Commitment Issues by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elliot
I put my arm out expecting it to coil around Freddie. I like to feel him here, next to me in bed, but this morning I don’t find him, and where he should be there’s just an empty place with nothing more than the hint of fading warmth.
My eyes snap open, to see him just about to open the door. He’s fully clothed, and I already know he’s getting ready to go.
“Freddie?”
“Morning,” he says, but nothing more. No smile, no kiss, nothing other than his hand rubbing and squeezing at his neck.
Everything about him is unsure and nervous, reminding me of when we’d first met, and when I’d watched him as he’d waited for me outside the Tube station, the day I took him shopping for a suit. But we’re beyond that now, aren’t we? So why—? And then it hits me. My lack of response last night, from the moment I’d walked through the door to when I’d stilled his hand on my body, and turned my back to fall into a fitful sleep.
Christ, no wonder he looks like he wants to run as far and as fast as he can.
I pat the place beside me. “Come here.”
He hesitates for a moment, before coming across and perching next to me; he’s wary and I don’t blame him.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I take his hand in mine. “I’m sorry I was so — inattentive. I had a difficult week, more difficult than I was expecting, and it wiped me out. It wasn’t you, as the saying goes, it was me.”
Freddie’s lips lift in a tentative smile.
“You seemed… Tired, very tired.”
Tired. Yes that’s what I was, so bloody tired, but that’s not the word he meant to say, and my gut twists. His hand’s lying limp in mine, and I bring it to my lips and lay a soft kiss on the knuckles, and I’m rewarded with a softer smile. It’s Saturday, and my brain’s already running along the lines of a pub lunch somewhere, a walk on the Heath, perhaps the cinema… Then I remember. Work. Important follow-up work from the week just gone. I can’t put it off when that’s all I want to do.
“I’ve got a lot of work to get through today, and I can’t get out of it, but this evening, let me take you out for dinner.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
There’s a very good Italian not too far away, which he likes, and I’ll make sure I get us a table. “Meet me here at seven o’clock, okay?”
“Sure, that’ll be lovely.”
I suggest breakfast, but he shakes his head. “You’re not the only one who’s got stuff to do. I’ll see you later.”
And then he’s gone, and there’s nothing but the sound of my own heart and the heavy sense of how empty the house suddenly feels.
* * *
I rush to open the door when the bell rings. Freddie’s standing outside, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a fitted light blue shirt that clings to his torso, and over that a denim jacket. Summer’s fading into autumn and although the days are still warm, the evenings are already bringing in a hint of chill. The wind’s picked up and it’s roughing up his hair, which is a golden cloud around his head. He looks young and fresh and full of life because that’s everything he is, and everything I’m not.
“Am I coming in or are we heading straight out?” he asks. It’s a valid question because I’m standing and staring at him, rather than welcoming him in.
“We’ll go now.” I grab my keys, wallet and jacket as he waits for me on the step, and a second later we’re off.
As we make our way along the street, I want to take his hand, but they’re thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, and his head’s down. There’s an air about him, not closed off, but as though he’s preoccupied. I lick my lips, ready to ask if he’s all right, but before I have the chance, we’re at the restaurant and the door’s being opened by the smiley proprietor. We hand over our jackets, and we’re shown to a table set for two overlooking the little courtyard garden, with its tubs of bright flowers and fragrant shrubs, the walls trailing softly glowing fairy lights. It’d be heart-stoppingly romantic if this were a romantic dinner for two.
“So, what were you doing today?” I ask as I peruse the menu.
“I managed to get a last-minute shift at the supermarket, which came in handy.”
“Oh.” His answer’s not what I’m expecting, but I can’t help the image my brain conjures up of Freddie. Stacking up tins and jars, as I’m wading through a report and firing off emails, tired and fed up of a deal that’s been fraught with problems, when the sun’s been shining outside, when we could’ve been together, a lazy day with lunch and wine, and an even lazier afternoon in bed. What a waste of a day.
“But there won’t be too many more.”
“What do you mean?” There’s something in his voice that makes me sit up.
Freddie shifts in his seat and crosses his arms in front of him over the table. “My Prof. rang me up today. She had news for me.”
My stomach clenches. News.
“It’s not been made official yet, because I’m going to have to wait for the letter to come through with the offer, but I’ve been accepted. I got a place at the Institute, in Oslo.”
