Nemesis: Loud Like Love - 13. Chapter Thirteen: Without You I'm Nothing

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Without You I'm Nothing

When Nick arrived for rehearsal on Tuesday afternoon, Matt hadn’t showed up yet. Stuart looked up from fixing his cymbals to the drum kit, and stood when he saw Nick.

‘Hey! There he is.’ He smiled.

‘Yeah, here I am . . .’ Nick put down his guitar case. ‘Where’s Matt?’

Stuart shrugged. ‘He and Alan had some time to kill, so they went to get some food. He should be along in a bit.’ He stepped up to Nick and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You okay?’

‘I guess.’

‘You had us worried.’

‘I’m okay.’ Nick gave Stuart a long, quizzical look. ‘Hey, Stuart . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘You seem . . . different. Lately. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re being so nice. To me, anyway.’

Stuart smiled. ‘Don’t see what’s so strange about that. I love you.’

Nick blinked. ‘Pardon?’

Stuart shrugged again. ‘I love you.’

‘Er . . . Listen, you’re my friend and—’

‘Not like that!’ Stuart rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not in love with you. I don’t do that whole fall in love, have a relationship kind of thing. Honestly, I’m not even interested in sex. But you’re my friend. You’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had, and I love you. And you’re hurting, so . . . I guess I just want to make you feel better. And, like I said, I worry.’

Nick felt his face split into a wide smile. ‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Is it okay if I hug you?’

‘One person and one person only is exempt from my no hugging rule,’ said Stuart, ‘and that’s you.’ He put his arms around Nick and held him close for a few moments. It was, perhaps, a bit awkward, but it felt nice. ‘Except when I’m drunk,’ he added. ‘Then I’ll hug Matt, too.’

Nick laughed. ‘I love you too,’ he murmured into Stuart’s shoulder—because it was true, in the same way as he loved Matt and Mel—and sighed. ‘Thanks for making me feel better.’

Stuart patted his back and they parted. ‘Any time,’ he said. ‘I mean, don’t get too used to it. I’m still me, and it’s not like there’s been a miracle or anything.’

Nick laughed.

* * *

‘I’m guessing he told you what happened,’ said Nick when he spoke with Mel on the phone a couple of days later. ‘After the gig last Friday.’

Mel sighed on the other end. ‘Yeah. He said you got yourself absolutely smashed and he helped Matt and Alan get you home.’

‘Yeah.’ There was a pause, as Nick tried to think of what to say, but it wasn’t coming. ‘Mel?’ he said at last.

‘Yeah?’

‘Am I a horrible person?’

Silence. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I just . . . I feel like I’m hurting everyone. All the people who care about me, I make them worry, cause them pain. I feel like I’m just taking and taking, and giving nothing in return.’

‘No!’ said Mel. ‘Please don’t think like that. Yeah, you’re going through hell right now, so of course you can’t be there for people as much as you’d like. But there’s a reason why people love you, okay? I mean, for years you comforted me when I was feeling sad and insecure. You taught me to believe in myself more. It meant more coming from you, because we weren’t family, and you were under no obligation to be kind to me. But you were anyway.

‘I think it’s natural for someone like you, with all your empathy and love, to feel like this when you’re hurting. The very fact that you feel that way is proof of how you’re definitely not a horrible person. If you were, why would you care?’

‘I just wish I could be a better person . . .’

‘You are a better person,’ said Mel, emphatically. ‘You’re just at your limit.’

Nick exhaled heavily. ‘I need to talk to Dave. Need to apologise properly. Do you think . . . Do you think he’d be okay with that? That he’d talk to me?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Mel. ‘You won’t know until you try, though.’

* * *

Dave stepped through the front door. ‘Mum? I’m back.’

His mother stepped out of the sitting room with a glass of wine in her hand. ‘David! Welcome home. Come in here, I have news!’ An open wine bottle stood on the coffee table, a clean glass next to it, and she poured some wine in the glass, handing it to Dave. She raised her own glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to me! I got the job.’

‘What, seriously?’ Dave grinned. ‘Mum, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!’ They sat down on the sofa. ‘When do you start?’

