“Two and a half years. She wasn’t always like this. Not until we moved in together.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About a year and a half ago.”
Geez. That was long time to have someone sucking out your soul.
“This might seem like a stupid suggestion,” I said, “but have you ever tried telling her how you feel? That the way she is is hard on you?”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t make me sound pathetic at all.”
Youth. I didn’t miss those days when speaking up made me feel lame. But I remembered.
“It’s not like she doesn’t know how she is. She seems to get a kick out of it.”
“Have you ever tried telling her to stop?”
He laughed bitterly. “Oh yeah.”
“And what happens?”
“Believe me when I tell you you don’t want to know.”
His head dropped again, and the colour drained from his face as if he was recalling bad memories. It was pretty clear that, right then, he wasn’t planning on leaving her anytime soon, but as far as I could see, that was the only answer. I also knew that, deep down, he knew it too.
“Ash, have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“Nope. There’s nobody I can talk to.”
I cast my mind back through our conversations; the only time he’d ever mentioned family was when he’d said that he didn’t know his dad. He’d never mentioned any friends by name either.
“What about your mum?” I asked. “I know you said your dad wasn’t around. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He shook his head. “No brothers or sisters. My mum lives in Spain now. She has a new life, and she actually liked Natalie.”
“Surely she’d want to know what’s happening?”
“No. She comes back once every couple of years, usually with a new boyfriend at least ten years younger than her, and all she wants to do when she’s here is go back to Spain. She’s… she’s just all about her.”
“When did she move away?”
“When I was eighteen. As soon as I was at uni, she was gone.”
Oh, God. He really was alone.
“Well,” I said, “can we keep talking? Not now, you have to get back to work soon. But what if we keep on messaging each other, and you can talk to me anytime things get too difficult. I know I said we shouldn’t see each other again, but you’re already isolated enough. So, let’s try again. Let’s go to another gig. Maybe we can try to find some that aren’t as close to home so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you.”
Even in the cold, I felt my cheeks warm with embarrassment. I sounded like I was trying to get him in a hotel again.
When he laughed, my heart lightened and I looked up at him. “I know you’re not trying to get me on my own,” he said. “I understand that you’re not interested in me like that. Why would you be?”
His comment was both a relief and another tug at my heart. Did he feel that way because of something I’d done? Or because his girlfriend had killed his self-esteem?
Choosing not to respond to that particular point for fear I’d make things worse, I said, “So, what do you say? Will you keep talking to me?”
“Yes. And if there’s anything you want to go to, tell me and I’ll try to get the time off work.”
I got home from work just after midnight, exhausted as always, and ready to get some sleep. I’d got used to doing everything in a certain order, a certain way so I didn’t wake Natalie. She was bad when she was drunk, but waking her up turned her into a total monster.