Say Hello and Wave Goodbye Read online

  ‘Is it to do with Flynn?’

  I nod, too choked to speak. I’ve explained the Flynn not gay thing to Trina but not my true feelings towards him. She didn’t seem particularly surprised when I told her about Steve not being a man; she said that she never could get her head around Flynn being gay from what I’d told her about him but didn’t think it was the sort of thing she could come out and say. Not very politically correct, is it?

  ‘Let me guess, you have feelings for him?’

  I nod dumbly again.

  ‘Big feelings?’

  ‘The biggest,’ I say.

  She gives a sigh. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, whenever you talk about him your whole face lights up. And you talk about him a lot. You might have been fooling yourself but really, it was pretty obvious.’

  ‘Really?’ I say in shock. ‘If it was so obvious why didn’t I know?’

  ‘Maybe you couldn’t admit it to yourself because you thought he was unobtainable. And if I’d said anything you’d only have denied it wouldn’t you? And to be honest it was never going to end well with him being gay, was it? But as he’s not, surely that’s a good thing? There’s absolutely nothing to stop you from getting together now, is there?’

  I tell her about his new girlfriend, the one that he broke up with Steve for.

  ‘Hmm.’ Trina chews an immaculate red painted fingernail, a sure sign that she’s thinking deeply. ‘It might not be serious. It could all fizzle out and amount to nothing because it sounds like he hasn’t been with her for very long. He could just be infatuated with her - this Steve doesn’t know everything. Could be a five-minute wonder and he’ll be back on the market and available next week.’

  ‘No, Steve doesn’t know everything,’ I admit. ‘But then there’s the fact that Flynn’s not actually speaking to me.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not being over sensitive? I can’t see why he wouldn’t be speaking to you, it’s not as if you’ve done anything wrong. I just don’t think you should make any rash decisions. There’s no need for you to move out right now.’

  ‘No. I’ve decided, I can’t stay, it’s pointless. And Flynn is definitely not the same with me. We were good friends and got on so well and now we don’t. Maybe he just wants to keep things business-like, with me being the lodger. You’ve guessed how I feel about him so maybe he has too and he’s keeping his distance to spare my embarrassment. Oh my God, the humiliation.’ I put my head in my hands.

  ‘I realised because I’m a woman and I can sense these things,’ Trina reassures me. ‘He’s a man remember, trust me, he’ll have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘God, I hope not, I don’t think I could bear it if he knew; if he was actually pitying me.’

  ‘You’re getting carried away, honestly, he won’t have the faintest clue about how you really feel about him.’

  I think about this for a while, I hope she’s right.

  ‘Whether he’s guessed how I feel or not I have to be realistic, I can’t waste any more time hoping for something that’s never going to happen. I’ve wasted enough of my life on Jonathan. I don’t want to do the same with my unrequited love for Flynn.’

  ‘I think you’re being too hasty, you should give it more time, think it over for a bit longer.’ Trina looks at her watch. ‘Christ, we’d better go, we’ll be getting the sack if we sit here any longer. We’re only supposed to have an hour for lunch.’

  ‘God, where did that time go?’ I put my plate and cup onto the tray and pick my handbag up. ‘I’ve made my mind up. I’m going to text him and ask him when he’s going to be home and I’m going to tell him I’m moving out.’ I pull my mobile out of my handbag. ‘You go on ahead, I’ll catch you up.’

  ‘Okay.’ Trina looks at me in resignation. ‘See you upstairs.’

  After several deleted attempts I finally tap out a message to Flynn and press the send button before I change my mind.

  Will you be in tonight? I have something important to talk to you about. B

  It’s done.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A ll afternoon I keep pulling my desk drawer open and looking at my phone to see if Flynn has replied.

  By five o’clock he still hasn’t; I know from the delivery information that he read it almost as soon as he received it so I don’t understand why he hasn’t answered.

