Extract from ‘Don’t Write Off Religion Yet’, a newspaper feature by Raymond Archer.
We secularists use caricature to dismiss modern religious faith. We’ve got our list of favourites. The frothing fundamentalists, pronouncing fatwas and shooting abortionists. The pious traditionalists, mouldering in a cloud of incense and liturgy. The grating charismatics, happy clapping their way through a world in pain. Deluded at best and psychotic at worst, the whole shower of them. It keeps things simple, writing them all off. It means we don’t have to engage with them or question our own world view. In some cases, our lack of one.
So what if the ‘faith-head’ we meet bucks those stereotypes, proving to be the antithesis of them all? What if we let our guard down long enough to get to know the opposition and find one of them to be thoughtful, moderate, and articulate? What if that person is better than us in every way?
I speak of course from personal experience, let me not pretend otherwise. The believer in question was inconveniently lacking in irrational prejudice and seemed too earnest to be true. I looked for hypocrisy and found none. I tried to undermine, Christ knows I did, and the only person whose shallowness I proved was my own. For a time, I was this person’s friend. I wasn’t pressured to embrace their world view or their God. But I might have acknowledged that it worked for them. And that through them, it really, genuinely worked.
My refusal to make that acknowledgement proved my loss, and that loss was a considerable one.
~~~~
17/12/10 17:45 GMT
So Ray, you finally did get around to writing that article. After our first few dates it was never mentioned again. I thought at the time it was initial enthusiasm on the part of someone who wanted to get to know me. It didn’t bother me that you seemed to discard the idea after that. Then later I looked back and realised it had all been part of your fiendish seducer’s plan, cue wicked laughter. Back then, at any rate, the other side of summer.
I appreciate your sending me a copy. That means something at least. You know I even bought a copy of The Tribune to check that they’d printed it for real. I’d like to feel sure you meant it all, but when a girl’s fallen victim to as accomplished a liar as you, Ray, she’s wary where she puts her faith.
I hope, more for your sake than my own, that you felt what you wrote.
Neely.
18/12/10 09:37 GMT
Dear Neely,
Thank you for reading and for acknowledging what I sent you, whatever your doubts over my sincerity. I didn’t expect to hear from you again, nor did I have reason to. The fact that you got in touch at all speaks volumes about the girl I remember. Sending you the article was to be my final attempt at staying in contact—I didn’t want to add stalking to my other crimes.
I could rehash all my apologies here in print and no doubt they’d sound as hollow as before. So I’m going to ask something I’ve no right to ask. If it’s a flat ‘no’ I’ll accept that and let it be. Will you meet up with me? Half an hour, cup of coffee in town. Not to ruin your Christmas—I’ve already caused enough ruin, I know. But I want to try and let you know that the summer didn’t mean nothing to me. And that I understand what I did. I want to make what amends I can. Your call.
—Ray.
~~~~
Neely loved Lemongrass Organic Café at Christmas. There was peppermint in the white-chocolate smoothies, nutmeg in the eggnog lattes. Shane McGowan’s voice clashed sublimely with Kirsty McCall’s on the stereo in Fairytale of New York and the buzz from the thawing high-street shoppers was as warm as the winter’s day was bitter. It all combined into a festive richness which made Neely frisson anytime the stream of customers saw a lull. She was basking in it, gnawing surreptitiously on a gingerbread cookie, when Leo apprehended her.
“Caught you, sweetheart!” He grabbed her around the middle and squeezed. “That adds thieving to your list of sins.”
“Bugger off, you great clown! There, that adds swearing. Happy?”
“Honestly, call yourself a Christian …”
“I do.” She shoved the rest of the gingerbread into his mouth. “Bite on that and you’re accessory after the fact.” She smiled when he chomped off the gingerbread man’s head.
“God, that’s delicious. This guy tastes nearly as good as Graham.” He grinned through a mouthful of crumbs.
“Too much information!” She swatted her co-worker with a handy menu, then added, “So, you two spending Christmas tucked away together?”
“Mostly. He says he’ll accompany me chez Jarvis on the Day itself.” He looked a touch rueful.
