Chapter 61

I sat at my desk, furiously fighting back tears as I gathered up my things. I knew it was weak and stupid, but I didn't think I could stay at work any longer that day. I had informed Sarah to cancel my classes, as I was feeling ill, and if I could just make it out of the building without running into anyone else I could break down in peace. That plan was immediately ruined by the knock at my door, which immediately opened as Keith, in typical form, let himself in.

"Hey Kath, I was just going to- Jesus, who pissed on your chips?"

"Not right now, Keith, I was just leaving." I pushed myself up, hefting my bag over my shoulder and looking steadfastly at the floor in an effort not to give myself away further.

"Hey, heeey..." Keith had dodged between me and the door now and reached for my shoulders, ducking down to try to meet my eyes. "Seriously, love, what's going on? You look like death warmed up. Are you ill?"

"No, I.... Yes. I'm ill. I need to go home," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"I'll drive you," Keith said, in that 'white knight' tone he got sometimes which I used to find sweet but was now mostly annoying.

I was about to protest, insist on getting a getting a taxi, but I found my will to argue was non-existent in my current state. "Fine," I sighed. "Go ahead."

 

And so I found myself in the strange position of having my ex-husband drive me in what had once been our family car to my flat. He didn't even ask whether he could follow me up the stairs, and I didn't stop him.

"Nice place," he said as we entered, the first words he'd said since we'd left the unit.

"Thanks." I tossed my bag down and wandered over to the couch, sitting heavily and immediately burying my face in my hands. I wasn't crying - yet - but I didn't know how much longer I would last.

After a long pause in which I wondered whether Keith might have taken mercy on me and left, I felt the weight and warmth of someone sitting beside me, and his familiar arm wrapping around my shoulders. He didn't say anything.

I was surprised at the speed with which I crumpled against him and the strength with which the sobs wracked my body, like I was nothing but a spare sail in a tempest. And Keith - give him credit where it's due - just wrapped his arms tightly around me and waited for it to pass, murmuring the odd soothing gibberish, but for the most part just being there.

I don't know how long I cried for, but I do know I felt oddly cheated when I finally stopped - there had been nothing therapeutic about those tears. I still felt as lost and as empty as I had before I started. Wiping my hand over my face I pulled away, wishing that Keith would eschew the questions I knew he was burning to ask. He didn't.

"You want to tell me what's up?" he asked quietly, leaning sideways to retrieve me the box of tissues from my coffee table.

"You wouldn't believe me if I did," I told him with a hoarse laugh.

"Try me."

I blew my nose loudly and then crumpled up the tissue, staring down at my hands without really seeing them. "I fell in love. And, as our son would say, it sucks."

"Huh." Keith did actually reel back, just a tiny bit. "I... see. What's wrong with him? Is he married? Gay? Not there with you?"

"A combination. Also, not a he."

Strangely, Keith seemed less shocked by this than he had been by my original revelation. In fact, as I glanced over at him I got the impression he was actually hiding a slight but highly inappropriate smile. "I see. And she's given you the brush off?"

Irritation reared up, fought a brief battle with depression, lost. "You could say that."

Keith frowned a little. "What does that mean?"

"It's complicated, Keith. Let's just say I fucked up and leave it at that, shall we?"

"Hey, okay, okay," Keith said, holding his hands up in defense. "It just doesn't sound like you, that's all."

"What, the falling in love or the fucking up part? Because I've done at least one of those before," I shot back. Harsh, I know, but I needed an outlet and Keith was sitting right there.

He winced. "Ouch," he said, and then pushed to his feet. "It was the giving up part to which I was referring," he said stiffly, "but never mind. I'll leave you to it."

"No, Keith, please don't go. I'm sorry." I reached out for his hand, feeling the tears well up again. God, I just couldn't stop. "It's Alex."

He didn't react. Keith was always quick to catch on. He did sit back down, though, wrapping his big, warm hand around mine, and I remembered that we used to be best friends.

"It's all so fucked up," I murmured, holding onto his hand like a lifeline. "I fell for her months - ages ago, but I knew I shouldn't... and then, when we were away, things changed. And then I tried to put them back, but I can't, and now she's quit..."

"I heard." At my sideways glance he shrugged. "No secrets in the staffroom. Look, she didn't seem sexual harassment suit upset to me this morning. Have you actually spoken to her? About any of this?"

"God no. What on earth would I say?"

"I've heard 'I love you' is the classic."

"If she isn't in a sexual harassment suit mood now she would be after that!" I exclaimed, my heart pounding at the thought.

"She resigned," Keith said patiently, as though speaking to a child. "Does it occur to you that it might not be for the reason you think?"

It hadn't. I blinked, trying to process this new information. Certainly I had caught glimpses of what I had hoped was deeper emotion from Alex, though I had been too paranoid to assume they were anything but the inventions of my fevered mind. What if she did feel more than just attraction to me? Would that have been enough to make working together unbearable for her? "Um. Maybe," I said, realizing I hadn't responded to Keith's idea yet. "It's a pretty dangerous assumption to make, though."

"You're not making any assumptions by telling her how you feel. Look, Kath," Keith said, turning a little further toward me to look at me properly, "I don't know what happened between you in Brazil - and I don't want to," he added. "But is getting you fired really something you think Alex would do? Even if she doesn't feel the same?"

"I... don't know. I don't think so," I said, shaking my head slowly. "No."

"Then what do you have to lose?"

"I'm not very good at the whole... sharing my emotions thing," I replied, wincing. "You know that. What if I say the wrong thing?"

Keith shrugged. "There isn't a wrong thing. Just tell her how you feel."

"Right."

"Damn right I'm right," Keith said then, pushing to his feet again and giving my hand one last squeeze before letting go.

I felt tears prick my eyes again but ignored them, smoothing my hands over my thighs as I remained on the sofa. "Thank you, Keith. I'm sorry for... all this. Really."

Keith just smiled and shook his head. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'm always here."

"And I'm grateful. Always."

 

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