Blink-182: ‘I Miss You’
Growing up, I’d always hoped I’d find someone who loved me the way my parents loved each other. My staid, serious father lit up whenever my mother was in the room, while my mum seemed to adore my father with something closer to fervour. I might not have understood how two such entirely different people had ever ended up together, but I’d certainly always believed their love was real.
Now I felt as though everything I had ever known had been a lie, that the foundations of my childhood, of my life, had fallen down around my ears. And I didn’t know what to do about it.
To make matters worse, Mum’s words seemed to be stuck on a loop in my brain, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the implications for me and Greg, or for me and Adam.
Which was why I’d come for a walk across the Common to try and clear my mind and make sense of everything.
So far, it didn’t appear to be working.
I continued stomping, following the path that wound up the hillside that Adam and I had climbed just a couple of weeks ago. It felt different during the day. Beside me, a little boy rolled down the grass, screaming with laughter, while his mum yelled at him to get up, that he’d get covered in mud. I passed several dog walkers and a couple of joggers, everyone bundled up against the cold wind. When I reached the bench overlooking the town I stopped and took a rest, and tried not to think about being here with Adam.
The town stretched out before me, the sky a translucent pale blue smeared with wisps of cloud that raced across it like they were in a fast-forwarding film. Trees bent to the left with every gust, and I shivered as the wind penetrated my jeans and chilled my legs. I pulled my scarf tighter and my hat lower and let out a long, slow breath to try and calm my nerves.
I watched a couple walking arm in arm a little way down the hill and I thought about Greg, who had always loved me so fiercely, who had been there for me from the moment we’d met. There were so many things I loved about him, that had become part of us over the years. I loved the way he ate his spaghetti, cutting it up into tiny pieces so it didn’t slop all down his chin; I loved the way he always stood aside to let me through a door first, even though he dithered about it every time because he worried about seeming obsequious, condescending. I loved that he remembered people’s birthdays and always signed his cards ‘from the Donnellys’ as if we were minor royalty. I loved his ridiculous trainer obsession, the way he lined them up in the wardrobe and refused to throw the boxes away, and I loved that he always took so much care when he cooked that his food exploded with flavour. I loved all these things and more, from the mundane to the marvellous.
On paper, he was the ideal man. But when the gambling had begun, the familiarity of him had started to change its appearance. Instead of being the comfort blanket it always had been, it began to feel stifling, like a noose around my neck – one that was growing tighter with every day that passed.
I understood it was partly Adam’s arrival that had made these feelings more acute, but the discovery of Mum’s mixtape and her memories of Johnny had also thrown me. I’d realised, from the look on her face as she’d talked, that the way Johnny had made my mum feel was exactly the way that I’d always felt about Adam.
Not Greg.
What a mess.
I shivered and pulled my phone from my pocket and typed out a message to Sam. This was exactly the sort of situation his bluntness was perfect for, and I knew I needed a stern talking to.
Come over, he replied, so I made my way back down the hill and snaked through town and out towards his flat. When I arrived he pulled me inside and closed the door.
‘I’m just finishing this call, then I’m all yours,’ he said, indicating the phone in his hand.
He disappeared into his bedroom and I made my way into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. By the time it was boiled, Sam was back and pulling open the fridge door.
‘Do we really want coffee?’ he said.
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Vodka?’
‘It’s eleven in the morning!’
‘And your point is…?’
I shrugged. ‘Why not? It’s Christmas.’
‘Atta girl.’
He poured two generous measures into glasses, added a splash of Diet Coke and handed me one. ‘Sorry, no ice.’
I took a sip and grimaced.
‘So, spill.’
I took another gulp of the too-strong vodka and then told Sam what had happened when I’d played the mixtape to Mum.
‘She was utterly joyous,’ I said.
‘And that’s bad because…?’ A frown flitted across his forehead.
I rubbed my face, trying to find the words to explain. ‘She’d never mentioned Johnny before, but this time it was as though her mind had finally been unplugged and all the secrets that had been trapped came pouring out. She told me a bit about who this Johnny was, said he was the love of her life.’ I looked up at Sam now. ‘She looked so different when she talked about him.’
Sam drummed his fingers on the worktop. ‘She’s a dark horse your mum, eh?’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘And you say she’s never mentioned this Johnny before?’
‘Never. It’s weird, because she doesn’t know what day or year it is most of the time, so you’d think she would have at least talked about him before. But I’ve never even heard her mention his name.’
