All right! I’m going!
People who haven’t been to a Twelve Step meeting think it’s all about addicts bemoaning their miserable drink-or drug-free existence. But it’s nothing like that. In meetings we talk about whatever’s going on in our lives, good or bad, managing our responses to rogue emotions, celebrating all that’s good and identifying old destructive habits, so that we don’t lapse.
Once I got there, I was happy. It was good to sit on a hard chair in a circle with others of my kind and check in with myself – yes, my name was Rachel; yes, I was an addict; yes, my feelings today were painful but yes, I could cope with them.
What more did I need?
13
There was no sign of Kate at home. After taking Crunchie for a speedie turn around the block, I tumbled straight into bed, and FaceTimed Quin. A quick in and out was what I was hoping for – just your basic bedtime courtesy call. This wasn’t the right time for a deep and meaningful.
‘How was the funeral?’ he asked. ‘Did you meet your ex?’
‘No. But it was okay. We can talk about it on Sunday. Like, if we need to. But really, it’s all good.’
We said our goodbyes – then I was hit with a wave of gratitude that, two years ago, I’d listened to Claire’s urgings and given him a second chance.
‘Ask me anything,’ he’d said. ‘And I’ll answer you honestly.’
‘Why did you cheat on your wife? Because you’re Mr Upgrade?’
‘Nah, I wasn’t like that with Shiv. But she was messing around, you know, flirting with a man she worked with. I was … hurt. Hurt, scared, humiliated … so I decided to get back at her. Which is pathetic, you don’t have to tell me. I hoped she’d see what she was missing but thing was, she’d had enough of me and I was too stupid to realize.’
‘That’s a lot of drama, Quin.’
‘Shiv is a … she’s a strong personality. She and I, we’re quite similar. But all of that drama was temporary. And five years ago. These days we care about each other. But not the way we used to.’ He paused. ‘You, though, I really like.’
‘Why?’
‘Why does anyone like anyone?’
‘I get the feeling the only reason you want me is because you think you can’t have me.’
‘Can’t I have you?’ he shot back. ‘Then why did you text me?’ This was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. ‘Rachel, maybe you’re right, maybe the only reason I want you is because I think I can’t have you. But we won’t know until we know. You’re just going to have to take that chance.’
He held my gaze and I was frozen by his being Not-Luke. I’d honestly thought I’d never again consider another man, and even though that seemed to have changed, Quin’s unfamiliarity confused me.
That beautiful fantasy of ‘After ten minutes I felt I’d known him all my life’ didn’t occur so much in reality. Nobody likes to hear this, but intimacy isn’t a gift granted by the Gods of Love at First Sight, but is something that has to be worked at – like learning to stay upright on a unicycle.
This relative stranger wanted things from me – my time, my thoughts, access to my body. And for the first time in forever, the idea wasn’t horrifying. Which I put down to whatever strange business had gone on between us at the meditation weekend.
It wouldn’t be easy. I was out of practice. But if I wanted a life with love, I’d have to spend time with this person I didn’t know, I’d have to sit in silences that were sometimes far from comfortable, I’d have to accept all the ways he wasn’t Luke.
Suddenly I was okay with that.
It’ll never last. That’s what I’d thought at the start. I laughed at Quin’s impatience and couldn’t be arsed to be intimidated by his fast-changing moods. And that, without me knowing it, was the perfect attitude.
He was interesting. Intriguing. Frequently entertaining.
And sexy. Oh God, yes. There was an edge to him that sparked something in the flat battery that was my heart.
But there was plenty that was wrong with him. Even though there were one or two heartbroken women in his recent past, it was safe to say he wasn’t a charmer – not immediately anyway. His smiles were rare and he could be blunt to the point of offensive. His moods had a tendency to spike and then plunge, his energy was inquisitive, almost acquisitive, and he was too hungry for quick fixes.
This was the sort of thing that happened a lot: one Saturday, skimming the paper, he came across a rave review of a book. ‘Rach, listen to this!’ He read out a few sentences, then declared, ‘I’m buying it!’ Immediately he downloaded it to his Kindle and dived in, but about half an hour later, abandoned it, complaining that the reviewer ‘hadn’t a clue’。