Painted Faces (43 page)

“
Oh yeah, did I not thank you for that yet?” I reply sweetly. “You and Harry know that things are strained between us, yet you leave us with no other option but to sit bumper to fucking bumper in the back seat.”

Nora gives me a sheepish look. “Oh. Sorry about that. I didn't think.”

“
Of course you didn't, you were too busy slobbering all over Richard, who by the way,
is
a poser as it turns out.” I tell her sourly. Since I'm in a bad mood, Richard is just going to have to bear the brunt of my bitchiness.

“
He's not a poser. You'd realise that he's actually really cool if you bothered to get to know him.” Nora sucks on her half of the orange.

I gesture with my hand over to where Richard is shoving a length of pipe inside the lining of their tent. “Is he or is he not wearing a black wife-beater and camouflage army pants over there?”

“
It's sunny. Men wear wife-beaters when it's sunny out,” Nora defends his choice of outfit.

“
Poser men who want to show off their muscles do. And the only people who should be wearing army pants are people who are
in
the actual army.”

“
Jesus, you are not in a good mood today Fred, are you? Can't you just tell me what happened with Nicholas and quit criticising my boyfriend?”

I huff and give in. “He wants to talk. I told him I'd hear him out later, somewhere away from prying ears,” I say, reaching over and tugging on Nora's ear lobe.

She slaps my hand away and laughs. “Hey, stop that. Your hands are all sticky from the orange.”

I pretend I'm going to shove my hand in her face just to tease her and she pulls her chair another few inches away from mine. Anny comes over and sits down on the grass by our feet, tying her straight blond hair up in a pony tail.

“
I'm thinking I might shag that Eric guy. He's hot,” she states.

Typical Anny, mind always set at the lowest common denominator. If she knew how condescendingly I think of her in my head, I don't think she'd want to be my friend anymore.

“
Oh yeah, hot to trot, go for it,” Nora encourages her.

“
Just make sure you do it in
his
tent,” I put in. “I don't want any unsavoury liquids getting onto my sleeping bag.”

Anny lets out a loud hoot of a laugh and Nora giggles. It garners Nicholas' attention, who glances over in our direction.

“
What are you three giggling about?” he asks with a smirk.

“
Unsavoury liquids,” Anny answers. “Fred doesn't want me getting any on her sleeping bag when I shag Eric.” She nods her head in Eric's direction, who thankfully is too far away to hear her.

I pinch Anny on the arm. Nicholas laughs and shakes his head.

“
So he's a foregone conclusion is he?”

Anny gets a predatory look on her face. “Of course, who could resist all this?” she says, running her hand down her hip.

“
Who indeed,” Nicholas agrees, just before his eyes land on me.

“
You can share my sleeping bag if anything happens to yours,” he says, his hot gaze locked on mine.

“
I'll survive, thanks,” I reply cuttingly.

“
Have it your way,” he mutters, turning to finish putting up his tent.

Once everyone's done setting up camp, I stick my ruck sack and sleeping bag inside mine and Anny's tent and then set off to do some exploring. The great thing about this festival is that it's small enough, so it's not as stressful as the big ones. I mosey around the stalls selling various bits and bobs; jewellery, band t-shirts and the like. There's even one where you can get a henna tattoo done.

I get a sandwich and a beer and sit down on a patch of grass to eat. I wasn't in the mood to stick around the others, because I'm sombre and they're all full of excitement for getting drunk and seeing the bands. When a pair of boots stop in front of me, I glance up and find Nicholas standing there holding a hot dog and a Coke.

“
Mind if I join you?” he asks, smiling, but it's not his usual carefree smile, it's an insecure one.

“
Do I have a choice?” I grunt and sip my beer.

“
You always have a choice Fred,” he answers in a low voice.

I look back at him and gesture at the spot of grass before me. “Fine, sit. It's a free country.”

He sits down, all grace and lithe muscles, placing his Coke on the grass.

I eye the beverage. “No alcohol for you huh?”

“
I'm trying to avoid it to be honest. It's never been something I could enjoy in moderation anyway.”

I remember what Phil told me, about Nicholas wasting away in some dive in Berlin, drinking himself into a stupor every day.

“
That's good then, that you're avoiding it.” I whisper quietly.