  As I get into my car and pull out of the car park – I still haven’t managed to walk to work although I keep promising myself that I will – I decide that I’m not going to text him again. I’m going to pack my things up and if he doesn’t come home by tomorrow then I’ll send him another text to tell him I’m moving out. It’s Friday tomorrow and I’m going to move into Trina’s on Saturday morning. If I don’t see him I’ll just leave the rent in an envelope in the kitchen and post my keys through the letterbox.

  It might actually be easier if I don’t have to see him although I can’t bear the actual thought of never seeing him again.

  I pull up outside the house and before I go inside I open the boot and pull the back seat down in readiness for putting all my clothes and assorted junk in there. I feel more positive now that I’ve made the first step towards leaving; I have to get on with my life and move on and stop wishing that things were different.

  I have to take responsibility for my own happiness.

  I’ve agreed with Trina that I’ll pay the same rent as I pay Flynn although she didn’t want to take anything, said that I’m her friend and she has absolutely no intention of charging me.

  I told her that unless she lets me pay, I’ll go and stay with Mum and Dad. She said that was blackmail but I refused to give in and she could see that I meant it so she caved in. She still thinks that I should calm down and think things through but there’s absolutely no point. For once I’m doing something decisive. I’m doing the right thing.

  I go inside and wander around the house, remembering how I felt when I arrived that first day and Flynn greeted me at the front door in his bobble hat. This has been the first place that’s felt like home for a long, long time and I’m really going to miss it but I’m determined to buy my own place and make a proper home for myself.

  A new start.

  I’m mentally saying goodbye to this house and I know that I’ll have to think of an excuse to tell Mum and Dad about why I’m moving yet again when I’ve repeatedly told them how much I love it here. Or maybe they’ve guessed how I feel about Flynn too; Trina said it was written all over my face.

  No cooking for me tonight, a ready meal for one in the microwave will suffice although I don’t feel in the slightest bit hungry. But I need to eat; because I never ate anything at lunchtime and I don’t want to get a banging headache and feel sick again. Trina has told me that I’m only allowed to cook in her house under her supervision.

  I think she was joking .

  The frozen lasagne looks about as appetising as a cardboard box lid and after I’ve nuked it for several minutes it still looks the same. I chew the tasteless combination of grey meat and yellow pasta and force myself to swallow down every scrap of it.

  I put my plate in the dishwasher and look at the clock; seven o’clock and Flynn’s still not home and he hasn’t answered my text. I trudge up the stairs and decide that now would be a very good time to start packing as I only have tonight and tomorrow because I’ll be leaving first thing on Saturday.

  I might never see Flynn again.

  I thought at least he would have replied to my text, if only to tell me he wasn’t coming home. He must be completely wrapped up with his new girlfriend and not the slightest bit interested in anything his lodger has to say. I thought we were friends but perhaps I was fooling myself over that; perhaps I was just convenient company.

  I stifle down the wave of sorrow that threatens to wash over me and drag one of my suitcases out from underneath the bed and fling it onto the mattress with a thud. I had little idea those few short months ago that I’d be moving on so quickly, maybe I should have taken the room
at Em’s. I open the biggest case and start pulling out drawers and pulling clothes out of the wardrobe. I lay the clothes in the case, trying not to think about Flynn. I pack everything in neatly and then realise that in my robotic state I’ve not left anything out to wear for tomorrow and Saturday, so have to unpack again.

  By eight o’clock I’m pretty much done; my cases are packed and most of my smaller bits and pieces are in the cardboard box that the new wok came in. The rest of my bigger stuff can go straight into the boot of the car. I’m mentally assessing how I’ll fit it all in when I hear the front door open and the clicking of Sausage’s claws in the hallway.

  Flynn’s home.

  I stand immobile and listen to see if he calls out to me. Before things became awkward between us he’d holler up the stairs if he knew I was home.

  Now there’s only deafening silence.

  I come out of my room and hover on the landing unsure what to do. I know he received my text so he must have come home because I asked him to and a part of me feels annoyed that he couldn’t even be bothered to text back.

