nigel off. It’s not often you invite someone into your home and then they streak naked across your bedroom, get drunk and destroy your wife’s dress, and mash seventy-five liters of foundation into your beautiful, cream leather sofa.
Jesus.

‘Oh, you’re awake,’ Ava says as she and Nigel walk through the front door of the penthouse.

Nigel is carrying several heavy shopping bags. They walk past me and into the kitchen. I follow.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ I ask, bordering on moaning.

‘’Cause you looked wrecked,’ Ava said.

‘It’s only a few groceries,’ Nigel explains. ‘The store isn’t far from here. You weren’t alone for long.’

He seems on edge, and I wonder if he’s embarrassed that there’s nothing to eat in the fridge.

‘It looks like there’s more than a few there,’ I say pointing to the extreme volume of food that Nigel is unpacking.

‘I didn’t know what you liked, so I decided to get a little of most things. If there’s anything I’ve missed, then just let me know, and I can go back out for it,’ Nigel says.

His eyes smile, and I relax once more.

‘There was no need to go to so much trouble. A slice of toast would have been more than fine,’ I say politely.

Nigel’s face falls disappointedly. He’s enjoying treating Ava and me like royalty, I can tell, and now I seem to be completely unappreciative. I hurry to rectify the situation.

‘Everything looks yummy. I’m so hungry.’

It’s true. The fresh fruit looks as tasty as if he handpicked it straight from the farmer’s garden himself. There are so many varieties of bread and pastries that my tummy aches just thinking about how delicious they will taste.

It’s a test of my patience to wait until the food is placed on the table. My fingers twitch a couple of times in the direction of a bright red raspberry or juicy kiwi from the fruit salad bowl.

I haven’t eaten properly in weeks, so as soon as we sit, I rudely refrain from making conversation as I tuck into the delicious breakfast. Nigel glances in my direction every time he hears the peculiar sound of my stomach growling as it enjoys the delicious meal.

‘Are you sure you don’t just want to spend the day resting? The city will still be here to see tomorrow when you are less tired,’ Nigel suggests between sips of cooled coffee.

I feel a little uncomfortable as I suspect it’s his way of politely suggesting I need to sleep off my hangover.

‘We’re not tired,’ Ava insists. ‘Anyway, we don’t know how long we’ll be staying for so we want to make the most of it.’

I’m disappointed. I don’t like the idea of facing the freezing cold outside. I’d much prefer to spend the day researching custody cases on the internet. My head is pounding, and I feel as though I’ve been kicked in the back of the skull with a football boot. But I can see how much Ava wants to hit the city so I smile brightly and act excited.

‘If you insist; then shopping it is.’ Nigel smiles as keen as ever to please. ‘Will I have the car ready in…say…an hour or so?’

‘Nope,’ Ava replies completely adamant. ‘We’ll get the subway.’

‘The subway?’ I squeak.

‘Okay, if that’s what you’d prefer,’ Nigel says.

Ava loves her luxuries. She would never give up leather seats and suede cushions for a chewing-gum-infested polyester seat on an overcrowded train. She must have been really worried that Mark would find us if she wanted this badly not to draw attention to us.

‘I want Laura to experience the real New York, and you only get a rich man’s perspective from the back of that fancy car of yours. Poor people have much more fun.’

I scrunch my nose and glare disappointedly at Ava. Her idea of a poor person is slightly off. Unless you own five pairs of Louboutins and spend the summer on a yacht, you are poor. 

‘More fun, my arse,’ I mumble biting my lip to muffle the sound.

Real people like me, poor or not, hate the bloody subway.

I look at Nigel and shake my head. There’s no point in arguing with her; she’ll only win eventually anyway.

‘Stop being such a pessimist. It’ll be fun.’ Ava smiles.

I really hope Ava isn’t going to keep saying fun all day.

‘At least let me give you my work mobile number?’ Nigel says.

‘Work number?’ I ask, taken aback.

‘Of course,’ Nigel replies dismissively. ‘You can get me any time on that line.’

‘Of course,’ I playfully mimic without thinking.

Thankfully, Nigel sees the funny side and smiles. I punch the number into my mobile and promise to call if we get lost.

‘Unfortunately, it turns out I won’t be able to join you in the city for dinner this evening. Something has come up at work,’ Nigel explains.

‘Oh no, that’s a pity.’ I say, genuinely disappointed.

‘I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps, I can still join you for a drink after. Although it may be a little late and if you’re tired…’

‘I’m not tired.’ I nod eagerly.

Ava laughs at my enthusiasm, as does Nigel.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Ava whispers.

Nigel smiles and I’m certain he heard her. I’m also certain he notices me blush a little because it was true.

I barely notice the sharp cold of the November wind as we walk away from the hotel. Ava assures me the entrance to the subway is just a couple of blocks away. I don’t care if it’s around the next corner or fifty miles away; I’m too busy enjoying walking around with my head in the air staring at giant buildings that line the streets like a giant game of dominoes.

