In Bed With Lord Byron

realised it can work . . .’
    ‘Lucy, you’re just . . .’ Anthony trailed off, chewing his lip.
    ‘Just
what
?’
    ‘I don’t think that, emotionally, you’re quite mature enough for a big relationship.’
    ‘
What!
’ I cried.
    ‘That came out . . . I didn’t mean . . . look, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m not having a go at you, Lucy—’
    ‘Oh, so you think I’m immature.’
    ‘I just think I’m ready for something that you’re not.’
    ‘Well, what d’you think I’m ready for? Come on, say it!’
    ‘Lucy, this is not what I intended . . .’
    ‘No, come on, I want to hear it. We’re both being honest, right? We’re both laying all our cards on the table. So tell me.’
    ‘Lucy, I kind of think you have this fantasy guy in your head, someone who’s a bit of Lord Byron, and a bit of Al Capone, and a bit of that poet whatever-his-name-is, and
you’re somehow secretly reaching for him, waiting for him to come along on a white horse. And Lucy, I’m not that guy, and frankly all I want is—’ He broke off. ‘I want
a relationship that’s
real
. That’s here and now.’
    ‘I . . . I . . .’ I was lost for words. ‘I mean – I guess . . . I see what you’re saying, but . . . I think . . . Look, I just feel . . . OK, maybe you’re
right,’ I admitted. ‘I know what you’re saying, Anthony, but I just feel . . . I understand you a lot better now, after—’ I broke off. ‘Um, I feel . . . I feel .
. .’
    Anthony stared at me, his eyes big and open, as though he wanted to believe me. And yet I could feel, in my heart, that he wasn’t quite convinced.
    He dropped his eyes.
    ‘I think a break would be good,’ he muttered. ‘I think I need some time apart from you to think about it all.’
    ‘Well, I guess I should go then.’
    Anthony smiled – a tight, pinched smile – and then turned swiftly back to his computer. I felt like punching him. Here he was, having a go at
me
for having a rich fantasy
life, and now he was burying himself in his work, hiding from the world in just the same fashion.
    ‘Anthony,’ I burst out in desperation, ‘I know about your mother.’
    ‘What? What are you talking about?’
    ‘I just – I think you need to know this.’
    ‘What . . .’
    ‘Look, she didn’t just walk out on you. Yes, she was having an affair – but so was your dad. She just felt she’d had enough. I think the reason she had an affair at all
was as retaliation against him. And she didn’t want to leave you, but she was pregnant with another man’s baby, so—’
    ‘What! Have you been speaking to my mum behind my back?’ Anthony suddenly snapped. ‘LUCY, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?’
    ‘BECAUSE,’ I screamed back, ‘YOU’RE A REALLY LOVELY GUY BUT YOU’RE ALSO FUCKED UP BY IT AND YOU NEED TO SORT IT OUT!’
    I broke off. Our screams hovered in the air like invisible barbs. The sound of traffic outside suddenly seemed extraordinarily loud and intrusive.
    ‘Lucy, I really don’t need this right now,’ said Anthony. ‘Look – can you just go? Please? I have to do this work.’
    Some masochistic desire kept me rooted to the spot. I knew I’d ruined it now; perhaps our friendship would never be repaired again, and so I figured that I might as well just throw
everything at him.
    ‘Anthony, I think you should stop blaming her for everything and just go out and find out what really happened. I know you’ve said—’
    ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’
    ‘I do get it, Anthony. You’ve never really listened to her. I mean – what about the fact that she was pregnant? What happened?’
    ‘I . . . I . . .’ Anthony broke off, overwhelmed. ‘Lucy, who the hell have you been talking to?’
    I was close to tears of exasperation – how on earth could I explain?
    ‘I just want you to leave.’ Anthony stared at the screen, the swirling screensaver casting patterns on his stony face. He had shut down; he felt more absent than present. ‘Just
go, OK?’
    ‘OK,’ I said quietly, and I left.
    Well, I thought back home, that went well.
    I lay down on the sofa, sobbing, berating myself for making such a mess of things. Hours seemed to pass, and tears kept coming over me in waves. I flew through a rainbow of emotions, one minute
hating Anthony, the next minute loving him, the next minute hating myself.
    In the corner of the room, a ray of moonlight slanted through the curtain and rested on the machine, making it glisten like some rare,