Drawing Blood

Chapter Twenty-two

Adam bought me a sandwich for lunch, staying only long enough to ask me what needed doing. Then later, he appeared again, asking what I fancied for dinner. We opted to grab a couple of pizzas from the takeaway across the road, and I remained in one of the spare bedrooms, labelling the furniture and throwing stuff into boxes; sealing them, until I heard the front door go again, signalling his return.

It had been a uncomfortable afternoon, neither of us crossing paths, and I was reminded of those days where Will and I navigated each other, barely speaking. Adam had clearly thought it best to give me some space after my little outburst, and I was glad he did. I was annoyed with him, with all the secrets, and I knew it would take me a few hours to work through it. I had deliberately given him the easiest and most obvious rooms to do, leaving me with the difficult ones, mainly so I could keep myself occupied and away from him. I had tried not to think about our conversation earlier, or what I had seen, but it was hard. I was being left out, treated like a by-stander in my own story, drip fed pieces of information until he saw fit. The mystery surrounding him left me with more questions than I cared to admit, and I was angry that he wanted me to trust him so blindly.

When I entered the kitchen, I was wrung out emotionally. I was exhausted and I didn't wanted to engage. I just wanted to eat and then go to bed. There was still a lot to do, and I hadn't enjoyed what I had done. There was so much stuff that needed throwing away or packing, and it was amazing how much people could accumulate over the years. I had come across items I'd collected when I was a teenager, and had completely forgotten I owned; only to rediscover them again, then wondered if they still had a use.

Amongst them, a few diaries that had been written when I was angry, or confused; scribbled with a quick hand, and at the time of the grand reveal; the writing almost ineligible. I'd skimmed a few when I had taken a break, thumbing the pages out of nostalgia. From what I could make out, it had been a crap time, and I had tortured myself; flittering between not recognising the red flags, and feeling abandoned by others behaviour. None of it had been my fault. But, there was hope somewhere deep in those pages, hidden within the mud. And at the end was a girl who was not going to give up; a girl who could not be beaten. A girl who lived inside me, still.

Somehow, Adam had acquired a few bottles of wine, and he had dug plates out, thinking I'd want us to eat from them. It bothered me why he had gone to all that trouble. If he thought we were in for a cosy night, he was mistaken. He glanced at me as I crossed the room, and I was careful not to glance back as I brought down two glasses from the cupboard, placing his down on the worktop. Determined not to crack, I asked him which box was mine, before snatching it up, along with a bottle, then leaving him behind to go and sit in the living area, alone. It was a few minutes before he joined me.

"Do you mind if I sit in here with you?" he asked. He seemed hesitant, as though he was expecting my answer to be no. Knowing I wouldn't be in here for long, I merely shrugged. "Go ahead."

He switched on the lamp, laying his own box down on the coffee table, before flopping on the sofa opposite. He had taken the hint and had seen I wasn't interested in using plates, or cutlery; preferring to eat organically. As he picked up a slice of pizza, I couldn't help but notice how the light had turned everything soft, including him. Much to my dismay, I realised I would no longer be able to hide in here, festering in a bad mood; tucked away in the darkness, like some hideous creature who had been bruised, and was licking their wounds. He had seen to that.

As we ate in silence, it soon occurred to me that his presence wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, and that, eating alongside him felt as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though we took our meals together on a regular basis. His ego had gone, put to bed with his arrogance. There was no awkwardness, no fuss. No manners or graces. Just two people enjoying their dinner. It was a strange and surreal experience. Almost disturbing. If anyone was to look in, peer inside our complicated little lives, they would never guess we weren't talking, or had fallen out. They would think we were lovers, going about our daily routine. Only, we were nothing like lovers. We weren't even close. But it was he who broke the spell, first.