The Cure: ‘Friday I’m In Love’
I need to see you. E
I pressed send, then let out a long breath of pent-up tension. My phone beeped with an almost immediate response.
Can you come to the house? A x
I’ll be there at 2.
It was done. I was going to see Adam, to tell him, in person, that this had to end. I couldn’t see him any more.
I hadn’t dared ask Greg about the necklace, and instead had thrown the note away, hidden the necklace and pretended nothing had happened. He obviously hadn’t wanted to talk about it either because he hadn’t said a word. But I knew that, after the promise I’d made to him to think about our wedding vow renewal, I couldn’t betray him any more than I already had.
Which meant Adam had to go.
At 1.30 p.m. I popped my head round the living room door where Greg was watching trashy telly and finishing off the last of the Christmas cheese.
‘I’m popping out for some fresh air,’ I said.
‘Okay.’ He studied me for a moment, tilted his head, and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he believe me? ‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No, you stay. You look like you’re well settled for the day.’
He held my gaze a moment longer, then nodded. ‘Sure. Enjoy your walk.’
I pulled on my coat and boots and headed out into the icy air. The rain from the previous day had cleared and the sky was a translucent blue, shot with streaks of pale grey. A weak winter sun provided hardly any warmth, its heat dissipating before it reached ground level, and trees thrust their spindly arms into the sky. The pavement was slick, slippery in places, and as I tugged my hat over my ears and wound my scarf round my neck I tried to ignore the guilt that sat like a stone in my belly at the thought of how Greg would feel if he knew where I was going.
Fifteen minutes later I arrived at the gates of Adam’s house and rang the buzzer.
‘Erin, is that you?’ came a crackly voice.
‘Yes. Let me in?’
‘Wait there.’
I waited for the blare of the gate unlocking, but nothing came. I peered through the bars. Had Adam left me here? I glanced round, hoping nobody I knew would see me. I yanked my hat even lower over my eyes and pulled up my hood.
It was several minutes before I heard the low thrum of an engine. Slowly it got closer and closer until, just before it became an unbearable roar, Adam appeared over the brow of the hill, dressed in leather trousers, a helmet pulled over his head. He was on his motorbike.
He pulled up to the gate, climbed off and unlocked it, then rode through and cut the engine. The sudden silence made my ears ring. He took his helmet off and grinned at me.
‘What do you think?’ he said, and that was when I noticed he was holding out another helmet towards me.
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Absolutely not. Go on Erin, you’ll love it.’
I took the helmet tentatively. ‘I thought you hadn’t ridden since the accident?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘So what—’
‘I have to get back on some time. And I’d already planned to give it a go today. So when you texted I thought, who better to come with me on my very first time back in the saddle than Erin?’
I stared at the hulking machine sitting between us and then at his face. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? I thought—’
‘I won’t freak out, I promise. I’ve ridden it up and down the drive a few times and it’s been fine. Nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be.’ He glanced behind him. ‘But if you’re coming we’d better get going before my parents stage some sort of intervention. They think I’m being “completely irresponsible”.’ He made quote marks in the air with his fingers and rolled his eyes.
I hesitated a moment longer, torn between agreeing with his parents and wanting to get on the bike despite my promises to myself before I got here. Then I placed the helmet over my head, the sounds around me immediately becoming muffled. I waited for Adam to climb on and slung my leg over the seat, clambering on behind him and pressing my body as close to his back as I could.
‘You’ll have to hold on tight,’ he yelled through the distortion of the helmet and I wrapped my arms round his waist and pressed my cheek against the soft leather of his jacket. I felt light-headed at the contact.
Then we were off, the roar of the engine filling my ears, the hulk of the machine vibrating beneath me, and Adam’s body melded to mine as though it was always meant to be there.
It didn’t take us long to get out of town, and soon we were zipping along country lanes, Adam only slowing to take corners cautiously on the slick tarmac. For the first time I saw his vulnerability, his fear of coming off the bike and hurting himself again winning over his desire to fly like the wind.
