Twenty-Three
Alex’s stomach churned as her eyes circled back to her Sherlock clock. Fifteen minutes and Mark would be here, home together for the first time since he dragged her to the Birmingham comic expo—forty-seven days ago. She reached towards her bedside table to grab the final touch to her outfit—
The lock clicked. He’s early.
A quiver rose from her chest and wouldn’t stop vibrating. Please, no sweating. Maybe the sleeveless dress would have been better?
“Lex?”
Too late to change.
“Coming.”
She marched from their bedroom, her heart racing three times as fast as her feet.
Mark…hair disheveled, two weeks of stubble darkening his pale face, closing the door behind him. He set his backpack on the floor, a carry-on baggage tag curled around one of its straps. Straightening up, he shrugged off his wool coat, propelling a familiar scent into the air. Not too strong, not too faint…perfect, the scent of home.
Alex couldn’t slow her breathing. He looked hot.
Mark removed his Ray-Bans. His eyes, weary and serious, met Alex’s.
The giddiness that had flushed her cheeks while getting ready dissolved within seconds. She stopped short, running her hand over her neck—no necklace. She hadn’t had a chance to put it on.
The keychain in his hand clinked against his sunglasses.
Alex swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. “Hi.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“Hi.” Mark mirrored Alex’s posture, stiff and still, but his eyes darted to her lips.
She felt that flick of his eyes deep in her stomach. What she wouldn’t give to kiss him and turn back the clock twelve days to New Year’s Eve…to stay in and skip that party. Tucking her hair behind an ear, she smiled and turned away. Stay on script! “Want a beer or something?”
“No, I’m good…thanks.” Mark placed his keys and sunglasses on the black chair by the door and yanked off his boots.
“I’m gonna grab some water.” She walked to the kitchen, wondering if he was following her ass in her grey dress. A glance over her shoulder—yep, but once caught, his gaze swept across the few furnishings they owned and landed on the shelving unit to his right. Chairs, area rugs, and end tables might be in short supply in their flat, but they didn’t want for happy memories collected in picture frames. Clusters of photographs congregated on the shelves, each one celebrating a cherished moment: birthdays with friends, her comic con coups, and their whirlwind Venice vacation—Mark’s surprise anniversary gift last year of a three-day stay over New Year’s in the City of Bridges.
He was staring at one photo in particular, the two of them huddled up for warmth under a blanket in a wobbly gondola on the Grand Canal. Her heart beat in her throat as she turned back to the sink and filled two glasses. That shot captured the heady bliss of their first anniversary. On that swaying boat, they had made a vow: every year, the first of January would be unforgettable. They had more than fulfilled that promise this year.
She turned around and walked back to the sofa, two water glasses in her hands. Mark sat down, legs wide apart, and shoulders hunched. He put his phone on the table beside the still unopened courier box. Midafternoon sunlight slipped through the west-facing balcony windows, settling on Mark’s argyle socks and a vase holding a burst of red snapdragons. The flat felt spotless and orderly, warm and welcoming.
“My flowers came, then.”
“They’re gorgeous. Thank you.” She placed a glass in front of Mark and perched on the edge of the sofa to his right, knees together, back straight. Her left foot jittered, betraying her practiced cool.
“You look lovely. Did you have a meeting today?”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Thanks. Uh, no, not today.” She forced a half-smile.
They sat in silence for a minute.
“Lex, there’s so much—”
“Mark, I need you—” Their words collided, spoken at the same time.
“Sorry.” Mark ran a tentative hand through his hair. Dampness shadowed the material underneath his right armpit. “You go first.”
She sipped her water and shakily relinquished it to the coffee table. “This all feels surreal…” She cleared her throat.
Mark stared at the water settling in her glass.
“I’ve felt for a while that I’m way down your priority list. You’re never home. Our stable, loving relationship has turned into a painful long-distance one. I worry every time you leave you’ll come back a little less in love with me. I’m always waiting for the worst to happen, scared that missing me will fade into forgetting me, replacing me…with someone else—”
“Lex, there’s never been anyone els—”
“Mark.”
He nodded and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.
“Maybe there’s never been anyone else before…but there is now. You don’t get brownie points because you didn’t sleep with another woman until a few days ago.”
