Playing My Love (29 page)

  At the funeral itself I said a small speech that Jazz had helped me prepare.  It had been hard condensing our life together into a five minute eulogy.

  I'd sent Darcy an invite, but she messaged back to politely decline stating how sorry she was but she had plans that could not be changed.  I wasn't surprised.  I'd seen the look on her face when I'd woken up and found her at the cottage.  Like she couldn't bear to even look at me, but had no other choice.  I knew, deep inside, that I'd blown it with her.

  I totally deserved it.  In retrospect, my actions were pretty unforgivable and I understood completely if she wanted nothing more to do with me.  I'd lied to her, teased her and encouraged her, then given myself to her before cutting her out of my life so brutally with no explanations.

  She had every right to hate me.

  When everyone had gone home and I was left alone
in the cottage, alone for the first time in ten days, a silence settled over me.  I sat on the sofa, turned the television on and tuned my senses out, focusing only on the square screen in front of me.

  I stayed there for nearly a whole week, moving only to use the toilet or eat something from my sparse kitchen.  Even when I spotted the mould on the bread, I still popped it into the toaster, not caring in the slightest.

  Occasionally I'd pick up my guitar and attempt to play, but I couldn't think of any songs that reflected how I felt.  I didn't know how I felt, or if I was even feeling anything at all. 

  People would phone every day, checking
to see how I was 'holding up.'  I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I gave them all the same answers and eventually, with the exception of Jazz, the phone calls dwindled slowly away.

  At Halloween Jazz and Chris came to stay for the weekend
. Whilst they were here they ordered a huge shop load of food and drink for my cupboards and freezer, and enough wood and coal to last well into the next winter.  They seemed worried that I was practically living on the sofa, but didn't push the subject. 

  By the time they left, my numb shock was starting to wane and the devastation began to leak through the cracks in my foundations.  I cried through most of November, scared of what December would bring.  My first Christmas without him.
  Every day was a grinding friction of emotions versus living.  Nothing was easy, and I was on autopilot, engaging in only the necessities for survival.  My freezer was stocked with quick microwavable meals which I'd cook up if I felt too empty.  It filled the gap in my stomach, but I'd feel sick as soon as it went down.  I bathed only when I knew I was going to have visitors, otherwise I couldn't really see the point, and lived in my pyjamas and a thick dressing gown.

  When December finally rocked around, I found my thoughts turning to Darcy.  I wondered what she'd be doing, who she'd be doing it with, if I ever crossed her mind.  Now that I had the chance to think about everything in more depth, I was totally appalled
with myself for lying to her.  I tried to picture how different things would have been if I'd been honest from the start.  If over that first coffee I'd just opened up and told her about Gray's cancer.  Knowing Darcy the way I did now, yes at first there would have been concern and pity in her eyes, but also support and unending friendship.  A deep, trusting open friendship that could have had the potential to turn into a deep, trusting open relationship when the time was right.

  I'd been an idiot.

  On Boxing Day, I got another visit from Jazz and Chris.  It was my first sober day for about six weeks, but I didn't want to be drunk when they arrived mid-morning.  Instead I was edgy and clucky.  I didn't even notice that she'd dyed her hair red!

  It didn't take long for Jazz to find my stash of alcohol (and the empty bottles, which caused her to swear out loud) and she pursed her lips together determinedly.
  After allowing me a drink to calm my ragged edges, she decided to take me for a walk. 

  We walked down the bottom of the garden, past the barn, and across the field toward some sparse woodland.  It was a slow meander, but we talked the whole way.  I told her everything about Darcy, how I'd genuinely loved her.  How I'd lost the only two people I could ever have wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  How it felt like
Doc had died long ago, and I'd just been left looking after an imposter.  I wasn't sure if I made any sense, my head flitting from one subject to the next, but she listened patiently, her arm linked through mine.

  Eventually, we found a log and sat ourselves down on it for a rest.  It was a crisp, winter's day and the s
ky was a wonderful turquoise, matching Jazz's eyes.  We were silent for a while, just looking up.

  "Have I told you about the case I'm working on at the moment?"  she asked, frowning at a few clouds on the horizon.

  "No."

  "Two lesbians, together for 23 years.  One of them had been faithful the entire time, and a few months ago, she asked her girlfriend if she'd ever slept with anyone else.  She told her she didn't mind if she had, she just needed to know."  Jazz looked at me scathingly.  "Silly bitch fell for it.  Admitted to a hideous string of affairs she'd had over the years.  And because her girlfriend remained so calm about it, she probably told her more than she would have or should have.  She told her that she loved her, and would never have left her for any of these
women, that it was just sex at the end of the day.  They then went to bed, even made love, and everything seemed okay."

  I waited with baited breath.  Jazz had a way of telling a story that always grabbed your attention like this
. 

  "The next day, however, she returned home from work to find the flat they'd shared for fifteen years completely smashed up and her girlfriend gone.  In the kitchen, their biggest saucepan was on the cooker with something bubbling away inside it."

  My jaw dropped slightly.  Was this supposed to cheer me up?

  "She couldn't find their pet cat anywhere, so she ran to their neighbours in a blind panic.  When they answered, she begged them to come and look inside the saucepan because she couldn't bear the thought of seeing her beloved pussy boiling away.  By this point, she's a fucking mess, sobbing and calling out her kitty's name, hanging off the neighbours arm as they approached the saucepan.  I mean, she's about ready to kill her girlfriend, you know?  So anyway, the neighbour very carefully lifts the lid…and guess what was inside?"

  "What?"  I whispered, not sure if I wanted to know.

  "Rabbits!  Six of them, to be precise."

