The Girl You Left Behind

I’d …
    What did I do wrong?
    She sends none of them. She traces and
     retraces the stages of the conversation, going over each phrase, each sentence,
     meticulously, like an archaeologist sifting through bones. Was it at this point that he
     had changed his mind? Was there something she had done? Some sexual foibleshe hadn’t been aware of? Was it just being in the Glass
     House? A house that, while it had no longer held any of his belongings, was so palpably
     David that it might as well have had his image shot through it like lettering through a
     stick of rock? Had she misread Paul completely? Each time she considers these potential
     blunders, her stomach clenches with anxiety.
    I liked him, she thinks. I really liked
     him.
    Then, knowing sleep will not come, she
     climbs out of bed and pads downstairs to the kitchen. Her eyes are gritty with
     tiredness, the rest of her just hollowed out. She brews coffee and is sitting at the
     kitchen table, blowing on it, when the front door opens.
    ‘Forgot my security card. Can’t
     get into the care home without it at this time. Sorry – I was going to creep in so that
     I wouldn’t disturb you.’ Mo stops and peers past her, as if looking for
     someone. ‘So … What? Did you eat him?’
    ‘He went home.’
    Mo reaches into the cupboard and starts
     fishing around in her spare jacket pocket. She finds her security card and pockets
     it.
    ‘You’re going to have to get
     past this, you know. Four years is too long to not –’
    ‘I didn’t want him to
     leave.’ Liv swallows. ‘He bolted.’
    Mo laughs and stops abruptly as she realizes
     that Liv is serious.
    ‘He actually ran out of the
     bedroom.’ She doesn’t care that she’s making herself sound tragic: she
     couldn’t feel any worse than she does already.
    ‘Before or after you jumped his
     bones?’
    Liv sips her coffee. ‘Guess.’
    ‘Oh, ouch. Was it that bad?’
    ‘No, it was great. Well, I thought it
     was. Admittedly I haven’t had much to go by recently.’
    Mo gazes around her, as if looking for
     clues. ‘You put your pictures of David away, right?’
    ‘Of course I did.’
    ‘And you didn’t, like, say
     David’s name at the crucial moment?’
    ‘No.’ She remembers the way Paul
     had held her. ‘I told him he had changed the way I felt about myself.’
    Mo shakes her head sadly. ‘Aw Liv. Bad
     hand. You’ve just been dealt a Toxic Bachelor.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He’s the perfect man.
     He’s straightforward, caring, attentive. He comes on super-strong until he
     realizes you like him too. And then he runs a mile. Kryptonite to a certain kind of
     needy, vulnerable woman. That would be you.’ Mo frowns. ‘You do surprise me,
     though. I honestly didn’t think he was the type.’
    Liv glances down at her mug. Then she says,
     with just a hint of defensiveness, ‘It’s possible I might have talked about
     David a bit. When I was showing him the painting.’
    Mo’s eyes widen, then lift to the
     heavens.
    ‘Well, I thought I could just be
     straightforward about everything. He knows where I’m coming from. I thought he was
     okay with it.’
    She can hear her voice: chippy. ‘He
     said he was.’
    Mo stands and goes to the breadbin. She
     reaches in for a slice, folds it in half and takes a bite. ‘Liv – you can’t
     be straightforward about other men. No man wants to hearabout how
     fantastic the one before was, even if he is dead. You might as well just do a whole
     spiel on Enormous Penises I Have Known.’
    ‘I can’t pretend David
     isn’t part of my past.’
    ‘No, but he doesn’t have to be
     your whole present too.’ As Liv glares at her, Mo says, ‘Honestly?
     It’s like you’re on a loop. I feel like even when you’re not talking
     about him you’re thinking about talking about him.’
    That might have been true even a few weeks
     ago. But not now. Liv wants to move on. She had wanted to move on with Paul.
     ‘Well. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I blew it. I don’t think
     he’ll be coming back.’ She sips her coffee. It burns her tongue. ‘It
     was stupid of me to get my hopes up.’
    Mo puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Men
     are weird. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious that you were a mess. Oh, shit –
     the time. Look, you go out for one of your insane runs. I’ll be back at three
     o’clock and I’ll call in sick to the restaurant and we can swear a lot and
     think up medieval punishments for fuckwit men who