Chapter 8
"I thought about calling you when I got off the plane, every time I see this city through the clouds I get that way, call me crazy for missing you like this, but I do."
"What are you doing here?" Nick asks, staring at me as if he's not quite convinced that I'm actually here.
"I didn't realise back there," I say quietly, "On the plane."
He lowers his eyes.
"I didn't realise you were going through the same thing as I am right now," I say again, "I'm so sorry about that."
He nods at the stone bench a few feet away, the rough surface still damp from the earlier rain. We walk over together, heads bowed the sound of chattering in the beackground. Just as I'm about to sit, Nick motions me to wait, then whips his jacket off and lays it on the bench.
"Your skirt." He says for explanation, and I glance down at myself frowning at the black skirt as if I've never seen it before.
Something about the gesture cracks my heart further open, the idea that he'd think of something so plain at a time like this, after all we've been through; doesn't he know I could care less about the stupid dress?
That I would gladly curl up on the grass and make a bed out of the dirt for him?
Unable to find the words to refuse him, though, I sit down brushing my fingers against the soft folds of his jacket. Nick stands above me, rolling up first one sleeve then the other, his eyes focused somewhere beyond the garden.
"Do you need to go back?" I ask, and he shrugs leaving a few inches between us as he joins me on the bench.
"I probably should." He says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. But he doesn't move, and after a moment I wonder if the world really is this cruel? Why did God put us, both so damaged and broken, together on a plane? Why him out of all people on Earth?
I feel like I owe him an explanation for showing up here, but he doesn't ask for one so we both just remain like that, the silence stretching between us.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He says eventually, but it's barely above a whisper and I hope it's because he feels the exact pain as I did when I watched my own father kissing the woman towards who I can never feel anything positive.
"No," I shake my head. "I'm the one who's sorry. I just assumed..."
We both fall quiet again.
There are so many messed up things in life; abuse and wars all of it leading to death. But here we are two reckless teenagers who tried to salvage our hearts on that plane ride and instead –at least for me- the heart became even more broken.
And you'd think because of all the bad things happening around us, yeah, you'd think having to attend your fathers second wedding wouldn't be on the top list of the most painful things.
But it is.
It's more painful than anything I could ever imagine. Because it tears your heart apart and it makes you ache for that closeness you once upon a time had, but it's gone just like your parents marriage; it's gone and it's like nothing will ever be the same.
After a moment, Nick sighs. "This is a little weird, right?"
"Which part?"
"I don't know," he says with a small smile playing at the ends of his lips. "You showing up at my father's wedding?"
"Oh," I say. "That."
He reaches down and yanks a few blades of grass from the ground, tearing at them absently. "Really though, it's the whole thing. I think maybe Michael Buble has it wrong. It's not all about love because this kind of thing—" he jerks his chin in the direction of the church, "this kind of thing is completely mad."
Beside him, I pick at the hem of my skirt, not entirely sure how to respond to that.
"I feel sorry for my mom, though." He says bitterly, letting the pieces of grass flutter back to the ground. "He is a complete arse, and now he even gets his happy ending."
I look up in surprise, but Nick seems relieved.
"I've been thinking that all morning." He says. "For the last eighteen years, actually." Nick looks at me and smiles. "You're sort of dangerous, you know?"
I stare at him. "Me?"
"Yeah," He says, sitting back. "I'm way too honest with you."
A small bird lands on the fountain in front of, and we both watch in awe as it pecks at the stone in vain. There's no water there, only a cracked layer of dirty, and after a moment the bird flies away, turning into a distant speck in the sky.
"How did it happen?" I ask quietly, but Nick doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at me.
After a moment he clears his throat. "How was the wedding?"
I gasp, turning my head to look at him. "You knew?"
Nick shurgs then gives me a look. "I didn't for sure, but the little signs you told me were enough to make me question." He crosses his arms over his chest. "When I saw you here, though, I knew because you looked sadder than on the plane."
I nod, absentmindedly feeling hatered for him. How could he keep quiet during the whole plane ride, knowing in his heart what was waiting for me once we land?
"How was it?" He asks quietly.
For a moment, I think about getting up and leaving. It would do him justice. But then I remember his promising eyes in the darkness of the plane, I remember how he looked in the small light in front of the bathroom...
And because of that I stay.
"It was fun." I say coldly.
"Come on," he says with a pleading look, and I sigh.
"Turns out, Demi is nice." I offer, folding my hands in my lap. "Annoyingly nice."
Nick grins, looking more like the version of himself I met on the plane. "What about your dad?"
"He seems really happy." I tell him, my voice thick. I can't bring myself to mention the baby, as if speaking of it would make it real. Instead, I remember the book and reach for the bag beside me. "I didn't return it."
Nick glances over, his eyes coming to rest at the cover.
"I read a little on the way over." I say. "It's actually kind of good."
He reaches for it, thumbing the pages as he'd done on the plane. "How'd you find me, anyway?"
"Someone was talking about a wedding in Paddington," I say, watching as Nick flinches slowly. "And I don't know. I just had a feeling."
He nods, gently shutting the book again. "My father has the first edition of this one." He says, his mouth twisting into a frown. Then he hands the book back to me, and I hug it to my chest; waiting for him to continue.
