Catch22 - Chapter 5: Pretend We're Not Pretending
Don't kill me for what I'm about to do. Please. There is a point to it, I promise. Eventually.
The next day, as you come in, you glance briefly at the clock, cursing internally when you realise you are, once again, late. You wonder for a minute how it happened, considering you were dressed and out the door before Isabel had even woken up.
But then you remembered the hour spent nursing a polystyrene coffee cup on one of the park benches as the sun came up, thinking up ways you could start a conversation with Nikki casually enough, as if that kiss never existed.
All through the rest of dinner last night, she sat there laughing and smiling, positively indifferent to what had just happened between you, as if it didn't matter.
Well, guess what? It bloody mattered.
You made sure you were in early this morning. All too often since you had been dating Ben, you'd been getting into work later and later. Which meant that you would inevitably clash with Harry on his way in, as time was something of little relevance to him.
Today, however, despite your insistence that nothing had happened between you last night, was different. There was a tension palpable, even though Harry was nowhere to be seen. And that tension was not something you were willing to exacerbate.
So you came in really early, earlier than Leo, in fact, determined to avoid any sort of conversation with Harry. You made sure that you were ready to leave even before Ben had woken up. You needed that time alone to think about last night. Because once you got to work, you needed to act as if everything was normal. Meaning you couldn't talk to Harry about it. Or even think about it near him. It just wasn't possible.
Because the minute you did, you were acknowledging it. The kiss. Which is exactly what you didn't need right now. You didn't need to see that look on Harry's face again, you couldn't. It was like looking in a mirror, because in that moment, you both wanted the same thing. Each other.
As you come through the door, you can almost feel your mood shift inside your head, as you stop dead in your tracks. It's a foreign sight to see Nikki actually at work before you nowadays. You normally clash with her as you're on your way in, before sneaking off for a quick coffee, praying that Leo doesn't see you first.
The fact that she is at work on time is highly significant. She knows what it's going to be like. So she's avoiding you. Furthermore, she seems highly engrossed in what looks like a PM report, indicating that she has been at her desk for some time now. She wasn't on time; she was early.
As you enter the room, something feels off, something you can't seem to put your finger on. It's only once you've taken your coat off and sat at your desk that it occurs to you. You're sat at your own desk. She's sitting at her own desk.
You open your mouth as if to speak, but before you can say anything, you're rudely interrupted by the sound of her phone. Not breaking the tension, but adding to it.
Waking up, the pillow feels cool. It's not already warm, and there is the absence of the blonde person who shares her bed with you. Calling her name in confusion, the flat feels emptier as you enter each room.
Going back into the bedroom, the alarm has been switched off. You always set your alarm for 6am. It's the only way you know you'll actually have the energy to get out of bed. Or safely press snooze for another hour without being late for work. Thankfully, today is your day off. You were hoping that Nikki would be late for work this morning, and just spend a little time with you.
However, the empty flat suggests otherwise. No note left, her pillows made, no indication that she had actually been there last night at all. You know she was, because as soon as you got home, she went straight to bed and fell asleep. Or at least, pretended to be. You're pretty sure she wasn't actually asleep. Nobody falls asleep that quickly, but you played along. If she just wanted some peace, then who were you to object?
But you were concerned. Last night, she had been very quiet, and now, this. Calling her number, you decide it's better to be safe than sorry, and you realise that she's probably fine, and just wanted an early start. You know as well as most, if you start a Monday morning feeling sluggish, you won't achieve anything.
"Hey," she picks up on the third ring, "Sorry. I think I might be out of bread. You'll have to make do with cereal. If there's any milk left. God, I really need to shop," she laughs in spite of herself, which in turn, makes you smile too.
"No, I don't mind that - I can get something at home. I was just checking that you're alright," you hope that it doesn't sound as desperate as it did in your head; you feel like a parent checking up on their teenage daughter.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just snowed under. What are you doing?"
"Your washing up," you laugh, tutting at the state of her kitchen.