“Wow, it’s ‘meet the parents’ time? How will that work out do you think?”
“Mum’ll be okay. She’ll fuss around him to hide her embarrassment, while Dad watches The Great Escape even more intently than usual. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
Neely gave his arm a sympathetic pat. “It’s courageous of you. I’m proud.”
“Thing is …” He dropped his voice. “Look, Graham and I are tying the knot in January. I’ve been keeping it from them. Figured they should at least meet him before I drop that bombshell.”
“What?” A few years before, Neely would have not been altogether sure what to do with such a revelation. Now she was scandalised for a different reason. “And you’re only telling me now?”
“Do you tell me everything straight away?”
Neely flushed with guilt. “Well … no.” She was reticent about sharing anything personal, following the widespread knowledge of her Ray-crush. She hadn’t even referred to the assignation she had planned later that afternoon a few streets away. “It’s true, I don’t.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Neely, I didn’t know how—Crap, customer alert.” A blast of chill air was herald to the new influx of shoppers; both of them were needed to absorb it before Leo could complete his thought in the next moment of respite. “I figured you might think marriage was a step too far.”
“Leo!” The ascending pitch of Neely’s voice alerted customers and she lowered her volume despite exasperation. “Why would I think that? Why would you think I’d think that? I’ve always been happy for you and Graham. Don’t you know that by now?”
Leo appraised her warmly. “You’re some kind of Christian, girl.”
“I’m my kind of Christian,” she insisted, still a touch offended. She took her anger out on the coffee-machine filter she was replacing. “And … and Christ’s kind of Christian, I think. I hope. Most of the time.” She flushed at the visual and sensory memories stirred up by her words. “Well I’m not sure, to be honest. But one thing I know—I’ve never asked anyone other than me to live by my beliefs. And I’ve never judged you based on those beliefs. All I want is for you to be happy.” She clacked the new filter into place and rounded on him. “And if I’m not invited to that civil ceremony I’ll slap you around your daft head.”
“Hey, of course you’re invited. You’re number one on my list.” He wrapped his arms around her in full public view and whispered, “You and whatever sexy bloke you’re meeting after work.” She broke away and stared at him, flustered and guilty. “Well I assume that’s why you keep checking your watch. I haven’t seen you do that since you were dating He Who Must Not Be Named.”
“No,” she protested, “it’s not like that. I’m meeting someone, yes, but not in that way.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth. He’d be furious with her, give her a mildly camp telling-off in front of the entire shop. “Really.”
“Shame. Thought you might have had someone to bring home for Christmas. A sign that you were over Ray the Rotter.”
“I am over him. Totally.” Did she protest too much? It had been a fantasy of hers to bring Ray back to St Albans for Jordan-family introductions, long before Christmas. But that time of year would have been so perfect. “I wouldn’t have anything to do with him again.”
Leo stared, trying to discern her meaning. “I wasn’t suggesting you would. Neely, he hasn’t been in touch again, has he? It’s not him you’re …”
“Leo …” She felt trapped.
Her friend was predictably appalled. “If you’re thinking of meeting him, that’s a bad idea. I remember the state you were in a few months back, and …” His train of thought was momentarily halted, eyes flicking past her. “And in case you needed a reminder, you’ve got a special customer.”
Neely followed his stare towards the entrance and her heart felt a light shock. Jasmine had set foot in her former place of work. The ex-work-and-roommate was standing furtively in the doorway, sleek figure bundled up against the sub-zero temperatures in a padded red jacket. It seemed like she was shivering more from nervousness than the cold snap. Not that she and Neely hadn’t spoken since the July meltdown—a phone-call some weeks after had thrashed out some of the business between them—but face-to-face caused a rush of unpleasant memory, for both of them Neely guessed.
“Timely appearance, I’d say,” Leo muttered, casually wiping the counter.
“I know it is. I asked her to call in.”