‘Maybe she just buried it away a long time ago. You know, if you tell yourself something is true enough times, your mind starts to believe it, so I guess it works with trying to deny something too.’
‘Perhaps. But it’s – how can this have happened? How can she have been so happy with this Johnny and feel like she settled for Dad? They always seemed like the happiest couple in the world.’
‘I know darling. But everyone’s a mystery really. I mean, look at me. I bet you don’t have a clue what I’m thinking most of the time.’
‘I usually assume you’re thinking about trying to find a hot young guy to sleep with.’
‘Fair point.’ He grinned and took a gulp of his drink. ‘But that’s not what’s really bothering you, is it? Your mum’s ex-boyfriend?’
There was a reason Sam was one of my best friends. I couldn’t lie to him about anything. I shook my head.
‘This is about Adam, right? He’s the reason you’re so rattled?’
I rubbed my hands over my face and groaned. ‘Oh God.’ I looked at him. ‘After I turned the song off, Mum told me I should never let Adam go because he’s the love of my life, the way Johnny was the love of hers, and to make sure I never settled for second best like… like she had.’ I could feel tears threatening and I blinked them back. ‘Why did Adam have to come back? Everything was just fine the way it was and now it’s all such a bloody mess.’
Sam grabbed my drink and walked to the sofa with it. ‘Erin, sit down.’ He patted the seat next him. I did as I was told and took my drink from him and held it while he topped it up. He leaned forward until he was so close I could see the changing colour of his eyes and the stubble on his chin. ‘I love you, Erin.’
‘I can feel a “but” coming…’
‘Shush. Let me speak.’ He studied me intently. ‘You know I love you, but you also must know that you’re kidding yourself if you think you were happy with the way things were with Greg, even before Adam came back on the scene. What I mean is, Adam is not the reason you’re so unhappy at the moment. He’s just a symptom of it.’
I shrugged and stared at the floor.
‘You and Greg. You’re – different. I know he’s always adored you, but you’ve never completely given yourself to him have you?’
‘I have! I married him didn’t I?’
‘Sure. And I’m not saying you didn’t – don’t – love him. I’m saying your mum’s right. He’s not the love of your life. Never was, never will be. He’s a lovely man, and you care about him deeply. But it was Adam who set your world alight, and now he’s back it’s made you realise that’s not quite what you have with Greg, however much you love him. And finding out your mum had exactly the same choice to make as you did has made you wonder whether you did the wrong thing, the way she says she did.’
He sat back and crossed his arms, pleased with himself. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. As much as I’d wanted to object as Sam had been talking, to shout him down and tell him he was wrong, that I did love Greg, the truth was, he’d hit the nail on the head. Greg was not, and never had been, the love of my life.
Adam was.
‘Fuck, Sam. What the hell am I supposed to do?’
‘As far as I can see, you have two choices. One, you stay with Greg and stop thinking about Adam. Stop seeing him, stop talking about him, try and put him out of your mind completely and make your marriage work the way you’ve managed to for the last however many years.’
‘And two?’ I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
‘Or two, you don’t do that, and you end up breaking Greg’s heart and tearing your marriage apart.’
I couldn’t speak. I gulped down the rest of my vodka and the heat of it burned my throat. I swallowed and felt it pouring through my veins and round my head until it spun. My stomach churned and I suddenly felt as though I was about to vomit.
‘Sorry E.’ Sam placed his hand on my knee and I stared at it, not daring to think about what he’d just said. He was right, of course. If Greg found out that Adam was back and that I’d been spending time with him, it would break his heart, and if I ever told him how I felt about Adam, it would destroy him completely.
‘It has to stop, doesn’t it, me seeing Adam?’ I sighed. ‘I already made this choice, thirteen years ago. I just – I felt like it was a sign, what Mum said. About Johnny, and about how I shouldn’t settle for second best. I felt – I felt like that was what Greg was. But he’s better than that. He’s a good man, and he deserves better.’
Sam didn’t reply, and we sat for a minute in silence. I tipped my head back on the sofa and closed my eyes.
‘Want to get shit-faced?’
I grinned. ‘Samuel, you’re a terrible influence.’
‘That’s my main aim.’
I rubbed his knee. ‘Thanks darling but I really need to go home and see my husband.’
He nodded. ‘Fair enough. Shame though; I could do with a session right now.’
We both stood and walked to the door. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him.
‘Thank you Sam.’
‘What for?’
