Lifesaving for Beginners

angle of his cheekbone. The lines that stretch from the corners of his eyes. The dark thicket of his eyebrows. And his mouth. You could say a lot of things about a mouth like that.
    I think Thomas is as shocked as I am because he looks at me as if he has absolutely no idea who I am. I decide to let my hand drop and not mention it. Pretend it never happened. Start a conversation about something else entirely.
    I let my hand drop.
    And then I start having a conversation, but it’s not the one I planned. It’s this one, right here.
    ‘I’m not crying about Ed.’ It takes about a minute to get this sentence out because, while I have stopped crying, my body and my voice are still twitching and heaving and juddering.
    Thomas nods. He waits for me.
    ‘I’ve made a mess of everything.’
    Thomas nods again. The cheek.
    ‘After the accident, I . . . I freaked out. All that stuff you were saying . . . about getting married, having a baby . . .’
    ‘I didn’t know about—’
    ‘Don’t say anything, Thomas. Please. Let me . . .’
    He nods.
    ‘I never said sorry. But I am. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry. I messed everything up. I wrecked it.’
    Thomas says nothing.
    ‘And that thing . . . that . . . business with Nicolas. That was just . . . that was nothing. That was stupid. I mean, he wasn’t even a good kisser. He had this really long tongue and—’
    ‘Don’t bother with the details, Kat.’
    I look at him in case he might be smiling but he is not.
    ‘And I’m not trying to wreck what you have with Sarah now. I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve to be happy. You’re a good man. I was . . .’
    ‘You were what?’ He leans forward as if he really wants to know.
    ‘I suppose I wasn’t able for you.’
    Thomas pulls back. ‘I see.’
    ‘You made me so happy.’
    He says, ‘Did I?’ like he doesn’t really believe it.
    I nod. ‘You did. And I could never make you that happy. It’s not in me.’
    Thomas studies me. As if he’s lost and I’m some class of a map. ‘So?’ he says. ‘What are you saying?’
    ‘I’m apologising. For everything.’
    Thomas shakes his head. ‘I wish you weren’t such hard work.’
    ‘So do I.’
    ‘What about Faith?’
    ‘I don’t know. I . . . I’ve wrecked that too.’
    ‘Did Faith tell you that? Or did you decide?’
    ‘Her brother rang me. Her little brother, Milo.’
    ‘What did you say?’
    ‘I was pretty short with him.’
    ‘Yeah, but when he gets to know you, he’ll know you don’t mean it.’
    ‘I don’t think so, Thomas. I don’t think that’s going to happen.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘It can’t work out.’
    ‘You don’t know that.’
    ‘I don’t know how to make it work. I’ve left it too late.’
    ‘Isn’t that a matter for Faith to decide? Not you.’ His tone is as barbed as wire. He could be talking about something else. He could be talking about lots of things.
    He stands up, pats himself down, which makes not the slightest bit of difference to any of the wrinkles in his clothes. He adopts a jocular tone. ‘So what about the pair of us, then? Are we actually going to end up as friends?’
    ‘Jesus, no. I couldn’t be friends with you.’
    ‘Nice.’
    ‘No, I mean . . .’ Christ, being honest is hard work. And exhausting. I don’t know how Ed does it.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I can’t be friends because I’d be . . . hoping it could be something more. And thinking about Grey’s Anatomy .’ There. I said it. It wasn’t that bad. Thomas doesn’t even look surprised. The cheek of him.
    He smiles. ‘That was pretty good, mind.’
    I nod.
    He moves towards the door. Then he turns and opens his mouth and looks as if he’s about to say something and, for a moment, I have an enormous feeling of well-being. As if he’s going to say something that will change everything. Then he says, ‘You’ll let me know about Ed, won’t you?’
    Disappointment tastes sour. Like gooseberries. I swallow it down. ‘Of course.’ I’ll get Dad to ring him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk to him again. Not after everything. Not when everything is wrecked and you’re the one who wrecked it.
    He nods.
    He bends his head and ducks through the door. Then he turns and says, ‘Take care of yourself, Kat.’ This is goodbye but I don’t say it. The word is stuck in my throat like a fishbone. Instead, I try to smile and he nods again and walks away, and I watch until he disappears along the curve of the