‘Next week. Olivia is retiring in January, so she’ll be training me at first. You know, refresh my skills. God, I haven’t done this in almost nineteen years . . . I’m nervous.’

‘Don’t be,’ said Dave, clinking his glass against hers. ‘You’re gonna be great, you’ll see. You’ll get back into the swing of things quickly enough.’

She nodded. ‘Yeah. Yes, I will, I know. Still, never thought I’d actually get hired. Nineteen years a home maker, and no references . . . I mean, it’s not like they remember me at Sapswell A&E.’

They heard the front door open again, and Dave’s mother popped up from the sofa again. Dave thought she looked ten years younger. She was positively radiant. ‘George?’ she called.

‘Yes, yes . . .’ Dave’s father sounded grumpy, but then when did he not? A moment later he appeared in the doorway, and took in his wife and son, and their wine glasses. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Well,’ Dave’s mum bit her lip and smiled, ‘we’re celebrating. I got a job!’

Only now, when he saw the look on his father’s face at the news, did it occur to Dave that his mother hadn’t actually told her husband that she had applied for a job in the first place. George Thompson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘There was an opening as a nurse at the surgery in town. I applied, and today they made me an offer. Dave’s eighteen now . . . I figured it was time I start working again.’

‘Hm. Well, that’s . . . good news, I suppose.’ Dave’s father did not look convinced.

Just then, Dave’s phone rang in his pocket. He stood, placing his glass down on the table, and kissed his mother’s cheek. ‘I should get this. Congratulations, Mum. Well done.’

He was pleased to escape the awkward atmosphere in the living room, and headed upstairs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He stopped halfway up the stairs, staring at the name on the screen. He never had deleted his number. He licked his lips, and had half decided to reject the call, when he answered it instead.

‘Hello?’ he said, not quite convinced that Nick hadn’t just arse dialled him or something.

‘. . . Hey. Er . . . It’s me. Nick.’

‘Yeah. I know.’ Dave continued up the stairs and went inside his room, closing the door behind him. Nick remained silent. ‘You there?’ Dave sat down on his bed.

‘Oh. Yes. Erm . . .’ More silence. ‘Listen . . . I just wanted to apologise. For last week, I’m . . . I’m sorry. And thank you, for helping to get me back home. Things have been . . . I’m just really fucked up, and I’m sorry I let it affect you.’

Dave didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

Nick cleared his throat. ‘So, yeah. Anyway. That’s all I wanted to say, so . . . I’ll let you get back to it—’

‘Nick,’ said Dave, quickly. ‘I . . . You were really good. Your performance, it was . . . It was really, really good.’

‘Thank you.’

Now that Dave had started talking, it was difficult to stop. ‘And, it’s okay. Shit happens, you were . . . It’s fine. I’m sorry I just showed up like that. It can’t have been easy for you. It . . . it wasn’t easy for me, either. I just thought, maybe if we could be in the same room for more than five minutes, we could, you know, start getting past this.’

He heard Nick exhale. ‘I want that. God, I really want that . . .’

‘Me too.’

‘I should go.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I—’

‘Nick, don’t.’ Dave let out a soft sigh. ‘I know. Goodbye, Nick.’

‘Yeah. Bye.’

Dave hung up and stared at his phone for a few minutes. He just wanted to go to bed now, though it was only six o’clock, but his mother was still downstairs and he had to at the very least tell her goodnight.

He descended the staircase, and found his mother on the sofa in the living room, still nursing her glass of wine. She looked less happy than she had been earlier.

‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Dave, sitting down.

‘His study.’

Dave picked up his own wine glass, which was still half full, and took a sip ‘Didn’t take it well, then.’ It was more a statement than a question.

His mother sighed. ‘No. I’m not sure what I expected, but . . . There’s a reason I didn’t tell him I had applied, I suppose. Though I really don’t understand why he’s so opposed to the idea. It’s not like I do much around the house all day, anyway.’

‘Cause he’s a twat?’ Dave suggested with a shrug.

‘David!’ She pursed her lips and gave him a disapproving look.

‘Oh, come on,’ said Dave. ‘You’re still defending him?’

‘He’s my husband, and your father.’

‘So?’ They were quiet for a few moments, and Dave sipped his wine. ‘So, are you still taking the job?’

