This is Not a Love Story

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I slept like a dream last night, all things considered. At the gym I managed five kilometres without stopping in twenty-five minutes — if you’d have told me I’d be doing that three months ago I’d have laughed in your face. Switching to the e-cig has made such a massive difference, even I’m surprised. I mean, anyone would expect that stopping coating your lungs with tar would improve your cardiac health, but still — the benefits are staggering.

On my way back I did a guided walking meditation, which was really relaxing until I realised that loping down a pitch-black side street with my eyes closed probably wasn’t very safe. I put my keys between my fingers like Wolverine just in case anybody tried to abduct me or steal my brand-new reusable water bottle. People have been eyeing it enviously ever since I bought it — I accidentally left it on the treadmill the other day and some chancer tried to walk off with it. I screamed at her to buy her own planet-saving equipment and she dropped it like a hot potato. I did note when I saw her in the changing room a while later that she had a very similar-looking one herself, so lord knows what she wanted with another one.

Everyone’s going to be here soon. Martin is going to be back under my roof, noticing the limescale on the showerhead, clocking the crisps and biscuits on top of the bread bin. After finally managing to get him out, I almost can’t believe I’m willingly letting him back in. And with Sophie, too. Looking at them both and knowing what they’ve... done together. What if it’s too much?

I can’t let myself panic about it, so I spend a couple of hours composing a new blog post about the awkwardness of sharing an unplanned porn moment with an acquaintance. There’s not much to be said (it’s horrifying, end of) so I keep it short and to the point. The response to my loneliness post has been incredible; my follower count has soared and I’ve had so many DMs from people telling me how my words struck a chord with them, how once they thought about it, they realised that they were lonely, too. It felt good. A weird, unusual kind of good — one I haven’t felt before. Like I’d had an impact. Like I’d helped.

Of course, I’ve had the odd troll telling me I’m a fat waste of space with a personality disorder, but I just tend to read the first line of those and then block and delete. I can’t waste any more time worrying about what other people think of me — there are just too many other things to think about.

At bang on midday, the buzzer goes.

Without speaking through the intercom I let them up, hoping it’s not an axe murderer for the first time in this building’s history. That would be just my luck. It takes whoever it is an age to get up the stairs, but when they do, the knock at the door is timid. I swing open the door, assuming that anyone with an axe would just chop the whole thing down anyway.

It’s all of them.

Sophie, Martin, Cecilia and Anna are all standing in the doorway, forlorn, desperate smiles on their faces.

‘Hey, you.’ Anna pulls me into a hug but I stand rigid, arms by my side. Now that they’re here I don’t know what to say. Seeing Sophie and Martin in front of me, together, has brought that gripping anger back up with huge force. I’m paralysed by it.

‘Come in,’ I say eventually, once Anna has released me.

They traipse past me slowly, funeral-procession-style, heads bowed. They all stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room, except Martin, who is inspecting the bookcase.

‘Sit down, please.’ I keep my voice level, determined not to freak out and throw something. Having him back in here, checking for cleanliness, is sending my stress levels through the roof.

‘Can I just say something before we start?’ Anna sinks back into the sofa and holds her tiny bump. ‘I knew what was going on, I’ve already told you that. I won’t deny it. I hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘For god’s sake, Anna, stop being such a martyr,’ Cecilia snaps.

‘No.’ Sophie leans forward. ‘She did know about me and Martin, but as soon as she found out she said we had to tell you or she would. And we didn’t, and I’m sorry.’

‘You didn’t tell me either, though, did you, Anna?’ I ask.

She looks down. ‘I told them I wouldn’t speak to them until they told you, or it stopped. Then I said I’d tell you, but I didn’t. I just didn’t want to cause any drama. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ I find myself saying. She stayed out of it and she tried for me, it seems, and she is pregnant. I can forgive her for not wanting to get involved.

‘It is?’ Cecilia stands up. ‘Oh, thank god.’

‘Woah.’ I hold my hands up. ‘I mean it’s OK that Anna didn’t tell me. You two are a completely different story.’

‘Come on, Mags. It’s time to let it go.’ Martin moves towards me, his thick eyebrows knotted together. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re in love.’

‘Oh my god, Martin, this is not about YOU !’ I scream suddenly. ‘How many words does it take to get the message in? I. Could. Not. Give. A. Fuck. About. What. You. Do.’ I jab my finger into his chest.

He takes a step back. ‘Calm down, please. You’re overreacting again.’

People talk about ‘seeing red’ , but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced it until right at this moment. I know I’m being horrible, and I’m saying things that will hurt him. I spent so long pretending to be happy, pretending to be OK with my lot, and I’m too angry to pretend anymore. ‘I’m not overreacting! I’m not! I didn’t invite you here so you could dust the bookcase and tell me how much you love my best friend. I invited you so we could sort this out and MOVE ON!’

‘Maggie, come on—’ Sophie touches my arm.