“Lex, it was a mistake, a stupid mistake.”
“A mistake is tossing a red sock into a washer filled with white clothes. This isn’t a mistake, Mark. This is a wrecking ball. It’s shattered what we had. You’ve broken us.”
“I know. I’m not trying to minimize what I’ve done or make excuses…sorry, poor choice of words.” He crossed his legs and uncrossed them again, unable to find a comfortable position. “Guilt has been gnawing at me. I keep forgetting my lines. I’ve barely slept—”
Alex huffed and crossed her arms.
“How I’ve been feeling doesn’t even compare to what I’ve put you through, Mouse. I know my word isn’t worth much right now, but it will never happen again—I don’t want to be with her. That is the God’s honest truth.”
“But you did that night.” Alex pinched her lips tight. “Know what hurts the most? Your blatant dishonesty. You shared your life and bed with her for years, but didn’t tell me. It was like I was relegated to a need-to-know basis, but Fallon knew who I was. She blurted it out: ‘Mark’s told me all about you.’ You should have told me all about her, Mark. For fuck’s sake, I’m your girlfriend! Your lying is unforgivable.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Good, because I can’t—”
Bruno Mars burst into song from Mark’s phone, facedown on the table.
“Aren’t you…?” Alex glanced at it.
“No.” He raised his voice to be heard above the music. “Lex, I know all the sorrys in the world won’t erase what I’ve done, but everything in my email was the truth, every word, and if I could, I would pick apart every minute of that evening to figure out why I…let myself…why I let you down so badly.”
Bruno’s warbling abruptly stopped.
“I wish you could, too. I’d like to know what you two got up to. I’d like to know why you would even want to go there—”
“Lex…”
“Well, come on! It must have been a pretty epic reason to have sex with her on our anniversary.” Alex gave him a pointed stare.
Mark glanced away and pawed a hand through his hair.
“Was she on top? Did you do it in a hot shower? No, you couldn’t have—you reeked of her. Shame we can’t relive the magic of Fallon coaxing you to finish—”
“Lex, don’t…” He scrunched his eyes. “I swear on Freddie’s life, I can’t remember a thing, not a single bloody second, and even if I could, it meant sod all.”
“I’m sure Fallon filled you in when you woke up.”
“She was crying, frantic…worried about Duff finding out.”
“Crocodile tears. Hope he dumps her.” Alex paused. “Did you use a condom?”
“I think so.”
“I thought you couldn’t remember.”
“The wrapper was on the duvet…” Mark forced the words out. “When I stumbled out of the bed…there was a used condom in the bedside bin.” His eyes fell with his shoulders. “Mouse, I’m so so sorry.”
Her nose prickled. Dammit. YOU are in control, Alex. YOU. She looked away and reached for her glass, but thought better of it, burying her hands in her lap.
Mark stuck his fingers inside the strap of his watch and spun it around and around his wrist.
Neither spoke for half a minute. The squeals of a baby, the girl belonging to the lesbian couple next door, reverberated from the hallway.
Alex brushed imaginary fuzz from her dress. “At least Mark Junior won’t be making his debut nine months from now.”
Frowning, Mark continued to spin his watch.
“Our relationship has meant everything to me.”
“It means everything to me, too, Mouse. Meeting you changed my life.”
“I think Lairds did more to change your life than I ever did.”
“That’s not true.” Mark angled towards her. “I was at a low point when I met you. Six months of rejections, and not a single role, not even a radio play. Every audition came to nothing. The doubts started…was I good enough? Was I wasting my time? I was thinking about giving up.”
“I doubt that!” She huffed. “You seemed so confident.”
“Yeah, ’cause I was trying to impress you! It’s not every day I meet a cute American girl who writes plays.” His face softened with a smile. “After twenty minutes talking to you, I realized—she gets me. Unlike most people, she doesn’t think I’m stupid for hanging out in drafty theatres, getting paid next to nothing. She gets my need to disappear into a character, because she craves that escape, too. Lex, the joy you have for writing your plays—for taking that leap of faith that maybe one day they’ll be seen by an audience—that inspired me to keep trying. I felt like I had found a kindred spirit.”
“I felt that, too.”