Neely waited silently as Jasmine approached the counter, hesitancy in the girl’s demeanour and her dark eyes. She pulled back her hood to reveal the delicate features which no doubt had helped enamour Raymond Archer. To Leo, in whose spare room she had spent several weeks before permanent relocation, Jasmine nodded briefly. Then she smiled a rueful greeting to Neely. “Hi.”
“Hey there.” A difficult pause spooled out between them. Neely tried to muster a tone that was more than business-like. “Glad you could make it. Get you something?”
“Well …” Jasmine looked mournful and terribly out of her depth. “I’m early. If you want I can come back in a bit.”
“No, don’t be silly.” Neely took pity on Jasmine in her plight. “You’ll freeze your ass off out there. I’m clocking off in ten minutes, so get yourself a coffee and I’ll join you.”
They would have time for a much-needed chat before she set off for her other coffee date. She’s made the right decision. It was salutary to meet the girl with whom her ex had cheated, before she sat face-to-face with him again. Her café-relief arrived at four and she changed into thermal leggings, jeans and sweater to guard against the cold-snap. By five past she was seated with the still-uneasy Jasmine.
“Sorry I’m not joining you in a drink,” she said. “Not being anti-social, I’m dashing off to meet someone in a while.” Gosh, if Jasmine had known … “But I really wanted to see you. Find out how you’ve been.”
“Oh … You know, okay,” Jasmine shrugged. “Got myself a bar job in Revolution down near the market. But you knew that, right?” Neely had known. Her co-worker had departed Lemongrass in search of another job within days of her great confession. “And I’m still living over in Broadmead with Annette, a girl I work with at the new place.” Gosh, I hope Annette doesn’t bring any boyfriends home, Neely thought, before chiding herself for lack of Christmas charity.
“Thinking of maybe taking some classes,” Jasmine was continuing. “I’ve kind of been regretting letting my studies go. Something in design maybe.”
“That would be good.” Neely hoped she didn’t sound patronising, but Jaz had always needed more direction in her life.
“I’m staying here over the holidays, putting in lots of extra hours at the club,” Jasmine rattled on, as though scared to stop talking. “I was going to go visit family in Thailand, but the weather’s put an end to that plan. All flights grounded at Heathrow.”
“I know, I saw the news. That’s a shame.”
“I suppose I wanted to get away for a while. I mean I’ve no right to say that, because you’re the one who probably needed to get away.” She looked terrified, having stumbled into the subject-area she’d been avoiding, but decided there was nothing to be done but keep going. “Neely, I regret what I did every day. I felt so rubbish about it, you’ve got to believe me.”
Neely’s sympathy outweighed the pain of the memories. She reached out instinctively and rested her hand on Jasmine’s. “I do believe you, Jaz. I’ve already said so. Let’s face it—it’s not like you stole an otherwise great guy from me. The thing was doomed, whether or not you’d told me what you did.” Of this she needed to remind herself.
“I know.” Jasmine looked like she might cry into her caramel latte. “But I was your friend and I was supposed to be there for you when it all went down. I knew what a state you were in and I couldn’t do anything to help, because I’d gone and made myself part of the problem.”
“More by not telling me. The other thing I might have forgiven. You could have provided me with fair warning, but you didn’t. That’s what hurt more than anything.”
“I know, I know. I got it all so wrong. I was such a shitty friend.”
Neely strengthened her grip on Jasmine’s hand. “Look, I had people to see me through it. I missed you, Jaz, but I had other friends. Good friends, some of them … unexpected. Leo was great. Got me through my working days here. And I’m doing okay now. I’m out of the woods more than I could ever have hoped to be.” And I’m going to stay there. I’m going to stay there. I’m not going to let anything confuse me …
Jasmine’s smile showed up tentatively for the first time since she’d come in. “I’m glad you’re okay. Really glad. Hey, hang on a second.” She dug into her bag, retrieving a slim item gift-wrapped in glittery-pink. “It’s your Christmas present. Eh …” She looked uncharacteristically abashed. “It’s something you mentioned when we chatted on the phone, after I’d picked up all my stuff. Actually I think you were maybe being sarcastic, so it kind of seems a bit inappropriate now, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Hey …” Neely allowed warmth into her smile and took the parcel. She had a feeling she knew what the present was. “Inappropriate gifts from you to me are a tradition. Why stop that over some stupid guy? Thank you, I’ll look forward to opening it. Look, I’d better make a move or I’ll be late.” I’ve got a stupid guy to see. ”It was good catching up with you, Jaz.” Surprisingly she found she meant it.
