phone all night. I’d hoped for more – sustained eye contact or a conversation would have been a start. But things didn’t change, and after the first few months what little flame there had been just sputtered and died. It was like living with a flatmate; there was soon nothing between us.
I gave it almost a year. Thing is, he just didn’t know how to be a partner. He never listened to me, and often on a Friday he’d hand me a cheap bunch of flowers and think that made it okay for him to spend the weekend at the pub. As Jas pointed out at the time, ‘He’s just a rubbish boyfriend, and he won’t ever change.’
So one Friday night, when everyone at work had been talking about their plans for the weekend, and I’d realised I didn’t want to spend mine with him, I asked him to leave. It was really difficult because, as he’d said, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. But I told him I had too much work and didn’t have the time for a relationship – but in truth I just didn’t love him. ‘You’re just tired,’ he’d said, and turned the TV volume higher to drown out my words. Which said it all really. Eventually he’d agreed to pack his bags and left that weekend.
I’d felt guilty, but I was also relieved. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who didn’t give me anything. I felt I deserved more.
After he’d left that Saturday, I immediately called Jas, who’d reassured me I’d done the right thing. But Tom started phoning in tears, begging me to take him back, and even turned up at work and asked if he could walk me home. By then, he was sleeping on a friend’s sofa and I felt so bad about making him homeless, I began to think it might be easier to just let him move back in. But Jas gave me the strength to say no – with kindness. And later when he turned nasty, and said it was my fault he’d been suspended from his job, she was there for me every step of the way, and without her support I don’t know what I’d have done.
Jas was right, of course. The relationship would never have worked and I had to end it. But I saw Tom in a bar a few months back and he looked sad and rather dishevelled, and I worry that the break-up had a more lasting impact on him than I’d realised.
But I push away troubling thoughts of Tom, when I see the phone on my desk flashing. I pick up and catch my breath. It’s a voicemail message from Alex.
Chapter Three
‘I wondered if you’d like to meet up again? Er… if you did, please call me.’
Short, sweet and possibly life-changing? I never expected Alex to call me at work. I didn’t give him the number. He must have googled it. Just hearing his voice makes me want to do a little dance in the middle of the office – but I resist.
I check the next message, it’s from him again. A moment’s silence, no slick, scripted lines, just lovely flawed sentences, broken words.
‘I… just realised, I left you a voice message and didn’t leave my number. Don’t feel under pressure to call. I like you, but I understand if… look, I’ve read situations wrong before, so no worries… Oh I’m rambling now. Sorry. Anyway, call me back if you had a good time, we could go out again, tonight, tomorrow, next week? Call me…’ Reciting his number, he was clearly about to put down the phone, and I was about to melt into a puddle on my desk, when he said, ‘Oh… also, you’d told me where you worked, so I thought it better to call and leave a message rather than call your mobile.’ He paused, and I realised I was smiling from ear to ear like an idiot. ‘That way, you can ignore the message. If that’s what you want to do. And… if we bump into each other in the street, then you can pretend you didn’t see me or you didn’t get the message. Bye.’
I am seduced by his honesty, the way his words just tumble out, no façade, no bravado – it’s so refreshing. He seems so sincere, and how sensitive of him to do it this way, not putting me in a difficult position if I wanted to