Earth in beauty dressed
Awaits returning spring.
All true love must die,
Alter at the best
Into some lesser thing.
Prove that I lie.
Such body lovers have,
Such exacting breath,
That they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.
Prove that I lie.
It was the usual scramble to get off the plane and I, like everyone else, stood up too soon, and then hung on the back of the seat resting on one leg until there was enough room for me to stand up straight in the aisle.
I was eager to get off, and eager to see Marti, who should be waiting for me in the Arrivals hall. She had volunteered to come and fetch me from the airport and then drive me to Mom and George's house. I still called the place "home".
There was no real point to my visit back to London, other than I found myself needing to take a couple of days off before I lost them at the end of the financial year, and for the past two weeks, my life was far too quiet in New York. Derek was in England.
The passengers started moving down the plane so I grabbed my carry on and followed them, stretching my legs gratefully. I had just got going along the aisle when my Blackberry buzzed in my pocket.
Derek Mob.
"You landed yet?" He demanded.
"No. We're in the air and the little red light is on." I said sarcastically.
"Ha ha. Why haven't you called?" He queried as I stepped out of the door of the plane and started down the steps. The engines were still running so I wound up shouting.
"Because I'm still getting off the plane, moron. Can't you hear the bleeping engines?"
He chuckled in my ear. "Nice save, Casey. One less buck in your swear box."
"Hang on, I can hardly hear you. Can I call you back later?"
"Sure. Just don't forget the time difference and phone me in the middle of my beauty sleep."
"God forbid! You need all the help you can get."
"Now now, princess. Be nice. This is your best friend you're insulting."
"Like that makes any difference to you. You insult me all the time."
I was in the airport building now and things grew quieter.
"I can hear you now." I said. I didn't want to hang up.
"How was the flight?" Derek asked. I smiled, knowing he too was prolonging the call.
"Standard. Screaming baby in front of me, arguing couple behind me."
"You should travel with me, then we could be the arguing couple; make our own entertainment."
"We'd never be allowed to fly again."
"So did you see any candidates for the mile high club?"
"You lost me."
"I always look out for people sneaking off to the bathroom for a quickie. I saw two flight attendants do it once." He snickered. "Are you rolling your eyes yet?"
"Always with you, Derek, always." I paused. "No bathroom antics on my flight."
"How boring…you should fly with me then we could…"
"Leave it right there Venturi!"
He laughed.
I slowed my walking down. "D. I'll be meeting Marti in a sec. I'd better ring off."
"Are you going to talk to her?"
"Yes. She needs to understand."
It was four months since the fire and the book was finished. Early indications from test readers before its launch were that it was going to do well. Derek and I were no longer required to meet to discuss the book so that should have ended our association.
But Derek and I had managed the impossible.
We were friends!
And not in some lame, half-assed, way either. He was, without question, my best friend. We spent a lot of time together. Any week that he was in New York, it was a fair bet he would see me almost every day, and considering that he was a hockey player in Canada, he spent a lot of time in New York. (He told me it was to do with his game commentaries and his charity work. I wasn't hugely sure that I believed him.)
We didn't tell the family that we were still in touch, even though eventually we had told Mom and George about the autobiography. We had agreed that the family would not understand and would read things into our friendship; because that's all it was, a friendship. Derek was even dating again, and I was fine with that.
Really.
Honestly.
…Sort of.
Fortunately, he didn't often say much about her, and he had managed to keep her out of the papers so I wasn't faced with pictures of the two of them every time I opened a magazine. The irony was for a while I had been in the papers, pictured beside Derek. That had taken a bit of explaining to the family, but as we were still working on the book at the time, we had managed it. Now, Derek was careful not to come near me if there were paparazzi following him.
It was ridiculous though. We were friends why shouldn't we be seen together?
Derek dismissed with a laugh and a promise to phone him later, I emerged into Arrivals and was immediately assaulted by Marti. We giggled and laughed as we hugged and she took my bag and led me out of the terminal to her car.
"You're in the papers again." She said after we had got past the normal pleasantries and were on the road. I froze, wondering what she would say about me and Derek. What questions would she ask?
"Oh?" I sounded surprised because I was surprised. I wasn't aware of being followed.
"Yeah. You and Edwin."
I relaxed.
"Oh the gallery opening!" I said with a smile. "Yeah. His date bailed so I went instead.
"It was a nice dress … and that necklace!" she said with glee. "Wow! Who bought you that?"
Now that was a question I couldn't respond to, because the answer was Derek.
He had taken me shopping to choose a gift for his girlfriend and we had gone into Tiffany's. We had an appointment to be shown some expensive stuff and Derek had made a big show of choosing. He took so long over it that my attention wandered over to a simple necklace in the selection laid out for us. The jeweller asked if I liked it and when I answered that I liked it very much, Derek had bought it for me. We argued because it was very expensive and considerably more than the earrings which he eventually purchased for his girlfriend. (They were beautiful too. He had good taste in jewellery). Derek just shrugged over my objections and said that he owed me fifteen years worth of birthday and Christmas presents and I should just "suck it up and accept the damn thing."
So I did. I loved it.
"A friend." I answered Marti eventually.