"Oh, you don't have to do that. Well, I'll treat you to dinner tonght then, as a thank you," you can almost hear the guilty smile at the other end of the line.
"I'm not complaining. I'll book us a table. Love you," you say before you can think. It was a flippant, off-hand comment, but you realise that by opening that can of worms, her reply is crucial. Her reply has the potential to define your entire relationship.
You feel your entire body freeze. Whether he intended to say it or not, you need to give him an answer. An answer that could make or break your relationship. In the time you've been dating, you'd never thought to look beyond the present, to contemplate the possibility of a future.
But with Harry sitting less than three metres away from you, it's becoming increasingly harder to contemplate anything but him. In a bid to ignore that tugging feeling in the pit of your stomach, you say the words that, although competely transparent, will hopefully put to rest anything between you and Harry.
"Love you too," you smile, although your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, and there is just the tiniest hint of falseness in your tone that only Harry would pick up on. From the corner of your eye, you see his head look up at you, momentarily distracted from the stack of tox reports on his desk.
As you put down the phone and attempt to return to your work, you can't ignore the persistence of him; you're still very much aware that he's watching you. Looking up, you briefly see a flicker of something, something ressembling defeat, or anguish, even, but before you can blink, he's concentrating on his work again, his face emotionless and cold.
"You love him?" you try to sound casual, collected, but even you can hear the bitterness in your voice. You know she doesn't mean it. The tone of her voice gave her away completely. So why say it? It was plain to see that she didn't want to; she only said it out of obligation, to avoid any awkwardness. There was a pretty significant pause before she said it too, a delay. A sign that she's not entirely satisfied.
"Harry, don't," she sighs, holding her head in her hands, refusing to look at you. The weariness in her voice says it all. This charade she's maintaining, it's physically exhausting her. She doesn't have the fight left in her to keep resurrecting a relationship that never had any life to begin with.
"Why?" you persist, because you can feel it, in every single fibre of your body: she wants out of her relationship with Ben.
"Because I love him," she says, trying to sound confident and convinced. But you're not sre if she's trying to convince you or herself. The waver in her voice suggests otherwise; she doesn't love him, she never will. You scoff at her words, shaking our head, trying not to laugh. Her determination is almost comical.
"I love him," she repeats, her voice laced with anger, as she gets up from her chair to jab a finger at you. But as you get up to match her stance, she backs up slightly, as if to distance herself from you. You don't give her the benefit of that distance she requires. You take another step, closer to her.
"That," you begin tentatively, "is not love. Love is not kissing somebody else in the next room. Love is not spending the evening more focused on the centrepiece than your partner. And love is most definitely not telling someone you love them when you don't even mean it," your voice is almost a whisper now, your face so dangerously close to hers that you can feel her breath swirling across your lips, daring to prise them apart.
She stands motionless, before stepping back from you, giving herself that all important distance again, fracturing the moment that you had so delicately built.
"I love him," she repeats again, enunciating on the word 'love', glaring at you, her eyes glistening, before turning on her heel with her PM reports and marching out of the room, her boots clicking on the tiled floor.
It's only once you've left the room that you lean against the wall and sigh. It's not right. What you're doing to Ben, what you're doing to Harry. A solitary tear slowly trickles down your cheek, several more threatening to fall, as you attempt to blink them away.
You know that you can't keep doing this much longer. You need to break things off with Ben. It's not fair on him. He deserves so much better than a girl who can't even be faithful to him. And it's not like he's a womaniser or a raving alcoholic; he's one of the good ones. He needs to know how you feel about him. Or rather, how you don't feel.
He doesn't have to know about Harry. If you're ending things with him, you don't need to cause him any further pain. You're not that heartless. But, you did cheat on him. Granted, it was only a kiss. But it wasn't the actual kiss that was significant, it was the person you were kissing.
The person that you've desperately tried to ignore your feelings for. Because they scare you so much, just thinking about them is volatile. It scares you, both mentally and physically, how much you can care for one person. It scares you that you don't even feel guilty anymore for feeling this way.