‘For being you. I needed to hear the truth, and I knew I could rely on you.’ I pecked him on the cheek then turned and left.
Before I’d even fully got out of the car, the front door swung open and Greg was hovering, looking nervous. My breath stilled in my throat.
‘Greg?’ I said, walking towards him.
‘Hey, I’m glad you’re home,’ he said, his voice soft.
‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’ Visions of him having a relapse, of losing everything we owned on gambling sites flashed through my mind, and I pushed them away, trying to ignore the thought that perhaps that would make things easier for me by taking the decision out of my hands.
‘No.’ He stayed in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him.
‘Well, what’s going on then? Why are you being so mysterious?’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of this.’
‘It’s nothing bad,’ he said, shuffling from foot to foot. ‘Why would it be?’
He looked so crestfallen at my reaction I felt a stab of guilt. ‘Sorry, of course it isn’t.’ I looked up at him. ‘So, are you going to tell me what it is?’
‘In a minute.’ He turned and headed into the house and I followed him, mystified. I glanced into the living room as we passed, and checked round the kitchen as we entered, but there was no sign of anything untoward.
‘You need to go and get changed,’ Greg said, turning to face me.
‘What into?’
‘Something warm.’
I frowned. ‘Okay.’
‘I’ll wait here for you,’ he said.
Taking that as my cue to leave, I headed upstairs to get dressed.
‘Will this do?’ I said as I re-entered the kitchen. There was a cool box on the worktop, but Greg was nowhere to be seen. I reached over to lift the lid.
‘No peeking!’ Greg’s voice made me jump and I leaped back guiltily. He grabbed the cool box by its handle and hoisted it over his shoulder. ‘Ready?’ He held out his other hand and I grabbed it, enjoying the familiar warmth of his palm.
‘I guess so.’
We made our way out of the house and I climbed into the passenger seat of the car as Greg put the picnic box in the boot. As we drove, I tried to work out where we were going. The houses thinned, dwindling to nothing, and the landscape opened up, the sky expanding above us like a giant umbrella. Rain spattered on the windscreen and the wipers squeaked it away every few seconds, the rhythm soothing. We were in deep countryside now, the lanes narrowing, although no-one else seemed mad enough to be out in this weather. I turned the heater up and the mist cleared from the bottom of my window. I pressed my forehead against it and watched the bare trees whip past like stickmen keeping guard.
Finally, Greg turned down a narrow track. It was full of potholes and it felt as though my brain was rattling around in my head as we inched along, branches brushing the side of the car. The raindrops had turned to fat, pillowy splodges now and the wipers sped up, sweeping them away frantically. The trees had closed in on us, ominous, threatening, as though trying to stop us from going any further. We trundled on regardless.
The rain had slowed to almost nothing by the time we rounded a bend and the canopy of trees opened up before us, revealing a stony sky and a darker lake, the sky reflected back angrily in its choppy waters. The clouds hung threateningly close to the treetops as Greg pulled up in front of a scruffy shack with grime-smeared windows, its wooden slats painted a faded pale blue.
‘Ta-da!’ he said, cutting the engine.
I looked round, confused.
‘Where are we?’ I said. I’d lived here most of my life but I’d never seen this lake before.
He shuffled round in his seat to face me and took my hands. His felt warm.
‘Do you remember when we used to go rowing on the lake, back in Nottingham? Way back in the olden days, when we first met?’
I smiled. ‘Of course. It was our thing. Although you rowed and I talked, mainly.’
He grinned. ‘That’s true. But I never minded.’ He swallowed and looked down, then back up to meet my eye. ‘The thing is, I loved you even then. Well, you know that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The point is, for me, those were some of my favourite times. When it was just you and me, and no-one else could get to us. I wanted those hours, those days, to go on forever.’
He squeezed my hands gently.
‘I wanted to recreate that feeling. I wanted…’ He stopped, and when he spoke again there was a tremble in his voice that hadn’t been there before. ‘I wanted you to remember how much you loved me. Love me.’ He dropped his gaze to the floor and I felt something inside me melt at his vulnerability.
‘I do love you,’ I whispered.
He seemed to flinch, as though he could detect something in my words that wasn’t quite sincere, and pulled his hands away.
‘Anyway, I know the weather isn’t quite up to the long summer days when we used to do this, but I thought we could take a boat out, just the two of us.’
I looked out at the rough water, which churned and rolled against the bitter winter wind, and shivered. ‘In this?’
