“Ash, I’m sorry about yesterday,” I say, as I watch him movingslowly and sleepily, and the weight of how I’ve treated him sits on me in the sober early morning. “I am the worst. I should have been clearer with you about what you were walking into. My mum is...” I look up to the ceiling and take a deep breath. “She is a nice person. I don’t know what my problem is with her. I just look at her and I feel like a loser, and like they’re all fed up with me.”
“She does seem fed up,” he concedes wearily.
“I don’t know what came first—her believing I’m a failure, or me being a failure.”
“She clearly doesn’t think you’re a failure,” he says impatiently. “She clearly doesn’t know anything about you or your life to make that assessment. Tell her the truth. Tell her that film school didn’t work out, and now you’re doing something else.”
“I can’t,” I say, head in my hands. “I can’t.”
I told them I was going to be so much more, I think, the shame almost crushing me now.
“You can,” he says, shrugging.
“It’s okay. It’s fine. It will be fine. Let’s just go, shall we?”
I pull my duvet up and leave a small note on top of my pillow for my mum.
Mum—I’m sorry. I need to figure some things out and I will give you a call. I know I let you down. I do really love you and miss everyone. I’ll call you soon, Mara x
Ash heaves himself slowly out of bed, and within a few minutes we’re sneaking out the front door, closing it quietly behind us. I look back over my shoulder and up to my window to the little purple curtains and feel a stinging in my heart.
The drive is mostly silent, and as I watch the gray tones of the M1 motorway sound walls roll past, I fall back into my Joe-shaped dream, the fantasy of his arrival more necessary than ever. I made my choice on that wall last night, and I cannot turn back now. When we hit the ring road just outside London, Ash speaks.
“Hey, I’m sorry again about last night,” he says. When I relive it, momentarily, I feel a heat rising in me. Embarrassment but also the lingering feeling of his thighs between mine. His soft, hungry kisses. I close my eyes and try to push the feelings aside.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I’m sorry. Can we please forget about it and go back to how things were?”
“Um... we can try,” he says, shaking his head as if I’m mad. We both know we can’t put this back in a box and hide it away. There will have to be some kind of shift now. Would Ash move out? I feel a cold chill at the thought of it.
“Please,” I say, as lightly as possible, looking across at him, begging him not to leave me. Not to leave the friendship.
“Okay,” he says.
We pull into Broadgate and Ash drives right up to our front door, pulling the car in to stop, but leaving the engine running.
“I need to return the car,” he says.
“I realize that was the worst weekend getaway of your life. I really owe you, Ash.”
He smiles. “I dunno. I once went to an all-inclusive and got norovirus. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I laugh, grateful he’s eased the tension. Then he turns on the radio and drives off, leaving me standing on the pavement.
I walk to the front door, then try to ignore the chaos of the renovations and make a cup of tea. The house feels hollow without Ash here, but I am grateful for the moment to think.
I curl up on my bed, in my untouched room, and call Charlie back as promised. “Hey!” she says, “thanks for calling. Sorry I’ve been harassing you a bit.”
I sit up slightly. Normally it’s me that feels as though I’m harassing her.
“It’s no problem, Charlie. Don’t feel like that. I’ve been a bit distracted lately.”
“Let’s forget it,” she replies, little Sophie already wailing in the background. “How was it up at your folks’?”
“Shitty,” I reply. “Literally couldn’t have gone worse. I’m at my wits’ end with everything honestly.”
I hear her sigh, and then there is quiet for a moment.
“Everything I do turns to shit,” I say now.
