I need to tie up all the loose ends with Jude. Get as much of my stuff out of the house as I can, which isn’t going to be pleasant. Work out whether he’s going to stay and pay all the rent, or whether I still need to pay half. Hopefully try to end things so we’re on speaking terms, as we live in the same town and work at the same place. Only then can I make a decision on what’s going to happen with Archer, and whether I want to work at PAWS. It has to be done in that order. I don’t know why. Maybe so I can justify to myself that one isn’t influencing the other.
It’s a bit late for that, I tell myself sarcastically. But even though we did sleep together on Saturday, it doesn’t feel as if it had anything to do with my breakup. The two things are separate in my mind, even if they don’t look it to everyone else. Sleeping with Archer isn’t the reason I’m breaking up with Jude. And breaking up with Jude isn’t the reason I decided to have sex with Archer.
I think. I’m too tired to figure it all out.
I don’t want to do any of it, but I have to, and there’s no point in procrastinating. I take out my phone, bring up Jude’s number, and think about what message to send. I’m not going to ask if it’s okay if I can come around because the house is still mine. And I remind myself that I haven’t done anything wrong. Archer and I could probably have been a little more discreet, but both of us believed Jude and I were over. So I mustn’t do what I normally do and apologize.
Me: I’d like to come over around six and pick up some more of my things. We also need to talk about the rent etc. Will you be there?
Jude: Yep.
I give a short laugh, then toss my phone onto the table with a clang. What did I expect? A heartfelt declaration of love? Him metaphorically dropping to his knees, begging me to stay? That was never going to happen, and even though it would have been gratifying, it would only have made it harder, because we’re over.
The dawning of that reality is like the sun rising over the bay—slow, elegant, and graceful. My relationship is over. In a way, like the sunrise, it was inevitable, an ending of a decline so gradual I suspect it began only months after we started dating. We’re like a knitted sweater with all the leftover wool still dangling. I’ve cast off the last stitch, and all that remains is to snip off the loose ends and tuck them away neatly.
I check the phone—it’s nearly two p.m. Noah gave me the afternoon off, so I don’t have to go back to work. I get up and go inside, and wander lethargically through the cottage, opening cupboards and seeing what’s there. It’s fully furnished, so I don’t really need to bring anything from the house in terms of crockery or bedding.
I go into the small bedroom, lie on the bed, and look out the window. The summer sky reminds me of Archer’s eyes.
I think part of the reason I need to sort things out with Jude first is that I don’t want that relationship to taint whatever happens with Archer. Also, he needs time to sort out his friendship with Jude. I have to acknowledge that it’s possible he might decide to put his friendship first. He’s known Jude a lot longer than he’s known me, and the bro-code is important to men, plus Archer’s strong sense of loyalty and his need to do the right thing will mean what we did will play heavily on his mind.
Turning onto my side, I pull down a pillow, hug it tightly, and close my eyes. My throat is tight with held-back emotion, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. The night we were together, he made me feel beautiful, special, and loved. It’s strange when I think back, but over the last couple of years in many ways I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with him more than I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with Jude. Archer is so easy. I never feel tense when I’m with him. I don’t have to walk through our conversations as if they’re a minefield, terrified of hearing that click that means I’ve stepped on a mine.
I’ve sought him out when I’ve felt in need of comfort or someone to talk to, not necessarily about anything personal or private, just to chat about work or family stuff or in general about my day. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me, and how comfortable I am with him.
Have I ruined any chance of something developing between us? If I’d been more self-aware, and broken up with Jude first, I wouldn’t have put Archer in the position of feeling guilty about betraying his best friend. It’s not all my fault—he could have said no—but I have to accept a good part of the blame. Instead, because of what I’ve done, I might have lost them both.
The tears finally start to fall, and I dissolve into grief. I cry until I have no more tears, and then, disgusted with myself, exhausted, and wanting to escape, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
*
When I wake, the sun is lower in the sky, and the cottage is very warm, the air humid. I sit up, feeling disoriented, but a little better. It’s silly and childish to be overwhelmed by self-pity. This hasn’t been thrust upon me. I’m making the only sensible decision about my relationship and my life that I can. Regardless of what happens with Archer, the breakup with Judehadto happen, and now, like a truck gathering speed as it moves downhill, I have to move on.
It’s nearly five. I have a lot to do, and it’s time to get on with it.
It’s incredibly warm and sticky, and I turn on the air conditioning unit and leave it on, so it’ll be nice and cool when I return later. I start a new note on my phone of things I need to do, including speaking to Noah about contributing to bills and paying rent—I can’t possibly stay here for free.
I visit the bathroom, wash my hands, and splash some water on my face. I don’t have any makeup with me, but I’ll go to Kim’s place first, pick up my bag, and freshen up there before I see Jude.
So I set off, taking the path around the paddocks, and then crossing the Quad and heading down the drive. I don’t bump into anyone, which I’m grateful for. I stride out, enjoying the exercise, and lift my face to the sun and the warm sea breeze. Sunrise Bay lies spread out before me, the sea glittering in the bright sunshine. The kids are back at school after the long summer break and Waitangi day has been andgone, so consequently there are fewer tourists around. Summer will persist up here for a while though, longer than it does in more southern parts of the country.
It’ll be tough, but I’m going to get through this.
I take the road to Kim’s house, pushing myself to walk fast, feeling the burn in my muscles. I’d like to get back into running again. I used to run every morning when I was younger, but I’ve lapsed since I’ve been with Jude. Again, it’s nobody else’s fault, but it’s time to get my life back under control.
When I arrive, I go around the back of the house and discover Kim and Simon in the kitchen. She’s lifting burgers from an oven tray onto split buns. He’s retrieving some cheese from the fridge. Their posture is stiff and jerky, and he closes the fridge door with more force than is necessary before he sees me.
“Hey you,” Kim says as I walk in. “I was wondering where you were. I’m just dishing up.” I look at her red eyes. She’s been crying.
Suddenly, I can’t bear the thought of staying. Would it be terrible of me to leave? Having someone else present can help if the atmosphere is unpleasant, but equally I comfort myself with the thought that the two of them need to sort things out, and they can’t talk while I’m there.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly, “I should have messaged. I can’t stay.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh? What are you up to?”
“I’ve found myself a place to stay. Noah King has offered me his cottage for a few weeks. I hope you don’t mind. I really need some time to myself.”
She studies the burgers for a moment. Then she says, “No, it’s okay. I mean, why would you stay? It’s a fucking unpleasant atmosphere here. Hell, evenIdon’t want to stay.” She gives a short, humorless laugh and slaps the tops of the bun on the burgers.