It felt as though we were riding for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes by the time Adam pulled over to the side of the road and stilled the engine. The silence was immediate, and my ears hummed. I pulled my helmet off at the same time he did, and when he twisted round to speak to me, his mouth was precariously close to mine. I felt his breath on my lips when he spoke.
‘Ready?’
I glanced at the muddy fields that stretched bleakly to our right to meet the wispy sky, the high ground tipped with frost. A solitary bird pecked at the frozen earth, but otherwise there was no other sign of life. I nodded.
Adam took the helmet from me and hung it from the handlebar, then indicated for me to follow him as he pushed the bike away from the road and towards the trees. The darkness beneath the canopy of branches felt heavy, and every sound was muffled, even our footsteps, which crunched as we walked.
Adam stopped and leant the bike against a nearby tree and before I knew it he had grabbed my hand and started dragging me further into the woods.
‘Where are we going?’ I said, my feet stumbling beneath me.
He didn’t reply, but it was only a few more seconds before he stopped and I almost crashed into him.
‘I found this place the other day when I was out in the car,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like it.’
The trees had opened up into a clearing overhung by branches, where logs were arranged in a circle, a patch of scorched earth and ashes in the centre. An old string of tattered bunting flapped in the wind, and a discarded foil barbecue was half-buried beneath one of the larger logs. And I was hit, suddenly, by a memory of being here, a long time ago, with Adam. There had been a party, a late one after a gig, and Adam had brought me here on his scooter. His band mates came, and when we’d arrived the fire had been roaring, crates of beers were being passed round, and music had blared out of speakers as people danced round the fire. I’d been mesmerised, and had felt shy suddenly, unsure of myself. These people were older than me, and so cool, they wouldn’t want me here.
It had been a chilly, late-autumn evening and we’d spent most of the night near the fire, trying to stay warm. I blushed now as I remembered how he’d kissed me that night, how people had shouted at us to get a room as his hand had slipped under my skirt and up my thigh… I remembered the spliffs that had been passed round, the bottles of vodka, the world starting to spin. And then I remembered ‘Friday I’m In Love’ by The Cure playing, and Adam’s lips pressed against mine, warm and dry and tasting of ash and Coke, and him telling me he loved me for the first time…
‘We’ve been here before,’ I said, looking up at him.
‘Have we?’
I nodded. ‘A long time ago. There was a party. We were – we were drunk. And stoned.’
He nodded, studying the clearing. He dropped my hand and stomped through the muddy ground towards the nearest log and sat down, his head in his hands. I followed him, sat beside him. Eventually, he looked up at me, his eyes empty.
‘I’m so sick of not remembering anything,’ he said.
I longed to reach out and comfort him, but I tried to remember why I was here, the decision I’d made. ‘You will, I’m sure you will.’
He slammed his hand down on the stripped bark of the log and I jumped. ‘You don’t know that,’ he said, his voice angry. ‘Nobody knows that, and it fucking sucks.’
I didn’t speak. Nothing I could say would make him feel any better so I sat and watched my feet, my boots buried in the damp, soft ground, old leaves and branches mixed with tatty cigarette ends and the odd crushed can, long discarded. A faint whistling sound penetrated the tree canopy where the wind was trying to battle through, and the air felt cold here, damp, frigid. I shivered, wrapped my arms around myself. Adam didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. I knew Greg would have.
‘Why did you bring me here today?’ I said eventually.
He shrugged. ‘You said you wanted to see me and I needed to get away from that house.’
‘Right.’
I felt acutely aware of our proximity, of the fact that, even though we weren’t actually touching, the air between us felt alive, electric. I shuffled further away.
‘Happy New Year by the way.’
‘Oh yes. Happy New Year to you too.’ I felt tongue-tied and silly and wished I could just say what I needed to say.
‘So.’ He stopped, scuffed his foot in the mud and I was struck by how different he seemed from the old Adam. Less cocky, less self-assured.
