Crying in the Rain (Hiding Behind The Couch Character and Festive Episodes)

15 Ginger

Kris

K ris kept checking his phone, hoping to see a missed call or a text message—anything to confirm that he was worrying over nothing. He’d tried to convince himself he was being paranoid, but the longer that passed without contact, the greater his anxiety that Ade had done something awful…or something awful had been done to him.

Rationally, there was no reason Ade would have called. He’d only left a few hours ago, and they hadn’t known each other for much longer than that. Whatever was going on was really none of Kris’s business.

But maybe he should have been clearer about wanting it to be his business. To him, this wasn’t just another chance meeting through work, and if that was all it was to Ade, wouldn’t last night have involved a little less sleep and cuddling and a lot more action?

So I’m being pessimistic…and ignoring the bigger picture. Or trying to, at least. It was far easier to pretend Ade was being ordinarily dismissive than the real reasons he wouldn’t think to call—or couldn’t call.

In an attempt at distraction, Kris took the dog for a long walk, but that still left an hour of sitting at home, going out of his mind with worry, and Shaunna was at work, so there was no voice of reason to reassure him that he was overthinking it, focusing only on what could go wrong instead of all that, so far, had gone right. Ade would be at work, that’s all. And if his ex turned up there again, someone would call the police .

He’ll be fine. But what if—

No. Mustn’t think like that.

Kris could stand it no longer. He grabbed his coat and headed for the salon where Shaunna worked.

“Just send him a text,” she suggested without looking away from the straighteners she was pulling through a woman’s hair that was so over-bleached it crackled with the heat.

“The wrong person might see it.”

“Wouldn’t he keep his phone in his pocket or somewhere it can’t be seen?”

“And then he opens the message and they ask who it’s from—”

“Surely, he’d be able to sneak off to the loo to read a message?”

“I don’t even know if he’s at home or at work. He could even be in the hospital or—”

“Kris, stop it!” Shaunna’s raised voice drew the attention of her boss, who had been sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine. Now she came over and took the straighteners from Shaunna and nodded towards the stockroom behind the salon, where they could talk in privacy.

Kris followed Shaunna through into the dimly lit room. It was vast, stacked with plastic bottles and smelled strongly of chemicals but with coconut overtones.

“How about this?” Shaunna suggested. “I’ll call him, number withheld.”

“I don’t want to involve you in this.”

“I already am involved, hun.”

Kris wanted to tell her to leave it, but how could he, when every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the bruising around Ade’s neck?

“Give me your phone,” Shaunna said.

“But—”

“Give me your phone or give me his number.”

“I really don’t think it’s a— ”

“I don’t care what you think. Well, I do, but whatever. Hand over the phone or else.”

She glared at him until he relented and handed over his phone, then, withholding the number, she called Ade. It went to voicemail. At the cue to leave a message, she said in a prim telephone voice, “This is Ms. Hennessy of the recently formed Ginger Appreciation Society, looking after the well-being of those possessed of red hair everywhere. We wondered if you’d be available to join us for our next meeting and would be most grateful if you could call at your earliest convenience, quoting reference Casper. Thanks so much. Bye now.”

She hung up and passed the phone back to Kris, her serious expression completely at odds with the ludicrous cryptic message she’d left. At any other time, it would have made Kris laugh, but not this time. He blinked at her in bewilderment. She smiled and gave him a gentle hug. There was nothing she could say to dispel his anxiety, but at least Ade would know he was worried, and with any luck, he’d check in to confirm all was well.

“I need to go to work,” Kris said, reluctantly stepping away. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re a professional. You’ll find a way.”

“I might call in sick and go and find him.” Kris realised the futility of the idea as he was saying it, because he couldn’t imagine his actions being anything other than a hindrance, whatever situation Ade might be in. “Maybe I’ll just go home and wait.”

“You’ll be able to get to him a lot quicker from work than here,” Shaunna reasoned. It was true; the two radio stations were barely half a mile apart, and if Ade lived nearby, Kris could be there in a matter of minutes.

