The Fallout

Van woke me by throwing random objects at my bedroom door and yelling that breakfast was ready. He was up before me! Now that was a first. I still hadn’t recovered from the exhaustion of last night. Call me melodramatic, but it was so draining as I know I was getting as much attention as Van was (though very little of it was good)

My phone was flashing manically with missed calls and texts. I opened the first;

          ‘Why wasn’t I the first to know you were pregnant? I’ve had newspapers calling me up wanting my version of events. What do I tell them?’

Her voice messages were along the same vein, though each successive one got more hysterical, her voice getting higher and higher. I’d left my phone on silent as I didn’t want to get woken up. Maybe I should have turned it off altogether. The other voice messages were from magazines wanting interviews about the baby and wishing me congratulations. Ooops.

          I threw on a robe and wandered out to the smell of bagels being cooked, and something else…

          “YOU FOUND CRUMPETS!” I squealed, running over to hug him.

Yes, I had more important things to be worrying about now, but there is no love like the one between a girl and crumpets. I felt like a crack whore being given a hit just from the smell.

          “Yup. Sit down I’ll bring them over.” He was amused by me, as usual.

          “We have a problem. No, we actually have several problems. Have you checked your phone today?” My voice was growing higher the more I thought about it.

He shook his head and yanked the crumpets out of the toaster, popping them on a plate and putting a thin layer of vegan marge over the top. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. What was I saying? Oh yes.

          “Well I have a lot of voice messages from my hysterical mother and several magazines that want all the gossip about the twins.” My tone peaked out of hysteria and disbelief. It had been funny yesterday, now…my mum was never going to speak to me again!

He looked at me in confusion and carried the plate over to the table, setting it before me before planting a soft kiss on the top of my head. What the hell?

          “The twins, you know, Zebedee and Loony.” I snorted at the names.

          “Oh.” He said, turning away to hide the laughter.

          “Oh indeed.” I said, sinking my teeth into a crumpet.

Better get this over with. I dialed mum’s number, chewing slowly. This was going to be very, very bad.

          “Georgiana! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day! You are all over the news over here and in the papers.”

Shit.

          “Mum, I know what it looks like, but it was all a big joke. Come on, my stomach is flat in those pictures, and I haven’t been out here six months so how could I be that far gone?” I took another bite and paused for breath.

          “No baby?” She asked, sounding deflated.

          “No mum, I’m sorry. Don’t you think you’d be the first to know if there was? I don’t want kids. That hasn’t changed and I doubt it ever will if it hasn’t by this point. Van is wonderful, but he’s my boss, not the father of my fake babies.”

          “I am slightly relieved as I had some concerns over the name choices.” She always did get straight to the crux of the problem.

          “You think I’d let my kids be called Zebedee and Loony? If anyone else calls, just say ‘no comment’, hell if you like take the money and make something up, just don’t talk about Van ok as he has a career and it’s kinda my job to ensure that doesn’t go down the toilet.”

          “You sound different.” She said.

          “How do you mean?” I asked, feeling cagey.

          “Happy. Healthy. Perky even. I’m not used to it is all, it’s a relief actually, you don’t know how long your dad and I have worried that we’d come home and find you swinging from the loft hatch.” Such nonchalance for the subject matter!

Awesome. Thanks mum. I looked over and Van to see if he could hear, but he was tidying up in the kitchen, humming to himself.

          “Could you get copies of any mags or papers? They’d be great to look back on when I have to go back to a crappy retail job.”

She laughed slightly, still sounding disappointed. I hadn’t even thought she would hear about it, let alone this quickly.

          “I saw you get attacked, are you ok?” Her tone softened a little.

          “Yeah. Van’s fan girls hate me with a passion. They think I’m using him to advance my career or something. There are hate groups dedicated to me on face book.” I said with a laugh. She didn’t return it. I wasn’t sure she knew what FB was.

          “Be careful Georgiana.”

          “Van won’t let anything happen to me. He’s very protective. We were just winding the media up last night as the premiere was dragging. It was amazing though, the film was great, you both need to go see it when it comes over there.”

          “George, the UK premiere is in a fortnight, I thought maybe you’d want to come?” Van said from across the room.

          “See, I’m his PA and I have no idea of what’s going on. He should fire me.” I said with a laugh.