“
It is,” he agrees. “Is this a good time for us to talk?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

I just haven't got it in me to be mean to him right now. I'm too emotionally exhausted. Mum always told me that even when someone puts you down, you should always try to be the better person and kill them with kindness. So that's what I'm trying for now, to kill Nicholas with kindness, let him feel guilty for how he rejected me.

“
When you said what you said to me Freda,” he begins, “you have to understand, despite the way I reacted, it was the happiest moment of my life.”

He's referring to when I told him I loved him in the hotel room in Edinburgh. “Seemed more like it was the saddest,” I mutter. “You didn't look happy at all.”

He puts down his hot dog and takes my hand into his. “I was sad because I was sad for
you
Fred. I know I joke about wanting to corrupt you, but that's all that it is, a joke. You are so pure and clean and I felt like I was soiling you by being the person you fell in love with. Women have told me they loved me before, but it wasn't real, it was just momentary lust mistaken for love. When you said it to me I could tell that you truly felt it and it terrified me. That's why I sang that song to you when you came to the gig to see me; I needed to drive you away somehow. I've never had a time in my life when I've been consistently balanced. I've gone from being on top of the world for months, performing in amazing night clubs the world over, to living in my own filth and losing myself in a bottle of whiskey. I was scared that if you fell any deeper in love with me that I'd end up reverting back to one of my low points and dragging you down with me.”

I bat away my tears. His words lacerate my insides, because they are so heart-wrenchingly honest. I don't want him to be honest with me, I want him to be a bastard so that hating him is easier. I'm torn between forgiving him and shouting at him that being afraid isn't a good enough excuse for what he did. I mean, I was terrified too. Sometimes feeling fear is an indicator that you're really living life.

“
Phil visited me. He told me about what you were like before he brought you to Dublin.” I say, my voice comes out jittery, portraying how difficult it is for me to hold in my emotions. Having Nicholas sitting right beside me is actually painful, because I haven't seen his face in weeks. I'd almost forgotten how beautiful he is.

His eyes widen and he drops my hand momentarily. “He told you that? When?”

“
About two days ago. He came to my apartment trying to play cupid and urged me to go talk to you because you'd lost your spark, as he put it,” I reply.

He shakes his head, silently cursing Phil for interfering. “I'm sorry he bothered you like that. I promise I didn't send him with a sob story to try and win you over. I didn't want you to ever know about any of that.”

“
So it's true then, what Phil said?” I prompt.

He scratches his head. “Yeah. Phil's rescued me from shit situations my whole life, and I've returned the favour for him a few times too.”

“
I understand why you get down,” I say to him, meeting his eyes even though it hurts. “But don't you think that maybe if you allowed yourself to be with someone then you wouldn't be so sad anymore? Human beings aren't designed to be alone. And I know that you're hardly alone when you're performing for clubs full of people every night, but sometimes you can be in a room packed with others and still feel absolutely isolated.” I stop to take a breath.

He takes my hand back into his. “I know that now Freda. That's what I've come to understand. These past three weeks without you have been the worst of my life. Even worse than when I'd been a comatose drunk. I'm not going to ask if you'll take me back, because we were hardly together long enough to properly define what we were. But if you could just find it in yourself to give me another chance I promise I won't let you down again. If you think you can't forgive me enough to be with me the way we were in Edinburgh, then please consider just being my friend again. My life is shit without you in it.”

I pull my hand away. “You seriously fucking hurt me Nicholas,” I whisper, my throat getting full with tears.

He reaches forward and caresses my cheek. “God I know I did, and I hate myself for it.” He searches my face, trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.

“
Listen,” Nicholas finally speaks. “You don't have to give me an answer right now. I'll go away and you can think on it. Come to me when you know what you want.”

His voice is gentle. I love how his mouth moves when he talks. I look at him and nod; time to think seems like a good option. He nods back, gives my cheek one last caress, picks up his food and walks away.

Zen Gardens and Buddhist Monks

My phone starts ringing. It's Nora. She's probably wondering where I've gotten to. I'm not really in the mood for company though, because my brain is filled with Nicholas telling me his life is shit without me in it. Nobody can have something like that said to them and not feel at least a tiny bit special afterwards. Did he tell me he didn't care about me through that song back in Edinburgh to try and disguise the fact that he really does care?