‘Yep, it’s definitely obvious you’re a tourist.’ Ava giggles pointing at me. ‘You’ll get a crick in your neck.’

I already had a crick in my neck, but it was worth it.

‘If you think this is impressive, just wait ‘til we get to Fifth Avenue,’ Ava says excitedly.

I feel my heart skip a giddy beat. Ava was right all these years; New York is amazing. I hold my breath in anticipation of seeing more. I also hold my breath as we descend into the subway. It stinks. An unpleasant combination of stale body odours and old rubbish mixes with hot sticky air. We grab our one-way tickets quickly from the machine and dash to squeeze on the train with all the other mashed commuters. I stop mid hurry and don’t run any further.

My attention is drawn to a young woman sitting cross-legged in the only quiet corner of the busy terminal. She can’t be more than twenty-five. She has her back firmly against the wall and she’s tucked into a neat ball. A small boy shivers as he lies sleeping curled up in the crook of her filthy arm. He’s skinny and unwashed, just like the woman. I assume she’s his mother. A lump rises in my throat just looking at them. Hundreds of busy people rush by as they execute their daily routine.
It’s the city that never sleeps, but people must walk around with their eyes closed
, I decide. How else can they ignore the heartache that’s dotted on the corner of every block?

I root in my oversized handbag and pull out ten dollars. I know it’s pitifully insufficient, but it’s hopefully enough to make some small difference to the young woman. It’s enough for at least a cup of coffee and a packet or two of crisps for her little boy.

I bend down close to her and stuff the money into her shaking hand.

‘Thank you…thank you…thank you,’ she repeats over and over.

I don’t know what to say; the lump in my throat has swelled so huge that I doubt I could speak anyway. So I just smile and slowly walk away.

‘You’re too soft for your own good,’ Ava says once we are out of earshot.

‘Excuse me,’ I say, trying hard to get the image of the shivering little boy out of my mind.

‘She’s only going to spend that on drink, you know.’

‘You can’t say that,’ I insist, disappointed in Ava’s cynicism.

‘I can. I just did. How can I say that? Because that’s what they all do. That’s why they’re in that situation in the first place.’

‘People can’t choose what awful direction life takes them in. Some people are victims of circumstances, you know,’ I say sharply.

I know I’m no longer talking about some poor, homeless woman. I’m drawing on my own misfortune, and Ava chooses not to argue the matter any further.

‘Well, let’s hope I’m wrong,’ she says. ‘That poor little mite looks like he hasn’t seen a decent meal in weeks. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that your money buys him some food and doesn’t go to feed his mother’s habit.’

The streets of central Manhattan are thronged with busy people rushing about their daily lives. We blend in with the crowd and were blissfully anonymous. I’m not Laura the overwhelmed mother trying to be supermom. I’m not a wife or lover trying to look somewhat attractive in the face of pure exhaustion. I’m not a career woman who gave it all up to raise her children. I’m not even Laura whose life has been stolen without her knowing how.

‘How did I let this happen?’ I ask out of context as we walk up the subway steps and onto the street.

‘Let what happen?’

‘My life,’ I clarify. ‘How did I let it become such a mess?’

‘You’re just going through a really tough patch. Everyone has them. Okay, yours is worse than most people’s, but I think you’re doing great.’

Ava never seems to grow tired of me reiterating the same old sob story. She always tries her best to cheer me up.

‘I’m falling apart,’ I admit.

‘You’re not. But your wardrobe is. Jesus, Laura, what the hell are you wearing? First stop Macy’s.’

Normally, I would have been jumping for joy at an offer like that, but I’m not in the mood.

‘I’m serious, Ava. I think I’m losing it.’

Ava takes me by the hand and leads me to a little bench at the edge of the footpath. She winces a little as the cold metal seat hits the backs of her thighs. Under different circumstances, I would have laughed hysterically.

‘Are you ready to talk about everything.’ Ava smiles.

‘I don’t even know what it is I’m talking about anymore,’ I explain. ‘I’m so confused all the time. Every time I remember something and think I’m getting close to understanding why everything has changed, I realise I’ve just scratched the surface.’

‘Well, let me help you scratch. What are you thinking right now?’

Ava has a heavy sadness in her eyes. She’s struggling to hold back tears. I hope she won’t cry. If she crumbles, then I will fall heavy, too.

‘My life is ruined,’ I sob.

‘Why do you say that?’ Ava asks. ‘Is it because you miss him so much?’

‘Miss who? Mark?’

Ava doesn’t say another word. She’s just nodding and listening.

‘Yeah, I really miss him. It’s not because I’m in New York and he’s back home. I’ve been missing him for a long time. We’ve been growing apart for ages now, and it really hurts.’

‘Is it since Lorcan?’ Ava whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks etching pale lines into her otherwise perfect makeup. She’s fought it as long as she could, but she’s lost the battle to contain her emotion.

‘Lorcan?’ I ask surprised.

It’s sweet that Ava was referring to her baby by name already, but I can’t understand what that has to do with me missing Mark.

‘Mark doesn’t know you’re pregnant, does he?

