Alex

The problem with the truth was that it was subjective. At least that’s what Alex thought as he tried to get comfortable in his tiny seat. The truth was uncomfortable, like an economy class seat on a long haul flight. It was not as black and white as one would imagine. Ayah had fired question after question, trying to catch him out. She was demanding facts, but the facts didn’t necessarily make up the truth. The truth was he had felt lonely. The truth was she had hurt him and he hated feeling hurt. The truth was that he was terrified of losing her because in his mind she was the one. His stomach tightened as he watched stewards help people stow their bags and usher them towards their seats. He was not afraid of flying, although he had to admit he had more pleasurable past times. What would happen when he stepped off the plane? What would that fucking psychopath have said to her while he was incommunicado? He had tried to send her a Whatsapp, just to see how she was doing, but she hadn’t responded. The ticks turned blue and his heart sank when nothing came back. He told himself ‘She’s tired, hungover, you know how she gets when she’s like this.’ He could picture her asleep, like a headless body. It had made him jump the first time they were in bed together and she had done that; the fact she liked to sleep with her head under the pillow made him smile. There were so many things about her that made him smile. For one so serious, Ayah had a side to her that always put a smile on his face. He smiled at the thought, and then it faded when he remembered how she had looked at him that afternoon. Broken. Completely let down. He had done that to her. There was nothing he hated more than being caught out; it was the little kid in him with the football behind his back, covering for his friends, but then getting the worst deal. ‘Lies make baby Jesus cry.’ He smiled at the the voice Ayah would put on when she said that. Who was it she was trying to do?Ralph Wiggum. She always put on that stupid face too. She hadn’t looked that way earlier. There was no laughter and nothing about the situation could be taken as funny. She didn’t want to joke around. She had wanted the truth. But what was a lie? He hadn’t lied to her. Not in his mind. It had been a mistake that wasn’t worth mentioning. Now she wanted him to be honest, but he couldn’t help thinking that he hadn’t been dishonest. He had weighed it up and out of the truth and lies, lies seemed to be less destructive. Unless you counted this one. This fucking whopper was not ok. His fist balled up and his jaw clenched at the thought of it. That fucking bitch. The feeling had been so familiar. It reminded him of when his father had brought him into the living room to ask about the broken window. He and his brother had looked at each other and then bankly at the floor. He knew that it hadn’t been him, it had obviously been Rob. However, the truth never worked that way for Alex. Unless he could prove it hadn’t been him his father would punish him and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t grass up Rob. They would both share the punishment, that was how it had always been, Rob would mess up and they would both suffer for it. They would both stay quiet. At least that was what he had thought. Idiot. Rob was quick to create an alibi, he had been playing football in the park; a promising footballer, his father had always favoured Robert, he was the athletic one, the one he could talk with, share an interest with. Alexander on the other hand had been a bit more of a mummy’s boy. He had wished she was at home to stop anything before it had happened. But she wasn’t. When his father had turned to him he said he had been upstairs doing nothing. He had in fact been daydreaming, drawing, but his father hated that. He didn’t want to upset him anymore that he already looked. Without a word his father had smacked him. The shock had hurt more than the smack. “Don’t ever lie to me again.” His father had said. Alex’s eyes had welled up with tears; Rob stared fixedly at the floor until he was dismissed and never looked back. His mother consoled him for hours when he came home, had told his father off, but the damage had been done. Feelings had been hurt. He hadn’t spoken to Rob for weeks after that, despite the sweets he had stolen to cheer him up, or the magazines he had got him to copy pictures from. Rob had never said anything, not sorry not anything, because that would have been admitting he had lied. This was what it felt like, being slapped for something he hadn’t done. He called over the steward and asked for a Jack Daniels. Double. As he sipped it, his heart sank deeper into his chest, hiding itself from further damage. What if his truth wasn’t good enough? He knocked back his drink and hit the steward call button again. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep on this flight without help. He flashed his smile at the stewardess and proceeded to tell her of his fear of flying. He had a way with women, Ayah said it was the eyes, she wasn’t mistaken. He had won over many a woman (and man) with his eyes and if that didn’t do it, there was the smile. She had winked at him, disappeared down the asile and returned a few minutes later and handed him over two handfulls of miniatures. She understood excatly how he felt. If he needed anything at any point of the journey, jus hit the button, or find her, Michelle, her name was Michelle. “Thank you Michelle.” he had smiled and she had snuck away, looking back at him over her shoulder. He could see her talking to her friend later, indicating him with her eyes and he had smiled back again, as they both giggled conspiratorily. His heart sunk again. This is exactly what Ayah was talking about. “So fucking friendly” she would growl.