  Get on with it! nags the Beccabird. Stop putting it off.

  Okay. I take a deep breath and go downstairs feeling as if I’m walking to the gallows. I just need to get this over with and then I can go back up to my bedroom and stay there. I won’t need to see him ever again.

  I can hear the sound of the kettle being filled and put on to boil and as I get to the bottom of the stairs Sausage comes running up to me, his stumpy tail wagging like mad. I drop into a crouch and tickle his tummy and he rolls over onto his back, the better to enjoy it. As I rub his tummy I choke down the lump in my throat, I’m going to miss him too.

  ‘Alright?’ Flynn doesn’t even turn around when he speaks but carries on getting a mug out of the cupboard. ‘D’you want a brew?’ he asks in a flat tone.

  ‘No thanks,’ I say.

  I stand in the doorway and wonder if he’s ever going to turn around and look at me.

  What seems like hours but can only be minutes pass and he eventually turns and leans back against the worktop and crosses his arms.

  ‘Did you get my text?’ I ask stupidly, knowing that he did.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Obviously it was too much effort to text back,’ I say, in a sudden flash of anger.

  ‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘I was busy.’ We glare at each other and I wonder how this happened – I have no idea what happened to end our friendship and I desperately want to ask him but the fear that he’ll blank me stops me from asking. I don’t think I could take any more of his coldness towards me.

  ‘So,’ he says as he turns his back to me and pours boiling water into his mug. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’

  ‘Just that I’m moving out on Saturday.’

  He turns to face me again and stares at me unsmilingly. Did I expect him to look surprised? Shocked? A part of me thought, no hoped, that he would.

  ‘I’ll pay you an additional month’s rent in lieu of notice, of course,’ I add.

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘I’ll be sorry to leave,’ I can’t stop myself from saying, ‘But I think it’s time to move on.’

  ‘Yeah, course it is. Surprised it took you so long.’ He sneers. He takes a long look at me and then turns back to the worktop and stirs his tea.

  Is that it? It seems it is; he’s not even asked where I’m going, that’s how much he cares. That’s how much of a friend he is. Was. It almost seems as if he hates me.

  He doesn’t care! Stop hoping, get real, barks the Beccabird.

  We were friends once, good friends.

  Yeah, well, not now. MOVE ON.

  I watch Flynn’s back as he stands at the counter, it doesn’t take that long to stir a mug of tea, does it ?

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask where I’m going?’

  ‘Nope,’ he says, with his back to me.

  I turn to go back upstairs fighting back the tears and I’m glad that he’s got his back to me so he doesn’t see me crumble. My foot is on the bottom step when Flynn’s voice reaches me.

  ‘I don’t need to ask because I already know.’

  I stop. How would he know? He can’t.

  I take a deep breath and brush my hands over my face to wipe away the tears that have sprung from my eyes before I turn and go back into the kitchen.

  ‘You don’t know where I’m going because I haven’t told you.’

  ‘I do know.’ He turns to face me. ‘You’re moving in with him .’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know who.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I’m not playing your games anymore, do what you like but don’t come running to me when it all goes tits up.’

  Realisation dawns. ‘You think I’m moving in with Jonathan?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Flynn’s mouth is set in a grim line and he glares at me. ‘Just don’t involve me next time you want to make him jealous. I don’t like being used.’

  ‘I didn’t use you!’

  You’re shouting , advises the Beccabird with a superior smile.

  ‘Shut up!’ I shout and Flynn looks at me in surprise.

  ‘At least I didn’t pretend to be gay,’ I shout at Flynn, aware that I’ve completely lost it. ‘At least I didn’t pretend I had a boyfriend called Steve.’

  ‘What?’ Flynn stares at me open mouthed.

  ‘You deliberately let me think you were gay,’ I gabble, vaguely aware that the Beccabird is laughing hysterically.

  ‘I’m not gay. I had a girlfriend called Steve. I never pretended to be gay, why the hell would I?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, as I promptly burst into tears.

