even an hour ago Rob and I were discussing whether or not Kate was capable of faking her own disappearance. Now I wish to God she was.
Guilt makes me bury my head in my hands, elbows resting on the tabletop. How could I have believed her capable of such a thing? While I was there contemplating it with Rob, her body was being pulled from the water, already puffy and bloated and … I scrunch my eyes shut trying to blot the image from my mind.
I try not to think about her disappearing beneath waves, unconscious, drifting to the bottom of the river. How dark and cold. What a horrible way to die. And there I was, asleep and oblivious to it all as it was happening. Though they didn’t say for sure when she fell in, did they?
‘How can she be dead?’ I ask Rob, lifting my head an inch from the tabletop.
‘What do you want to drink?’ he asks me in reply. He’s already standing, making for the bar, too impatient to wait for the incredibly slow waiter service that seems to be the rule of thumb in Lisbon.
I shake my head. I don’t know. He heads for the bar and comes back a minute later with two shot glasses filled to the brim with clear liquid. Without a word we knock the drinks back. It’s tequila and it burns the back of my throat before hitting my stomach like liquid flame. I shiver and become aware of how cold I am. The chill of the mortuary has seeped into my bones and numbed my flesh. My teeth start to chatter and Rob gets up and puts his coat around my shoulders. ‘It’s shock,’ he tells me.
As my body goes rigid, tensing against the cold that has wrapped its way around me like tendrils of steel, he heads to the bar and comes back with a Coke. ‘Drink this,’ he tells me. ‘The sugar will help.’
My hand shakes as I pick up the glass and it rattles against my teeth but a few minutes later I can feel the effect of the sugar rush. My body starts to relax, though the cold is still so bone-deep I wonder if I’ll ever feel warm again.
Rob has another couple of shot glasses lined up in front of us. I reach for one and empty it into my Coke glass. I feel the sudden, overwhelming urge to get drunk. It might be the only way to obliterate these images from my mind and to deal with the reality of the giant black hole that’s opened up in the world in the space that Kate once occupied.
How can she be dead? I feel like I’m never going to stop asking this question because I’m never going to get an answer to it that makes sense.
‘What do you think happened?’ Rob asks, staring into his drink.
‘I don’t know.’ So many thoughts and conjectures race through my mind. What was she doing by the water? Why did she lie to me about the call she was on earlier that night, and who was she talking to? Why did she hire escorts and why did she want me to believe I’d slept with one? There are so many questions and now I’ll never get answers.
‘Why was she out by the water?’ Rob asks, the same question bothering him.
‘Maybe she wanted to go clubbing,’ I suggest. ‘Or she went for a walk.’ I pause. A fragment of memory comes back. The glimmer of water under moonlight. Was I there? Or is this something I’m pulling from my imagination?
‘You don’t think that policeman was right do you, that she would kill herself?’ Rob asks.
‘No!’ I say loudly. ‘There’s no way Kate killed herself. She was talking about buying a house, having kids … she had all these plans for the future.’
‘We should really call her mum,’ says Rob, glancing at his watch.
Oh God. I take a huge gulp of my drink, feeling the head-giddiness of the alcohol start to kick in. I pull out my phone and scroll for Kate’s mum’s number. ‘What do I say?’ I ask Rob.
‘Do you want me to do it?’ he asks and I smile at him for the generosity of the offer.
‘No,’ I say. ‘It should be me.’
Before I can think too hard about it I knock back another shot and hit dial. My stomach knots with apprehension. It’s late, so I wonder if she’ll pick up but she surprises me