Student (18 page)

‘You’ve lost weight, I can tell. You’ll need feeding up before you make that long drive back to Nottingham.’

By the time Aidan walks through the door, the kitchen smells of bacon, sausage, fried mushrooms, baked beans, the Full English. I am persuaded to have scrambled eggs with mine. Aidan sits down opposite me. He looks less strait-laced than I was expecting. His eyes are almost as sunken as when we first met. He is thinner than ever and his curly, barbed wire hair has started to grow longer again. It looks wild. I can’t imagine him as a married man.

Anna powers through her breakfast.

‘Did you say “yes” to Zoe?’ is her only question.

‘To be maid of honour? Of course I did.’

‘Thanks,’ Aidan says. ‘That’ll make her happy.’

When Anna’s finished, Aidan and I are alone, both picking at our food. I don’t know what to say, but I blunder in anyway.

‘Why are you and Zoe getting married? Wouldn’t living together first have made more sense?’

Aidan does that thing with his shoulders which looks like he’s squirming. When we were going out it took me weeks to work out it was meant to be a shrug.

‘It’s just... you’ve been through a lot. And Zoe’s a good mate. I’d hate to see her let down if you’re not really ready.’

I feel like an adult talking to a child. Does being maid-of-honour-designate qualify me to ask these questions? Adding to the air of unreality, Aidan doesn’t reply, merely toys with a bright yellow globule of congealed yolk that he is trying to position on his last piece of fried bread.

‘Aidan?’

‘Zoe keeps me grounded,’ Aidan says. ‘My shrink thinks she’s good for me.’

‘Your shrink told you to marry her?’

‘Marriage means a lot to women,’ Aidan mumbles. ‘I want Zoe to stay.’

‘That’s not enough reason to get married. Did you think she was going to finish with you?’

He gives another languid shrug, as if to say well, you did.

‘She’s talking about getting married at Easter, Aidan. It’s too soon. Do yourself a favour. Leave it until the autumn, when you’re off probation and you’re on less meds. Leave it until you’re both sure.’

‘You mean until you’re sure I’m in my right mind?’ Aidan asks, a trace of an old arrogance visible in his wary frown.

‘No. I mean, I don’t know.’ I want to tell Aidan about what’s happened to me, about how out of it I’ve been and how this makes it easier for me to relate to him. But our relationship has always been about Aidan, about his view of the world, his needs. I realise that, the less mysterious he becomes, the less I like him. He’s just another fucked up bloke, trying to get a woman to cater for all his needs. The world’s full of them.

‘It’s all right,’ Aidan says, pushing his plate to one side. ‘I’m going to be good to her.’

And probably he is. Zoe has known Aidan much longer than I have. Maybe the mundane Aidan, the Aidan of before the accident, is the Aidan she’s marrying. Maybe she knows how to bring him back. You never know what goes on in other people’s relationships. There was a time when most people were married by my age. Not any longer. This age, the university years, for lucky people like me, is a period to experiment, make mistakes. It’s a time when we’re anxious to define and prove ourselves, but nobody will hold us accountable if we fuck everything up. After all, we’re still young and have a lifetime to repay our debts.

I don’t know when the mistakes period ends. 25? 30?

Aidan is desperate to get out of his mistakes period, to put all the drugs and depression and irresponsible acts behind him. But I don’t think you can choose when to leave it behind. Marrying Zoe will not stop Aidan from being responsible for the death of one person and the permanent injury of another. It will not change his best friend being dead. A problem shared is not a problem halved. With Huw gone, the guilt seems to rest even more heavily on Aidan’s shoulders. That must be why he goes to church.

I realise we’ve spent several minutes without talking, barely eating.

‘Got to go,’ I say.

Aidan glances at me with his stranger’s eyes, then gets up to see me to the door. There’s no hug, no intimate moment to indicate that we were once, however briefly, lovers. Despite this ambivalence, I kiss Aidan on the cheek. His skin smells antiseptic.

As I drive through the Mersey Tunnel, I ask myself why I didn’t tell Aidan about my own depression. He would have scoffed, possibly. Your cat died, your mum had a stroke and your boyfriend dumped you because he prefers fucking someone else? Big deal. Try killing someone. But I’d never been dumped before. And I hate where I’m living. And my friends weren’t there for me. And, come to think of it, when were you ever there for anyone, Aidan? When are you going to grow up?