“OK. I’m going,” he said. They returned to the salon and he gave Shaunna a swift parting hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you hear anything…” Shaunna called after him. He nodded his agreement and left for the train station.

** *

Ade

A de took out his phone and unlocked the screen for about the twentieth time in the past quarter of an hour, just to look at the missed call and voicemail notifications. He was alone in his office so could have listened to the message or called back without being overheard, but should he?

At least Fergus was a known quantity, not that Ade had any intention of backing down when he’d made it this far, but it was utter folly to go haring from one relationship straight into another. OK, technically he wasn’t doing that, as he’d officially ended things with Fergus a year ago. Still, he should wait, give himself a few months properly on his own, doing what he wanted whenever he wanted, without having to think about someone else’s needs like he’d been doing for the past eleven years. Shouldn’t he?

The first time Fergus had left, Ade had missed him like crazy and hated himself for it. That was when he started to understand how it worked. Fergus had slapped him, and Ade had screamed at him to get out. It had been such a shock that it left him emotionally numb for days, and while his defences were down, Fergus had whittled away at him with promises he’d make it up to him and it would never happen again. He was devastated, or so he’d claimed. He didn’t know what he was doing, Ade had made him angry and over what? He’d bought green apples and Fergus wanted red.

What Ade wished he’d done was ram one of the apples down Fergus’s throat. What he actually did was apologise for his mistake and hold Fergus while he cried and begged for forgiveness. Then the mind games began, one minute calling Ade a cissy for acting like he’d been stabbed, not slapped, the next showering him with presents and more tears and promises. All lies.

Ten years of going around and around. Each time Ferg lashed out, the walls of the cycle grew taller, became more impenetrable, until Ade could no longer see a way out. So he’d ended the relationship, yet here he was, a year later, still clawing at those walls.

Then there was the wonderful safe cocoon of last night. Ade had no idea he was so tired, but it wasn’t that surprising when he was constantly on edge, always self-monitoring, avoiding the dreaded ‘R’ in conversation with strangers, avoiding setting Ferg off when he was anywhere near or waiting for him to suddenly appear from nowhere with that glint in his eyes, the sneer—

Ade made a quick dash from his office to the toilet at the end of the corridor and retched, no vomiting, but it still burned his insides. It also gave him pause, for a moment crowding out the image of Ferg and the dread that came with it, displaced by a random, self-sabotaging thought.

And I love seafood.

He sluiced his mouth with tap water and gave his face a quick splash before returning to his office. It was true. Mussels and scallops were his all-time favourite things to eat, but if he and Kris had a future, there would be no more seafood medleys or prawn puris or butterfly king prawns and definitely no more mussels and scallops.

Was that really enough reason to turn his back on the chance of a new relationship, especially when it wasn’t the reason at all?

Since he’d arrived at work, he’d done nothing but go over and over the last forty-eight hours and in the process convinced himself that Kris was no better than Fergus. And how had he achieved this rather impressive, all-in-one annihilation of what he suspected was the prelude to a wonderful, teenager-foolish, tumbling head-over-heels courtship? By focusing on the one and only thing Fergus and Kris had in common: cheating.

Of course, he didn’t know for sure Fergus had cheated, because leaving the condoms where Ade would find them served more nefarious purposes, taunting him with the possibility while giving Fergus ammunition to throw back at Ade for snooping and not trusting him. Win-win—for Fergus, whether he’d cheated or not, and honestly, Ade didn’t care if he had. Maybe he wasn’t worth more, maybe he was, but it didn’t matter, because Kris had admitted straight up. He’d had an affair—an affair he was ashamed of. And really, how stupid would it be to go from a relationship where he literally feared for his life to one with a cheat?

Before he tumbled any further down the rabbit hole of that thought, some form of self-preservation kicked in, and he picked up his phone. I’ll just text Kris and tell him I need some breathing space. That was what he planned to do. What his subconscious decided on his behalf was to call his voicemail.

You have one new message.

His thumb hovered over the delete button, but he left it too late.

First new message.

This is Ms. Hennessy of the recently formed Ginger Appreciation Society…