The day continues as if you and Nikki have had a fight. She avoids you, you avoid her. She doesn't speak to you, you don't speak to her. Even Leo knows something is up, staying in his office rather than attempt to break the ice between you. Even Leo knows that breaking the ice now would create the most catastrophic of avalanches.
And when the time comes for you to leave, she is out the door before you've even got your coat on. She doesn't even say goodbye to Leo. You, on the other hand, take your time getting ready, not wanting to chance an encounter in the car park. You're not sure if you could handle it. If one kiss was all it took to tilt the balance between you, you can't bear the thought of any more of those longing looks across the car park. It's almost clichéd.
So you take your time, putting an effort into making sure pens have their lids on, and every piece of paper actually has a place, instead of being strewn casually on your desk. You turn your computer off properly, and even go as far as to steal Nikki's polish and duster from her drawer to give it a quick clean.
Once you finally leave the office, having checked around the room three times in search of tasks to do, fearing you would still bump into Nikki despite it being half an hour later, you check your phone as you appear to have misplaced your watch. As your phone vibrates into life, you stare concernedly at the three missed calls from Isabel. You try your hardest to ignore the irritation that Nikki hasn't called you. Not that she has a reason to, after everything, but it's an unfamiliar feeling that Nikki isn't your most recent caller.
Your thumb hovers over Harry's name on your phone, just itching to dial the number. Three times your thumb presses the "call" button, and three times you hastily press the "end call" button before the phone even begins to ring. Tonight is hard enough, but not having Harry there to comfort you, is even harder than you had anticipated.
As soon as you get through the door, you see two of Ben's shirts draped over the back of the sofa, one blue, one black. It's then that the feeling of dread begins. You know that he's content with you, comfortable enough that he can keep his belongings dotted around your flat without you really minding. But you do mind.
The more comfortable he gets in your flat, the more uncomfortable it makes you feel. Because it only makes the decision to call time on your relationship all the more difficult. The larger the hole you dig, the longer the ladder you need to pull yourself out again. Breaking up with Ben, you have figured out, is a deep hole. And you don't know what sort of ladder would be able to rescue you.
But when you see his face as he comes out of the shower, just smiling at you, you know you have to do it then. You remain undeterred, despite the very distracting towel around his waist. You don't realise how much it will hurt you, breaking up with him. But it does hurt. Seeing the look on his face, as the never-ending smile is finally peeled from his features, replaced by a mixture of pain and confusion, it dawns on you that you have just hurt a completely innocent person. He didn't even see it coming. As far as he knew, everything was fine.
But it's his next few words that floor you.
"How long?" his voice is barely a whisper, hoarse although he has been silent the entire time, "You and Harry. How long?"
"It's not as simple as that," you sigh, shaking your head, determined not to cry, "Ben, you have to understand-"
"No, I don't. I don't have to understand because it doesn't make sense," he says, his voice steady, remaining calm despite the most awful circumstances, "I thought we were happy."
"We were," you assure him, stroking the back of his hand, which, unsurprisingly, he snatches away from you, leaving you fidgety, as you awkwardly perch on the arm of the sofa, not wanting to mimick his pacing around the room, for fear of a collision between you.
"You say it's not that simple? You love Harry. You don't love me. So we break up. Problem solved," he scoffs, dusting his hands flippantly as if this break-up is a chore that needs to be completed.
"I'm sorry," you sigh, after a long pause, allowing yourself to breathe properly again, "Really."
"I know," he smiles sadly, "For what it's worth, I thought we had something good. But I knew it was only a matter of time. I mean, the way he looks at you. He's not just your best friend, Nikki. He's everything."
He walks across the room, enveloping you in a brief hug, kissing the top of your head, as you realise this will be the last time you actually see him. He cares about you a great deal, but being friends, it would be a walking disaster, considering everything that has happened.
"I'll pick up my stuff at the weekend, okay?" he smiles, his hand stroking your cheek, leaving you speechless as you can only nod in agreement.