“It was good to see you too, Neely.” Clearly Jasmine thought her ex-roommate was getting away from her as quickly as possible. Neely paused. Jasmine looked more diminutive than usual in her sadness. The truth in her earlier words occurred to Neely—she had missed her irreverent friend. “Jaz, since you’re around over the holiday, why don’t we meet up for a drink? Once I get back from St Albans.”
Jasmine’s face lit with a glow befitting the season. “Neely, I’d love that. You mean it?”
“I do. Hey, gotta run. I’ll call you after Christmas, okay?” She gave Jasmine’s hand an additional squeeze before leaving. Sometimes you had to act on your instincts. Neely hoped those same instincts would serve her well later on. She caught a glance of friendly warning from Leo as she departed the café and shivered even before the icy air struck her face.
Closure, she told herself, bracing against the cold as she trotted down the gritted High Street. That’s what this is. Didn’t need it before those wretched emails, thought that chapter was closed. I need it to be closed, especially now. Look, stupid, it is closed. I’m reinforcing the point today, that’s all. Wrapping up loose ends.
Lord, it felt like the same denial she had dealt in during the summer. But that was the bastard’s power, wasn’t it? Luring you with sincerity before the trap sprang shut. He’d done it once already. His betrayal with Jasmine hadn’t been the worst of his crimes.
The emails and newspaper feature so nearly convinced her that he wanted to make amends. But maybe the truth was something else. He wanted to trump his great victory. Having broken her heart, he’d prove he could win her back and then do it all over again. Tell her he wanted to set things right, then when she softened, make his hawk-like move. Back in the summertime she’d have phoned Danny at this point. Tonight she had to do this on her own.
The last time her eyes had rested on the cause of all the wreckage, it had been through tear-blurred horror. She had hated his treachery, despised his weakness … but never forgotten the intensity of that gaze as he speared her virginity. What a terrible fusion of thoughts. Now other images were creeping back and already she felt traitor to herself. Moments of intimacy on picnics and theatre-nights, of emotions she could not believe had been feigned. And he had been appalled that night by her discovering his plan, hadn’t he?
How she had wanted to delete his emails unopened, but in spite of herself she had looked. Had let their words insinuate their way under her defences. So wrong. So doubly wrong. Damn it, why did he matter anymore? He had no business in her head. Especially now …
Internal debate had all but blotted out December’s chill as Neely completed her jaunt. When she arrived at Debenhams, panting clouds of vapour, the truth hit her like stone. He was here. Waiting for her. She should run, shouldn’t she? Risk slipping on a patch of sheet-ice rather than meet with him. But no—this was necessary. Imperative. She needed to face Raymond Archer one last time. He wasn’t the Devil, he was a sad game-player. One who had played his final game with her.
Hadn’t he?
Her heart resonated like a kettle-drum as she walked through ladies’ fashions to the escalator. Dean Martin’s Walking in a Winter Wonderland barely registered in her mind; the place she was walking into seemed one of only dread. She rode the stairs like they were carrying her to the Guillotine. He’d be sitting placidly in the café, scenting victory the moment she strolled into view. Only he’d be too damn clever to let it show. He’d cover it up and sound so damn plausible. As she wove a path through Christmas shoppers towards the coffee smell, she steeled herself against all honeyed words. Girl, you know this man. You of all people know him. You’re not going to be a fool here. You’re stronger—way stronger.
Now where the hell was he?
“Neely?” The hand on her shoulder made her spin around, an extra-hard percussive thump in her heart.
“Shit! Jonas. It’s you.”
“And you were expecting who, Santa Claus?” The spiky-haired youth-worker looked taken aback by the violence of her response. “Neels, you okay?”