Maybe the discussion would have gone the other way. We’d have bonded over how bleak the world is, how suicide is the one act that makes complete sense and only a kind of lethargy keeps us from doing it. But neither of these imagined responses convince me. I can’t see me and Aidan having a heart to heart. I can only see him evading the conversation again and again.

By the time I’m on the M1 I’ve decided that I don’t want to be Aidan and Zoe’s maid of honour. However, this hardly matters, for I am more and more convinced that the wedding will never happen.

On Albert Grove, a familiar looking guy stares at me. When I park, he crosses the street. I work out who he is, and consider rushing into the house, unloading the car later. But I have never been a coward. He is older than I thought, in his mid-thirties, and wears a brown v-necked sweat shirt beneath a black leather jacket. He has a receding hairline and rimless glasses. I smile at him. He smiles back.

‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘Better now,’ I say.

He looks inside the car. ‘Want a hand with your stuff?’

‘I’ll be all right, thanks.’

He’s interested in me, concerned about me. He wears no ring and he’s seen me naked. Possibly he fancies me. But he’s nervous. He’s long out of the learn-from-your-mistakes period and I’m definitely a potential mistake. Close up, I don’t fancy him. He’s too old and glasses are a turn-off for me. Maybe if he had laser eye surgery. But he wouldn’t be living round here if he could afford laser eye surgery.

‘I’m Robert.’ He offers me his hand. I shake it limply.

‘Allison.’

‘See you around.’

When he’s gone, I wonder if I should apologise for freaking him out over Christmas. But being open about your problems is not the English way. Later, as I’m unpacking, I see him sitting at his computer in the room across the yards. The table has moved and the machine is now side on, so that he can glance over towards my room at any moment, at any time of day.

That’s it, then. I really have to move.

‘Maybe it’s a plot to get us back together,’ Mark says.

‘The best man’s meant to screw the bridesmaids, not the maid of honour.’

‘I thought the maid of honour was a bridesmaid?’

He’s right, so I change the subject. ‘At least Aidan didn’t ask Steve to be best man.’

‘Who knows, Aidan might have asked him first. Seen Steve lately?’

‘Not since he moved out. You seeing much of Helen?’

Mark shakes his head. ‘Going away with her at Christmas was a mistake. We were at each other’s throats half the time. I used to think, however bad things got between us, it was worse when we were apart. Now I think, fuck it.’

‘Yeah. Fuckit’s my philosophy of life, too.’

‘Let’s go and spend the rest of our days on the distant island of Fuckit!’

As we laugh, our bodies brush against each other. I’m living in a small flat that is within my budget. The city has a glut of student accommodation and, halfway through the academic year, rents drop to tempting levels. Posters all over town read
Just because you’re a student doesn’t mean you have to live like one
. It’s the final year of my degree and I’ve bought into the advertiser’s dream.

We discuss the wedding.

‘How did Aidan ask you?’ I want to know. ‘I can’t imagine Aidan asking you.’

‘Actually, it wasn’t Aidan who asked. It was Zoe. She said he felt shy about it, or something.’

We both laugh again, but not in a good way.

‘I tried to get Aidan to put it off until the autumn,’ I tell Mark. ‘But he wasn’t having it.’

‘You tried to tell Aidan what to do? What got into you?’

‘Zoe’s parents were worried about everything. And they’re right. She’s rushing into it. Marrying Aidan could be a disaster.’

‘Promise you’ll stick with me at the wedding,’ Mark says. ‘The whole thing could get seriously weird if you’re not around.’

‘If they really do it at Easter, can I stay at yours? I’m meant to be staying at Zoe’s but I don’t think I can handle the intensity.’

‘I’ll get my mum to sort out the spare room for you. We’re meant to be staying at a hotel for the wedding itself. Can I tell them to give us a double room together? I don’t want to share with anybody else.’

‘OK.’

‘I’ll do that, then. Better get going. Work to do.’

He kisses me on the forehead. We’ve sort of agreed to sleep together at Easter, but Mark remains firmly in big brother mode.

I’m glad he’s been in touch more lately. Maybe Zoe told him how down I’ve been. Right now, I need a big brother more than a lover. Until he gets a new girlfriend. The big brother bit only works when he’s single.

