‘I know,’ I murmur, losing myself in the hot, milky tea.
‘I want better for you than he had. Avoiding it doesn’t make it better.’
It sure as hell doesn’t make it worse.
I hadn’t been enough for Dad to want to stay. Not without her. How could I be enough for anyone else?
‘I tried.’ Avoiding her stare, I lose myself in the brown-orange of my tea.
‘Your first love is rarely the love that lasts. It’s the love that teaches you that it takes more than just attraction to make something work. It teaches you your base level for what you need. Learn from what you had with her, but don’t let its loss cripple you.’
Her soft, wrinkled hand covers mine, the warmth anchoring me as it had in so many emotional dips. From the abandonment of my mother, to the death of myfather, to the loss of the first woman I’d believed wanted me for me.
It’s the catalyst of my entire career. So many times, I called it a blessing.
Inside, the void lingers. No matter how often I try to stuff it full of friends, meaningless sex and online adoration.
‘My love life can’t be the only thing happening around here. What about you? Why don’t you get back out there?’
I hope the question will deflect from the black mood that settles over me.
‘Who’d have an old bird like me? I’ve loved enough for a lifetime. I’m happy just as I am.’
‘Same.’
‘Mmhmm.’ Granny’s acknowledgement drips with sarcasm.
Standing, I gather the plates, my skin prickling with the need to escape her questioning. ‘I should head off. Told Ben I’d meet him at the gym.’
Granny’s eyes soften. ‘It’s never too late to walk away from a belief. You’re not the same man now in your thirties as you were at twenty-four. We grow. You don’t need anyone’s permission to outgrow your past.’
Wrong.
I am the same guy, just with a few more lines appearing around my eyes.
Bodies writhe,rim lit by a cascade of different coloured lights. The strobe’s flashing makes the room feel like a dream, the thumping music adding to the far-off sensation.
My feet ache from hours of standing near the bar, shout-talking over the music with Ben and Darren.
The plastic beer cup I’ve clung to for far too long grows warm in my hand, not wanting to tip the line from tipsy to drunk. I can’t if I want to lose myself between someone’s thighs to distract myself from the world for a few hours.
What makes the chase even trickier is avoiding my friends seeing me pull. Taking a woman home had to remain a secret from everyone.
Thankfully, the two of them are sloshed.
I pile the two of them, hands loaded up with dripping kebabs, into a cab and send them home before going back into the club.
All around, people grind against one another, lust seeping from their gyrating bodies and filling the cavernous room with thick tension.
Now to find a woman on the same hunt as I, someone looking for a few hours to lose themselves, and happy to slink home afterwards without trying to make it a thing.
Moving through the skirmish, I survey womenaround me, trying my hardest not to look like a creep. I’m not a creep. Not really. Just avoidant. There were plenty of women just as needy as I, at least.
A pretty woman with dark curls piled on top of her head and ruby red lips catches my eye. She’s near the rear bar, holding a pink neon drink that looks more like something you’d clean a toilet with than consume. Three friends dance around her, laughing and smiling, but she holds my gaze.
It happens.
That bolt of electricity that calls of promise. It threads us together in a moment of hazy desire. It’s not love, not even true attraction, but an understanding.
