but he was involved too, to some extent. He went through it with us; he knows how hard it’s all been. He understands. He’s been there for me. More than Michael has. But I still feel that guilt, sometimes.
‘Surely we didn’t go through all that shit just to lose everything?’ I say quietly, and I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t, not really. Instead he checks his watch and continues to eat as though I hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t asked that question.
‘What if he keeps putting those barriers up?’
Again, no response.
‘I know Michael’s hiding something.’
He finally looks up, laying down his fork, his attention is on me now. ‘Hiding what?’
‘I don’t know … I don’t know anything for sure, I just …’ I sit back. I can feel that weariness start to flood my body again. That doubt, that uncertainty, it’s rushing forward, threatening to overwhelm me, but then I remember what I saw, at Michael’s office. I remember the way she looked at him, the way he looked at her. I remember that. I remember what’s gone before too. I remember the past. And now that doubt and uncertainty is being chased away by a fire in my belly. I have a mission, right? I have a job to do. ‘He’s looking for a distraction.’
‘And you’re not?’
Liam looks at me, right into my eyes, and I drop my gaze, because he’s right. We’re both looking for distractions. We both need them, and that’s part of the problem. ‘I saw her.’
‘Saw who?’
‘Ava.’
I wasn’t going to say anything about this, but I really can’t stop myself. I can’t.
‘Who the hell is Ava?’
‘One of Michael’s students …’
‘Jesus Christ …’ He throws back his head. He’s not even attempting to hide his exasperation now. And I can see it on his face. It’s not there as much as it is on Michael’s – that expression I’m all too familiar with – but it’s there all the same. The disappointment, the frustration, the wishing I’d just drop all this shit and get on with my life. It’s there, now, I can see it clear as day.
‘And you think, what? That he’s sleeping with her?’
His bluntness shocks me a little, but maybe he’s just doing that to try and make me see things more clearly, but I know what I saw. And I don’t want to argue with him. I don’t need that. ‘The way he looked at her … the way she looked at him, there was something else there …’
I leave that sentence hanging, because I’m not entirely sure how to finish it, and Liam, he stays silent for a few seconds, his eyes down, and now I’m wondering if I should’ve confided in him at all. Maybe I should’ve kept this to myself, until I had something more concrete. Until I knew, for sure.
‘My husband refuses to talk to me. He refuses to talk about something that we still need to talk about, I still need to talk about. It doesn’t matter whether he’s moved on or not, I haven’t. I haven’t. And if he’s looking for some kind of distraction … Is it my fault? Have I pushed him into this?’
‘Pushed him into what?’ He looks up, and his eyes – that frustration is still there, but there’s something else. He understands, all too well. ‘What exactly do you think is going on, Ellie?’
I let a couple of beats go by before I answer him. ‘What if it’s happening again?’
My voice is barely a whisper. I’m not crazy. I’m not imagining anything.
‘What am I supposed to do? Just fall into line, suck it up and wait for him to get whatever he’s doing out of his system? Is that how it works now?’
‘Maybe he’s just found his own way of dealing with things.’ He finally faces me again, and looks at me hard. ‘And you have yours.’
He holds my gaze for the briefest of seconds, and then he’s signalling for the bill. He’s calling an end to this now. And I feel that rush of guilt return.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep using you as a sounding board, it isn’t fair.’
And it isn’t, but right now life isn’t fucking fair, and I’m tired of everyone just expecting me to be over this. To forget. To accept that things have changed. To move on. I’ll move on when I’m ready, and I’m not ready yet.
‘I’m always here, Ellie, if you need me. You know that.’ His tone has lost that slight edge now, and I smile, reaching for his hand, but he pulls it away as the waitress places our bill on the table. I just wanted to thank him, for being here. For listening to me, again.
‘Liam, I … thank you.’
‘Are you going to be okay?’
I nod. I’m going to be fine.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here … Look, I’ve got nothing on this afternoon, do you want me to come over? Keep you company?’
I look at him, and his expression’s one of concern now. Jesus, I don’t need his pity, too. ‘I don’t need babysitting.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘No. I know it isn’t, I’m sorry.’
‘I haven’t got anything planned, and if Michael’s not home …’
‘I said no, Liam.’ I hold his gaze, because I mean it. I don’t want him to come home with me. I don’t need him to do that. I don’t need looking after. ‘Besides, I’m not going home. I’m going to work.’
‘Okay.’ He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I get the message.’
I gather up my things and fish my car keys out of my bag, and then I hesitate for a second. I give his offer of company a second thought. If Michael still isn’t back. Then I push that thought to the back of my mind. I need to be on my own now, to think.
‘I really am grateful, Liam. For everything.’
We fall into step alongside each other as we walk to our cars, the silence between us so different to the one that constantly haunts Michael and me. This one is a friendly, comfortable silence, whereas the ones that have gradually developed between me and my husband – they’re laced with unspoken words, locked-away feelings, they’re tinged with guilt.
‘Hey. Come here.’
We stop by my car and I turn to face Liam; let him pull me in for a hug.
‘Remember what I said, all right? I’m always here, if you need me.’
I step back from him, and I smile. ‘I know.’
I watch as he heads down to the street, to his own car, wait until he’s driven away before I get into mine, and once again I just sit there. I don’t make any attempt to drive away, not yet. I turn on the radio and