February is such a crap month that they have to keep it short. Most days I do nothing but work. I am up to date with my assignments and nearly on target with my dissertation. I did drop in at Moxy’s to pick up my wages from before Christmas. I wasn’t upset when they told me I’d been replaced. You don’t need much money when you don’t have a social life.

I’m trying to be better with my mates though. I email Vic with my new address and get a friendly reply but no visit, no phone call. I see Steve in campus coffee bars a couple of times. Once he’s with a tall woman who might be his new friend. I’m not bothered. He’ll have worked his way through several women since dumping me. I can’t believe I went out with Steve. What does that say about my self esteem? But the sex was good. When I get a new boyfriend, even if he’s inexperienced, I’ll be able to tell him what to do, train him up to please me before he pleases himself.

I study twelve hours a day. When I’ve finished studying, I watch crap on TV. I don’t drink much. Sometimes I smoke a little hash to relax me at the end of the evening, but only on nights when I need something to help me sleep. I make sure I have a clear head in the morning.

February becomes March. Easter is early this year. Zoe hasn’t been in touch for a while and I hope that the wedding has been postponed. I don’t want to ring Zoe and put her on the spot about what’s going on, so I send an email apologising for not being in touch. I ask how things are, if there’s anything I need to do, explain how busy I am preparing for finals.

Zoe doesn’t reply. Maybe I should visit her for the weekend. I haven’t seen Mum for ages. Only what if Aidan’s messing Zoe around? I don’t want to get sucked in. I have to protect my head until the exams are over. I’m being selfish, I know. We all have to be selfish from time to time.

I decide that a break from Nottingham would do me good. I want to go to West Kirby but Mum’s house is in no fit state. I’d rather stay at Mark’s than with Zoe or my dad. I’d rather spend time with Mark than anyone else I can think of but don’t want to get carried away with that thought. I text him, suggesting we meet so I can sound him out about going to West Kirby together. When he doesn’t reply, I text him again.
Need 2 talk
. When he doesn’t reply to that, I decide to go and see him.

Mark lives in a big old house on the edge of the Arboretum, at the end of Gill Street, by the tram line. At dusk, these streets are spooky. There’s a vast graveyard on one side of the road and gothic university buildings on the other. A tram, long and shiny, filled with illuminated people, climbs the hill.

I’ve been in Mark’s house once before. It’s a rabbits’ warren, with rooms on several floors. Most of the fittings look fifty years old. You ring a bell and wait to see if somebody answers the door. There are a couple of lights on, so I know that there are people home. But I also know that most people don’t answer unless they’re expecting a visitor. I ring the bell twice, each time holding it down for five seconds. An Asian student lets me in as she’s going out. We don’t exchange a word.

In the dark hallway, I check the pigeon holes. There’s no mail in Mark’s slot, so he’s probably in Nottingham. If he isn’t home, I’ll leave a note. A handwritten note will guilt him out for not replying to my text.

I climb two flights of stairs. Before I reach Mark’s floor, a timer turns off the light. I grope my way along a corridor. The place smells musty. I couldn’t live here. I’m surprised Mark can. But he’s probably got a new girlfriend. He’s not bothered about this place because he spends all his time round there. Probably. I wonder what proportion of their time people our age spend being single. For some people, it’s so scary, not having a partner, that they jump from one relationship to another without taking time to get comfortable with being themselves, alone.

I’ve so convinced myself that Mark’s not here that, even when I see a trickle of light coming from beneath his door, I assume he’s left a lamp on by mistake. Except, when I knock, the door opens at once.

‘Allison, I was about to call you. I’m so sorry.’

He pulls me towards him into a deep, smokey hug, acting like I’m a long lost friend. It’s only been a week.

‘Have you spoken to Zoe?’ he asks.

‘Not for a while.’

‘You don’t know how she’s taking it?’

‘I don’t...’ I hesitate, seeing the awkward empathy in Mark’s face give way to confusion. ‘Taking what?’

‘Oh shit, you haven’t heard.’

For a few seconds, I’m relieved. The wedding’s off. Aidan must have backed out. She’s better off, I’ll tell her.

‘Aidan took an overdose yesterday. He died.’

I go numb, then shock gives way to flashes of irrational guilt. For I am sad, but I am also, in a way, relieved. Ought I to be crying?

‘When did you...?’