“Yes, yes—I’m fine. Sorry, I was expecting someone else. Not Santa. Far from. Christmas shopping?” She nodded to the reinforced paper and plastic bags with which he was laden, her eyes still casting about warily for Ray.
“That’s right. Trying to get all the important stuff covered before the final rush.” He realised something scarlet and lacy was conspicuous in one of the bags and covered it up in its coloured-tissue wrappings.
“That one looked important,” Neely commented, distracted momentarily from her panic. It was a relief to have run into a friend. She sidled with him into the protection of a gift-wrap stand as harried customers swirled around them. “Something pretty for Leona?”
“Well … Yes. She deserves pampering.” His look called to mind the days subsequent to Neely’s church car-park discovery. Six months on, she could see the incident’s humour.
“And it gives you something nice to look at, Christmas night.” She smirked at his blushes. “It’s okay, Jonas, don’t get embarrassed on me. We’re past all that.”
He relaxed and broke into his customary grin. “I’m glad. Been quite a year.”
“That it has.” She still cringed at the memory of the stormy days which had all but shipwrecked their friendship. Those wretched workshops, Jonas carrying them, so zombie-like had she been rendered. Danny cajoling her as far as the church gates, her co-worker taking over once she hauled herself within the building’s austere-seeming walls. Jonas had blamed himself for her dazed mood, until she explained some of her story. After that they had been united somehow in their moral compromise. A new understanding, forged through mutually altered circumstances.
“So,” he said, and she knew from his tone the conversation he was about to reference, “you still thinking of leaving?”
“Well …” Neely’s honesty was being tested that day. “I’m considering my options, I won’t lie to you. There’s so much I’ve been wrestling with. I mean the whole nature of what I believe, Jonas. But you know that. Come New Year we’ll have a drink in The Ship and talk it all out. Hey, keep your gift tucked away.” Leona had ascended angelically into view on the escalator in a belted red-wool coat and white knitted aviator-hat. She was waving and smiling to Neely, holding back, having decided that the two church workers must be involved in an exchange of some import.
Jonas looked around and exchanged an affectionate smile with his girl. Neely sensed the strength of connection between the two and it resonated with emotions of her own. “You want to join us for coffee?” Jonas asked.
“I would, I can’t, I …”
“Of course. You’re meeting not-Santa. But you’re right, we should go for that drink.” His attention was arrested by something in the café. “Hey Neels, isn’t that whatshisname, heartbreak guy?”
Neely’s body started in shock. Her gaze followed Jonas’ to the café, where Ray Archer had walked into view carrying a tray. “Yes. Yes, that’s him.”
“Are you two …?”
“No.” Neely cut short the inquiry. “No, we’re not. We’re … He’s …” She was sure Jonas had never seen her so helpless and lacking in assertion.
“Go talk to him,” Jonas told her suddenly. She stared around at her friend. Leona had drawn nearer and he was holding his girl by the arm. “Neely, I know something bad happened between you two, but if you think you can put it behind you …” She went to protest, but he kept going. “Look, for once forget about what Simmons preaches at you every Sunday. So the guy’s not a card-carrying Evangelical.” He nodded towards the distant Ray. “If he makes you happy, go for it.”
You don’t understand, Jonas. Bless you, but you’ve no idea.
“He’s right.” Leona had strolled up close and now she chimed in earnestly. “You deserve to be happy. Go talk to him.”
Neither Jonas nor Leona could appreciate her guilty turmoil. She attempted to smile. Ray had spied her. He was raising a hand, signalling.
“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” Leona said pointedly to Jonas.
“Good idea. Neely, we’ll see you later. Catch you at the youth-group party on Friday?”
Neely’s head was swimming with doubt and confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fun. Look, eh … Happy shopping. You two be good to each other.”
They waved and left her, and then nothing remained to be done but walk over and join the man she now feared more than anyone else in the world.
