The Art of Keeping Faith (44 page)

She looks down and grimaces before clutching her head.

“Crap.”

“I’d say.”

“Remember when this was you?” she winces.

“Yep, and I don’t miss it at all.” It’s true, I don’t miss it one bit. But that could be because I have been violently ill for the last few weeks.

“You are looking very bright this morning,” she says clutching her head again.

“Yep, I am feeling it. I have a plan.”

“Oh, yeah. Did we make one?”

“No, but I did.”

“And?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I say before heading into the kitchen to see if I can find anything edible.

“Have you texted him again?” she calls after me.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I know. Me neither.”

I don’t have time to worry about the lack of text responses. I just need to find a way to see him face to face, wherever he may be. The information is more of a standing face-to-face and delivering life changing news moment, as opposed to a text convo. I need to work out how to get tickets to the Isle of Wight.

Me:
I have a plan. Are you ready for it?

11th May

Ben:
Nothing

Work sucked. We were stupidly busy and I am pretty sure Baz hates me because of it.

My appetite is back with a vengeance and I had to keep nipping out to buy chocolate bars and packets of crisps. I have a month’s worth of not eating to make up for. I gave it a good shot yesterday.

Richard came in at about eleven-thirty and sheepishly asked if I was taking a lunch break. Baz snorted something along the lines of the fact that I had been on an all-day lunch break because I was a greedy pig, but eventually nodded that I could go. At that time we had one group of smelly teenagers making a racket with the instruments so he felt he could handle the situation. I was trying to discreetly shake my head at Baz so he would not let me go, but he did not read my signs. I was not in the mood to be asked out by Richard again, for the third time in a week. Yes, that’s right. He interrupted my plan, scheming at Froebel bar last night, as he staggered over to me completely smashed and attempted to ask me out again. I didn’t even get to say anything. Tristan planted himself right in front of me, like an over protective bodyguard and growled a “No,” at him.

At lunch today Tristan was not in sight, so in the end I followed a very subdued Richard out into the street. He turned the moment we were through the door and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Lilah, I am so sorry,” he blurted out.

My eyes narrowed automatically.

“Sorry for what exactly?”

“For the fact that I keep bloody asking you out, it is embarrassing. I don’t know what it wrong with me.”

“Well thanks that makes it so much better.”

He smiled a little.

“You know what I mean. Will you come and have a coffee with me?”

I hesitated, because I wanted to say no. I have way too much other stuff on my plate at the moment, but I felt guilty about all the times he had been there to help me. “Sure, why not?”

So I did. It was okay but I don’t feel as comfortable around him as I used to. That makes me a little sad because this whole year he has been such a good friend, like a complete rock that I have relied on far more than I should have. But now there is this uncomfortable distance between us, and I don’t like it at all. I am going to try and fix it. I have lost enough people of late—well one, but one is enough.

Yesterday Richard told me that when I was with Ben and he was with Fiona he felt like we were in a ‘Love Square.’ I have no idea what one of those is. I have heard of triangles before, but never a square.

He explained that he meant that we both had our own lives but also had a strong relationship of our own and that he was sorry if he had ruined it with his behaviour of the last couple of months. Not just the date requests, but the snogging Barbie and all of it.

He told me he’d been in a bad place and had been acting a bit crazy. I of all people should be able to sympathise with that. I felt really sorry for him and told him that we should just forget it all and pick up being friends again.

We ended on a high and as he walked me back to the shop it felt much more normal between us. He even asked if I wanted to go for a jog, I declined the jog, but said I would be up for a gentle amble, followed by coffee and pastries.

He winked at me and told me that just because I no longer have a boyfriend I should not let myself go completely.

Bloody cheek.

Right. I had better get the laptop out and start Googling quick.

I am sure I should be studying for my final exams and essays but right now Ben stalking is far more important.

Later

Nothing. Not one sighting, not one pervy comment on Dirty Bitches R’ Us.

Fuck it.

Me:
Do you believe in love squares? I don’t. I just believe in you and me. I wish I had told you.

12
th
May

Ben:
Nothing

“So you’ve all watched Gone with the Wind in preparation for today’s lecture?”

Cue studious doodling from yours truly. Of course I haven’t bloody watched it. I am pregnant and hormonal and spend all of my time crying—watching a day long film about two people who fall in love and then back out of love is not going to be helpful to me right now.

Pilchard casts his beady eye over the room, resting on me briefly. I hold my breath and he passes on, but that could be that he can read my doodle which says “don’t pick me, don’t pick me,” in big bold letters.

Or it could be that he is actually a nice person?

Nah.

The class proceeds to spend the next two hours going over the film I have not watched in the finest detail. I dozed off for a while but Richard woke me up with a hard jab to the ribs.

To be honest the film does not sound all bad. I may even watch it one day when I am not so emotionally challenged.

That will be never then.

As we are leaving Pilchard reminds us all that next week is the surprise film that the exam is going to be based on.

Hurrah.

I can’t wait.

Me:
Even Taylor doesn’t have a song for this? Do you? I miss you.

13th May

Ben:
Nothing

I am back in my old hang out. The Library. It’s actually crammed with students all desperately studying in the run up to essay deadlines and final exams.

