Falling Fast

Chapter 37 - Duty Calls

I looked out of the window and saw that we were outside Grigory's house because there was an extra car or two on our side of the road. Through his lounge window I could see that he was listlessly staring at an unopened can of beer. My heart stopped for a moment. Oh no.

"Thanks," I said to the driver and put on a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "This is all paid for, right?"

"Yeah. Merry Christmas."

"You too. Happy New Year." I got out of the car, hurried up to my door, snapped the key around in the lock and strode in. "Mum, we still got Grigory's spare key?"

"Ye — You look beautiful."

"Spare key, Mum. Where is it?"

"Bottom of the bowl in the window by the door."

I rushed over to the bowl and sloshed the various sets of keys around until my hands closed over the golden key that belonged to Grigory. Then, heedless of my dress, I hopped over the wall, opened the door and walked into Grigory's lounge.

He'd opened the can and was drinking from it. He was taking big long dregs that left him breathless. I strode over to him and when the can was away from his mouth I took it from him.

"This is not going to help you," I said firmly.

"Oh you're probably right. You were right about me," he grouched and slouched on his sofa.

I nearly told him off for drinking, beer was no way to heal the pain, but guessed that the only thing that would accomplish was to make him feel worse. Instead I took the beer into the kitchen and tipped it down the sink. Then I flipped the kettle on. I took my time making two cups of tea both so that I could think and so that he could think. I wanted to be able to say something wise and profound that would help him heal and see that things would get better with time. Nothing was coming to mind. I thought about googling for some ideas, but that just screamed desperate and corny.

Dan said that I was the grown up one, the mature one of the two of us but right now I was sure that he would have been more use here than me. They'd be able to exchange some manly banter about how women were more trouble than they were worth or how only women could make guys feel awful and how no matter how much experience the guy had, women would always be a mystery and how someone should write a guide to help decode them or something.

When I took the tea through to the lounge I still had no idea what to say and now that I was really looking at him, I felt even more unprepared. He was bare foot, his joggers were so old they were going thin at the knees and looked from another time, his t-shirt had a few age-worn holes in it and his stubble... He hadn't shaved probably since Katya left. One of the striking things about Grigory, the first thing that had struck me really, was his stubble and how strong it made him look. How in control. Now... well, he just looked helplessly lost.

I sat on the coffee table in front of him and gave him his tea. As if he was a good little Brit', he immediately blew on it and began to sip. I did the same and let my eyes roam the room. There were fewer things in it. The awful pea-green blanket, the candles from the window, the scarf that was normally left on the back of the chair were gone. There were no magazines on the table I was sat on, photos had been taken down. It looked like it had when I first came over.

Empty.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured into his tea.

"People keep telling me that."

Silence.

"Thank you for asking after me. You didn't have to."