He was reclining in slacks and a dark V-neck sweater, blond hair longer than she remembered it. Clean-shaven with that same worked-out look, it appeared little else had changed—except that his demeanour was different. She recalled the casual poise he had exhibited from their first meeting in Lemongrass onwards; he had scarcely faltered in it, even when his romantic gestures had been at their most intense. Only when he’d given himself up to sexual passion had the attitude fallen away, that and in those final desperate moments, trying to prevent her from storming from his house. No poise here, rather a hesitancy which matched hers, combined with eagerness to please. It was more disconcerting than the confidence she had expected. Two mugs already steamed on the table in front of him.
“I’m really glad you came.” He rose from his seat as he spoke and pulled out a chair for her. She unzipped her parka and stuffed her woollen cap into a pocket, embarrassed by his solicitousness. “The queue went on a bit and I didn’t want you sitting here waiting, so I took the liberty.” He indicated her drink—hot chocolate with extravagant amounts of whipped-cream, mini-marshmallows and a chocolate flake. “Winter favourite, I hope.”
“Yes, it looks delicious.” She sat down, Ray settling opposite, and wondered how the hell she was supposed to deal with this. “We do them up at Lemongrass. Really popular this time of year.”
“You still working there then?”
“Yes. Still there, still at Alton Bridge. Fitting Christmas stuff in between. All busyness, really. Same with you?”
“Yes, pretty hectic. Couple of pieces for The Tribune, tedious stuff about the Recession. And some local crime reporting, which is an interesting development. As ever trying to get a piece picked up by one of the London papers.”
“I’m sure it’ll happen. You’re a good writer.”
“You look great, Neely.” The compliment-from-nowhere stopped her short. Her mug had been halfway to her mouth and she set it down, scared she might tip hot chocolate over herself. “You’ve got a winter glow about you,” he elaborated.
“Th-Thank you.” He looked good too. He always looked good. She hated to acknowledge it.
“It’s wonderful to see you. I doubt you feel the same way, but …”
“Well, I …”
“You see I never thought I was going to get to see you again and I’m … very grateful that you agreed to do this. I know you could have—”
“I don’t want a speech, Ray,” she protested with a raised hand. Too much emotional verbiage way too soon and she wasn’t willing to take it. She tempered her outburst with a forced smile. “I’ve sat down and I haven’t even … Can I maybe drink some of this? Please?”
“Yes, yes of course. Enjoy it.”
He stirred his coffee, dropping his gaze. She picked up her teaspoon and scooped cream from the top of her drink to her mouth, so she wouldn’t smudge it on her nose when she drank.
“I will. It’s good. So tell me more about work.”
He did, and she reciprocated with news from her family and the Alton Bridge members he had met back in the summer, the two of them chatting like polite, if not terribly close friends. Trivia was a shield, protecting her from whatever emotional broadside might be imminent. She had no clear idea what he intended, or of the motivations lurking beneath. Maybe he did want to conclude things between them on a positive note; she had given him no reason to think she sought anything else. But she suspected he had more in mind, for good or ill, and as she searched her heart she could not anticipate her reaction. Anger perhaps, or renewed grief. Or maybe something scarier than both. Something she couldn’t afford to start feeling.
“I’m glad you appreciated the article. Whether or not you quite trusted all the sentiments.” Re-routing the conversation from the purely superficial.
Neely set down her mug and wiped a chocolate moustache from her upper lip with her napkin. “It seemed you’d been thinking things through,” she ventured, unable to look him in the eye. “It was quite a refreshing perspective to read generally speaking and, you know …” God, she wanted this to be over. She wanted out of there, fast.
“I did think them through. I have been thinking. A lot.”
“Well, that’s good.” She played with her spoon, still unable to meet his eye.
“I realise what I did. Start to finish. Neely, I was an asshole.”
“Yes. You were.” Now she looked at him. She had to. She couldn’t let his confession pass without unleashing some of what she’d been storing up following that wretched night. A night that had almost been the most beautiful of her life to date. “You were an unutterable, advanced-level asshole. You … You were the crown-prince of assholes, Ray. You messed up on every conceivable level and the worst thing is that all the time you were screwing me over and … and screwing my friend, you were so completely convincing. It’s a wonder I’ve got a grain of trust left in me. For anyone.”