There are two types of students not studying.

1. The Fresher’s. They are all out on the lawn in the sunshine drinking beer and playing football.

2. Me. I am not coming back and studying is even further down my priority list than usual. I will do my essays and I will sit the exams, but I can pretty much guarantee that my answers will be half-hearted and not particularly concise.

The only reason I am in the library in the first place is because I am hiding. I am hiding from Meredith who is trying to talk me into another driving lesson and who has also started banging on about me reading the baby book she bought me the other day. I am also hiding from my laptop because my Ben stalking obsession is starting to take control and I spend most of my time at home sitting in my room pretending to study but really scouring the Internet and checking Facebook every, ooh, thirty seconds.

After an hour of staring at the books and doodling I know that even I cannot waste much more time lurking around my study desk.

Because I am a conscientious student, I tidy away my books that I had no intention of studying, or even opening for that matter. Plus if I spend the time individually putting the books away one by one I will waste at least another half an hour before I leave the library which will mean the driving lesson won’t happen because it will be rush hour and I would not inflict that on anyone.

I have just dropped my last book on the floor and am scrambling around under the desk trying to pick it up when I hear footsteps approach.

There is a girly infectious giggle and I freeze and scoot back further under the desk. The giggle sounds fake and plastic, which means it can only belong to one person.

I don’t really know why I am hiding. I just don’t think I have the self-confidence to participate in a put-down slamming match with Miss Plastic right now. Not with my spots, the lank, greasy hair that still won’t wash properly, and my supposedly over-large boobs, kindly pointed out to me by my best friend.

Nope, I will just sit under the table and wait for her and her crew of ho’s to walk past.

It only takes a moment for it to register that she is not with her gang of usual suspects. I recognise Richard’s laugh straight away; God damn it, what is he laughing at in the library with her?

Then the irrational hormone crazed part of my brain kicks in and I instantly think they must be laughing at me. One of them flings a bag down on the desk opposite the one I am under and I can see Richard’s feet come to a stop.

Damn it.

“So what do you think?” he is asking her.

“Oh, Rich, I don’t know, you’re all talk half the time.”

“Come on,” he coaxes.

“I thought you were going to make a move on Lilah now lover boy is off the scene?”

“Nah,” he tells her.

Nah. Fucking Nah.

How rude. I said no.

I want to climb out from under the table and make sure this fact is known publicly, but then they will know that I am hiding under the desk eavesdropping and that would be rather embarrassing.

“Okay, Friday night,” she concedes. I am desperate to know what she is agreeing to. I don’t have to wait long.

“It will be the best date you have ever been on,” he tells her.

Oh my God, is he asking her out now? I only declined the other day. Does this guy have no scruples at all?

“Cocky, hey,” she giggles, “pick me up at eight.” Then I hear the slip slap of her flip flops as she walks away.

Crap.

I nudge myself further under the desk hoping not to be seen as he also walks away. To my immense horror instead of leaving as I expect and chasing plastic fanny back down the stairs he pulls out the chair at the desk adjoining mine and sits down. I am right by his bloody feet.

For the love of God, why does this keep happening to me?

My plan is to wait it out. This is Richard. He never comes to the library. He is more of a run in the door then dash straight back out kind of guy, not a sit around and thoughtfully peruse historical hardbacks.

After ten minutes of re-reading every text message Ben ever sent me along with the daily news (just to check for pictures) it starts to become clear that Richard has no plan to move any time soon. I am starting to get very, very hungry and my tummy is making strange noises. I’m just going to have to make a bid for freedom.

This is going to be mortifyingly embarrassing. The best that I can hope for is that he has his ear phones in, head down and does not actually notice that I do not enter through the top floor door.

No such luck.

I edge out as swiftly as I can and then kind of leap to my feet, smoothing my hair down as I make my jump.

Ninja reflexes even when pregnant.

“Lilah?”

“Oh, hey, I did not see you there.”

Richard frowns a little. “Where on earth did you come from, I did not see you walk along?”

“No? Oh you must have been engrossed in that very interesting book you are reading.” I cast a glance at his desk and then realise he is just reading the paper.

“Nope, I have been staring at the clock above the door for at least five minutes. I am waiting for a meeting.”

“That’s nice.”

He frowns some more.

“And you definitely weren’t sitting at a desk as I came in otherwise I would have seen you.” He is clearly finding my magical appearing trick a bit freaky.

“Mm, anyway got to dash.”

“Lilah, you weren’t hiding under a table were you?”

“Uh, no, how old do you think I am?”

He bites his lip and does a little face scrunch.

“Oh shut it, I was sitting on the floor over there looking at some books.” I motion over to a far off book stack and then start to walk toward the door.

“Oh by the way,” I call back. “Fancy doing something Friday? I have not been out in ages. It might be nice to see some friends.”

“Oh, sorry, I can’t, I have something planned.”

“Okay then, enjoy.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Special relationship, or whatever bollocks he spouted the other day, my frigging arse.

That boy is a player and I have completely missed it.

Me:
You were right about so many things, and I have been so wrong. If you were here you would have your cocky smirk on your face and would be giggling as you lean in to kiss me and whisper ‘I told you so’ in my ear. My God I miss you Benjamin Chambers.