‘No. Of course, not. You and Adam are the only ones who know.’

‘Oh okay,’ I say, still confused. Maybe Ava thinks I’m upset about her baby because of my miscarriage. It makes sense. That must be why she waited so long to tell me she is pregnant.

I slide to the end of the bench so Ava and I are squashed together in a tiny space usually only occupied by one super-skinny person.

‘I’m not upset about your baby,’ I say.

‘Okay,’ Ava whispers, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose loudly.

‘I did find the miscarriage hard, and it would have been lovely if we could have been pregnant together, but with the state of my marriage, I don’t think a baby would be a good thing. Not right now anyway.’

‘Adam and I don’t exactly have the perfect relationship either, but I’m hoping the baby will bring us closer.’

I look at my best friend. ‘Babies really do change everything,’ I say. I remember gazing into the beautiful blues eyes of my new baby, who was a carbon copy of Mark. Life was so blissfully perfect in that moment. It isn’t fair that time has made such a cruel difference to how happy we were.

‘Do you think you and Mark can come back from this point?’ Ava asks. Her voice shoots through my daydream and it sadly shatters.

‘I don’t think so. He tried to kill me because he’s having an affair. Yeah, if it was
Eastenders
or
Coronation Street,
I’m sure we’d kiss and make up, but unfortunately, real life is a little different.’

‘Do you think it’s because your loss has changed you so much?’ Ava whispers. It’s almost as if she’s afraid to admit out loud that I was different.

‘No. I think it’s because he’s shagging someone else,’ I spit as if the words taste disgusting in my mouth.

We are both silent for a while. There isn’t much that can be said in response to that.

‘Anyway, he’s replaced me with
her,
’ I finally say. ‘Maybe it’s time I do the same.’

‘Nigel?’ Ava asks, a touch of disapproval streaked between her frowning eyebrows. ‘Now that would be weird,’ she adds.

‘Why? I’m single; he’s single. What could be weird about that?’

‘It just would be.’

‘Why, Ava? Just because I’ve spawned little people out of my lower half doesn’t mean my bits have shrivelled up and fallen off. I still have feelings, and hormones, and needs.’

‘I know,’ Ava defends. ‘I just mean it would be a bit weird with all the history and stuff.’

‘Not this again. What history? You said Nigel and I didn’t know each other, remember?’

Dammit.
I feel a dizzy wave build again. Ava’s lying to me; I know it. My subconscious has a built-in sense about it. Maybe my own head is trying to protect me.
Is that even possible?

‘Nothing. Forget about it. I’ve already said too much,’ Ava says.

‘What do you mean you’ve said too much? You haven’t said anything at all.’

‘Good. Let’s keep it that way.’

‘No. Ava, if you know something, you have to tell me. Please?’

‘Remember how we always promise that we will never push the other person to talk about something that they’re not comfortable with?’ Ava asks trembling slightly.

I nod.

‘Well, I’m not comfortable talking about this.’

I slouch on the bench a little and turn to face her. ‘I’m not asking you to confess a drunken fumble with some random stranger in a bar. This is my life we’re talking about.’

‘I know,’ Ava says sympathetically. ‘I wish we could talk about it, but I’ve been warned not to discuss this.’

I jumped up powerfully. I’m sick to the pit of my stomach. ‘You’ve been warned?’ I screamed.

‘Shh,’ Ava says. ‘People are staring.’

‘I don’t care who’s watching. I couldn’t care less if a camera crew pulls up alongside us and airs the whole ugly scene on a big screen across Times Square. I will scream all I want. Now tell me. Who warned you what? Nicole? Mark? Who? Did Nicole threaten you? Or was it…?’

Ava jumps up from the bench even faster than I did. Her face has changed completely. She almost looks angry with me. ‘You’ve got this sooo wrong, Laura. Mark is the one person fighting, all this time, to protect you.’

‘What? No. What are you saying? We ran away because we are in danger. Now you contradict all that and say that Mark is trying to protect me? His idea of protecting me is shoving me six feet under.’

Ava’s face falls into her hands, and she flops back onto the bench as if someone has just sucked all the air out of her body. ‘I thought you were starting to remember.’

‘I’m trying to remember. If you would just tell me what you know…then I could understand.’

‘Don’t you get it yet?’ Ava asks trembling.

I can’t tell if she shakes with frustration or if she’s just too upset to contain herself.

‘You have to remember for yourself. I can tell you all the gory details ‘til I’m blue in the face, but the next time you pass out, you’ll just forget all over again. We’ve been there before. You only retain what you remember by yourself.’

Ava’s words hurt, and I want to poke holes in her far-fetched and unreasonable theory, but there’s honesty in her sad eyes and her words resonate with me. I run my hands over the top of my hair and pat down any strays. I dab my fingertips against the corners of my eyes and wipe away the stray tears. My spine cracks as I pull myself up as straight as my messily five-foot-two allows.

‘So, are we going shopping or what?’ I say.

Ava grabs my hand. She’s still shaking but not as noticeably, and a delicate smile replaces the chewing of her lips.