“Yes,friends,” I emphasise before quickly swallowing the distaste in my mouth. Defensive doesn’t even come close to how I feel. Guilty too, because I wasn’t thinking about Jenna like I want to be friends. The realisation is sobering, which is ironic considering how horribly sober I’ve been for months now.
“And why was the spa so traumatic? I can’t imagine it would be a shithole. Not in a place like this, surely?”
What can I say to that?No, it was amazing, but it was also where I had a near-panic attack in the sauna followed by a crying fit in the pool, in front of twoplump elderly German women who kept giving me pitiful smiles and bouncy thumbs-up to check I was okay. And then, when I was in the showers, this totally gorgeous lean machine of a man came in and I said hello to him while I was lathering shower gel on my balls, which meant he pretty much ran away from me in horror. To top it all off, as I watched the muscles in his back and butt flex when he stalked off, I didn’t feel anything. Not a single dick twinge. Not a single filthy, lusty thought entered my mind.
No, I can’t say any of that, not to my sister.
“It’s not a shithole, not at all. I just...” I trail off as I run out of words. I suddenly don’t have the strength to make a joke and swerve the question.
“It’s today,” she says and lifts her eyes to mine. “The date.”
I nod and chew on the inside of my lip, the words still failing me.
“And you wanted a drink?” she asks tentatively.
Again, I nod. I wanted a drink so badly.
“That’s why you came down here.” She lowers her voice. She has our father’s green eyes, but her current solemn expression is all our mother.
“Not exactly,” I say. I find myself smiling, and it feels like a small chink of light in the darkness. “There was this cat...”
“What?” Maeve’s brow wrinkles.
“I was just standing there outside the spa, and this small, scrawny cat appeared, slinking out of the bushes beside the path. He sat down a metre or so away from me and looked at me in that sort of judgmental way cats do. I started petting it and he let me do that for a few minutes until he decided he’d had enough and then he moved a bit further away.”
“But what does that have to do with... well, anything?” Maeve is looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“He was just like Arnie,” I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. “Small, strong, self-assured, and a little needy even if he would never admit it.”
“Are you saying you think that the cat was... is... Arnie?” Maeve’s eyes widen.
“No. Maybe. No. Oh, I don’t fucking know.” My short laugh is strangled. “All I know is that when I asked the cat what I should do next, he turned and walked away, down towards the bar here. And he kept turning around, checking I wasfollowing him. You know how much Arnie loved sunsets and a sundowner cocktail.”
I try really hard to hold on to the smile this memory brings, but it fades like it always does. And Maeve notices.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” she says, looking at me with open, sad eyes.
One year. One whole brutal devastating and destructive year.
“Yeah,” I say.
We hold each other’s gaze for a few moments and then she nods at the sun slipping lower in the sky. “But it’s nearly over.” She rests her hand on my arm, which is unexpected but welcome. “Today. The anniversary. It will soon be done. And you survived.”
I can’t respond to this. I start to chew the side of my cheek.
“You know that’s why they booked it for today,” Maeve continues, her voice slow and soft. “They wanted you to be busy and have something to look forward to.”
I press down with my teeth a little harder. A second later I taste blood.
“And it’s your birthday too, in a few days,” Maeve says and while her hand stays on me, her eyes are back on her phone. She’s never off it too long.
“Don’t remind me.” I groan. “What a sad state of affairs I am, celebrating my birthday stone cold sober with my parents and annoying little sister.”
Maeve’s fake laugh is deliberately loud and coarse. “Your annoying little sister who bailed you out how many times in the last year?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. I know she’s teasing me, but still, it’s a kick in the gut.
“Do me a favour, Marty,” Maeve’s fingers apply a little more pressure on my forearm. “And you can’t say no because you fucken owe me. Try and keep an open mind about your birthday, and this week. You may actually enjoy yourself.”
