watching him. When were you on Prozac? she asked. Without looking up he answered: Last year, I went on it for a month or two and then came off again. And I was doing a lot worse stuff than dropping a few wine glasses, believe me. Getting into fights all the time. Stupid things. He rasped his thumb over the sparkwheel of the lighter. You and your friend will be alright, he said. Alice stared down at her lap and said: I don’t know.
I think it’s one of those friendships where one person cares a lot more than the other. He clicked the button down to light the flame and then released it again. You think she doesn’t care about you? he said. Alice was still looking down into her lap, smoothing her hands over her skirt. She does, she said. But it’s not the same. He got down from the table and crossed over to the back door, avoiding the larger fragments of glass. Opening the door out wide, he leaned on the frame and looked out at the damp garden, breathing in the cool night air. For a while neither of them said anything. Alice got up and took a dustpan and brush from under the sink to sweep up the glass. The very smallest shards had scattered the furthest, under the radiator, between the fridge and the countertop, glittering silver with reflected light. When she was finished sweeping up, she dumped the contents of the pan onto a sheet of newspaper and then wrapped that up and put it into the dustbin. Felix was leaning on the door jamb, looking outside. It’s the same thing you think about me, he remarked. Just interesting, that it’s the same. Inside, she straightened up and looked at him. What? she asked. He took a deep breath and exhaled before answering. You think Eileen doesn’t care as much as you do, he said. And you think the same about me, that you care more. Maybe that’s why you got to like me in the first place, I don’t know. Part of me thinks you just hate yourself. Everything you’re doing, moving out here on your own with no car or anything, getting your feelings involved with some randomer you met online, it’s like you’re trying to make yourself
miserable. And maybe you want someone to fuck you over and hurt you. At least that would make sense why you would pick me out, because you think I’m the type of person who could do that. Or would want to. She was standing at the sink, saying nothing. Slowly he nodded his head. Well, I’m not going to, he said. If that’s what you want, I’m sorry. He cleared his throat and added: And I don’t think you like me more. I think we like each other the same. I know I don’t show it in my actions all the time, but I can try to be better on that. And I will try. I love you, alright? She had a strange, dazed look on her face as she listened, holding her hand to her cheek. Even though I’m a psychiatric case, she said. He laughed, standing upright and closing the door behind him. Yeah, he answered. Even though we both are.
After leaving the room, Simon had gone upstairs to the landing and stood for a moment at the door of Eileen’s room. From inside came a high ragged sobbing sound, punctuated by gasps of breath. Gently he knocked on the door with the back of his hand and a sudden silence fell. Hey, he said aloud, it’s just me. Can I come in? The noise of crying started again. He opened the door and went inside. Eileen was lying on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest, one hand in her hair, the other hiding her eyes.
Simon closed the door behind him and went to sit down on the side of the bed, near the pillows. I can’t believe this is my life, she said. He sat looking down at her with a friendly expression. Come here, he said. She sobbed again and clutched hard at her hair.
In a thick voice she answered: You don’t love me. She doesn’t love me. I have no one in my life. No one. I can’t believe I have to live like this. I don’t understand. He laid a broad square hand on her head. What are you talking about? he said. Of course I love you. Come here. For a moment she scrubbed at her face crossly with her hands, not speaking, and then, with the same tense irritated manner, she moved over and rested her
head in his lap, her cheek against his knee. That’s better, he said. She was frowning, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers. I ruin everything good in my life, she said.
Everything. He went on moving his hand over her hair, smoothing the stray damp strands back off her face. With Alice I’ve ruined everything, she went on. And with you. At that she let out another sob, covering her eyes. He moved his hand slowly back over her forehead, over her hair. You haven’t ruined anything, he said. Ignoring this remark, she paused for breath, and went on: When we were having drinks last night in town— She broke off again to take another heaving breath, and with some effort continued: I actually felt happy for once in my life. I even thought that to myself at the time, for once in my life I feel happy. Sometimes I think I’m being punished, like God is punishing me. Or I’m doing it to myself, I don’t know. Because any time I feel good for even five minutes something bad has to happen. Like in your apartment the other week when we were watching TV together. I should have known it would all get ruined after that, because I was sitting there on your couch thinking to myself, I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy. Any time something really good happens, my life has to fall apart. Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the one doing it. I don’t know. Aidan couldn’t put up with me. And now Alice can’t either, and neither can you. In a low voice Simon murmured peaceably: Yes I can. Impatiently Eileen wiped away the tears that were still streaming from her eyes. I don’t know, maybe I’m not that great of a person, she said. Maybe I don’t really think about other people, the way I think about myself. Like with you. For all I know you’re more miserable than I am, but you just never say it. And you’re always nice to me. Always. Even right now I’m crying on your lap. When have you ever cried on my lap? Never, you never have. Tenderly he looked down at her, the freckles along her cheekbone, her hot pink ear. No, he agreed. But