“See?” His eyes crinkled. “Other than my mum, I’ve never had anyone in my life who believed in me as much as you—and to top it off, you laugh at my stupid jokes and love my Vespa! And your talent—Christ, Lex…your first play staged at the Royal bloody Court? I wasn’t surprised—I knew all along you could do it. You, gorgeous girl, are a force to be reckoned with.” He pointed towards the shelves. “You’ll need to shift those photos for Olivier Awards soon.”
“I love those photos.”
“I do too.” He moved closer to her. “Those memories are special because you were by my side, Lex. God, we have so many. Remember when the Doctor Who Christmas special script arrived?”
“Yeah. I cried.” Her eyes moistened, recalling the memory, wishing she could revisit that simpler, happier time. “I’m so proud of you, Mark. You deserve all the accolades, the success…” A heavy breath landed on her lap. “We almost survived it unscathed, until now…”
He clutched her hand. “We can get through this.”
“I’ve thought about nothing else, Mark…”
“Neither have I.”
“You can’t remember, but I can’t forget…”
His forehead creased briefly as her words stung.
“I love you, Mark, but once trust is broken…” She winced, her heart pounding faster…faster… “We can’t go back to the way things were.”
“I know. I know that.” He swallowed heavily, squeezing her hand. “I love you more than anything. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it will be, I will prove you can trust me again. Just tell me what I need to do.” His eyes lit up. “Just name it.”
“I think we should break up.”
His face fell. He blinked a few times, stunned—as if the words Alex had spoken were a foreign language. “What?”
Alex pulled her hand away. “I can’t see a way through this. I’m sorry.”
“Mouse.” He leaned closer, his eyes wide and pleading. “No! We can make this work. I know it will take time to rebuild your trust—”
“There’s more to it than that.” She slanted away from him. “We’re never together…and when we are, we have zero privacy. I haven’t been happy for a while.”
“I know you haven’t been, but we can fix this—”
She shook her head. “You and I deal with things differently, you and I want different things. I would like to get engaged; you want to wait. I wanted us to have time together; you couldn’t say no to a single thing Wink suggested. I can’t do this anymore, Mark. I’m done with being patient. I’m done with always being the one forced to compromise.”
Mark clasped her knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth. “It won’t always be like this—”
“I want a partner who spends more time with me than away from me, but that’s not our life, is it? And if you were serious about making time for us, you’d have done it by now…”
“Babe, I am serious. That’s why I’m gonna carve out more time for us. You can visit set more often. We can FaceTime every morning, before bed—”
“Waving through a tablet screen or having sex in your dressing room every few weeks doesn’t cut it. I want to wake up beside you in our bed. I want to decorate this flat together. I want to cook for us—simple things. What we have, it’s not enough.”
He dragged both hands through his hair. “Lex, it’s not enough for me either.”
“You say that and yet every time we’ve talked about it, I can see you’re torn. I know you don’t mean to let me down, but if it’s a choice between disappointing me or Wink, I lose, every time. It’s like Wink has this hold over you.” She threw her arms up. “Fuck, he’s even got you doing action movies, Mark! We used to make jokes about those films. When we first met, you said your dream was to follow in the footsteps of your favourite actors, doing roles that meant something, but since Wink arrived, you’ve abandoned that. Since when do you want to become Vin fucking Diesel?”
“I don’t. I’ll still do theatre.” He pointed at the table. “Look, why don’t you open the box—”
“Wink dictates everything: the jobs you take, how often you’re home. It’s a tug of war, and I’m tired of always being on the losing end—”
“Not anymore. I talked to him.”
Bruno sang out again from Mark’s phone.
“Ignore it.” He refused to pull his eyes away from Alex.
“We can’t, Mark, that’s the point…”
Bruno kept singing.
“It doesn’t matter what Wink thinks.” Mark shook his head, turning his phone over. “Shit.” He sagged with a sigh. “I hav—”
“Yep.”
“Wink.” Mark snapped his eyes shut. “Can I ring you—”
Alex exhaled.
“Er, really…? They want me to read…? Wow, okay…if you think…no, not a problem… Yep. Thanks.”
Alex shook her head. “Go on. You were just saying ‘it doesn’t matter what Wink thinks’?”
