You Can’t Fall in Love With Your Ex (Can You?) (30 page)

The
evening felt replete with possibility, but I had no idea what was going to
happen – or even what I hoped for.

Felix
broke my mood of refection with a laugh. “It’s all big talk, anyway,” he said.
“Ask me again in six months and I’ll probably be back mixing cocktails, phoning
my agent every day and moaning that there are no parts out there for short,
ageing ex-dancers.”

“You’re
not short,” I said. “And even if you were – look at Tom Cruise.”

“I
prefer not to, actually,” Felix said.

Nancy
came over and took our order for another round of drinks.

“What
time do you need to get back?” Felix asked.

“I
don’t,” I said. “We were going to go for dinner somewhere, but Jonathan had to
work late, and so there I was, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Then you
texted.”

Just
saying my husband’s name felt strange – for a few minutes, it had felt almost
as if he didn’t exist.

“I’m
glad I did,” Felix said. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’ve found each other
again.”

“Me,
too,” I said, and he stretched across the table and brushed the back of my hand
with his fingertips.

“So
what do you want to do? Are you hungry?”

I
shook my head.

“We
could go dancing? Find a dive bar with live music and throw some shapes?”

I
imagined dancing with him again, experiencing the synergy of our bodies, the
way we could still move together like we used to. But, more even than that, I
wanted to be alone with him. “You know what I’d like? It’s so hot. Why don’t we
go to Central Park?”

“And
walk around the lake and look at the stars?”

“Exactly.”

So
that’s what we did. We didn’t walk for long, because of my high heels, but we
looked at the stars and tried to see how many constellations we could identify,
which wasn’t many, so we switched to looking at the lights of the city skyline,
trying to identify the buildings, but we couldn’t get many of those right,
either. And, to be honest, I found it difficult to focus on anything except
Felix’s hand in mine, the sound of his voice, and how much I wanted him to kiss
me.

It
was after one when I got back to our hotel, and Jonathan still wasn’t there. I
undressed, hanging the orange dress in the wardrobe, cleaned my teeth and got
into bed, my body going through the motions automatically while my mind raced
back to Felix.

What
was he doing right now, I wondered. I imagined him in a hotel room across the
city, kicking off his clothes as I’d seen him do so many times, leaving them in
a heap on the floor. I knew how he would look asleep, his long legs pushing the
covers aside. I knew the way his body moved when he was dreaming. I knew the
way he woke in the morning, instantly alert and eager for the day to begin, not
grumpy and muddle-headed before several cups of coffee, like I always was.

I
turned out the light and lay in the semi-darkness, the room illuminated by the
city’s million windows, one of which was his.

When
I heard the click of the door unlocking, I felt a leap of shock and hope and
sat up – had he come? He hadn’t, of course – he wouldn’t and couldn’t. It was
Jonathan, late, cross and a bit drunk, his tie askew and his face shadowed with
stubble.

“I
thought you’d be asleep, Laura,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

I
shook my head. “I was awake anyway. Jetlag, I guess. How was your day? And your
night?”

“Brutal,”
he said. “Back-to-back meetings all afternoon, then dinner, then one of the
guys had the bright idea of going for drinks afterwards, and we ended up in
some sleazy strip joint. I thought that sort of thing went out with the ark,
but evidently not.”

“Strip
joint?”

“I’m
sorry, darling. I should have realised, but I didn’t. They said they were going
on to a club, and would I like to come along, and by the time I realised I
couldn’t back out without looking like a total prude. Christ, I’m knackered.”

“I’m
not surprised,” I said. “Sounds like an eventful night.”

“Laura,”
he pulled off his tie and sat down on the bed, reaching his arms out to me.
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realise. And I didn’t touch, I just looked.”

“Sure
you did,” I said.

“Oh,
for fuck’s sake,” he snapped. “If you’re going to be all passive-aggressive
about it…”

“I’m
not being passive-aggressive.” I was wide awake now. I was pissed off, of
course I was, but at the same time I felt almost relieved, as if Jonathan’s
leering over naked girls was the same as my longing for Felix, and the two
things somehow cancelled each other out.

“Yes,
you are.”

“Look,
I’m really not. If you think having some stripper’s tits shoved in your face is
an appropriate way to do business with your colleagues, who am I to argue?”

“See?
Totally passive-aggressive.”

“Jonathan,
what do you want me to say? For God’s sake, it’s done now. Either you’ll do it
again or you won’t – you’re a big boy now, you can make up your own mind about
what’s appropriate.”

“So
you don’t care?”

“Is
that why you told me? So I’d fly into a fit of jealous rage?”

Jonathan
pushed his hands through his hair. Suddenly he looked desperately tired.

“Yes,
actually, a fit of jealous rage would be preferable to you apparently not
giving a fuck what I do.”

“Well,
you’re not going to get a fit of jealous rage,” I said coldly. “I thought we’d
be spending some time together while we were here, and evidently that isn’t
going to happen, but I’m not going to make myself miserable by arguing with
you. Presumably you’ve got another busy day tomorrow – you should get some
sleep.”

Jonathan
didn’t say anything more. He went to the bathroom and I heard the shower
running. I turned out the light and lay on my side, facing the wall, and when
he came to bed I pretended to be asleep.

The
next morning, Jonathan was hollow-eyed and sour with hangover. There was no
breakfast, because we’d both forgotten to order it the night before, and no
coffee.

“Want
me to ring room service?” I asked.

“Don’t
bother on my account,” he said. “My first meeting’s at seven, remember. So I
can’t hang about, much as I’d love to.”