“You have? That’s…”
A nightmare, a tragedy, the worst fucking thing ever. He’s got everything he wants and has worked so hard for, and I should be happy for him when instead all I want to do is weep. But that’s my problem, not his, because I always knew this day would come but it’s hit me with a heavier punch than I ever imagined it would. I force myself to smile when I want to drop my head into my hands.
“That’s fantastic news. It’s everything you want, isn’t it?” The question hangs like an axe waiting to fall. The air around us feels loaded and charged with dangerous electricity. He hesitates before answering, and I tell myself he’s going to say no, it’s not everything he wants because there’s something he wants more.
“Yes, yes it is. I’ve worked so hard for it. It’s rare for them to take anybody without a PhD, and I’ve still got a long way to go with mine.” Colour flushes his cheeks. “But according to my Prof., they’re very impressed by the papers I’ve published so far. Innovative, they said.” He shrugs as shyness overcomes him. “But my Prof.’s also a heavyweight in the field, and I’m sure her recommendation carried a lot of sway.”
No, I’m not having him diminish his achievement.
“Anything she could have said would have been no more than the icing on the cake. You’ve done the work Freddie, you’re the one who’s got you where you want to be.”
His smile and the deepening pink washing over his face is all I need to know that my words have hit the mark, and I’m glad I can make him feel good when good is the last thing I’m feeling.
“This calls for a celebration.” I beckon for a waiter and order a bottle of champagne to be brought to our table.
Champagne, the drink for celebrations when celebrate is the last thing I want to do. But this is about Freddie, about what he’s achieved, and about what he’s going to go on to achieve. He’s about to take the next step in his life and I should feel privileged that I’m here to share it with him.
I force myself to smile as the cork’s popped and the champagne poured.
“To your future.” We chink glasses, and he mumbles his thanks.
The waiter finally comes to take our orders. I rattle off my random choices not having the faintest idea of what they are. Freddie and I talk of this and that, nothing of any weight, but eventually the conversation comes round again, as it must, to Freddie’s news and what it means for him.
“You told your parents I assume, and Cosmo?” To my surprise he shakes his head.
“No. After she called me, which fortunately was just after I finished my shift, I wanted to kind of assimilate the news. It doesn’t feel real but maybe that’s just because I haven’t got the letter yet, but I should get that at some point next week. I — I wanted to tell you first.”
He’s looking at me with the same smile I always associate with him, the smile that’s both brash and shy and my heart skips a beat
“Me? You wanted me to be the first to know?” His words move me, and I have no idea what to say, and I say nothing.
“Yeah.” He shrugs and looks down. “I’ll tell everybody else tomorrow, and then I suppose I’m going have to get thinking about arrangements. God, there’s going to be so much to do. Sorting out the finances, my accommodation and stuff I don’t even know about yet.”
“I know Oslo well, I could…” Be there with you, be your guide in your first few days or weeks, help you get settled in… “Give you some tips.”
He smiles but there’s something strained and breakable about it. It’s not the smile I’ve come to know so well. There’s something unreadable in the curve of his lips and in the depths of his eyes, and it’s as though I’m looking at a stranger.
“Thanks, that’ll be useful, but, erm, I know they’ve got a really good orientation programme.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sure they have.”
Our orders arrive and I recognise what’s on my plate, but as I fork it up, it’s like eating cardboard.
We talk about everything except the subject that really needs to be talked about. He’s going, just as I always knew he would, but it feels like my heart’s been dug out of my chest with an old and rusty shovel.
Our being together has always been a casual arrangement, nothing heavy, nothing serious. No strings. Friends with benefits. And we’ve been friends, good friends and, in my heart, so much more than friends. He’s stepping into his new life while I feel like I’m wading through my old one. I’ve held back from asking for more from him. It wouldn’t be right to, is what I’ve been telling myself, because he has so much waiting for him, so much to achieve. Yet there’s another reason why I’ve said nothing, why I’ve never taken that first step that would fully open myself up to him.
Fear.
I’ve had my heart broken before. Gavin, for all that he’s nothing more than a fading stain, tore me apart, and I believed I’d never mend. Until Freddie. With his gentle smile, his bright intelligence, and endearing mix of brash and awkward shyness, he’s put the pieces of my heart back together again. Yet, now he’s going, and my fear is that my heart will shatter once more.
