All The Mixed Feelings (Van McCann)

Part 52

Abby

I didn't want to speak to Van. I didn't want to listen to Van. I didn't even want to think about him, yet here he was over 4000 miles away and still wrecking my head. Sending me spinning into free fall again.

Sam was looking between me and the phone on the table, his expression telling me that the cogs were whirring in his head, trying to work out why I was acting the way I was.

My mind told me to leave the phone where it was, wait for it to ring off, maybe even reach over and reject the call, carry on enjoying the evening with my new friend, but still I reached out and grabbed it, jabbing the screen to answer the call before pressing it close to my ear and screwing my eyes shut.

I didn't speak, just waited, straining to hear over the background chatter of the pub.

"Abby..." His voice was faint, so faint I could barely make it out, but on hearing it I felt something unravelling inside me.

I had to hold my breath to stop the huge wracking sob which would surely break free from me if I let it.

"Van..." I knew my voice was barely a whisper.

My eyes flicked up to Sam, catching him looking down immediately, trying to make out that he wasn't interested, but I'd caught that little frown knitting his brows together. I mouthed 'sorry' to him as I stood up, moving away from our table, making for the far end of the pub garden where it was quiet and there was no one around.

I could hear background noise on Van's end of the line, music playing, laughter, glasses clinking together. There was a rustling sound but no talking.

"Are you there?" My voice trembled slightly.

I tried to picture Van on the other end, so far away physically but connected to me by this call. Despite everything my heart ached that I couldn't reach out and touch him.

"I fucked up..."

His voice was low, barely intelligible, slurred.

"Are you drunk?"

"I'm fucked up..."

What? Was he telling me he'd fucked up? Was he telling me he WAS fucked up? Maybe both?

"Van, I can barely hear you..."

The line went dead. This end of the pub garden was dark. The lights didn't illuminate as far as I'd walked. I stood in the gloom, staring at my phone, holding my breath, waiting for the screen to light up again. It never did.

I stood there for some time, thoughts raging around my head. Should I call him back? Maybe I should message him. Had he really meant to call? Maybe it was a mistake. He'd sounded drunk, not just tipsy but proper falling down drunk. Wasted.

I'm not the type to call you up drunk...

The line popped into my head and I laughed bitterly to myself. What had he said when he'd given me a lift home after our night in Manchester? Something about how much he'd love to hear from me...

Anything you need... any time at all...

What was I doing letting him break my heart all over again? I felt anger start to take over and I welcomed it.

I started back over to the table, noting that Michelle was back. Her and Sam both had their eyes fixed on me as I took my seat. Sam had obviously told her who had called me.

"What did he say?" She said.

I glanced at Sam who looked uncomfortable. I hadn't really wanted him to know about what had gone down with Van and I but it was too late for that now.