‘It’ll be all right Erin. I’ll protect you.’
I looked him in eye and it felt as though he was looking directly into my soul. I wondered whether he could see the turmoil I was in.
‘Let’s do it,’ I agreed.
‘Brilliant.’ He climbed out of the car and stalked towards the shack, and tugged the door open. I followed him. ‘A friend from work, Andy, owns a rowing boat which he moors here, and he said we can use it,’ he called, his voice muffled from the depths of the shed. Seconds later he emerged looking triumphant, brandishing two dusty-looking oars.
‘The boat’s over there,’ he said, pointing to a small jetty marching out into the water, utterly uninviting in this weather. Although the rain had stopped now, the wind still found a path through the shelter of the trees, and I shivered as another gust pelted me.
‘Are you cold?’ Greg said.
‘A little.’
‘Wait there.’ He walked to the boot of the car, propped the oars against it, then pulled out a waterproof coat which he wrapped around my shoulders. He lingered there for a moment and I could feel his breath against my ear. I wondered whether he was going to say something, but then he pulled away. I couldn’t work out whether I was relieved or disappointed.
‘Okay, you ready?’
I glanced at the tiny rowing boat and the steely water, then nodded. ‘I guess so.’
Greg climbed in first, taking the picnic basket with him, then the oars, then finally holding out his hand to help me in. As I stepped inside, the whole boat rocked wildly and I tipped towards him, the bodily contact sudden and unexpected. He helped me sit, then gripped the oars tightly, and pushed off from the bank of the lake. I watched as he rowed and for the first time in months I saw him as the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago: the strong, capable man who would do anything for me, who looked after me. I pulled the coat he’d brought me tighter round my shoulders and felt a surge of love for him. He looked up then and saw me watching him and I stuck my tongue out.
‘Charming,’ he said, doing the same to me.
We sat quietly for a while, just the sound of Greg breathing, of the wind sliding across the water, of small waves splashing up against the side of the boat, and I let the rhythm soothe me. The water was so dark it was impossible to know what was hidden beneath the surface and I stared down into it and let my thoughts drift.
I’d felt untethered, these past few weeks. This moment here, on this lake, on a freezing winter day, was just what I’d needed to feel grounded again, and it struck me that was what Greg was so good at, the way no-one else was: knowing what I needed, and when. The days after Mum’s diagnosis had been some of the hardest of my life as I’d struggled to deal with the news. Greg had been the one person who’d understood the depth of my feelings, that I was terrified of losing my mum forever. He’d held me and let me sob when the tears had come, had let me drink too much, and cry and wail, knowing it would be cathartic, healing. Adam, meanwhile, had hardly let the news cause a ripple on the surface of his otherwise smooth life. I shook that thought away. It was disingenuous to bring Adam into my thoughts now. This was about me and Greg.
The truth was, just like he always did, Greg had got today completely spot on. This was exactly the tonic I needed, to remind myself of who I was. Of who we were.
‘Penny for them.’ Greg’s words broke my reverie and I smiled at him. We’d stopped now, and were floating in the middle of the lake. The shack looked a million miles away, the sky above us hung like a dirty blanket, the greyness breaking every now and then to reveal a promising chink of blue.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ I said, rubbing my hands together for warmth.
‘I wish I’d been there with you.’
Oh Greg, you really don’t. ‘I couldn’t even tell you what I was thinking about,’ I said. ‘So, what now?’
‘Well, I’d planned a picnic.’ He indicated the bag by my feet. ‘But you look frozen. Do you want to go back and eat it in the car?’
The truth was I was chilled to the core and heading back to the car sounded like heaven. But this obviously meant a lot to Greg.
‘No, let’s stay.’ I glanced upwards. ‘You never know, it might still warm up.’
‘Ever the optimist,’ he said, grinning at me.
‘So, what have you got in this cool box?’ I said, leaning forward. I stopped. ‘I assume I’m allowed to open it now?’
‘Yes, go on.’
I lifted the lid. There, nestled among a few ice packs, was a bottle, some plastic tumblers and a couple of Tupperware tubs.
He pulled a flask out of his bag. ‘I’ve got hot tea as well because – well, it’s bloody freezing. But you recognise it, right?’
I pulled the bottle out and read the label. Asti Spumanti. ‘I recognise it.’ I smiled.
I took the rest of the items out of the bag and prised the lids off. Cheese slices, Jacob’s cream crackers, a bunch of grapes, a tube of Pringles and a bar of Dairy Milk.
