Lucy in the Sky

up?’
    ‘No.’ He laughs, and for a second I see a flash of my gorgeous boyfriend, but his laugh turns sour. ‘I just mean, let’s not talk about it anymore. I’m sick of talking.’
    Thank God. ‘Please, can we…’ I go over to him, wanting him to wrap his strong arms around me and hold me tightly. He touches my arm with his hand.
    ‘It’s alright, Lucy,’ he says, and wipes the tears creeping down my face. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ He takes me in his arms and squeezes me so tightly I can barely breathe. I bury my head against his neck. After a moment, he pulls away. I’m expecting him tolead me to the bedroom but he doesn’t. ‘Let’s go and see what’s on the telly,’ he suggests instead.
    We spend the rest of the afternoon in a strange, surreal silence, trying our best to forget the painful last twenty-four hours.
    The next morning I don’t want to go to work. My eyes are still puffy and my face is blotchy from all the crying I did over the weekend. I consider calling in sick, but James is heading into the office as normal so I force myself to perk up.
    ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Chloe asks, wide-eyed, the second I arrive at my desk. I’m twenty minutes late. I shake my head at her, and don’t answer. A few minutes later, when my computer has warmed up, I receive an email from her.
    WHAT’S UP? NATHAN OK?
    I don’t want to talk about this now. I type back:
    TELL YOU LATER
    I avoid her gaze throughout the day and do my best to be as normal as possible. On my way back to my desk at one point I see Chloe and Gemma whispering; they break away as soon as they see me. I ignore them.
    Towards the end of the day I send Nathan a text:
    SORRY BOUT YESTERDAY. HOPE FIRST DAY OK?
    A torturous half an hour later he writes back with:
    YEAH GOOD
    He doesn’t mention our phone call. It makes me feel queasy.
    ‘Did you call him today?’ James regards me later, over dinner.
    ‘No,’ I answer truthfully. I look up at him, cautiously. ‘I did text him to say I hope he had a good first day, though.’
    ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lucy.’ He slams down his knife and fork and pushes his chair out from the table.
    ‘I had to!’ I exclaim. ‘He doesn’t know what’s going on; it would have been weird not to acknowledge him in some way.’
    James gets up, leaving his half-empty plate. He slouches down on the sofa and switches on the flatscreen, turning the sound up loudly. I watch him in dismay. That bloody TV. I can’t finish my meal, so in the end I clear the table and wash up the dishes. He doesn’t broach the subject again, and we sit and watch a wildlife documentary in silence. Eventually I go to bed and he follows me soon afterwards. The space between us is vast. I fall asleep feeling utterly miserable.
    Tuesday isn’t much of an improvement. I don’t contact Nathan again and he doesn’t contact me. I don’t know what’s going to happen here; it’s a bloody disaster. Again I curse myself for revealing to James how I feel about Nathan. But there was nothing I could do. I shouldn’t have bloody well fallen asleep in his room! Why did I do that?
    But this was going to happen sooner or later. You knew that, didn’t you, Lucy?
    The girls try to get me to go out with them on Tuesday for lunch but I’m so busy with work that I do have a proper excuse. Chloe pesters me again by email, wanting to know if it’s about Nathan, but I deflect her questions. I’m going to have to tell her sometime, but I really, really don’t want to talk about it now.
    By Wednesday, I’m feeling a bit better. James and I have settledinto a slightly uneasy truce. He asked me if I called Nathan yesterday and I could deny it, honestly.
    The girls try again to take me out for lunch but I fob them off with work excuses. That evening when I leave the office at 6.30, Chloe runs after me.
    ‘Lucy! Wait up,’ she calls. I pause. ‘What’s going on? Why are you so unhappy?’ she pants, when she’s caught up. ‘Is it Nathan? Or James?’ she persists.
    ‘It’s both,’ I answer.
    ‘Will you come for a drink?’ she asks and I waver. ‘Come on,’ she encourages.
    In the dark, gloomy pub we take our Pinots to a table and I fill her in. She listens patiently.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ she says, when I’ve finished. ‘What a nightmare.’
    ‘Mmm.’
    ‘What are you going to do?’ she asks. ‘Will you still see Nathan?’
    I shrug my shoulders, weakly. ‘I just don’t know.’
    ‘Lucy! Talk to me! Stop