We stop at the traffic signal. A red light. If only Jim would talk to me, engage with me, keep things moving.
‘I guess we’re both just having a bad day, huh?’ I say, in an attempt to sound upbeat.
It sort of works. Jim laughs.
‘Can you remember your worst bad day?’ I ask.
‘You serious?’
‘It helps.’
‘How?’
‘Because, Jim, it reminds you that things aren’t as bad as they seem right now.’
‘Quite the philosopher, aren’t you?’
‘Mine’s when my parents split. I mean, it was so obvious for months, but, God. The news hit me like … whoa. I can’t even imagine them being together now, but that day sticks in my mind as being fucking awful. I knew I was about to lose a lot more than just a set of parents. And I was right. Gut instincts, eh? Are your parents still together?’
Jim’s eyes glance across at me and back to the road ahead.
‘Oh, Jim. Forgive me. Please. That was not appropriate.’
‘Me dad died.’
I close my eyes, try to disappear.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper.
‘It was a while ago. But it doesn’t feel like a while ago.’
I tell myself to shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Now.
‘What happened?’ I ask. Why? Why did I just ask that? What’s wrong with me? ‘Actually, no, you don’t have to answer that—’
‘Just keeled over.’
‘Oh, my.’
‘He was going the pub, couple of mid-week pints, the usual. Never made it as far as the pub. He said, “Ta-ra, see you later”, picked up his keys from the little dish on the mantlepiece, took his coat, even though it was July. And that was it. The end.’
I don’t respond.
‘His heart was beating, then it wasn’t,’ Jim goes on, quite matter-of-fact. ‘Just walking to the pub. That’s all. Fuck me, there’s nothing like finding out that’s happened to make you sort your shit out. Accept your responsibilities.’
Well, maybe that explains the expensive car, Jim having to take over his dad’s business. I hate how quickly I judged him. I should apologise, but it doesn’t feel right to do so, or to say anything, really, so I reach out to place my hand gently on Jim’s forearm, his hand resting on the gearstick. But I don’t get the chance to fulfill my intention as Jim moves to indicate left. I doubt he even noticed what I did, and to save myself possible embarrassment, I tap the gearstick in pretend admiration and then clasp both of my hands together to prevent any future urges.
‘Ha!’ Jim laughs, a cynical burst that startles me. ‘Christ, I don’t know why I just told you all that, love. Ignore me, I’m probably still a bit bollocksed. Spouting shit. Sorry, like.’
Fleetwood Mac perks up through the speakers.
‘You can go your own way …’
‘Oh, I love this song,’ I smile.
It might only be from one side of his mouth, but I’m sure that Jim’s smiling, too.
‘Me too,’ he says.
‘Wait!’ I see the edge of Clifton Crescent. ‘Pull over.’
Jim complies, the roads of this suburban neighbourhood quiet, plenty of space to park.
‘I just need a minute,’ I say.
Pulling the mirror down from above the passenger seat, I check my tired complexion, my teeth for misplaced lip gloss. I’m actually trembling. Yesterday afternoon I’d felt like a kid unable to sleep the night before her birthday. Now, my spirit is darting all over the damn place. Jim turns the engine off and blows his lips out. Leaning back in his seat, he folds his arms and closes his eyes.
I check the clock. Lunchtime. At least those little girls will be in school.
‘Do you wanna hand?’ Jim asks, his eyelids remaining shut.
‘With what?’
‘All your stuff.’
All my stuff. Of course, I need to take all of my belongings out of Jim’s car so he can drop me off and get on with his life. Maybe there was a huge misunderstanding yesterday. I’ll see Nick and everything will work out exactly how I planned. He might have been trying to call my Dubai number, which won’t be working because I’m here. Trying again might be the best decision I ever make.
‘Okay,’ I say. I’m ready.
Jim springs out of the car. With the same energy, he opens the back doors and heaves out one of my suitcases.
‘Jim, stop!’
‘What now?’
‘Can you leave everything where it is please? For a few minutes more?’
Folding his arms again, his hair hanging over his narrowing eyes, he lets out a tired sigh.
‘I’m just collecting something from a friend’s house,’ I lie.
‘You’re lying.’
Shit. If Nick’s answers aren’t the ones I’m hoping to hear, I’ll have to ask Jim to take me to a train station, or a pub, or any place where I can figure out how to get to London in time for my flight.
‘Listen, love,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘You seem to be having some sort of personal crisis. I don’t wanna judge, but please, don’t drag me into it. You’re asking me to do you favours, but, Zara, you’ve gotta admit that this is all a bit weird. I’m a total stranger. You seem like a nice girl, so I wish you all the best. What happened to us today sucks arse, but look, I’ll have to leave you here. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.’
I know that he’s only trying to be nice. The anger in his voice has gone. He’s speaking complete sense. Yet, with Nick’s house behind me and Jim’s smashed-up car before me, I feel like I’m lost in the woods, stuck in a place I’ve been warned not to explore. Nick’s forthcoming explanation isn’t something I can predict, but Jim, so far, is an element of safety. He’s brought me this far without any serious trouble.
And Jim’s also wrong. He’s not a total stranger, not anymore. He removes the last of my things from his car and returns to the driver’s seat. I run to the driver’s side and press my hands against the window. It rolls down.
‘Jim? Before you go, please tell me what you see when you look at my face.’
Jim’s face falls with an apology.
‘I know you see it,’ I say. ‘Tell me what you see.’
He looks right at it. ‘A scar. A ciggie burn. A pretty bad one.’
‘It’s six months old and it knocked the fucking wind out of me. But, I was helped by a kind stranger, who became a kind friend, and more. He gave me the confidence to get out of the hole I was in, to get on a plane and come here—’
‘Why are you telling me this, love?’
‘Because the man who helped me lives in that house over there. And I’m scared that he isn’t who he said he was. I need to believe that the last six months of my life haven’t been a complete lie. And you were wrong, Jim.’
‘What about?’
‘You said you don’t know me. Well, you do. Honestly, there isn’t much more to me than what you already know. And I know more about you than anybody else in Liverpool, so call it weird, call me fucking psycho or whatever, but I’m asking you to wait with my things, just for a little while longer.’