‘The picnic we had on that first day—’ He stopped. ‘I just thought… Well, you know what I thought.’
I nodded. I did. ‘Thank you Greg. This is lovely.’
‘So, shall we start with the crackers or do you want me to pour a glass of this first?’
‘Let’s drink first. Might warm us up a bit.’
I dutifully popped open the cheap fizzy wine, poured us both a tumbler full and handed one to Greg. He held his in the air. ‘A toast?’
‘To what?’
He shrugged. ‘To us? To the future? To – finding the old us again?’
I studied him, this face I knew so well. How I wished we could travel back and find that comfortable love we’d shared back then, that easy, blameless friendship without any of the complications of marriage. I held my tumbler up and clinked it against his. ‘To us.’
We sat sipping our wine and it occurred to me I should tell Greg about the tapes I’d found at Dad’s. It felt wrong to be keeping secrets from him. So I told him all about the mixtape with the secret note from J, and that Mum had admitted he was a man called Johnny, who she’d loved a long time ago. I omitted details about the old tape Adam had made me, or any of the things Mum had said about Adam being the love of my life, of course.
‘She’s a dark horse your mum, isn’t she?’ he said when I’d finished.
‘That’s exactly what Sam said. I can’t believe she’s never mentioned this Johnny in all these years.’
He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. ‘Well I guess she just didn’t think about him much once she met your dad.’
His eyes bored into me and I shuffled uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench as he searched my face. Was he making a point?
‘I guess not.’
Greg leaned forward. ‘Does it really bother you, that your mum has secrets?’
I shrugged. ‘It did. But you’re right; I suppose it’s just that it didn’t matter, once she met Dad.’ There was a time I could have discussed it with him for hours, pulled the story to pieces, analysed it from every angle to try and work out why it was making me feel so shaken, as though everything I’d always known had been thrown into doubt. But because there was so much I couldn’t tell him, it seemed safer to steer away from it completely.
I took another sip of my wine and leaned back, resting my elbows on the edges of the boat and tipping my head back, letting the iron sky fill my vision, eyes focused on the tiny patch of blue where the sun threatened to trickle through. Come on sunshine, I silently begged. Bring some hope.
Out of nowhere, a drumbeat started and I snapped my eyes open and looked at Greg. He was smiling at me, and as the familiar sliding guitar of ‘I Miss You’ by Blink-182 started I smiled back.
‘Where did you get that from?’ I said, indicating the tiny speaker propped up on the bench between us.
‘I brought it with me.’ He paused. ‘Do you remember this?’
‘Course I do.’ I drummed my fingers on my knees. ‘God I haven’t heard this song for years. We listened to it so many times I’m surprised the CD didn’t disintegrate.’
Greg laughed, and we sat for a few more minutes, lost in our thoughts. What better choice of song when things are going wrong in the present, than one that rewinds the years and takes you back to happier, more simple times? It was a clever tactic – and it was working.
I felt the connection between us, the one that had been shaken loose over the last few months until it was barely attached at all, gradually start to strengthen. These times, these moments, were perfect. They were essential and restorative. We needed more of them.
The song came to an end and I expected another one to start. But when nothing happened I looked at Greg to find him watching me, his eyes serious.
‘You okay?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He looked up at the sky too, and I waited for him to say something more. He coughed. ‘Actually I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Okay.’ I felt my shoulders hunch with fear. Had he found out I’d been spending time with Adam before I’d had a chance to tell him myself? I could have kicked myself. How it must have hurt him. But when he spoke, I realised I’d got it completely wrong.
‘I know—’ He stopped, gathered himself. ‘I know things have been tricky between us lately. And I know it’s mostly my fault.’ He looked down at where his hands were clasped in front of him, a plastic tumbler dangling from one as though he didn’t have the strength it hold it any more. ‘But I can’t give up on us, Erin.’ He looked at me, and there was a determination in his face I hadn’t seen for a long time. ‘I know I’ve let you down, but I want to make it up to you.’
‘You are Greg. You’re getting help for your gambling, aren’t you? It’s working, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, it is. But there’s something else.’
I waited.
‘I want us to have a baby.’
For a moment it was as though everything froze, suspended in that moment where nothing moved and nobody spoke. A bird hung in mid-air, trees paused their swaying, branches bowed, splinters of wood skittering on the current halted their journey, and my breathing slowed… And then a shaft of sunlight split open the bank of cloud that smothered us and shot its beam across the murk of the water and broke the spell.