          “It would be good to see you George. Would it be in London?”

          “I assume so, yeah. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I know them. Take care mum.”

          “You too. Bye.

I hung up and sighed. I didn’t really want to go back to England if I was honest. It was just rain, grey skies and the old me, the one I thought would remain there forever and not follow me here. She might jump on the plane home and get back with me. I finished the crumpets and carried the plate over to the sink. Van was chewing on his fingers.

          “What’s wrong my love?” I said.

It was something I said to everyone, regardless of whether I loved them or not. I hadn’t even thought about it, but he looked surprised.

          “What? Van? What’s wrong?”

          “Nothing.” He mumbled. “Just tired I guess. Yesterday was draining. We don’t have anything for a few days, so I thought I might go to New York and see Luke.”

          “That’s a great idea. I’m going to get in contact with your agent and see why there’s such a waiting time on actually getting the scripts. They’re really doing a sucky job at the moment. Anything you need me to do while you’re gone?”

He shook his head and left the room, still chewing on his fingers. Had I said something wrong or done something to offend him? I thought back on the conversation and couldn’t think of anything, but then I had a habit of talking without thinking.

          I followed him to his room and knocked on the door. He called me in.

          “Talk to me, what’s wrong?” I asked as he began packing a suitcase.

          “I’m fine, really. I’m just tired and have a lot on my mind.” He avoided looking at me as he grabbed things from drawers and threw them in the case.

          “Anything I can help with?”

He shook his head. I took it as a sign to leave, closing the door softly behind me. His mood had just dropped out of nowhere. I must have said something, but what?

 

I had expected him not to leave until the next day, or at least the evening, but he was gone within the hour. I’d been given a curt goodbye, a hurt look lingering in his eyes as he closed the door behind him. What the hell was going on?

I felt like curling up in a ball and crying. Everything had been going so incredibly well, I should have known something would happen to ruin it, that it couldn’t last. I wandered around the apartment morosely, not really knowing what to do with myself. I’d gotten out of practice of being alone and I hated it now. Before it had been necessary as I’d never found anyone I really cared enough about to be around all the time. Former boyfriends had been kept close for fear of being alone, and they had done the same to me, cheating, stealing and using me in a hundred different ways.

          I snuck into his room and stole his robe, putting it on even though I was hot. It still smelt like him and the aftershave he used which I could identify on any man that wore it. I’d even squealed at Masanobu that he was wearing it. It had scared him a little by how excited I was by the fact, but he was frequently freaked out by me. We’d been chatting via text, unable to make schedules click again, but now that I had a few days off and no Van, I really wanted to see Masa. It might have been a case of loneliness and Van replacement therapy, but Masa was a good guy and I enjoyed his company (when he actually spoke) it would be good to see someone other than Van for once. To be a normal person in normal surroundings, or at least as normal as this place got.

          I rang Masa but he didn’t pick up, so I left a message telling him I was free and happy to meet up at any time as I had no plans. It sounded a little desperate, but he wasn’t the kind of man to judge me like that, he’d hopefully just be happy that we’d finally get together. He was how I used to be, scared to talk to people for fear of rejection or ridicule. As my mother had said, I’d changed. I was a tiger mother now (without the kids) ensuring that my ward (Van) ate, slept, didn’t smoke too much and had all his veggies. Since we’d moved in together he’d become practically Vegan. We cooked together, so it was just easier to use meat replacement, and he didn’t miss meat he had admitted. I could put money on him binging on the stuff in New York though. I rarely thought about meat anymore, but I did miss the ease of it, just going in somewhere and picking anything off the menu, instead of having to ask exactly what was in everything.

          I sat at the table and stared out of the window, feeling a bit useless. I was used to planning my life around Van and had grown to hate my free time, unless it involved spending it with him. We’d become inseparable, going shopping, watching Breaking Bad obsessively together (he was now as hooked as I was), we’d even baked together once after he’d gotten excited about finding a recipe for Vegan muffins online. They sucked, but that wasn’t the point. It was fun and a ’couple’ thing. I’d ended up with more of the batter in my hair than in the bowl after Van had decided to start flicking it at me, but the side of me that worried about that kind of thing didn’t seem to exist here. I didn’t buy into the ‘stiff upper lip’, ‘uptight’ British stereotype, but it was true in my case, or maybe it was the sun? The new surroundings? Having a job I loved? I could tell myself whatever I wanted, but I knew it was down to Van, and Sofia. I found myself wishing she lived closer, but she was in New York, as was Van.