‘Of course I am,’ his mother replied. ‘He can disapprove all he wants, it won’t change my mind.’ She drained her glass and leaned back in her seat. ‘So, who was that on the phone?’

Dave sighed. ‘It was Nick.’ He ran his fingers through his own hair and shook his head. ‘You know how I went to see his band last Friday? Well, we talked after that. It didn’t go very well. He rang to apologise.’

‘I see.’ His mother refilled her glass and topped up Dave’s. ‘Is that conversation why you and Patrick broke up?’

Dave cast his eyes down. Then he nodded. ‘Yeah.’ His voice was barely more than a whisper, and he glanced up at his mother. ‘He hurt me. He betrayed me. He made me feel like . . . like I was nothing, and I’ve been so angry, but . . . I still love him, Mum. I love him so much, no matter what he’s done.’

She put down her glass, scooted closer to him, and hugged him. Having a mother who would hug him like that . . . Just a year ago, it had seemed like a pipe dream. Now he sat here, at eighteen, locked in his mother’s embrace, and even though he was miserable in so many ways, it made him immeasurably happy.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know exactly.’

* * *

‘Would it be wrong to say that it’s nice to see you again? I’d rather you weren’t feeling bad enough to come here again, but I am glad you came to me.’ Evan smiled where he sat. Nick returned his smile.

‘It’s nice to see you, too,’ he said softly.

‘So, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?’

Nick sighed, sitting back in his chair. ‘Dave and I broke up, a few months ago, and things got . . . bad. I should have come to you then, but . . . I was ashamed. I cheated on him, and he broke up with me, and I felt so fucking ashamed. Things got out of hand after that. I had a guy I was seeing, the one I cheated on Dave with, in Birmingham, and we . . . did drugs together. Not a lot. Mostly weed, some cocaine. A lot of alcohol. It wasn’t often, but every time I went to see him, we did that, and we had a stupid amount of sex . . .’ He blushed, looking away. It felt strange talking to Evan about his sex life, even if it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

‘I was having a lot of anxiety, and doing those things helped. Then, a couple of months ago, I went to see him and we went clubbing and took MDMA. I met Dave at that club, and did something stupid, and that led to more drinking, and then ketamine, and then . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘My bandmates, Matt and Stuart, came and brought me home when they figured out what was going on. I stopped seeing Brian, and with him stopped doing drugs, but then last week everything went to shit when I saw Dave again, and I got really really pissed. Blacked out, they had to carry me home, and now I’m here.’

Evan nodded slowly, hands folded in front of him. ‘So, you’ve had a bit of a time of it, then.’

Nick gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘You could say that.’

‘Quit all the drugs?’

Nick hesitated. ‘Mostly. There’s weed, occasionally. Not often. I’m not . . . not really self medicating or anything. At least I don’t think so. It’s just nice to let go, sometimes.’ He met Evan’s gaze. ‘Do you think I should stop?’

Evan looked thoughtful. ‘I think that has to be your decision. Beyond that, I can’t really give you my opinion. But you need to be careful. For one, it’s illegal, and you have a police detective living in your house, and for another, while marihuana is not physically addictive, if it becomes a crutch, or something you need to get through the day, then it’s become a psychological addiction, and that’s harmful.’

Nick sighed. ‘I should probably quit. Might finish what I have left first, though.’

Evan nodded. ‘That sounds wise. Quitting, I mean. How’s the anxiety? Are you having panic attacks?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘If you like, we could get you something for it. Something slightly less controversial than marijuana.’

Nick frowned. ‘You mean, some kind of medication?’ Evan nodded. ‘No. I . . . No, I’ve taken enough pills. I don’t want any more, even if it’s legal and safe. I think I need to feel my emotions.’

Evan smiled. ‘All right, then. Let’s talk about those.’

* * *

The week before Christmas, the snow came, and so did Aunt Maria. Nick came home from work, and there she was. Maria looked remarkably like Zoë, with the same long, red, curly hair, though she was taller, her eyes were hazel rather than grey, her face was more angular, and her nose longer. She also had more freckles. It reminded Nick of how much Zoë looked like their dad, while Nick looked like their mother.

