‘You know about Sam and me?’ I slurred; he had just said that he did, but it still felt like a confession of his own. I thought that they thought we were just friends, had always been just friends. That’s why I’d never said anything about our relationship, why we’d both been so careful not to.
‘Well, yes.’ Joshua looked bemused, disappointed and a little bit angry all at the same time.
‘So, Jamie knows about Sam and me?’ There was no way. Why on earth would she let me stay? Even I could admit live-in ex-girlfriends and wedding planning were not a good mix. The proof was in the painting, hung up in Jamie’s bedroom, soon to be theirs, but with a big dose of me messed up in the mix.
‘Well, yes,’ he said again, stuck on repeat, his tone soberer by the second.
‘But she’s not said anything?’ I took another large gulp of wine. She’d never said anything, not once. Not when Sam invited me to stay in the first place and not since.
‘Why would she?’ Joshua looked from me to his empty glass of wine. He really needed to hold off if he was going to drive us home. Not that I could say anything; I was hardly proving myself to be the queen of quantity control.
‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, suspending the fact that Joshua was Jamie’s brother for a second and speaking to him as a friend, the friend he thought I was – that everyone thought I was. ‘I reckon I’d have a thing or two to say if my fiancé brought home his ex-girlfriend to stay in our flat. In fact, she’d be out of the door quicker than you could say—’ I flung my glass-holding hand in the direction of the door, sloshing red specks onto the carpet, making a mess.
‘Jamie doesn’t feel that way.’ Joshua smiled weakly, no doubt growing tired of my increasingly drunken outpour. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s secure enough in her relationship to not be threatened by an old girlfriend from uni.’ Joshua looked at me. Through blurry eyes, I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be mean or just achieving it regardless.
So that’s what Jamie thought we were, that’s what she thought I was. Just an old girlfriend from uni, Sam and I two people too young to have experienced anything real. I was staying in their box room, her fiancé was sleeping on her sofa, we went for lunch and laughed like more than old friends, and still she wasn’t threatened.
I looked down at my sky-blue dress, dotted with damp specks from where I’d been drinking. Was I really that pathetic? My mind darted to Zoe’s words to me just yesterday morning, tired of telling me to move on. To my parents, nervous to let me travel to the other side of the world for fear that I’d cock everything up.
I looked down into my wine glass; maybe she was right not to be bothered by me. I was just an old girlfriend, it was all I was, and she was a goddess. A goddess with the guy. A goddess who had won. I looked up at Joshua, watching me like a glass about to break. But I wasn’t just an old girlfriend. We’d been in love, we’d said we’d get married, with our bare feet pressed into the Sydney sand. And now we were here, fate finally fusing our stories back together. And Sam and I had been getting closer. He’d loved having me around. He’d said he missed me, and then he said he loved me. I knew he still loved me. I could feel it. I gazed down into my empty wine glass, blood-red stains circling the rim. I held the glass stem a little tighter. I was not just an old girlfriend; I was so much more than that. If Jamie knew about me, if Jamie knew everything, it was about time she knew that too.
As I stumbled to Joshua’s bike, he turned to help me put my helmet on in silence. He hadn’t said much since our conversation, a conversation that never should have happened. Of course he wouldn’t have responded like a friend. Sam was his sister’s fiancé, for Christ’s sakes. As I sat on the back of the bike, Joshua turned to me and said, more forcefully than I’d ever heard him: ‘Don’t let go.’ Despite my drunkenness I knew he was talking about the bike, but still my brain hurtled on, speeding a mile a minute. I was not just an old girlfriend. We were in love. He was everything. Joshua was wrong. Jamie was wrong. Three bottles deep, I could see everything clearly. Jamie wasn’t the woman Sam wanted her to be. Sam wasn’t the saint Jamie thought he was. And then there was me. Here, when I had every reason not to be. Here, when Sam could have kicked me out weeks ago or never invited me back in the first place. Something was making me stay. And Sam didn’t want me to leave. Was I the only one who could call a spade a flipping spade? They weren’t a perfect match; they weren’t built to last. I held on tighter as scenes of inner-city life shot by. This city suited me, Sam had said. And Sam’s words from last night were planted firmly in my head like seeds in bloom. Expanding and expanding, until they filled my mind with nothing but his words: you know I’ll always love you, J, you know I’ll always love you.
Pulling up to 341, Joshua helped me off the bike and unclipped my helmet. I looked up at him through bleary eyes to see his own blue ones staring back, wide and sad. Had I really just told him I was still in love with his sister’s fiancé? I silenced the thought again. There was no going back now. He’d tell her in the morning and I’d have my bags packed and out by the afternoon. Joshua leaned down to peck me on the cheek, the same sadness etched into his face. Another friendship ruined for sure, each of them fading away through my inability to shut up or keep up. He held my arm and helped me to the door. I fumbled for my keys, forcing them into the lock. The door swung open and I turned around to say goodbye. Joshua had already started to walk away.
Stumbling into the corridor, I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. Letting the darkness surround me, I breathed.
I was exhausted.
I was angry.
I was – hammered.
Walking further down the corridor, I tried to keep quiet. The walls were spinning; I clung to the sides in failed attempts to steady myself. Kicking one heel off, and then the other, I felt my way along the corridor. Tumbling into the dark kitchen, I tripped across the floor. I needed to lie down; I was going to be sick if I didn’t lie down. I headed towards the sofa, heart starting to race, temperature beginning to rise. On autopilot, I pulled off my dress. The stupid blue dress I had bought just for Sam. I flung it on the floor. I stared into the darkness, the thick swell of alcohol washing over me, making it impossible to think. Box room. I should go to the box room.
I felt my way along the corridor walls, trying to find my way back. To where Jamie wanted me to be. Close enough to watch me. Far enough away from Sam. Just an old girlfriend; the words danced around my head, taunting me as I stumbled in the darkness. Just an old girlfriend. Just an old girlfriend; the words played over again and again. Four silly words, interrupted only by seven more: You know I’ll always love you, J. Head spinning, mind moving back to the box room, but feet, in reality, moving me to the wooden kitchen floor. I needed to lie down.
Scrambling to take off my bra, I headed towards the sofa. I felt my way to lie down. I felt the sofa. I felt the cushions. I felt Sam. Of course, he was there. Sleeping on the sofa. For me. Making that sacrifice, for me. Because he would always love me. His words and all that alcohol span round in double time. I’ll always love you, J. Box room. I should go to the box room. But I was already lying down, stretching out, falling into sleep. Without thinking, I lined my body up against Sam’s back. He stirred. Without waking, he pushed his back further into me, fitting the shape of my body naturally. Muscle memory, reminding us of what we had been. What we were. I placed my arm around him, my mind somewhere else entirely. Still half asleep, Sam felt for my hand and pulled it up to his lips, giving it a kiss: soft but firm. Warm and safe. I was drunk and drifting. Drunk and drifting. Drifting. Drifting until finally we were gone and only silence remained.