‘I’m not people, am I?’ Reeni barks. ‘And stop avoiding the question. We’re not talking about me. How do you feel about him?’
‘Which one?’
‘Let’s start with Jackson?’ Reeni’s conker-brown eyes are serious. ‘Ignore the past. Think here and now. Really feel about him?’
I knew she’d start there. And I don’t want to examine my feelings, but she’s staring straight at me. I take a moment.
‘I didn’t think there would be any feelings there. How couldthere be with the way it all imploded? And we’re grown up now. Surely, we’re different people?’
I pause, knowing if I say the next bit I’ll never be able to take it back.
Sod it. ‘I still feel like I did all those years ago.’ I avoid looking at Reeni and stare at the seagull, daring it to blink. ‘It’s like I’m fifteen again and he makes me feel like no one else ever has.’ My chest tightens. It’s the one thing I haven’t even let myself think since I first bumped into Jackson. ‘I keep thinking about him. About us all those years ago.’
What I can’t bring myself to tell her is the guilt I still feel at hiding from him the biggest things that ever happened to me. A thing that affected him too, but I never told him. And something I can never take back and never change, but I’ve somehow learnt to live with.
Reeni takes a long sip from her bottle of water.
‘Say something …’ I say, trying to gauge her mood, ‘… anything.’
‘What about Greg? Where does he fit in?’ She pauses to put the lid back on the bottle. ‘Are you being fair to him?’
I shuffle on my bottom and sit up taller. ‘Jackson is my past. Greg’s the future. I know that. I need to find a way to get Jackson out of my head. That’s all.’
‘You need to talk to him, then. You’re not two fifteen-year-olds anymore. Have a grown-up conversation about the past. Put it to bed, move on. What’s the worst that can happen?’
That he’ll be disappointed in me all over again. I answer Reeni in my head before saying something completely different out loud. ‘I don’t think I can.’
Reeni pauses as if she’s trying to work out how to word something. ‘You’ve never even fully opened up to me, never mind him. But if you don’t deal with it, it’s going to hover above you both like a nasty smell and eventually contaminateeverything, including your relationship with Greg. You need to explain why you ran away from him after the miscarriage. You totally ghosted the poor guy.’
I want to put my fingers in my ears and shoutla la la. A part of me knows she’s right, but another part thinks that maybe we don’t. Maybe, I know better. After all, Jackson hasn’t brought our history up, so why should I? I’ll move on with Greg and everything will be fine.
‘Maybe,’ I say vaguely.
‘Ellie.’ There’s a warning tone in Reeni’s voice. ‘Do not stick your head in the sand over this.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ I say. And she might be, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take her advice. Besides, my business is going up in flames. I won’t be able to stay around here, and he’ll be going back to Australia, so I won’t be bumping into him. What’s the point of upsetting the apple cart now?
We lapse into silence.
‘Why is everyone bloody pregnant?’ growls Reeni, suddenly. She nods towards a beautiful lady walking along the main street. ‘She’s about the fourth pregnant person I’ve seen today. They’re bloody everywhere.’ She grabs a carrot stick out of her tub and bites down on it hard. ‘I’d look far better in that dress, too. She looks a right state.’
The lady Reeni is talking about is wearing a bright floral print dress with a fuchsia sash and a knee-length swishy skirt, and quite frankly, looks stunning.
‘Stop being grumpy. She looks lovely.’
‘Sorry. I’m fed up, that’s all.’ She jams her half-eaten carrot stick back into the tub. ‘Do you know what Aaron had the cheek to say to me the other day? “Come on then, I’m tired. Let’s get it over with”.’
She glares at me as if it’s my fault.
‘As if having sex is a chore. How bloody dare he? And when Icomplained, he told me to pull myself together and stop feeling sorry for myself. Think about all the people he has to deal with and, in comparison, our life is great.’ She’s grinding her teeth in frustration.
‘Ever think he could be right?’ I brace myself for her reply, but I’m fed up with listening to how shit her life is. She should try mine on for size once in a while.
‘Well, he’s not right. This is my life and I’m his wife. He should be able to empathise with how I’m feeling. He should be supporting me, not comparing me to his bloody dying patients.’
‘Reeni!’
She has the decency to look mortified. ‘Sorry. But why does no one understand what I’m going through?’ She sounds like a sulky five-year-old who just got told off.