“Look,
I – about last night…” I began, then stopped myself. I didn’t want to apologise
for our row, which hadn’t been my fault. I didn’t want to tell him I’d seen
Felix, because that would lead to another, worse row – and this time it would
be my fault.

“I
said I was sorry, Laura. What do you want, blood?”

“I
just want us to have a nice time together,” I said miserably. “Like we did
yesterday, remember?”

I
could barely remember it myself – the previous morning seemed like a different
world, like it had happened to a different person.

Jonathan’s
face softened. “We will, I promise. I’ve got meetings in the diary all day
today, and a dinner tonight, but tomorrow’s almost free, and we’ve got another
day after that. I’m sorry this hasn’t turned out like you hoped. I know it’s
dull for you hanging around on your own, but I’ll make it up to you, okay? I
promise.”

“Okay,”
I said, feeling a fresh unfurling of guilt inside me as I kissed him goodbye. I
wasn’t hanging around on my own. I hadn’t last night and I wasn’t going to
today, either.

While
I was in the shower, Felix sent a text. “So what’s happening?”

Naked
and dripping on the bathmat, I texted back, “J working all day. How about you?”

His
reply arrived almost immediately. “I’m meeting a hot woman for breakfast at the
deli where they filmed that scene from
When Harry Met Sally
.”

I
felt briefly bereft, then I realised what he meant. “I’ll be there in half an
hour,” I texted.

I
dressed quickly – no heels this time, no designer frock. I just chucked on
jeans and a stripy top and flat shoes, because I knew there’d be exploring to
do. Felix hadn’t said, but it was implicit – we’d be spending the day together.
All day, and perhaps the evening too. I felt giddy with excitement as I left
the hotel and boarded a subway train.

In
the air-conditioned chill of the carriage, I tried to force myself to think. I
knew I was approaching a crisis – a point at which I’d have to make a decision.
But I wasn’t capable of being rational, balanced or reasonable – my heart was
so firmly in charge that my head wasn’t even getting a look-in. Also, I was
fiercely hungry – all the cocktails we’d drunk the night before, plus no
dinner, had left me feeling light-headed with desire for food as well as for
Felix.

Take
a look at yourself, Laura, I scolded. You’re turning into an animal. Where’s
your self-control? But I didn’t know, and nor did I particularly care.

Felix
was waiting for me in the deli, two steaming mugs of coffee in front of him.
When he saw me he jumped up and hugged me so hard he almost lifted me off my
feet.

“God,
you look amazing,” he said.

“You
didn’t say that last night,” I said. “And I spent two hours getting ready. You
contrary bastard.”

“You
hadn’t got ready for me then,” he said. “Today you have. But you’re always
beautiful. You always were. Now drink your coffee and I’ll get us some food – do
you want smoked salmon, salt beef or pastrami?”

“All
of them,” I said. “But that would be wildly excessive. You choose.”

A
few minutes later, he returned carrying a tray heaving with food, and for a
while we didn’t say very much because we were too busy stuffing our faces. When
I could eat no more, there was still enough left to feed the five thousand.

“I’m
beginning to think you’re some kind of feeder,” I said. “Remember, you always
used to bring me bacon sandwiches on weekends? And that lunch on my birthday,
and now this. You’ll only be happy when I’m so huge I can’t get up from bed,
and the fire brigade have to be called to winch me out of the window.”

“It’s
fuel,” Felix said. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. Unless you have to be
somewhere else?”

I
noticed how, as ever, he shied away from mentioning where I might need to be,
or who with.

“I
don’t have to be anywhere,” I said. “I’m where I want to be.”

“What,
you want to stay here? Shall I order cheesecake, and then make you do that fake
orgasm thing so I can post it on YouTube?”

I
laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. So, what are we doing?”

Felix
had lost none of his ability to plan adventures without appearing to have
planned anything at all. That day passed in a blur of sunshine and laughter. It
was like all our days off had been, except there was no evening performance to
cloud our enjoyment – there was something far more significant, which we didn’t
even mention.

We
took the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty. We went to Ground Zero, and
remembered that we’d been together in the flat in Covent Garden when the Twin Towers
fell, holding each other and crying, unable to watch the scene on television
but unable to turn it off, either. We walked up along an old railway track that
had been turned into a park, and when we passed 28
th
 Street, Felix told me about an amazing immersive theatre production
we absolutely had to see together next time.

“Is
there going to be a next time?” I said.

“I
don’t know, Laura. I guess that’s up to you.”

He
took my hand, and when I look back, it seems as if, for the rest of the day, he
never let it go – although of course that can’t be what really happened.

When
we’d walked so much I felt like my left foot was about to fall off, Felix said,
“Time for a break?”

“Definitely,”
I said.

“The
apartment where I’m staying is about five blocks from here,” he said. “We could
go there?”

I
knew exactly what that meant, but I didn’t say no. We stopped at a liquor store
on the way and bought a bottle of champagne, then I followed Felix through a
glass door and up three flights of stairs, which smelled a bit of unemptied bins.
I felt my heart sink, worried that he was stuck in yet another squalid,
miserable place. But when he unlocked the door, it was to reveal a beautiful,
airy room, filled with the light of the setting sun, with white-painted walls
and an air-conditioning unit rattling in the window, making it blissfully cool.

“I
borrowed this from a mate who’s working in California for a couple of months,”
Felix said. “It’s small, but it does the job. I don’t know how long I’ll be
here – it’s possible the show will tank and I’ll be back in London before you
can say, ‘Make mine an Old Fashioned.’”

“It’s
lovely,” I said. I couldn’t help but notice that most of the floor space was
taken up by a giant four-poster bed, covered by a blinding-white duvet. I
wondered if he’d made it that morning imagining coming back here with me.