Maria greeted him warmly, with a hug. ‘I can’t believe this is the first time I even meet you! Your father sent me some photos of you guys years ago, but you’re so grown up now!’

They sat down in the sitting room together. ‘Zoë’s been filling me in on what’s been going on. So sorry to hear about Angie . . . I hope she’ll recover. I always liked her. Guess Josh is as much of a twat as he always was.’ She sighed. ‘Still, it’s time to put it all behind us. He is my brother, after all. Oh, not that you’re under any obligation to forgive him! Christ, I’m making an arse of myself, aren’t I? I’m sorry.’

‘It’s perfectly all right! Don’t worry.’ Zoë smiled, though Nick didn’t find it quite genuine. Maria had skipped continents over twenty years ago, after all, and had hardly made contact since. Having her suddenly step back into their lives after that long of a silence felt almost like another betrayal.

They made small talk for a while longer, but Nick struggled with following the conversation. He had too many other things on his mind. It had been a couple of weeks since he and Dave had had that phone conversation, and he still hadn’t quite digested it all. He felt like maybe Dave had finally forgiven him for what he had done. He hadn’t said as much, but it was implied in his forgiveness for what had happened after the concert. With that in mind, he couldn’t help but hope, no matter how futile he knew that hope to be.

When Zoë got up to make dinner, Maria turned to Nick again. ‘I really am sorry,’ she said. ‘Coming swanning back into your lives like this . . . I didn’t even know what your situation was like. I meant to write so many times, but knowing that Josh had left you guys, I wasn’t sure if it would even be welcome, and he never told me you’d stayed in this house.’ She looked around. ‘It looks so different from when I was a kid. Bet you’ve got my old room, the small one?’

Nick shook his head. ‘No, that was Zoë’s. She insisted I have the bigger one, when I was about six. She’s taken the master bedroom now, so it’s become a guest room. Guess that means you get to stay in your old bedroom, then.’ He smiled as well as he could manage. Her apology had sounded sincere enough, and he could appreciate that.

‘Oh, how lovely!’ Maria smiled at him. ‘Hey, I was wondering if perhaps after dinner you and I could go for a walk? I’ll bet the town’s changed a lot in twenty-odd years, and I would really like to get to know you.’

Nick shrugged. ‘Sure, why not? Though I don’t think it’s changed so much.’

After Richard came home, they ate, and after that, Nick kept his promise, and he and Maria went for a walk.

‘You’re right, it hasn’t actually changed much,’ Maria conceded when they’d walked through the centre of town.

‘That one pub became a bar that serves coffee in daytime.’ Nick shrugged. ‘That’s about the most drastic change in the past few years.’ They turned towards the park.

Maria nodded. ‘Zoë tells me you’re a musician,’ she said after a few moments. ‘You play guitar?’

‘Yeah. I’m in a band. We’re called The Oxymorons.’

‘That’s a fantastic name! What kind of music do you play?’

Nick considered this. ‘I dunno. Rock music? Indie neo-grunge?’

Maria laughed. ‘That tells me very little. Except maybe the grunge part. Always liked Pearl Jam.’

‘What, really?’

‘How ancient do you think I am?’ Maria laughed. ‘I can’t like 90s music? So, you guys getting a lot of gigs?’

‘I wouldn’t say a lot exactly. We’ve had, like, four in the last year. Which I suppose isn’t bad, given that we’ve only been playing for fifteen months or something.’

‘That’s really good!’ she said. ‘Well done! I’m sure you’ll make it big. Maybe you could play me something when we get back home.’

‘Maybe.’ Nick smiled. He was beginning to like her.

‘What about a girlfriend? Any special someone in your life?’

‘Oh. No.’ Nick deliberated with himself for some moments before he added, ‘I’m gay, actually. I had a boyfriend, Dave, but . . . I messed it up, and we’re not together anymore.’

Maria didn’t seem to even react to the gay bit. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Always sad when relationships come to an end. I should know.’

‘Yeah. I heard you got divorced. I’m sorry.’

She shrugged. ‘It was time. Things hadn’t been right for a while, so it was mutual. Seemed like it was time to come home. I mean, I have friends in São Paulo, but there wasn’t really much keeping me there.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘The weather was nicer, though. Hard to get used to the cold again.’

