A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon [39]
It would be ghastly. Of course it would be ghastly. But it didn’t matter what the neighbors thought. It didn’t matter if Mum fussed over Tony like a lost son. It didn’t matter if his father tied himself in knots over bedroom arrangements. It didn’t matter if Tony insisted on a slow snog to Lionel Richie’s “Three Times a Lady.”
He wanted to share his life with Tony. The good stuff and the crap stuff.
He took a deep breath and felt, for several seconds, as if he was standing not on the pine floor of his kitchen but on some deserted Scottish headland, the surf thundering and the wind in his hair. Noble. Taller.
He went upstairs and showered and felt the remains of something dirty being rinsed away and sent spinning down the plughole.
He was having a shirt-selection crisis when the doorbell rang. He plumped for the faded orange denim and went downstairs.
When he opened the door his first thought was that Tony had received some bad news. About his father, perhaps.
“What’s the matter?”
Tony took a deep breath.
“Hey. Come inside,” said Jamie.
Tony didn’t move. “We need to talk.”
“Come inside and talk.”
Tony didn’t want to come inside. He suggested they walk to the park at the end of the road. Jamie grabbed his keys.
It happened next to the little red bin for dog shit.
Tony said, “It’s over.”
“What?”
“Us. It’s over.”
“But—”
“You don’t really want to be with me,” said Tony.
“I do,” said Jamie.
“OK. Maybe you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be with me enough. This stupid wedding. It’s made me realize…Jesus, Jamie. Am I just not good enough for your parents? Or am I not good enough for you?”
“I love you.” Why was this happening now? It was so unfair, so idiotic.
Tony looked at him. “You don’t know what love is.”
“I do.” He sounded like Jacob.
Tony’s expression didn’t change. “Loving someone means taking the risk that they might fuck up your nicely ordered little life. And you don’t want to fuck up your nicely ordered little life, do you?”
“Have you met someone else?”
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”
He should have explained. The salmon. The vacuuming. The words were there in his head. He just couldn’t get them out. He hurt too much. And there was something sickly and comforting about the thought of going back to the house alone, smashing the tulips from the table, then retiring to the sofa to drink the bottle of wine on his own.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I really am. You’re a nice guy.” Tony put his hands into his pockets to show that there would be no final embrace. “I hope you find someone who makes you feel that way.”
He turned and walked off.
Jamie stood in the park for several minutes, then went back to the flat, smashed the tulips from the table, uncorked the wine, took it to the sofa and wept.
29
Ray turned to Katie in bed and said, “Are you sure you want to marry me?”
“Of course I want to marry you.”
“You’d tell me if you changed your mind, yeh?”
“Jeez, Ray,” said Katie. “What’s all this about?”
“You wouldn’t go through with it just because we’d told everyone?”
“Ray—”
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Why are you talking like this all of a sudden?”
“Do you love me like you loved Graham?”
“No, actually, I don’t,” said Katie.
For a second she could see real pain on his face. “I was infatuated with Graham. I thought he was God’s gift. I couldn’t see straight. And when I found out what he was really like…” She put her hand on the side of Ray’s face. “I know you. I know all the things that are wonderful about you. I know all your faults. And I still want to marry you.”
“So, what are my faults?”
This wasn’t her job. He was the one who was meant to do the consoling. “Come here.” She pulled his head onto her chest.
“I love you so much.” He sounded tiny.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ditch you at the altar.”
“I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”
“It’s wedding nerves.” She ran her hand over the little hairs on his upper arm. “You remember Emily?”
“Yeh?”
“Threw up in the vestry.”
“Shit.”
“They had to send her up the aisle with this massive bouquet to hide the