  I gasped.

  "Oh my god, that's awful!"

  Jazz was looking at me with a wicked glint in her eye.  I frowned, wondering what was so funny.

  "Ali, come on!  Even you're not this slow!  They were the sort of rabbits that got played with…a lot!"

  "Oh! 
Rabbits
!"  I exclaimed as it suddenly dawned on me.

  "Mm-
hm!  About four hundred quids worth.  After she'd destroyed the flat, burned all her girlfriend's clothes and maxed out the joint credit card on an all-inclusive holiday to Barbados, she realised she'd perhaps gone a little OTT.  So she boiled the 'bunnies' as a joke!"

  "So why is it in court?"

  "She's suing her for damages and for custody of their cat!  So despite being unfaithful for years, she still wants to hurt her grieving girlfriend by airing all their dirty laundry in court!  Crazy huh?"

  "Which one's your client?"

  "That's not important.  What's important here is that sometimes we all lose the plot a little over someone we love, whether it's by pulling a Glenn Close bunny boiler, or stalking them, or
by lying to them because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time
.  If she loves you as much as you say she does, and you love her in the same way back, things will work out."  She was quiet a moment, chewing her lip, and when she spoke next her voice was slow and quiet and careful.  "Do you remember that time you caught me trying to kill myself?  I've never told you, or anyone this…but I was like that every night for about three weeks.  The night you found me was the night I'd finally decided to go through with it.  I didn't tell you because I didn't want your help, and there was a part of me that was embarrassed at how weak and pathetic I was, contemplating taking my life every night.  But then when you saved me, I suddenly realised I could have told you, and that I should have told you.  But even then, I
still
didn't tell you what I'd been going through!  Until now!"

  I stared, reeling from her confession.

  "Ali, the reason I'm telling you this now is to show you that we all do things which seem ridiculous in hindsight, but at the time…"  she left the sentence hanging for me to make my own conclusion.

  "I wouldn't have thought you were weak and pathetic"  I said, taking her hand.

  "I know.  That's my point.  I hid something from you that in hindsight was an unnecessary thing to hide from you, especially for so long.  You hid Doc's illness from Darcy, and yes, you knew in your mind it was the wrong thing to do, but you're just going to have to be patient and wait for her to come round and forgive you.  If she doesn't, then it wasn't meant to be."

  We stayed on that log for another ten minutes, just contemplating on what had been said.  Then we both agreed that if we didn't start walking soon, our legs were going to stick to the log
with the cold, so we stood and gave each other a warm hug.  Jazz took my hand in hers and we walked back to the cottage.  Halfway back she squeezed my hand.

  "Hey, you're smiling!"  she said, surprised.

  "Bunny boiler!  It's funny!"

  "Mm.  I thought so!"

  The smile stayed with me the rest of the way home.

  New Year's Eve wasn't as depressing as I'd envisaged it.  I travelled to their flat in London and we all got drunk, remembering Doc.  Between the three of us, we had enou
gh stories to take us into the New Year.  We laughed, we cried, and we all shared little secrets about him.

  And when Big Ben tolled midnight, we toasted him.  Inside, I said a silent toast to Darcy as well.

DARCY

  New Year's Eve was more depressing than I'd imagined it would be.

  Sam had been over for the last ten weeks now, and we'd been taking things slowly. 
Very
slowly.  Yes, we'd been sharing a bed every night, and we kissed regularly, but I'd told her we needed to rekindle the trust between us again before rekindling the physical side of our relationship.

  At first it had been truly great seeing her again! 
When she'd walked through the airport toward me I'd been taken by complete surprise as she'd cut her long black hair short, and I almost hadn't recognised her!  However it did really suit her, and as she'd thrown her arms around me, my heart had done a somersault at the familiarity of her smell and touch.

  Maybe falling in love with her won't be as hard as I thought?

  "Do you think it looks too gay?"  Sam had said, self-consciously touching her long fringe.

  "No, not at all!  I was just thinking it looks really good on you.  Very sexy!"  I added, and she smiled blushing.  She took my hand (which surprised me because she'd always hated public shows of affection before) and we left the terminal.

  In the car, she turned to me excitedly.

  "Darcy, I told them!"

  "What?  Are you serious?  What did they say?"

  "Well, first I told mom, because I needed her to be prepared for whatever was going to happen, you know?  Then I sat down with them both and I just said, 'Dad?  Do you remember Darcy, that girl I used to hang out with?'  and he was like, 'Sure I do, she was that real pretty girl from England.'  Then I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and said 'Well dad, I'm in love with her, and I always have been, and next week I'm flying on over to the UK to be with her.'"  Sam looked out of the window.  I knew his reaction would have been bad, but I hoped he loved his daughter enough not to destroy her
after her confession.  "He told me never to step foot in his house again, and that as far as he was concerned, I was dead to him."

  "Oh
, Sam, no?  He didn't mean it.  Give him some time to come round…"

  "No, Darcy, he meant it alright!  I mean, he was deadly serious!  He wasn't even angry or anything, just looked at me like he didn't know who I was, and didn't really care who I was"  she said, wiping away a couple of tears.  "Mom said she'd talk to him, but I know what he's like." 
She turned to me, her winter blue eyes determined.  "I did it to prove to you that I
am
ready to spend the rest of my life with you.  I want everyone to know about us so we don't have to hide anymore!  I know it used to kill you when I pushed you away, or made you lie, just because I was too darn scared of what dad would think if he ever found out.  I'm not ashamed of who I am, and I'm most definitely not ashamed of you!  From this moment on, you come first, okay?  I promise."

  I nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.  It was what I'd always dreamed of hearing her say…before!