‘No!’ I shake her off. ‘You were the worst thing that ever happened to me, Martin, including myself. I’ve done a fair few things to fuck up my own life, but at least I kept it interesting. You kept me stale. You kept me boring and grounded and you squashed the fire out of me.’

Aaaagh. The relief hisses out of me like steam. I’ve hit the nail on the head without even realising it. It wasn’t entirely his fault, but he anchored me. And then he slept with my best friend, so he deserves to hear the truth.

He blinks and looks around the room for backup, and finds none forthcoming. ‘You’re being dramatic again.’

‘Get out.’

‘What?’ He frowns.

Is this déjà-vu? I had this exact conversation two months ago.

‘GET OUT.’ I grab his arm and march him to the door, throwing him onto the corridor as well as I can, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket.

‘Wait!’ he shouts, suddenly. I pause with the door half open. ‘Maggie, wait.’

His face is ashen. Well, I suppose this is it. This is the moment Martin apologises for everything he’s done. It’s about time. I fold my arms and look at him expectantly, my foot wedging the door open.

‘I need to get my weights.’

Unbelievable.

I leave him holding the door and stomp into the bedroom, where I begin dragging his weights across the floor and out into the corridor. It’s a real task, to be honest, and by the time I get to the heaviest ones I’m sweating, grunting like a rutting hog as I pull with all my might, crouched and red-faced. Nobody offers to help, but I do get the impression that they’re probably quite scared of approaching me at this particular moment.

Weights finally strewn across the corridor, I slam the door in his gawping face and walk back into the living room, throwing myself onto the sofa as the girls watch on in horror.

‘Did you just throw him out?’ Sophie glances at the door worriedly.

‘Not the first time.’ My voice is muffled by the cushion I’ve buried my face in.

‘You did invite him, Mags,’ Anna says.

‘I thought I’d cope with it. I thought he might have changed; that maybe he’d have thought about what he’d done and apologise and we could get over this.’ I raise my head. ‘Tell me how it started.’

Sophie runs her hands through her hair and straightens her back. She’s obviously rehearsed this. ‘We bumped into each other at the gym the day after you broke up. You know I go to the Quays branch? He needed someone to talk to, so we went to the pub, and it all went from there really. He’s so sweet, Maggie, honestly.’

The audacity she has to tell me what Martin’s personality is like almost makes me chuck her out, too.

‘I know you’re upset, Mags. I know you’re angry with us, I completely understand,’ Cecilia pipes up. ‘But acting on impulse and chucking him out into the corridor like that was too much.’ She glances worriedly towards the door as though Martin is a child I have just thrown out of the window.

I sit up straight. ‘I am impulsive, C. You know that, she knows that, we all fucking know it. I’ve tried toning it down, I’ve tried being normal. It’s not for me, I can’t do it.’

‘Of course you can. You just need practice.’

‘No!’ I shout, rising again. ‘I can’t and I don’t want to! I like being me!’

I realise as I’m saying it that it’s actually true. I do like being me. I like being weird and unpredictable and not thinking before I do things. It gets me into trouble but it keeps me going. I have stories, I experience things, I meet people, all because I run at things head-on and don’t listen to anybody else.

‘She wouldn’t be Maggie if she wasn’t absolutely bonkers,’ Sophie says, smiling.

I don’t reply.

‘Mags. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I really can’t.’ She drops the grin and her eyes fill with tears. ‘I can’t imagine losing all this.’

‘You’re still with him though, aren’t you?’

She drops her head to her chest.

‘Even after all this, it’s worth it?’ I choke. I know I felt nothing for Martin. I know I was desperate to have him gone. But the point is that she knows it was wrong. She knows she could lose me, and she’s still going ahead with it.

‘I can’t justify Sophie’s actions, but I can apologise for mine.’ Cecilia reaches for me and I back away. ‘I just got caught up in it. I thought I had to take sides. I stuck by Sophie when I should have stayed in the middle, and I’m so, so sorry for that. I’m sorry for cutting you out.’

‘I really needed you,’ I sob.

They look at me, tearful and silent. The buzzer goes again.

‘I’m not letting him back in,’ I say to Sophie. ‘He wants a wife, Sophie. We weren’t in love, you know? We never were. He wants a wife and the perfect, fairytale life. If you’re happy with that then go ahead, be my guest.’

Sophie hesitates before going over to the intercom to deliver the news.

‘Me and Brian have been thinking about names.’ Anna strokes her bump again, trying to bring some niceness into the hostility.

‘That’s good.’ I lean on her shoulder. I have no more anger towards Anna. Cecilia watches us from the other sofa. ‘Which is your favourite?’

‘Jetaime,’ she whispers, visibly melting.

I don’t know what to say. I pretend I haven’t heard. ‘How are things with you and Brian?’

I’m expecting to hear more slander of the age-differences, more turmoil on the home front with the foetus edging closer to becoming a baby every day.

‘Amazing.’ Her eyes shine. ‘I think I love him, Mags. I think he’s going to move in.’

‘Maggie?’ Sophie calls.

‘He’s not coming in!’ I shout.

‘No, it’s someone called Gary? I think he was on the group chat with us?’

