Alexei And Grace

09 | Half Measures

I RESOLVED TO SPEND MY days trying not  to think. That was the only way I could function; the only way to get by.

When I finished eating dinner with dad, I washed up our dishes as slowly as I could manage, meticulously rinsing each one and then polishing it with a kitchen towel. They were probably cleaner than when I'd first bought them.

Then, to procrastinate a little more, I ran myself a hot bubble bath and soaked in the boiling water until my skin wrinkled. I was still feeling hungover, but at least after that I thought I would feel clean. It turned out, though, that I couldn't wash away the feeling that last night had left me with. Guilt and shame and fear mingling on my skin, untainted by water or soap.

I knew I should call Jonah. I had a lot of apologising to do, a lot of making-up. He was always there for me, he stuck by me no matter what I wanted to do. Even that stupid club was his idea of a worst nightmare, yet he'd come along for me. Or he thought he was doing it for me, anyway. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to contact him.

I hadn't cheated on him. So why did it feel so much like I had? All I could think about was Alex; his hands on my shoulders, guiding me outside. His perfectly pressed suit the next morning. I'd slept on a shitty sofa. There definitely wasn't room for two on there, and it didn't even look like Alex had stayed the night. It wasn't like I'd stayed at his house, in his room. So why couldn't I wash away these feelings of guilt?

Yeah, it turned out that not thinking was harder than it seemed.

When I finally got out of the bath, wrapping my hair up in a towel and padding across to my bedroom, I decided I should check my phone again. There were a couple of missed calls from Lena and a text:

Home safe? X

Lena was my best friend because she didn't fuss and she didn't panic; in that respect she was the opposite of me. I at least could reply to her message without having to explain my gnawing guilt. I reassured her I was fine and then checked my other notifications. I had eight missed calls from Jonah, and one text:

Please answer, Grace xx

The key difference between my best friend and my boyfriend was that one of them was easy, the other not so much. Lena was low maintenance. All she needed to know was that I was safe and home. Jonah, on the other hand, required a full blown conversation which I was sure would include how was your night and when did you get home and who did you speak to?

Jonah didn't know about the mysterious man Lena and I had helped escape from the police. I'd never even had to ask my best friend to keep her mouth shut; she'd always just done it. Like I said, low maintenance. So, of course, Jonah also didn't know that I'd spent the better part of two years wondering who he was, searching for him.

He didn't need to know that now I'd found him.

And, of course, if Alex were to dispose of me prematurely, he also didn't need to know about that. Better he thought a car had smashed into me than a man had done away with me to cover his tracks. Because, the thing was, I knew Jonah almost as well as I knew myself. Some men might have been fuelled by that knowledge, filled with vengeful thoughts by it. For Jonah it would have torn him apart.

To soothe my splitting headache I grabbed some paracetamol from the kitchen and a glass of water. I threw the tablets back and swallowed them with a shudder, then crawled into bed at long last.