“We need to move quickly. I know there’s a surgeon in your way, and trust me: that’s not a good thing. It’s hard enough with a doctor, even when he’s gay. Trust me.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Neither are you. Do you want to just sit there moaning about the past, or do you want to think about what the fuck we’re going to do?”
She knows it’s too late as she’s walking on by… My soul slides away… “But don’t look back in anger,” I heard you say1.
Ryan flicks off the radio, impatient now.
“I hate that guy,” he says, gesturing towards the radio. “He does it on purpose. He just sits there, waiting for the best moment to play something that gets right on your nerves.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Liam Gallagher!”
I look at the radio, then look back at Ryan, concerned.
“Forget it. Let’s get back to us.”
“O-okay.”
Ryan calms himself down and stops yelling at the radio. He looks at me, serious again, and asks me brazenly:
“You want her, right?”
That’s a tough question, Ryan.You should know I’m not that smart by now.
“I…”
I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Not until right now, or maybe an hour ago…two days ago…
Images start to take shape in my mind. Not like in photos, but more like the negatives – you know, the ones from twenty years ago, that you had to take in to get developed. They’re dark, and unclear, but if you hold them to the light and really pay attention, you can just make out the important parts. Even though you can’t quite distinguish who the photo is of – their silhouette, their gaze, the light in their eyes – your heart knows who is in the photo, because your heart lived through that moment. It’s imprinted into your memory, and you can’t help but recognise it. Even though the negatives are burned, or lost, or forgotten in some dusty box underneath a mountain of useless junk, you can still remember that moment perfectly.
And I have so many of those moments. They were hidden for a while, under a sea of crap and a kilo of dust, but I can feel them around me. They’re dancing in front of my eyes.
They were all perfect moments. It was me who was the problem, because I couldn’t recognise that; and I let them go.
And now it’s time to gather them all back up again, and create some more.
With her.
My heart is pumping ferociously in my chest at the mere thought of what could happen between us, in a way that we never had before.
The only way possible.
I turn to Ryan and nod.
“This isn’t another one of your fuck-ups, right?”
I shake my head no, as Ryan gets irritated in the seat next to me. “You’re not going to get bored of this toy as soon as you get a new one?”
I shake my head again, and Ryan’s face becomes almost purple with rage. It wouldn’t surprise me if he punched me in the face.
“What did you do, Nick? Or, what did you do toher? And this time, answer me, or I swear I’ll go and get Mum.”
“I lied to her.”
In the worst way. I lied to her and to myself, and I kept lying for eight years. And I hate lies. I’m pure honesty.