“I know.” To Ray’s credit, he didn’t flinch at her attack. He absorbed every word, with an understated sorrow about his face.
“You made me feel like no one has ever done before in my life—cheap and rotten and used. And I felt like I was the latest in a long string of girls who must have been made to feel exactly the same way.” It was flowing easily now. She’d forgotten how much was there. “Ray, I wanted to feel like there’d been something else there, that it had all meant something more to you than a ‘game’.” The word brought back to her that horrendous moment of comprehension in Ray’s study. “That whatever way you’d played with my emotions, plotted and schemed and gone behind my back, whatever way you’d cheated—that you still felt something. Because that would have made it better. Easier to deal with. But I couldn’t know. I couldn’t be sure. And you see, Ray, even with your articles and emails and apologies I still can’t. Not that it matters anymore.” She stared at him, eyes pricking with tears. Anger and sorrow ebbed from their high tide as a pause extended between them.
“What if you did?” Ray’s question was tentative. It made Neely swallow in trepidation. There was a gravity about him she’d never seen before. His face was thinner than on the night she’d fled from him, his eyes heavier. “What if you knew?”
“Ray, I …”
“Knew beyond doubt that I cared for you like I’ve never cared for anyone in my life?”
“Don’t.”
“Knew that I’d missed you every damn day, carried a great fucking load of regret over what I’d done to you and to us?”
“Ray, please don’t do this. That’s not why I came here.” The tide of his words was scary and forceful and she needed to resist it.
“It’s not why I came here either … Okay, that’s not entirely true and there’s been enough fucking lying on my part. But I need to say this, Neely. I need to have said it for my own damn sanity, and I don’t deserve to have you listen, but I’m pleading with you—let me say it and then I’ll walk out of here and you needn’t hear from me ever again. I promise.”
This was not why Neely had agreed to meet him—to be subjected to a protestation of love. All she had hoped for was to untangle the last of her feelings, to prove perhaps that the first serious romance of her adult life had not been a total sham. Then to move on from the whole messy business. But the raw earnestness in Ray’s words had sliced to her heart and she gave in. “Okay. Okay, Ray. I’m listening.”
Ray took his time, picking out words with conspicuous care. “I don’t have any big excuse for the way I treated you,” he began. “No sob-story about my childhood. Bit of a savage break-up when I was still in my teens, but nothing to explain let alone excuse how I behaved. I got used to sex as sport and Carlotta was a part of that.” Neely winced to hear the name. “She called me ‘spineless’ for destroying the photo, Neely, but I was spineless for taking it in the first place. For not acknowledging what I’d been feeling from soon after we met.
“You’re amazing, Neely. Seriously, you don’t even know it and that’s part of why. You embrace life, you enhance it. There’s a joyousness about you. I started getting to know you for the most cynical of reasons and you … mainlined into the better part of me. I was better when I was with you. And in doing what I did, it’s like I rebelled against all of that. Like I couldn’t believe I could be as good with someone as I was with you. I might have wrecked everything I loved most about you, turned you into someone cynical like me, but the fact that you’ve bothered to see me shows you’re better even than that.”
He paused, either summoning up manly courage or preparing to make a cynical final play. “I don’t deserve it, but you’re here and I can’t not ask. Give me another chance, Neely. Don’t say ‘no’, not yet. Come out with me for a drink. Or we’ll go see a film together. We’ll talk about whatever. You can decide what was real about me and what was bogus. I’ll try and prove to you that however much of a shit I was, I started to mean those things I said. I still mean them. I love you, Neely. I do, and I did. Long before I had the guts to say it or act on it. I only want a chance to show it now.”
He’d held her stare the whole time, his words seeping into her and melting doubt. She weighed them in her soul and found, unexpectedly, that she believed him utterly.
Ray rested his hand on hers and stared deep into her. “So, what do you think?"
Silence extended between them, as Neely thought. And thought. And gave him her answer.
TO BE CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER FOURTEEN: FALLEN ANGEL