"Goodbye, Nikki Alexander," he whispers into your hair, before taking his keys out of his pocket, removing your spare key, and handing it back to you. As he walks out the door, he closes a chapter on your life. The chapter where you tried (and failed) to get over Harry. The chapter, that quite frankly, was so large that it required a while book.
You let out the sob you have been stifling, a sob not for the end of your relationship, but for the impending emptiness in your flat. The echo that has become all too familiar, the echo that you really hoped you'd seen the last of. The echo that mirrors the emptiness inside you.
The echo that is the absence of Harry.
As you walk through your door, the first thing you encounter is a box. Stumbling over it in the relative darkness, you don't even think to notice that the box is a new addition in your flat. As you walk through, into the living room, you find Isabel on the phone, giving someone hell, as she clutches a sheet of paper.
As she finally loses her patience with the person at the other end of the line, she hangs up and turns around to find you watching her in surprise. Guiltily, she collects all her things that have been discarded around the room, and piles them back into the box that is in the hallway.
"Sorry," she sighs, "My landlord has sort of...evicted me. Says he wants to sell rather than rent. All my stuff is in storage, and, have you seen the price of flats around here? It's absurd. I need to be close enough to work, and close enough to the gym, and-"
"Woah, woah, Isabel, slow down," you cut off her ramblings, "Isn't there some kind of law against your landlord chucking you out?"
"Apparently not. I guess I didn't read the fine print," she sighs again, rubbing her temples in a bid to relieve her tension. You spin her around and begin to massage her shoulders, relaxing her as you feel her shoulders unclench.
"Why don't you just move in here?" you ask suddenly, a thought occurring to you, but most likely for the wrong reasons. Nikki had just told Ben she loved him, and isn't that how you should feel about Isabel? If Nikki was adamant that nothing happened last night, then there was no reason why you shouldn't move Isabel into your apartment. The more you convinced yourself that it was a brilliant idea, the less you thought about Nikki and Ben.
Furthermore, with you massaging her shoulders, she had her back to you. She couldn't see the lack of sincerity across your face, nor the pained look as you thought about Nikki. Not asking her to her face, it made it seem less real.
"I don't know," she says, "I have a lot of stuff. Maybe we could...find a place of our own?" she asks hopefully, turning around in your arms, to look up at you.
"Or not," she backtracks, seeing the look of shock on your face, which is clearly the wrong expression, as she pulls out of your embrace.
"No," you say a little too hastily, "Why not? I mean, this place is...well, small, to say the least. Why shouldn't we get a place of our own?"
"You really mean that?" she replies, her voice nearly a whisper. You really how much of a bastard you're being, getting her hopes up for a future that you don't actually see yourself in. But it's the only way you can move forward from Nikki. It's the only way you can achieve some sort of normality with her again. Go back to being just friends.
"Yeah, I really do," you smile, ignoring the fact that your heart isn't really in this. The fact that when this relationship breaks down (because you know that it will break down eventually), she'll be the one that gets hurt, not you. Because whilst you like Isabel, you certainly don't love her. That particular emotion is reserved for the one person you can't have.
Nikki.
Okay, a number of things. One: thank you for sticking with this even though I suck at updating. With ATIFIL (Really, BBC? Not even a goodbye?), and exam results tomorrow, I literally only sat down to write this in the last fortnight.
Two, I apologise for the confusing changing POVs. It was meant to be just Nikki and Harry, but then Ben wanted to speak, and I thought it was rude to stop him.
Three, I apologise if there are any typos. I typed this up from a paper copy from 3am to 7am on three consecutive days when I couldn't/wouldn't sleep.
Four, thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 4: pinkswallowsun, tigersbride, Lizziginne, dinabar, WelshClaire, Izzy, Baibe, Cariad1987, and tigpop for both your reviews :)
I love you all, my miraculous Witness Army, you are all so amazing! And as always, please read and review!
Ems xx
PS/ I am sorry for all your losses. TV will not recover from the absence of Dr Harry Cunningham :'(