"A male friend?" Marti prompted. "Come on. Tell all."
"There's nothing to tell, Marti."
"Really? You're blushing like a virgin in a sex shop."
I turned my nose up at the phrase. "Your brother was a terrible influence on you when you were growing up."
Marti laughed. "Actually, that expression I got from dad, not Derek."
We grinned together.
"So come on. Who is he?"
"Just a friend, so drop it Marti."
"Ok, ok." She turned onto the highway. "I'll just ask Ed, anyway."
I rolled my eyes and then watched the scenery so that she couldn't see my expression.
Edwin wouldn't know. Somehow, I had managed to keep it from Ed that I was spending a lot of time with Derek. I said yes to every invitation from Edwin, much to Derek's displeasure because it meant I sometimes had to cancel our plans, so Ed believed I was still leading my quiet existence.
"Edwin doesn't know."
"He'll find out though."
"Marti, isn't it time you got pregnant again or something. You need distracting."
"You sound like Derek. He says the same thing when I question him about his sex life."
I bit my lip. I didn't want to think about Derek's sex life.
Every time we stayed over at each other's apartments, (which again was quite often), we slept in the same bed. For me the temptation to reach for him was so great sometimes the only thing which held me back was the knowledge that he was seeing someone else. It was especially hard to behave myself when he inevitably slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his arms.
It was stretching the "best friends" idea to the limit sleeping in the same bed, but we did behave. It had been fifteen years since he had kissed me on the lips, or touched me in any way that could be even slightly construed as sexual.
Even if I always fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and his lips in my hair.
Marti and I did talk directly about Derek, eventually.
"Derek called yesterday." She said, as we approached the house.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. He rang to see what we wanted him to get Polly for Christmas. I think he's planning on coming home this year."
There was a pause as she waited to see how I responded to that.
I nodded. "He said as much."
If she was surprised, she didn't show it.
"Will you come home?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Does Derek know?"
"Yes. We talked about it."
Marti smiled. "Thank you."
I took a deep breath as she stopped the car. "Smarti. Derek and I have stopped feuding and we are friends, but don't expect anything else, okay?"
My youngest sister, who sometimes behaved as though she was the eldest of the lot, smiled.
"Time Casey. I'm a great believer in time. And this…the coming home for Christmas…it's a step in the right direction." She got out of the car and we were swallowed up in family greetings before I could reply.
Mom and George were pleased to see me again, as usual. After Marti and her family had gone home, I was left with the two of them, Robbie in his room, in typical teenage Derek fashion.
"You look good, Casey." George said, handing me an unasked for glass of white wine. I took it, and I sipped it, but I didn't enjoy it.
"Thanks. I feel good at the moment. I think the fire was a wake-up call that my life is actually pretty amazing."
"That was frightening. When Derek rang and told us that you'd both been in there and then we saw the pictures of the blaze on the television…"
"We went to the memorial service." I said. There had been six victims eventually, as a further two people had died in hospital. Louisa had made a full recovery, and judging by the conciliatory letter she sent me a month later, her personality had undergone a recovery too. Derek told me that Benny had stayed in touch with her, and he suspected something was growing between them.
The conversation changed to Derek's autobiography and I explained that the launch was due in two weeks because of the release for the Christmas market.
"I'm glad you two are talking again." Mom said, and then suddenly she was in tears. "Oh Casey! I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago. I made you both so unhappy!"
I reached for a tissue and sat beside her.
"Mom. You gave advice. It was me that acted on it. I know that. Derek knows that."
"You've talked about it?" George asked. I nodded.
"We had to. Derek mentions it in his autobiography, not why I broke it off, but the fact that I did."
George looked amused. "No wonder it too so long to write if he mentions all his girlfriends."
I shook my head. "He doesn't. The only relationship he mentions is ours. And even then he leaves my name out of it." I paused. "You probably shouldn't read that chapter."
Mom looked up. "Why not?"
"He's honest."
Both their eyes were on me now.
"We were lovers." I admitted.
"Oh." Mom said.
"Derek was my first serious boyfriend. We slept together for the first time the night before we came home."
Mom was crying silent tears again. "And then I opened my stupid mouth and you broke it off. Oh Casey! I'm surprised either of you are even talking to me."
"It's the past. We're friends now and neither of us blames you. We were young and you were right to caution us." I took her hand. "Don't cry over it."
"Did you love him?" She asked. "I know you said so at the time, but, now, knowing what you know as an older adult…did you?"
I closed my eyes against the question.
"Yes…"
When I opened my eyes my mother was staring back and I knew she was completing my unspoken sentence in her own mind. …I still do.
AN: I would like to thank the London Underground for providing the poem above. (I spotted it on my way to my hotel yesterday). Proof, I suppose that posting poetry on the walls of tube trains has some literary worth!
Yeats' "muse" for want of a better word was a woman who he knew for decades, he proposed to her several times, and she never accepted. It was many many years before they consummated their relationship and she was married to someone else at the time. They only slept together the once before she broke it off. They never made it as a couple.
All of that I only discovered after researching the poem today. I guess that's one way this story could go…
…fortunately, you all know me too well!