Oh god.

Oh god, it’s Gary.

I forgot I invited Gary.

I make my way to the door. I am extremely conscious of the fact that I look like a boiled pig after all the crying. It seems like every time he comes over here my eyes are almost swollen shut.

He emerges from the lift, loping down the corridor self-consciously. My heart does a little flip. I really like that about him, his normalcy. He’s nicely confident; he has something to say for himself but without any arrogance to go alongside it.

He isn’t Martin.

He stops in the doorway and looks at me, pressing his mouth into a line. ‘Hey, stranger.’

‘Hiya,’ I say.

I want to hold my arms out, to give him a hug, but things need to be said first. I stand aside and let him pass into the room full of people he doesn’t know. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a seat at the tiny dining table in the corner and studies his hands.

‘Everyone, this is Gary.’ I gesture towards him and the girls nod, evidently recognising him from the other evening. ‘I wanted to have you all here at the same time so I could sort this all out at once, but you guys arrived first and it got a bit out of hand.’

‘I don’t know how you could do that to someone.’ Gary looks up at Sophie. ‘Your best friend.’

‘I don’t think we need your input, thank you,’ Cecilia glowers. ‘Who are you again?’

I always forget about Cecilia’s temper. She’s a nightmare when she’s backed into a corner.

‘You didn’t see how upset she was,’ Gary says.

Sophie starts crying again.

Cecilia grabs her. ‘We’re sorry. We’re so sorry, but everybody makes mistakes.’

Gary shrugs. ‘Not like that, they don’t.’

‘Anyway.’ I pause. ‘I wanted to speak to you about how I treated you.’

‘How you treated me?’ Gary frowns and glances over at the girls. ‘Here? Now?’

‘Yeah. I just want to get it all out, right now. I’m sorry I ran away from you. I was... I wasn’t in a good place, I suppose. I thought I was coming out of the shit-storm and I felt sucked back into it for a moment. That doesn’t excuse me not texting you back, I know you must be angry, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say, how to excuse myself. It was a shitty thing to do.’

‘Sorry?’ Gary looks incredulous. ‘You’re . . . you’re sorry?’

‘Yes. I really am. It might not be enough, and I understand that—’

‘Wait.’ He rubs his eyebrows. ‘I thought I was coming over here to explain myself. I thought I was here to apologise.’

‘Apologise for what?’ What is he talking about?

‘For trying to kiss you!’ His cheeks colour. ‘You were emotional and it was the worst timing. I felt awful, like I’d taken advantage or something.’

‘What? No!’ I stand up and everyone winces, presumably conditioned to enter defence mode whenever I raise my voice and make sudden movements. ‘It wasn’t the right time, of course, but I didn’t hate you for it. I just... I just couldn’t deal with it, at that moment.’

‘Oh,’ he says.

There is a silence as we look at each other. Anna coughs. ‘I think we’ve got to go, haven’t we?’

‘What?’ Sophie drags her eyes from where she’s been fixated on me and Gary. I can practically see the popcorn crumbs down her top. ‘No, we can’t go. We need to sort this. I can’t leave until you forgive me.’

‘I can’t do that right now, Soph.’ I follow them as Anna drags them by the hand to the door. ‘I need some space. I appreciate your apologies, but I need to think.’

Cecilia turns around and stares at me, her eyes wide. ‘Please say we can move on from this.’

‘I don’t know.’ I hold the door open. ‘I need time.’

‘We’ll go.’ Anna ushers everyone out of the door in silence. She hands me a small, white envelope. ‘Open it later.’

I nod. ‘Bye.’ I close the door before I can change my mind. I thought I’d be able to forgive and forget this, and my gut reaction was to just let it go. It turns out my impulsivity works both ways — I make mistakes quickly and I’m quick to forgive them, too. But for now I need to step back. I need to really think on this one.

And then it’s just me and him.

‘So,’ I say.

‘So.’

He lowers himself onto the sofa and pats the space next to him. I sit.

‘I can’t believe we both thought we were angry with each other.’ I snort.

‘Bloody idiots, the pair of us.’ He laughs and suddenly we are both laughing together, shaking our heads.

‘So, you don’t hate me?’ I smile.

‘Hmm... nope, I don’t think so.’ He edges a bit closer to me on the sofa.

‘Well, that’s a relief.’ I scoot up a bit too, preparing myself to push against the feeling of entrapment and fear. It doesn’t come. I couldn’t feel less anchored if I tried. ‘I must warn you, though, I am certifiably bonkers.’

‘That might be an issue.’ He dips his head slightly.

His face is close to mine. My heart flips, but my mind is clear. This is OK. This will only be what I want it to be.

‘One more thing...’ I murmur. ‘Why were you so short on the group chat if you weren’t angry with me?’

‘I was angry with them,’ he whispers. ‘I couldn’t believe you’d added me to a group chat with them all.’

He inches his face closer to mine.

‘You’re wild.’ I can feel the heat from his lips. ‘I fucking love it.’

And then he kisses me.