When I woke up later in the morning it took my brain a second to remember where I was, then I turned over. Alex wasn’t there. I looked at the alarm clock. Twenty-five past eight. That was late for me, but then it was New Year’s Day and we had just had a very late night. I’d have to get myself back to my hotel soon.
‘Alex,’ I called out, wondering if he was making coffee. I couldn’t smell any and there was no reply, so I got up, pulled on his shirt from last night, and wandered along the little hallway to where I thought the kitchen was. He wasn’t in there, but there was a note on the cramped counter, scribbled on a blank bit of a pizza delivery menu with a key next to it. Gone to work. I’ve left you my key so you can check out of your hotel and bring your stuff here. Will be back about 6, so be back before me – A x
Check out of my hotel and bring my stuff here? A few apologetic words and a quick fumble and then business as usual? I knew I was low maintenance but did he really think I was going to just pick up where we left off and pretend the last few months hadn’t happened just because we almost slept together this morning?
I’d started a new chapter in my life and had a great new job. I wasn’t just going to throw everything Henry had done for me back in his face because Alex had realised he’d been an idiot. We needed to sit down and have a real talk about all this as soon as he got back from work.
Hang on a minute though, it was New Years’ Day. Why would he have to go in to work on New Years’ Day? I pulled the business card Steve had given me out of my evening bag. He’d scribbled several phone numbers on it that he thought might be useful, including one for reception. I dialled the number and waited.
‘Al Jadeed Brinkley, how can I help you?’
Think, Beth, think. ‘Er, hello, is Alex Petropoulos there please?’
‘Just a moment, I’ll put you through.’
‘Alex Petropoulos speaking …’
‘Oh, hi, Alex … It’s Beth … er … I hadn’t realised you were going to be working today.’
‘Yeah, New Year’s Day! Look we’ll talk tonight. Gotta go, it’s crazy here today. Yia sou – bye.’
OK, so he was working today. Actually, now I thought about it, Steve had said something about them all having to do overtime this weekend because of some emergency I hadn’t really paid attention to because I’d been too busy listening to Alex.
There were half a dozen texts, including one from Henry which had arrived about four in the morning, wishing me a Happy New Year and saying he’d got me on a flight tonight. That was quick. I wondered if it could be changed to tomorrow night so Alex and I could have that talk. I was sure Henry wouldn’t mind, and I could go and check out of the hotel and stay here tonight, so that needn’t be a problem. I texted him back:
Happy New Year Henry! Can we delay 1 day? Have met Alex & need to talk more. Can check out of hotel & stay in apartment, no prob. Hope this ok Bx
The kitchen in this apartment was tiny. His used frappe shaker sat in the corner of the counter, surrounded by a litter of empty biscuit packets, crumpled condensed milk pods, dirty mugs, and teaspoons. Spilled dribbles of ketchup and that sweet sticky milk and grains of sugar added splotches of red and white to the rust-coloured granite work surface. I saw now that this miniscule space was a tip. The sink was full of dirty dishes and glasses – no pots or pans, so I guessed he’d been living on takeaways. The only thing that was clean was his briki – his little Greek coffee pot.
A quick search of the cupboards revealed no other coffee and no clean mugs either. Crockery and cutlery-wise, this kitchen had obviously been kitted out with a set of four each of everything, and all four mugs, dinner plates and bowls were dirty on the counter or in the sink. That particular cupboard held a couple of clean side plates and that was it.
Another cupboard held a half-empty box of bags of salt and vinegar crisps, more packets of biscuits, a jar of Kalamata olives, an open bag of sugar with a coffee-tipped spoon stuck in it, some little salt and pepper packets, and a handful of ketchup sachets, which must have come with some of the takeaways. Another flashback to the first time Alex took me back to his place in Camden.
There was some orange juice in the fridge, and I rinsed out the glass he’d obviously used this morning before pouring some for myself. I’d drink that and have a shower. By then I hoped I’d have finished arguing with myself over whether I should tackle the washing up mountain or leave it to the lazy sod who’d created it.
The quick shower I had was an assault on my senses. Alex’s lime and lemon shower gel, his shampoo, his deodorant – the scents I’d spent three years living with and almost as many months living without, shot through my sense memories and made me feel like I’d come home. Except that I hadn’t and I wasn’t ready to start feeling like that.
It felt remarkably like doing the walk of shame leaving Alex’s apartment, wearing one of his shirts, tied at the waist, over last night’s dress. There was a different security guard on duty and I didn’t want to imagine what he must be thinking as he looked at me, but he didn’t say anything. There didn’t seem to be any taxis coming along that road, so I walked to where I thought I’d remembered a main road and found one quite quickly. The look the driver gave my clothes made me not want to imagine what he was thinking either.
I’d arrived back at the hotel and had an omelette and a proper coffee, and had just got out of the bath, when a text tinged into my phone from Henry:
Are you sure, Beth? I can delay ticket as long as you need but do be careful. Don’t check out in case you need the room. Any problem call/sms/email me H