They had been fighting for weeks. It had started with her taking this stupid job. So they had needed someone in their Mexico office for a few months, why did it have to be her? Why hadn’t she discussed it with him? They had been together for nearly six months and she was still acting as if she was single. That was at least how he had seen it. She had seen it as the career she had forged for herself before he had come along, an opportunity she had been toying with for months, when they had only been dating for a while. She was always making him feel she could do without him. She said they could break up. Pick up when she got back. if that was what he wanted. It was this callousness that really pissed him off about her, so take it or leave it. So he had been adamant; they would stay together, it was only a couple of months, he understood this was something she had always wanted to do. They hadn’t bee going out long, she was unsure about where the whole thing was going and the space would be good, to think about things. He had been hurt though. Then the jealousy had started: The posts on company dinners, French Tuesdays with exotic looking men, comments on photos from men he had never heard of before, who seemed to know her from her university years, when she had studied there, it made him angry. Childish. The drunken arguments started soon after, she was always stone cold sober when he was drunk, it was always afternoon, when it was night for him, he always had to hang around and wait until she was up. It had been hard. Not just being far apart but being on different time lines. Then one night he had poured out his heart, told her that it was hard being away from her, physically and emotionally. She had stared back at him and said “ If you want you can sleep with other people.” That had been it. That’s how she had seen the whole thing. Anyone else would do, ‘A hole was just a hole’ as she had once laughingly remarked. He had thought it was vulgar, he hated it was she was blunt about sex. He was a romantic. He wanted to love her. Marry her. She clearly had other ideas. He had stopped responding to her messages after that. When they did start talking again, he had resolved not to be so attached. If she wanted him to see other people he would and just like that she appeared. The innocent looking blonde American who he had to assist him at the fashion event. All doe eyed and eager to please. He could tell when he smiled at her, she had blushed and run off to get him the floor plan as he had asked for. Throughout the day he had joked with her, she had seemed sweet, innocent and a bit out of sorts. He hadn’t intended to invite her out for a drink, but she had been standing there when he had asked the Tech Guy, Jamie, if he fancied a quick one. So he asked if Tiffany wanted to come along too.

Tiffany had been deeper than he had thought. She had picked up on the fact that he was upset. So he had told her everything. How he’d been feeling for months, the fight and the month or arguments, the unknown men on Facebook and unread messages. She had warned him about getting too jealous, and he had been touched that she seemed to care. Also slightly amused that she had sounded so experienced and wise on the matter.

“My husband is very jealous.” She knocked back her drink.

The shock on his face must have been visible because she smiled and shook her head. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-one. She told him the story of their whirlwind romance. She had grown up in the States in a small town, huge family and not a lot of freedom. She had met Wendel at University. He had almost spat out his drink. “Yes. His name is Wendel.” She smiled, and quickly showed him a picture of her husband on her phone. He was a handsome man, the name was misleading, he was a big guy. No one would be messing with Wendel. He had been her saviour. He was from London, but half his family lived in the States. He had come out to study, but he had no intention of staying. He had wanted her to come back with him. So loving, considerate, attentive; it had been an intense romance and when she had hesitated, asked for time, made excuses about her family never letting her leave, he had asked her to marry him. It was every girl’s dream: to be swept away from it all, taken far away, to start afresh. She had said yes and here she was, waiting for her course to start again and trying to make some money managing events at Selfridges. She hadn’t realised how possessive he would get; the constant messages, emails, phonecalls, drive bys. Interrogations when she got in. He had started going on her Facebook and deleting photos, putting up photos of them together, sending responses to inbox messages she had received that he had thought were ‘inappropriate’. The only reason he hadn’t been there today, waiting outside the staff exit, was because he was away in France for work. It was the most freedom she had had in months. The tears began to flow. Alex reached out for her hand and squeezed it.

The night carried on with them consoling each other over more drinks. They had moved on to a club he knew, and got a bottle in. “Let’s have some fun. ” he had said enthusiastically, he liked her and wanted to put a smile on her face. They shared stories of their childhood and growing up, over bearing fathers and disappointing exes. They had decided this would be a regular thing, swapped numbers and whatsapped pictures. It had been a while since Alex had had this much fun with a girl without it ending in a fight. Got this much attention without it being out of guilt. Towards the end of the night, both of them were pretty drunk, he was leaning against a wall to prop himself up and Tiffany had slouched back into the sofa with a wide smile on her face. She had beckoned him closer so she could finish what she’d been saying over the loud music and he had smiled and leaned in when she pulled him down and kissed him. It had been a while since he had kissed anyone. It was one of the things he had missed most about Ayah. The kisses. They would kiss for hours when they had first met. Skype didn’t make up for that. The thought made him sad and then he realised, they were still kissing. He pushed her off.

“I can’t.” He had said. He felt very sober and a bit sick. He quickly ran off to the bathroom to throw up. Yep. It was time to go home. Fuck.

He had walked her to the taxi rank and she had hugged him goodbye. It had lasted longer that he felt comfortable about and he gently pried her off him.

“I’m so sorry.” She had whispered in his ear.

“It’s fine. We were drunk. It’s fine.” he reasoned. Ayah would not be so reasonable.

“I’ll call you.” she had said as she got into the cab, he nodded, didn’t even think why she felt the need to. Alex breathed deeply and pulled up his collar. It was getting colder. He waited for the next cab. It was eleven o’clock. Ayah would be back from work. He sent her a quick message. Hey fancy a chat? On my way home baby xxx. In a few seconds his phone beeped. Always baby. Missed you xxx.

He climbed into his cab and sat quietly. The night had been fun and he was sure that Ayah was the only girl for him now. He could have easily just gone back with Tiffany, but he had been loyal, faithful. His phone beeped again. This time it was Tiffany. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. I want us to be friends. He felt bad. She was obviously going through a hard time and needed a friend. No problem. Of course we’re friends. x It would be nice to have a friend that he could talk to about things with Ayah, he had gushed so enthusiastically about her to everyone else that it was almost a disappointment to start telling people things weren’t working out of late. His phoned beeped again as he rounded the corner to his house. Tiffi: Great! ^_^ Let’s keep tonight between you and me. Please. He remembered the face of Wendel, then Ayah and text back quickly. Of course. This is just between you and me ;)