Lionel sits next to me, and I take a moment to look at his face. He’s a handsome Black man with soft features – a rounded nose, big dark eyes, a full-lipped mouth that breaks into the brightest smiles – and I wonder not for the first time if my brother finds him attractive. He should.
“Why are you sorry?” He frowns.
“I’m being rude to you,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” he replies. “If I was being stood up, I’d be rude to everybody.” His eyes open wide. “Not that you’re being stood up.”
I manage to laugh a little then, if only to reassure him. “It’s possible I am, and if so, I will need you and my brother to help me avoid him at all costs for the following four days.”
“You can depend on us.” He nods and gives me one of his radiant grins.
“How do you like working with my brother, Lionel?” I ask, hoping we can talk about something that takes my mind further away from how every passing moment that brings the sun lower in the sky really does suggest that Marty isn’t coming.
He drops eye contact with me then and I can’t help but read between the lines when he speaks. “I like it a lot. I’ve learnt so much from him already, and it’s only been six weeks.”
“He can be a bit of a ball-buster though, am I right?”
Lionel squints at me before he laughs too. “He’s firm and direct. I appreciate that.”
“I’m sure he appreciates you too,” I say.
“You think?” His eyes open again and his lips part, waiting for validation.Oh, Lionel, I’m on to you.
Discovering this blossoming bud of attraction Lionel possibly has for my brother has me feeling things that are unexpectedly soothing for my current predicament. So, Marty and I are not to be, but who knows what lies ahead in my future? If I felt attraction like this to Marty, who says I can’t feel it again for someone else? It’s a scrappy crumb of comfort, but a comfort all the same.
“You know what, Lionel,” I say slowly. “I greatly appreciate you keeping me company, but I think I just want to watch the sunset by myself.”
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yes, it's a beautiful night,” I say.And I'm feeling brave, I want to add. I feel stupid, yes – for getting my hopes up, for feeling almost convinced he would show - but I also feel brave. Brave enough to be okay if he doesn’t. Brave enough to sit here alone and watch the sunset, which isn’t as colourful or as dramatic as last night, but is just as captivating, maybe more so because the colours are more subtle, a neat ombre blend of pinks and golds, forcing me to look closer for changes, making me pay attention and be more mindful. Glancing out at the beach area ahead, I see a couple have stolen our idea from last night and are reclining on sun loungers staring at the sunset. I feel strangely possessive, but still, I smile at them. The sun is minutes away from diving into the sea, and while part of me is ready to watch it alone, I know I will do so reminiscing about how that was Marty and I last night.
I have to get used to this. I have to get used to being alone. Alone. Not lonely, alone.
Lionel says goodbye and as he walks away, I allow myself one last look around the rear of the bar, scanning faces and searching bodies. But he’s not there. Marty’s not coming.
“It’s okay,” I promise myself, my ears needing to hear the words as much as my mouth needs to say them. “It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Marty
Idream of Arnie.
There's no plot, no action, no vivid scene playing out but he's there. We're together. I can feel his hair under my hand, his skin on mine. I can smell him, a soft and spicy floral scent that I would breathe in by pressing my nose to his collar bone, the curve of his neck and the corners of his groin. I don’t know where we are but it's him as he was, before he became ill. He's solid and strong and his skin is tanned, so it must be summer which will make him happy because he loved sunny days the most. I can hear his voice, a little lighter in pitch than my own, but just as husky because he was the only person who ever talked just as much as me, if not more. As I start to wake, I feel that plummeting realisation that it’s just a dream and I do all I can to stay in it, to stay with him. However, lucidity continues to pull on me and I know it will be over soon. Before I go completely, I beg him to laugh for me. Please, just let me hear him laugh. Let me see him smile, I plead. I just want to know he's okay.
Are you happy, Arnie? Are you happy?
I wake up with an ache in my chest, the kind that makes you question if you can take another breath. It's dull and sharp at the same time, heavy and electric, pulling my ribcage in and pushing my heart out. I don't even open my eyes fully because I can't. All I can do is roll over, gather the sheets up in a fist that I hold near my sternum and wait for it to pass.
Eventually, it eases but I don’t feel much relief. Crushed, exhaustion washes over me as I finally push up to sitting and then start to get my bearings.
I'm in my bedroom in the holiday villa. The curtains are closed, but I swear I didn't do that. Their blackout material keeps the room dark, but there's still a little light creeping through the gaps at the floor and in the middle where they aren't fully closed. There's also a glass of water on the bedside table and two paracetamols.Ma. And there's my phone. I reach for it and check the time.
“Shit!”
I jump up and pull the curtains open. The pinks and oranges in the sky make me feel sick. I can't see the sun from this angle, but I know that while it hasn't set yet, it's soon. Too soon.
“Fecking fuckface fucker!” I shout. I fell asleep. I fell asleep for a long time. Hours.