          I sent him a text to let me know that he got there safely, and set about cleaning. The flat was never messy, but I went OCD and moved all the furniture, dusting, sweeping, mopping, cleaning, washing… I emptied Van’s washing basket and dragged his and my clothes down to the laundry room, feeling sad as we usually did this together. I had no one to chat to as the machine went through its cycle, so settled for staring at a wall and brooding. Once the stuff was in the drier, I began checking my phone every two minutes to see if Van or Masa had messaged me. They hadn’t. I texted my mum and then began neurotically tidying up the laundry room. I had to keep busy or I was going to drive myself mad. I’d done it before. The Devil makes work for idle hands or whatever the saying is. If I had too long to think, I would do an excellent job of depressing the crap out of myself. I would dissect every conversation and look for signs that I’d messed up, or that he had been acting the whole time just to make working with me easier and he’d now had enough of it. Living together maybe hadn’t been the best idea, but he’d suggested it. Did he think I was getting too attached? Well duh, of course I was, he was wonderful. How could I not?

          I remembered what Sofia had said about his previous PA using him. Did he think I was doing the same? I couldn’t think of any time where I’d taken advantage to my knowledge. Everything he had done for me, he had offered, I’d never asked. Or was this something else entirely and I was reading too much into it? Was it simply that this place was getting to him again? But that wouldn’t explain why he was in such a good mood when I first got up and then it disappeared after I’d spoken to my mum. What had I said that could have upset him? I was going around in circles.

          I took the clothes from the drier and lugged them back upstairs. I loved this building, I loved the flat, I loved the view over the skyline and the sun, I loved living with Van and I especially loved how close we had gotten recently. I wasn’t ready to give all that up. If I had to, I’d move back to that shit hole, that was fine, but I couldn’t give Van up. I couldn’t comprehend my life without him now. He was the first thing I thought of when I woke and the last thing at night, and it wasn’t just because I was his PA, that didn’t even come into it. I loved him. It had been creeping up on me for a while now, but I’d just thought it was a silly crush like the rabid fan girls. I knew it wasn’t now. It was a lot stronger. Yesterday had been proof in the way I’d wanted to defend him. I couldn’t stand the idea that people were upsetting him. I had risked pissing off some serious players around here just so they would leave him alone. I wasn’t scared when he was around, I was this braver, stronger version of the girl who’d left England all those weeks ago. I had fallen so hard in such a short amount of time.

          Moping wasn’t helping. I set his iPod to random and turned the docking station on. I couldn’t help but smile at the song that came out of it. ‘Rhythm of Love’ by Plain White Tees. It was a song I’d had in my head for a whole week once and couldn’t stop singing. I’d driven him half mad with it, humming, singing even though I didn’t know the words… Evidently he missed me repeating it all the time as I didn’t think it had been on there before (I’d stolen his iPod every time mine needed charging and he did the same with mine, loving my cheesy 80’s tracks.) Well, it was now in my head for another week. I wasn’t going to mope, I was going to jump around like a nutter, something I hadn’t done in a while. I let my hair down (literally, I’d had it in a bun) and started hopping around in a weird, stupid dance that people only do when they don’t think they’re being watched. I hope to God he hasn’t got security cameras in here. He’s probably sat in New York laughing his arse off and streaming it to the internet. The fan girls would love that.

          After the fifteenth time on repeat, I couldn’t stand it anymore and turned it off. The forced happiness hadn’t lasted. It was growing dark outside now the sun had set, and he hadn’t replied to my message. I hoped that was because he didn’t want to talk to me and not because he was hurt. I was being paranoid. He was fine, he was just enjoying seeing Luke. I was tempted to message Sofia, but I didn’t want to hassle her. She was a freaking world famous super model after all and had better things to do than listen to my angsty whining.

           I fell asleep in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with my phone in my hand, checking it obsessively. Even my mum hadn’t replied. I was feeling a little unloved, watching people scream abuse at each other on a talk show to cheer myself up. (I slept with my sister’s friend’s cousin’s goat and then her brother’s neighbour’s dog, or something equally confusing.) Talk shows in England were pretty tame compared to that.