It always used to surprise me that Max was such an optimist, given his rough start in life. So perpetually hopeful. I realize now that that was a coping mechanism. If he looked hard enough at the horizon, hewouldn’t have to contemplate the shifting ground of his present, or the rocky terrain of his past.
“So, Luce,” he says, turning his head to look at me, “mind if I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“Why did you stop drinking?”
I wonder suddenly if he thinks it’s because I had a problem, like Brooke. If, in the back of his mind, he’s wondering if perhaps Brooke and I aren’t so different. Which is a fairly horrific thought.
“Nothing dark,” I say, though of course that isn’t really true. “I just... decided I was happier without it.”
I try to remember how it used to feel, to recall the sensations that ended up scaring me the most: losing control, waking up with no memories of the night before. Being made to feel weak.
Luckily, I struggle to summon them.
“Happier how?” Max asks, setting a hand against my leg.
“Well, I just want to remember everything,” I say. “All the best moments in life. I don’t want to forget any of them.”
He doesn’t reply, just leans over to kiss me instead, moving his hand up my thigh as he does so. And I kiss him back, slightly sad to be relieved that we’re not talking anymore.
—
A few hours later, I blink awake. At first, I’m not sure why—it’s dark and quiet as a cellar in Max’s bedroom.
Or maybe that’s exactly why.
Don’t panic. You’re with Max, in his flat. Breathe. Breathe.
I grope in the direction of the nightstand on my side of the bed, lighting up my phone to check the time.
A message preview is waiting for me, from Tash. I scan it, then scan it again, completely confused.
Max. This is Tash. You need to do the right thing. I don’t know why you’ve started something up with Lucy again, of all people, but you need to—
Frantically, I tap into the message and read the rest.
—end it with her. Don’t see her again. It’s not fair. She wouldn’t be able to take it if she found out.
My heart begins to behave strangely, at first speeding up, then migrating from my chest to my throat. I reread the message in confusion again, and then again.
By the time I realize Tash must have sent it to me in error, my phone has started to ring, over and over and over, a shrill jangle that slices through me, like hearing a scream in the dead of night.
Max sits up in bed, snaps on a light. “Luce, you okay?”
“I... I’m not sure.”
What would I not be able to take? What does Tash not want me to find out?
I get up, groping for the skirt and T-shirt that ended up on the floor a few hours ago. I pull them roughly on, then stand where I am, unsure what to do next and feeling slightly foolish.
“You going to get that?” Max says with a wince, as from the nightstand, my phone continues to ring.
“No, I...”I need to think.
“Luce, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Thoughts are starting to bounce around my brain like tennis balls.If I found out what? Why does Tash want Max to end it with me? If I found out what? If I found outwhat?
