“But you weren’t the one that killed him.” I reach for the napkin, dabbing my eyes with it.
“The alcohol killed him. Not you. The alcohol.” Her nostrils flare, her eyes swirling with anger, not at me, but our father. Kelly has never held me responsible for his death in the way that I do, or that our mum does.
I force down a wave of guilt. If only Ryan hadn’t given me an ultimatum about our relationship, forcing me to come out to my parents. If only I hadn’t told my dad mid-match, when Arsenal was losing the game. If it hadn’t been for those things, he’d still be here. He wouldn’t have gotten stinking drunk at the pub and knocked himself unconscious falling down the stairs.
I close my eyes, reliving how we’d made it to the hospital and found that they’d already switched off the machine, pronouncing him dead, and how my mum had beat her fists against my chest.
You did this to him. You did this.
She left me there in the hospital hallway as the nurse escorted her away.
And then I withdrew.
From Ryan.
From love.
From the world.
I opted to get as far away from everyone and everything aspossible. An internal company transfer to Los Angeles made it possible to create a new life for myself. But it isn’t one that includes or allows intimacy.
“You deserve to be happy, Chris,” Kelly says, reaching for my hand once more, squeezing it tightly. “Have you reached out to Ryan since you’ve been back?”
The sheer mention of his name sends a shiver down my spine, like nails down a chalkboard.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?” Daniel cuts in. He pointedly glances at Kelly’s hand on mine as he places the drinks down on the table, while I wipe a tear from my eye.
“I was just asking Chris about Ryan,” Kelly says, lifting her eyebrows at Daniel.
“Ah yes, Ryan.” He takes a sip of beer and wipes the foam from his mouth. “Whatever happened to him? You two made the perfect couple.”
I almost choke.
We were far from the perfect couple. It was more like I was agreeable to his coercive ways. He was my first boyfriend and I was a newbie in the world of relationships. I was his third after two prior long-term relationships.
Kelly cuts me a look, checking to see if I’m okay talking about it or if she should change the subject. She’s looking out for me, the way we always have for each other, in the absence of parents who rarely if ever did.
“Last I saw, he’s deeply in love with some Spanish guy,” I say with a tinge of envy, not at Ryan’s situation, but at the fact that everyone around me seems to be in loving relationships. Yet here I am, living in LA, chasing after unavailable men, and reliving a pattern that my therapist tells me is a symptom of the unavailability my father showed me.
Great. What am I meant to do with that?
“His loss, buddy,” Daniel says, hitting me on the shoulder. “There’s plenty more fish in the sea, or sausages in the frying pan. If you get what I mean,” he says, with a wink and a nudge, laughing at his own joke.
I glare.Really, Daniel.
Daniel is many things, but emotionally aware isn’t one of them.
He means well, but he isn’t the guy you go to for a heart-to-heart. It’s probably the lawyer in him. It is a complete 180 from Kelly’s compassionate demeanor, which she employs daily in her job as an art schoolteacher.
“Who was that Alexander guy your friend kept on banging on about last night? I vaguely remember something about him being at your hotel? He invited you to a show?” Kelly pulls a hairband from her wrist and ties her hair back.
A wave of fear hits me.
Shit, I’d texted him last night. Did he reply? I go to grab my phone, but stop. Kelly and Daniel both stare at my hand hovering above the pile of devices. Whoever gives in to temptation first has to pay for dinner. It’s a way to keep us all present.
Fuck it.
I cave. I grab the phone and turn it over. My heart skips a beat when I see an American number show up in my notifications.