‘Only in the past few of years it’s been cold enough to snow at Christmas,’ said Nick. ‘I mean, there was that really cold one a couple of years ago, when the trains stopped running and the planes stopped taking off and all, cause of the snow. We’ve had pretty snowy winters since.’

They walked in silence through the park for a while longer, and then decided to turn back and head home. There was something Nick wanted to ask, but he hesitated. In the end, though, he decided that after she had asked him so many questions, he must be allowed to ask some back.

‘Hey, I’ve been wondering . . .’

‘Yeah?’ She looked at him and smiled kindly. ‘What?’

‘What really happened, with Dad? Why did things turn sour between you too?’

Maria sighed. ‘Oh, so many reasons . . . Josh was always so overbearing. I was his little sister and he thought he had to protect me. In the end, though, it was probably George who was the last straw.’

‘George?’ Nick felt suddenly apprehensive.

‘Yeah, he was this guy who lived in town. He was rich and handsome, and really interested in me. He was a couple of years older than I was, same age as Josh. They were always at odds with each other. Josh thought George was a posh twat, George thought Josh was a bit of a yob. Until he met me, that is. Then suddenly it didn’t matter so much that we were working class, at least not when it came to me.’ Maria smiled softly. ‘Even though he was a piece of work, I fell for him, too, eventually.

‘He proposed to me on my eighteenth birthday. We kept it quiet for a long time. He didn’t think his parents would approve, and I knew Josh wouldn’t. We actually went on like that for a couple of years, and then George’s parents passed away in a car crash. Josh had married your mum. Our dad had his heart attack. Mum got a small flat in Birmingham, and left the house to Josh and Angie. I needed to move out, so I told him. We had set the date for the wedding and all.

‘As I’d already guessed, Josh was livid. He hated George’s guts. He’d known that George was in love with me when we were younger, and had been an arsehole about it even then. Knowing that we were planning to get married, that we’d been together in secret for years, that pushed him over the edge. He went to George’s house, picked a fight with him, beat him black and blue. I tried to intervene and . . .’ She paused, and Nick thought she looked so sad. ‘George hit me. It was an accident, I think, but I was angry, yelled at him for it, and instead of apologising he said he knew this could never work, that he shouldn’t even have tried. That he couldn’t mix with a family like ours. He broke off the engagement right then and there, and he was too proud to ever apologise for it. I moved to Wolves, decided to go to uni, and after that I went to Brazil. And that’s the whole story.’

Nick was fairly certain he now knew which George this was, but he still asked, ‘George . . . Was his surname Thompson?’

Maria stopped in her tracks and stared at him. ‘Yeah. He . . . still lives in town, then?’ Her cheeks were red, and Nick suspected it wasn’t just because of the cold. They were almost out of the park, but instead of leaving they sat down on a bench. ’I guess he’d want to stay in his family home.’

‘Yeah. He got married. Had a son, same age as me.’ Nick exhaled. ‘His name is Dave . . .’

‘Dave? As in your ex-boyfriend, Dave?’ Nick nodded, and Maria laughed out loud in sheer surprise. ‘Small world, isn’t it? Oh, goodness . . .’

‘You don’t know the half of it.’ And then Nick began to talk, told her everything. How he and Dave had fought for so many years, urged on by their respective fathers, though it had been less obvious in Nick’s case. How they’d broken the cycle, become friends, and then boyfriends. He told her about Craig, without going into detail, and about his mother’s suicide attempt, though Zoë had already told her that story, in short strokes. And then he told her about the gig in Birmingham, and Brian, and the stupid mistake he had made, and how he had lost Dave. Everything that had happened in the past two years just spilled out, and once it had he felt lighter, as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Even though Maria was family, she was also a virtual stranger. Talking to her about this was so much easier than talking to anyone else had been, especially after she had spilled her heart out to him. When he ran out of things to say, he fell silent.

Maria reached over and took Nick’s hand. ‘Seems like things have been really difficult for you. Good to get it off your chest?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it was. Thanks for listening.’

‘Thanks for telling me. Seems like history is doomed to repeat itself, in a manner of speaking.’