I make my voice so soft and feminine, the girl herself would have been proud. “Well, I grew up in London. I was a twin. My sister, Marcie, died when we were seventeen.”
“Christ. I’m so sorry. The same year your dad died?”
Shit. I’d forgotten Dad was supposedly dead, but I don’t let it throw me. I nod, a sad little jerk. “Yes. It’s probably why my mum turned to alcohol at around the same time.”
I need to slow this down. I’m making myself sound like a charity case, and whilesometragedy adds a little flair, too much and people avoid you like the plague. It’s a hard line to walk. I should know. I nearly went overboard when playing this card with Freddie. But that was later.
“You poor thing.” Jack doesn’t sound like he’s put off. His eyes are soft with such sincerity—with suchsympathy—I want to plunge on, if only to keep that look on his face. “Mum still struggles with it, of course. She’ll go through periods of sobriety, but she always seems to fall off again. It’s good I’m staying there, actually. It helps to keep her on the straight and narrow.”
“It’s not an easy thing to kick,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that speaks of his own struggles.
I nod. “She’s my favorite person. I’d do anything for her. And family’s important, after all.” An echo of Freddie’s own words.
“You sound like a good daughter. That’s a lot of responsibility for anyone to take on.”
Icouldsit here all evening and allow him to shower me with compliments, but I’m aware that I have perhaps pushed a little too hard on my own misfortune. “Seems like you’re not the bad omen after all. Sister, dad, boyfriend. I’m coming up trumps.”
A small smile plays on the corner of his mouth. “Very true. Don’t suppose the family dog counts?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Damn.” He leans forward. “I really mean it, though, Iris. I know I haven’t known you long, but you’re a special person. And you’ve been through a lot.”
You’re a special person.It takes everything I have not to throw myself at him across the table. He thinks I’m special. A standout. Someone worth taking note of. I lower my eyes: Modesty is key.No one likes a girlwho’s too full of herself, Marcie had said, sounding entirely full of herself. “That’s kind of you to say. Anyone would have done the same.”
He shakes his head. “They wouldn’t.” He allows the words to sit for a second, then smiles again. “Anyway, tell me about this man of yours. Freddie.” He holds a quick hand out. “I mean, don’t if you don’t want to. I understand some people find it tricky. But I find it helps to talk about her. Alice.”
I’m not quite sure how to frame it. I like that he’s showing an interest in Freddie, but it’s a tricky subject to negotiate. I don’t want him to think I’m not ready if I wax lyrical about Freddie’s many attributes. He had so many lovely qualities. I’ll go vague. Downplay it.
“We worked together. He was my boss, actually, so we had to keep the relationship quiet. He was charming and funny. Liked to be the center of attention.”
Jack smiles encouragingly. “Good-looking?”
I laugh. “In an unconventional way. Pretty questionable dress sense at times, but luckily he toned it down for the office.” I smile as I remember Freddie’s novelty shirts, the ones he wore at the weekends. I liked that he didn’t seem to care how he came across to others.
Jack looks down at his own outfit. The slightly creased white shirt, open at the collar. The suit trousers. “I’m afraid I’m a bit more traditional than all that.”
Do I detect a hint of regret?
“I like traditional,” I say quickly, and he seems pleased.
“Anything youdon’tmiss?” he asks.
It’s an odd question. I think of the argument Freddie and I had just before he died. The accusations that we flung at each other. Accusations we’ve never been able to take back.
Usually, people only focus on the positives of the one they’ve lost, like all the bad was wiped away the moment their heart stopped beating.But we’re all multifaceted. There’s darkness in everyone. And I like that Jack seems to understand this. I wonder if the question comes from a place of jealousy. Not necessarily a bad thing. A bit of healthy competition never hurt anyone.
“I don’t miss fighting with him. We had an argument just before he died. I regret that I didn’t get the chance to say sorry,” I say quietly.
Jack nods slowly. “It’s natural to feel like that, Iris. But fighting is a normal part of any relationship. You couldn’t know what was going to happen. Fights are healthy.”
This is all becoming horribly morose and I don’t like to think of that time if I can help it. I straighten my spine, reestablish eye contact. “And what about you and Alice? What do you miss? Or what don’t you miss?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “I miss so much. Having someone there all the time. Someone to come home to. Her cooking. As for what I don’t miss…” A long pause. “Nothing. She was as close to perfect as I think I’m going to get.”
It’s trite, overly sweet, utterly unrealistic. No person is that perfect. Not even Freddie. I can’t believe Jack’s been crass enough to mention it in front of me.Me.The person he thinks is special, but apparently not perfect. I remove my hand from the table and curl it into a tight fist. I need to get a hold of myself, keep him talking.
“How did you meet?” The question has a gritty edge to it, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles to himself—at some memory, no doubt. Recalling the moment he met hisperfectwife.