‘A baby? Are you serious?’ I felt dizzy, breathless.
He met my gaze. ‘Deadly.’
I couldn’t speak. This was so out of the blue, and so at odds with where I was right now that I didn’t even know how to process it, let alone give him an answer.
‘But…’ I stammered. ‘I thought we’d agreed we didn’t want children?’
‘We did, once. But’ – he sighed – ‘that was then. We’re in our late thirties now and this could be the only chance we get. Plus I think… I think it could be good for us. It could help us, mend us. It – it feels like the right time. Don’t you think?’
The doubt in his voice was clear, but I was still reeling from the shock.
‘How can this be the right time?’ I said, my voice low.
He leaned forward and the boat rocked beneath me. A gust of wind blew us off course and I shivered. ‘I know I’ve messed things up, Erin. I know I have. But you must remember how much we love each other. How important we are to each other. I can’t lose that. Not because of one mistake.’
One mistake. If only you knew.
‘But how is having a baby the answer?’
He dropped his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at me again. ‘There was something else I wanted to say too.’
‘Go on.’
‘I think we should renew our wedding vows.’
I felt muddled, as though the world was spinning out of control, and I lowered my head between my knees.
‘Erin? Are you okay?’
I nodded, but stayed where I was, trying to process Greg’s suggestion. He wanted us to renew our wedding vows and have a baby. Meanwhile, I was worrying about whether I was in love with a man I hadn’t seen for eighteen years, and angry at my husband for almost losing our house. We really couldn’t be any further apart.
I raised my head. Greg was looking out across the water, and I studied him for a few seconds, his handsome face, the faint lines radiating out from his eyes. He’d hardly aged since the day we met, and the truth was, apart from the gambling problem, he’d barely changed either. He was still the kind, funny man he’d always been, with a heart of gold and a great memory for one-liners.
He turned to face me and the sorrow on his face was almost more than I could bear. How hard would it be for me to agree to renew our vows, and promise to think about having a baby? Surely it was the best thing for both of us, to put everything else behind us and look to the future.
And yet.
‘I don’t think I ever do want children, Greg,’ I said gently.
‘Oh.’ His voice was heavy with pain. ‘But…’ He paused, his voice carrying a hint of hope. ‘You will think about the vows? I just think – I think it will be good for us.’
And so, despite myself, despite every nerve ending screaming at me to say no, that it wasn’t a good time, that I had too much to sort through in my own mind first, I found myself reaching for his hands and nodding. ‘I promise to think about it.’
A hot bath and a glass of wine revived me when we got back from the lake. Both of us were frozen to the core, and sadly the warm feelings we’d rediscovered had evaporated following Greg’s announcement, only cooling further on the drive home. Greg had gone to put a leg of lamb in the oven for dinner and the smell of rosemary and thyme drifted up the stairs as I came out of our en suite wrapped in a fluffy towel. I was determined to put the tension of this morning behind us and move on, to try to make things work between us, whatever it took. Because Greg was right, we couldn’t lose everything we’d built over the last eighteen years.
I studied the carefully curated prints that hung from our bedroom walls, depicting bands Greg and I loved, places we’d visited together – the Golden Gate Bridge, the towering majesty of the Taj Mahal; the jewels colours that sprang from the walls that we’d deliberately chosen to rebel against the ever-rising tide of grey. The cushion cover from a trip to Thailand discarded on the carpet, the ancient well-loved bedspread we’d been given as a wedding present, still rumpled with the imprint of Greg’s body… All these memories clamoured for attention, as if trying to convince me that what we had – what we have – was worth saving.
I sat down and rubbed a towel over my hair, droplets scattering across my shoulders, across the dressing table…
I froze. There, nestled among the bottles of hair serum and perfume and the bowl of earrings, was the crotchet necklace that Adam had bought me. My fingers fluttered to my throat. I must have taken it off. But it wasn’t the fact that it was there that was bothering me. There was something else. Rather than being thrown down carelessly on the dressing table, the necklace was folded neatly on top of a small piece of paper. The note that Adam had given me.
I thought I’d thrown the note away. But now here it was, like a siren of my betrayal.
My heart thumped and I gripped the edge of the stool.
I didn’t need to pick it up, I could read the words from here: Dear Erin. I might not remember you, but you’re music to my ears. Merry Christmas. Love A x
Greg had found it. And I didn’t know how I was going to come back from this.