‘So,’ I repeated back at him.
‘I was glad to hear from you.’
‘I wasn’t sure if you would be.’
‘I’m always glad to hear from you.’ He looked at me. ‘It’s not as though I’ve got a lot of friends round here.’
‘No, right.’ I was flustered and annoyed with myself for being so.
‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
I continued to stare down at my boots and let the seconds tick by. I’d been so sure that I knew what I wanted to say, that I couldn’t see him any more. Even now, sitting here with him just inches away, I knew it was the right thing to do. The trouble was, I couldn’t seem to make my mouth form the words.
‘Erin?’ He reached for my hand and when he touched me, even through the fabric of the gloves, I flinched as though I’d been electrocuted. He didn’t let go, and eventually I tore my gaze away from the ground and looked him straight in the eyes.
‘I can’t see you any more.’
He nodded but said nothing, so I stumbled on.
‘I – I don’t think I should spend any more time with you. Like this, just me and you. It – it’s wrong.’
‘Because of Greg?’
‘Of course because of Greg!’ I could hardly concentrate on his words, all my thoughts trained on the feeling of my hand cupped inside his. I stared at his mouth.
‘Sorry Erin. That was a stupid question.’ He licked his lips. ‘I just wish things were different.’
‘I know.’ My voice was a whisper. ‘Me too.’
He dropped my hand and the air between us felt cold, the wind whipping in to fill the spaces where his fingers should be. I shivered again.
‘I’m sorry Adam. I just – I haven’t even told Greg that you’re back. If he knew we’d been spending time together it would break his heart.’
He sat for a moment, staring ahead of him at the long-abandoned firepit. I wondered whether he’d heard me. But then he half-turned towards me and his knee brushed my leg. He didn’t move away, but instead studied my face, his eyes scrutinising every inch as though he was searching for something. Maybe he was. After all, he couldn’t remember anything about me, or about us. Perhaps he was hoping that something about my face would bring those memories back. I held my breath.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he whispered.
‘Thank you.’ The words barely came out.
He lifted his hand to touch my face and I had to stop myself from groaning. The skin where we were connected felt like it might melt, hot with betrayal and desire. I should have moved away, put some distance between us, but somehow it felt impossible.
As quickly as it had begun, the moment ended and Adam moved away from me, our connection broken.
‘I’m sorry Erin. That was totally inappropriate.’ He ran his hand over his hair. ‘I – I just feel this overwhelming urge to be near you. I can’t stop thinking about you.’ He looked down at the floor, then back up at me. ‘I just wish I could remember anything about us. It must have been wild.’
‘It was.’ My voice was low, husky. ‘It was incredible.’
He nodded, as though he hadn’t expected anything else.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ he said. ‘I can just feel it. That there’s something special here.’
I didn’t reply.
‘Why didn’t we end up together?’
How could I explain it to him? That everyone warned me about him, said he couldn’t be trusted and that, when I was away at university and he’d been touring round the country, he proved them all right by sleeping with groupies. And then, that night when he’d arrived at my university halls, drunk and angry, with a love bite on his neck.
Nothing I could tell him would ever fully capture the power of our feelings for each other, or properly explain why it ended.
‘It just didn’t work,’ I said. The words were weak, diluted.
‘Come on Erin. I’m lost here. I don’t know who I am any more. No-one ever tells me anything. My parents don’t want me to remember, and there’s no-one else who will ever be honest with me. I…’ He stopped. ‘I need to know who I was, what I was like. Why you couldn’t be with me, even though there’s clearly passion here.’ He looked up at me, his eyes wide. ‘Please tell me. Everything, warts and all.’
‘Okay.’ I shivered, the damp from the log seeping through my trousers.
He turned to face me properly. Then I told him everything.
When I’d finished we sat in silence for a while. I’d told him about how we met, how passionate it had been between us, how we could never keep our hands off each other. But also how it was always about more than just desire. That there had been a connection we both thought could and would never be broken.