"I always thought it was only worth something to him for the wrong reasons." He finally says, his voice softer now. "I never saw him reading anything but legal briefs. But every once in a while he used to quote some passage." He laughs, a humorless sound. "It was so out of character, like a singing butcher or something."
"Maybe he's not what you think he is..."
Nick looks at me sharply. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"I don't want to talk about him." He says, his eyes flashing. He rubs at his forehead, then rakes a hand through his hair.
"You say you can be honest with me?" I ask Nick after a moment, adressing Nick's rounded shoulders and he twists to look at me. "Fine. Then talk to me. Be honest."
"About what?"
"Anything you want."
To my biggest surprise, he kisses me then. Not like the kiss on the airport, which was soft and sweet and full of farewell. This kiss is something more urgent, something more desperate; he presses his lips hard against mine and I close my eyes and lean in, kissing him back until just as suddenly, he breaks away again, and we sit starring at each other.
"Well that's not what I mean, just to be clear." I say and Nick gives me a crooked smile.
"You said to be honest. That's the most honest thing I've done all day."
"I meant about your dad." I say, though in spite of myself, I can feel the colour rising to my cheeks. "Maybe it'll help to talk about it. If you just—"
"What? Say that I miss my family? That I'm completely gutted? That I absolutely hate my father for destroying our family?" He stands abruply and, for a brief frigthening moment, I think he's going to walk away.
But instead, he begins pacing back and forth in the front of the bench, tall and lean and handsome in his shirt. He pauses, spinning to face me, and I can see the anger scrawled across his face.
"Look, today? This week? Everything about it had been fake. You think your dad is the only one who fucked up? At least your dad had the guts to confess to you mom. And he had the guts to stick around and actually be your dad. And I get that this whole shit situation is getting to you because you want your family back just like I want mine, but from what it sounds like, he's happy and you mum's happy and so you're all better off in the end anyway."
All except me, I think but I remain quiet. Nick begins to walk again, and my eyes follow his progress like a game of tennis, back and forth and back and forth.
"You wanna hear about my dad?" He shakes his head. "He's been cheating on mom for years. You dad had one affair, and that turned into love, right? Mine had about dozen affairs, maybe more but the worst part is we all knew. And nobody talked about it. I think we all thought that being quietly miserable is better than to risk our family to be destroyed. But we knew," he says, his shoulders sagging. "We knew."
"Nick," I say, but he shakes his head again.
"So no," he says with a little shurg. "I don't want to talk about my dad. He is a bloody jerk who knocked up my gouverness and then divorced my mother so he could marry the stupid whore and now he's done being my father and I'm done pretending everything is fine." His hands are balled into fists at his sides, and his mouth is pressed into a thin line. "Is that honest enough for you?"
"Nick," I say again, setting aside the book and rising to my feet.
"It's fine," he says. "I'm fine."
From a distance comes the sound of his name being called, and a moment later a girl with dark hair and even darker sunglasses appears at the gate. She's not much older than me, but there's confidence to her, a sense of ease that makes me feel immediately disheveled by comparison.
The girl stops in her track when she sees us, clearly surprised.
"It's almost time, Nicky." She says, pushing her sunglasses up her head. "Your mother says you should go back so we can go to the house."
Nick's eyes are still on mine. "One minute." He says without looking away, and the girl hesitates, like she might be about to say something more, but then turns around again with a small shrug.
When she's gone, I force myself to meet Nick's eyes again. Something about the girl's arrival has broken the spell of the garden and now I'm keenly aware of the voices beyond the hedge, of the car doors slamming, of a dog barking in the distance.
Still, he doesn't move.
"I'm sorry." I say softly. "I shouldn't have come."
"No," Nick says and I blink at him, straining to hear the words inside that word; everything behind it: Don't go or please just stay with me or I'm sorry, too. But all he says is: "It's okay."
I shift from one foot to the other, my heels sinking into the soft dirt. "I should go." I say, but my eyes say I'm trying here, and my hands trembling in an effort not to reach out for his say Please.
"Right," he says. "Me too."
Neither of us moves, and I realise I'm holding my breath.
Ask me to stay.
"Good to see you again," he says stiffly and to my dismay, he holds out a hand. I take it gingerly and we hover there like that, halfway between a grip and a shake, our knotted palms swaying between us until Nick finally lets go.
"Good luck," I say, willing my eyes not to tear up.
"Thanks," he says with a nod. He reaches for his jacket and slings it over his shoulder without bothering to brush it off. As he turns to cross the garden, my stomach churns.
I close my eyes against the flood of words that never reached me, all those things left unsaid.
And when I open my eyes again, he's gone.
"But you were wrong, love was what I wanted all along and now you're gone."
A/N: Sorry for any grammar mistakes! Thank you for all your reviews, I try to reply to single one, but the Guest ones I can't so for all of you out there who don't have an account, THANK YOU! :D Anyway, I'm wearing a Beatles shirt right now. Haha. I'm sorry this is so short but I'm trying to prolong the story because it's gonna end soon you guys...So review like you did so far and you'll be getting the chapters sooner. :)