  ‘Look Becca,’ Flynn’s tone softens, ‘I don’t know what this pretending to be gay thing is or where you got it from and I’ve probably been unfairly harsh on you. To be honest I feel a bit hurt that you used me to get back with that arse, that’s all.’

  ‘But I didn’t use you! I tried to explain but you wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘I know, and I am sorry about that because it’s your life and none of my business and I have no right to tell you what to do. I’m just a moody, miserable bastard who should keep his nose out.’

  ‘But I’m not moving in with Jonathan!’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No! I’m moving in with Trina – although why does it even matter where I’m going, you obviously can’t wait for me to leave.’

  ‘Why? Why aren’t you moving in with him?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Yeah, why? Or are you moving in with Trina while you and Jono look for a nice cosy love nest together?’

  ‘Have you gone mad?’ I shriek at him. ‘Why the hell would I move in with a lying, cheating, scumbag who I can’t stand the sight of?’

  Flynn stares at me; I stare at him. This is probably one of the weirdest conversations that I’ve ever had.

  ‘I thought you were back with him?’ Flynn looks confused and I know how he feels.

  ‘Never,’ I say emphatically. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘He did. Jonathan. ’

  ‘What?’ I demand. ‘When?’

  ‘When we were at the restaurant, before we left. He said you were his and always would be and he only had to click his fingers and you’d go running back to him.’

  Of course; the angry exchange when Jonathan squared up to Flynn as we were leaving.

  ‘Why would you even believe him?’

  ‘You were very cosy when I arrived, holding hands as I remember.’

  Get out of that one, sniggers the Beccabird.

  ‘I wasn’t!’ I protest. ‘He put his hand over mine, I wasn’t holding his hand.’

  ‘It looked like you were. And the day at the gardening job, you stopped me from going after him because you thought I was going to hurt him.’

  I remember; Jonathan jumping into the car and Flynn chasing after him and throwing himself across the car bonnet. I was afraid, not for Jonathan but for Flynn.
I was terrified that Jonathan would run him over.

  ‘I didn’t care about him I was protecting you , I thought he was going to run you over with the car.’

  I see realisation dawn in Flynn’s eyes.

  ‘Is that why you’ve been off with me ever since?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘Is that why you’ve hardly spoken to me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks down at his feet and after a few moments he looks up at me. ‘Got it all wrong didn’t I?’ he says with a grin, the old Flynn back for a moment.

  ‘Completely wrong.’

  We stare at each other and the air suddenly seems heavy with expectation and the silence stretches into minutes.

  ‘Why did it matter so much?’ I ask quietly.

  He laughs and then stops abruptly. I look into his eyes but I can’t read his expression at all .

  ‘Well,’ he says in a hollow voice, ‘It mattered so much because I love

  ✽✽✽

  We’re snuggled on the sofa, me, Flynn and Sausage, who’s been allowed on the sofa because it’s a very special occasion. Flynn has his arms wrapped tightly around me and I’m nestled into his chest and I feel so safe and secure and loved that I might very well stay here forever.

  It turns out that my gaydar is working perfectly but my sense that someone – Flynn – is head over heels in love with me is not working at all.

  Yes, that’s right, me.

  I’m the woman that he told Steve about. Incredibly, it was pretty much love at first sight for Flynn and he just knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

  I might have to pinch myself in a moment to make sure that this isn’t a fantastic dream but to do that I’d have to move. And I don’t want to. Ever.

  Flynn hasn’t been out with a new girlfriend for the past couple of weeks – she doesn’t exist. He’s been avoiding me for the very same reason that I was going to move out; he couldn’t bear to be around me because he thought I was with someone else. He thought Jonathan and I were back together.

  Flynn’s actually been spending most evenings at his parents’ house, who he says are heartily sick of the sight of his miserable face but are far too nice to say so. If I hadn’t been so dim I would have known where he was without him telling me as he’s gone all Irish again because he’s spent so much time with them.