He pinched his lips and dropped his phone on the table. No words were necessary. His hesitation spoke for him.
She placed her fingers to her temples. “You haven’t been around to notice, but…I’ve spent hours at my keyboard these last few months but nothing comes. It’s like an instrument I’ve forgotten how to play. My writing’s a shadow of what it was last year. Producers and directors are passing on my work…it’s just not good enough—”
“The Garrick is just one theatre, Lex. There’s plent—”
“The Donmar rejected my commission—”
“What? When—?”
“Back in October. See? I’ve become a theatre has-been at twenty-four. No one is returning my calls. Being ignored is even more brutal than being rejected. It’s soul crushing.”
“I know that better than anyone. Look, I can help—”
“And do what? Make them take my calls?” Alex clenched her jaw. “Everything is a mess. My credit card is maxed out. I had to sell stuff to pay rent—”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I can support us.”
“I want to be financially self-sufficient, but I can’t, not without my writing voice. I’ve lost it. Can’t you see how that feels, Mark? It’s like…it left with you one day and hasn’t come back. What if I never get it back?”
“Lex, it will come back.”
“Yeah? When? Because I’m tired of waiting, turning myself inside out over writing, bills, the future…you—it’s not helping. I just…can’t…not anymore.” She fought to catch her breath.
His posture stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having panic attacks again?”
She bowed her head.
“Lex.” He scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I would’ve come home, rearranged…” The rest of the sentence stuck in the back of his throat.
“And what?” Alex slowly shook her head. “Get fined like you did on January 2nd? Or worse? Mark, I don’t want you resenting me. I don’t want you regretting being with me.”
“I don’t regret being with you. I love you. You’re the most important thing in my—”
Alex’s hand pushed pause on Mark’s chest as tears gathered in her eyes. “We both know that’s not true, not anymore.”
“It won’t be this crazy forever…just hold on a little longer.” Mark pulled her closer. “Please…don’t give up on us.”
“I’m not giving up on us. You gave up on us…the moment you slipped into Fallon’s bed.” Her voice cracked, each word tearing them further apart.
“No. Lex—”
“Mark, it’s over.” The tears she choked back clogged her throat. “Please go.”
His hand slipped from her shoulder, his jaw slack. He stared at the wall for a moment before scooping his phone from the table. He stood up, eyes glued to the floor. “We’ll…We’ll have things to sort out, living arrangements…all that.” Dazed, he blinked and turned to his left, walking around the back of the sofa so he didn’t have to face Alex or squeeze between her and the table. “They’ll have to wait until filming wraps next month. I’ve gotta…head to the airport…” His chin trembled.
Alex rose to her feet, but her knees wobbled like jelly. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
Keeping his back to her, Mark wiped his nose with the edge of his wrist and tugged on his boots, ignoring their laces. He slipped on his coat, dumping his keys and phone in the pockets.
The half-dozen steps to the door took all of Alex’s energy, her chest tightening with each sob and gulp for air. The room began to sway ever so slightly. She reflexively reached for the Vespa charm, but it wasn’t there.
Mark leaned towards the chair and his sunglasses but changed course, turning around quickly towards Alex. He threw his arms around her shoulders, crushing her body with his and leaving a tender kiss on her forehead. Clinging to her, halting breaths shuddered through his chest as he finally gave in to the tears he had fought to suppress.
Alex pressed her face into his neck and dug her fingers into his waist, pulling him tighter, trying to commit his scent, his heartbeat, the warmth of his body to memory. If only New Year’s hadn’t been spent in Dublin. If only Mark didn’t choose Wink each time…if only…if only…he hadn’t cheated on her. Letting go was the right thing to do, but her disintegrating heart begged her to reconsider. There was nothing she could do. Their time had simply…run out. Another wave of tears spilled from her eyes.
He inhaled purposefully and trembled upon its release. With a final squeeze, he let go. “I love you, Mouse, always.”
She swiped her wet cheeks with a hand and licked her lips, tasting a melancholy mix of salty tears, hers and Mark’s. She wrapped her arms around her quaking chest, barely holding herself together.
Mark put on his sunglasses, grabbed his backpack, and pulled open the door. He walked away without turning back.