“What are you doing?”
I take him literally, maybe deliberately misunderstanding him. “Looking for headache tablets,” I reply as I find them. “Ta-da,” I cry and immediately regret my own raised voice that won’t be singing again anytime soon. I grab two bottles of water and offer one to Mase.
“I mean this, the mess of you and the girls?”
His serious frown makes him look like our dad and I laugh for no reason beyond the fact that my brother is truly whipped by Liv and marriage. My brain vibrating against my skull suggests laughter was also a mistake.
“Mase, just because your days of three ways are behind you, don’t condemn us all to the same mind-numbing monogamous fate. Anyway, why aren’t you on your honeymoon?” I hope I haven’t missed something bad happening as I have been on a real bender, night after night since I royally fucked up my handling of Anita. It’s for the best I tell myself for what feels like the millionth time since that night outside the restaurant.
“Grow up!” he snaps, and I assume that is in response to my monogamous comment. “My honeymoon ended yesterday and this morning my wife got a call from her father…”
“Shit, I didn’t do anything, Mase,” I plead, hoping he’ll believe me. What the fuck is the matter with Anita and her father that she must make a big deal out of her hurt feelings and why would her father decide he needed to tell Liv about it all? Presumably she has then shared with Mase and here he is. “We went for dinner, and it was as awkward as fuck. I thought about what you said about being honest regarding what I wanted and could offer, and I was. I thought we were on the same page and then when I suggested she needed to bring her car to mine so she could go home afterwards, she went mental and slapped me. I haven’t seen or spoke to her since.”
Mase sits on the sofa, staring at me. He might be mildly amused judging by his face, or it could be wind or just his smug in love face.
“Well fucking say something,” I demand and then hold my head as my raised voice echoes around me again.
“My wife received a call from her father who explained that he has a business issue…his kitchen at the catering company is knackered and his domestic kitchen isn’t suitable,” Mase explains and although I understand the words I am only concerned about Anita.
“What happened to the kitchen?” I hope to convey false nonchalance.
“Gas explosion,” he replies flatly but I am beside myself now.
“When? How? Is she okay? Not Liv, Anita, is she okay? Was she there?”
Mase shakes his head. “She should have slapped you harder or taken a leaf out of her sister’s book and punched you.” He grins, clearly thinking of the time Liv punched him. “She’s fine, they’re all fine. It happened at night.”
“So, what has the kitchen got to do with me?” Once I hear my own question, I know exactly how it involves me. “No, Mase, fuck, no!”
“You have the facilities. You’re the only one I know who does and I said I would ask you.”
“Ask? Is that what you’re doing?” I feel certain he is telling me he’s already agreed to it.
“It is. If you say no, I’ll go back and tell them no. It makes no difference to me beyond the fact that Olivia will feel better knowing it’s sorted, and I need her to be relaxed, but if I need to, I’ll hire them somewhere until their premises are back in action.”
“But then she’ll know. Anita. She’ll know I said no.”
“And that matters, why? You fucked it up with her, cut her loose or at least let her cut herself loose. You’ve moved on or at least reverted to type. Does it matter what Anita thinks or knows?”
His question is reasonable. It shouldn’t matter, but it does, and my smug and conceited brother knows that.
“Fucking fine, let them use my kitchen, but don’t blame me if I end up fucking her again,” I snap to a grinning Mase who is shaking his head at me.
“Good luck with Nigel around.” He laughs, but then more seriously says, “Dec, don’t mess her around. If you have licked your rejected wounds and want to try and make amends fine, but do not fuck her about, she doesn’t deserve it. Plus, I have left Olivia with Anita so I am sure next time it will be a punch, not a slap. Oh, and as I say, I need my wife to remain relaxed.”
“Why? Why does Liv need to be relaxed…oh, wow, should I be congratulating you, big brother?”
“Yes, you fucking should!” my brother replies with a smile of immense proportions, and I am pleased that he is so genuinely happy, pleased and a little bit jealous, the latter being something I reject quickly.
Anita
My legs feel as though they belong to someone else, but unfortunately my banging head is all my own. The walk of shame is never easy but is compounded when the final destination is your family home where your parents are and most likely, your brothers too.
Since that night with Dec, I have tried to spend as much time out of the house as possible. I had a couple of days where I stayed in, ate chocolate and cried, but then I picked myself up and brushed myself down and hit the town. I met a guy on the first night out and we’ve been seeing each other most nights since, work permitting. He’s nice, kind of. His name is Jack, and he has just split up from the mother to his two kids so is looking for nothing beyond some fun, which is fine. I am happy with that. I briefly consider that Dec was offering me the same, but the difference is that Jack didn’t plan on turfing me out onto the street once he was done. No, he lets me stay all night and even makes me coffee before I return home in last night’s dress which is what I am doing now.
“Oh bollocks!” I cry as my heel gets stuck in one of the gaps in the paving. I pull my foot free and yank the thing out with my hand, completing the journey up the path wearing just one shoe and hobbling as though I have one leg longer than the other.
It looks like everyone might be home, my parents and certainly my oldest brother and stepbrother, Scott. All the cars on the drive and the road confirm that, but I figure none of them should be judging me and if they are, tough, because there is far more about me that they don’t know that they certainly should and would judge me for if they were to discover, which they won’t. Nobody will, not ever.