I’d told him about how he’d betrayed me and made me stop believing in soulmates, and fate, and how, when he’d left that night after I told him I didn’t want to see him again, I’d sobbed and sobbed until I thought my heart would never mend. I told him how Greg, who had always been so kind and so loving, had been there for me.
I told him how we hadn’t seen each other again after that.
‘Wow. What an arsehole,’ he said.
‘You weren’t an arsehole. You were just angry.’
‘I get why I was angry at my parents. I mean, from the bits I’ve cobbled together, they didn’t really want me around. My dad clearly disapproves of me and is hoping to mould me into some sort of perfect son now that I can’t remember who I was before, and Mum is a cold fish who doesn’t seem to have feelings for anyone. But you? It sounds as though you were the only good thing in my life, and I ruined it.’
‘It’s hard to explain. I think it was just the wrong time. For us, I mean.’
‘And now it’s all too late.’
‘It is.’
He paused a moment and stared at his feet. ‘Do you think if we’d met now, we would be together?’ His question was so quiet I wasn’t sure at first whether I’d heard him right. But a glance at his face confirmed I had.
‘I don’t know.’
He nodded sadly. ‘I mean, it’s still there, right?’ He waved his hand between us. I didn’t reply. How could I? To say yes would be to betray my husband. To say no would be a lie.
Instead I stood. ‘I should probably get home.’
‘I’m sorry Erin. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.’ He patted the log beside him. ‘Please stay a bit longer.’
Reluctantly, I lowered myself back down, making sure there was plenty of distance between us. I clasped my hands in my lap, closed to him. This wasn’t going as planned. I opened my mouth to explain again why this was a bad idea.
‘What if you told Greg you were helping me?’ Adam said before I managed to say a word.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re a music therapist, right?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Well anyway. You work with people with memory problems and music, and I have amnesia. So what if you told him I was back, and that you had agreed to help me? That way you’re not lying so there’s no need to feel guilty.’
I stared at him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to say yes. But Adam must have been as aware as I was that it was more complicated than that.
‘But—’ I started, but Adam interrupted me.
‘I know what you’re going to say. That there’s too much between us for that.’ I gave a small nod. ‘But we can keep it strictly professional.’ He stopped, threaded his fingers together. ‘I just – I don’t want to stop spending time with you, Erin. Seeing you has been the only thing that’s given me any pleasure at all since the accident, since I got back.’ He looked up at me pleadingly. ‘Please?’
I sighed heavily. ‘Adam, I really want to say yes. With all my heart. But you don’t know Greg, and because you can’t remember anything at all, you don’t know how much he hates you.’
‘He hates me? Good God, what did I do to him?’
I sighed again. ‘It wasn’t what you did to him. It was what you did to me. Plus the fact that you even existed.’ I hesitated, unwilling to reveal Greg’s weakness. ‘He spent the first few years of our relationship – of our marriage even – terrified that you were going to turn up and ruin everything, that I’d choose you over him every time and that he’d lose me.’
The wind blew between us, but there was no other sound for a few moments as Adam took in what I’d told him. Then he gave a slow nod.
‘And would you?’
‘Would I what?’
‘Would you choose me?’
The trees closed in around me, the ground rose up and the air stilled and for a moment I was suspended, between before and after, my mind filled with the life Greg and I had built together and the pain on his face last night when I’d been unable to give him an answer to his question about renewing our vows.
‘I don’t know.’
It was partly the truth. Because my heart told me I absolutely would choose him, even now, even after all these years. But my head told me otherwise.
‘Okay.’
I looked away, but could still feel his eyes boring into me, and I turned back to meet his gaze. The air between us felt charged; it crackled and sparked and for a moment it felt inevitable that we would end up together. Everything tipped, became blurred… and then Adam moved, shifting slightly along the log away from me and the world sprang back into sharp focus again. My head pounded.
‘Promise me you’ll at least think about it?’ he whispered. ‘About helping me?’
‘I promise.’
The trouble was, I knew my decision was already made.