Page 73 of Lessons in Love

We stayed up all night. Jason, Dad, and I. They told me stories of Mum I have never even heard, laughing as Dad recalls the time she ended up on stage with the male strippers in Vegas. How they met while she was investigating a criminal syndicate where the ringleader shared a last name with us.

He pulled out more photos, more journal entries, more letters. All of which I’ve never seen. Dad said he had to lock them away in his closet, haunted by the memories of her.

“It just hurt too much.”

We went through the book page by page with a stack of sticky notes, each of them adding bits of information that only they knew. By the time the light came creeping over the horizon, something had shifted. Although I know my dad will never fully understand me, he understood my mother. And that’s enough. With a book full of edits to make, I sleep the best I have in months.

* * *

Michelle’s fist hits my front door more times than I would have liked before I make it downstairs. Dad and Jason don’t mention it though. Instead, they tell me to enjoy my night from the kitchen. Strange. Is this the new normal? I pull on a jacket as I open the door and step out onto the porch.

“Ollie!” Michelle’s arms wrap around me as I laugh. She goes back to university soon, and I’ve tried my best not to impose on her and Ben’s time alone. Even when I’m a sad sack and too busy wallowing in my feelings. But I have missed her.

“Did I come fast enough for you?”

“That’s what she said,” Ben grins and winks at me before his phone vibrates. “Our ride’s here. Let’s go!”

Ben and Michelle had this fantastic idea to take me out to the place we used to frequent when we were freshly eighteen. Something about reminiscing over the good old days, when things weren’t as complicated.

It’s a hole-in-the-wall pub located next to a university that none of us go to. Cheap beers and loud music. Not to mention the smell of cigarettes in the air. At least that’s what I can remember.

It’s been a year or two since we walked the hallowed halls, but they convinced me it would be good for me. Forget about studying, forget about exams, and forget about—

“I will smack the shit out of you if you’re already thinking about her.” Michelle takes my arm as we walk through the front door of the pub, our ID’s already checked.

“I’m not thinking about her,” I lie. I try to slide out of Michelle’s grip, but she doesn’t budge.

“Now is the time to relax, Ollie. Have a few beers, hang out with your best friends—”

“My only friends.”

Michelle responds to my comment by giving me a well-placed elbow in my ribs. “Hey! You have to be nice to me. I’m leaving soon enough.”

Snaking an arm around her waist, Ben presses a kiss to her neck. “Not soon enough, I’m telling you.”

I pretend to gag at their public display of affection, as it’s easier than admitting the uncomfortable way their familiarity makes me feel. It’s so easy between the two of them. Just like how easy it was between Eden and I. Key word being ‘was’.

We find a table outside on the balcony, thankfully under some heat lamps. Winter is coming hard and fast and the air has a chill to it. Michelle sneaks off to the bar to grab us a round and when she returns with beers, I’m grateful I have something to do with my hands. It’s tart, and the taste burns my nose.

“Cheapest stuff. Felt right in a place like this,” Michelle shrugs, taking a swig before spluttering. “Oh yeah, that is pretty bad.” Ben laughs at her, before taking his first sip with a similar reaction to Michelle’s.

“Babe, did you accidentally order piss?” He pretends to inspect the bottle’s label before Michelle swats his hand away.

“I swear I didn’t! Pretty bad, isn’t it?” Michelle reaches for the pizza that the waiter puts down in front of us. Noticing the look I give her, she smiles. “What? You need some carbs in you so you don’t get hungover.”

“I don’t think a greasy pizza is the best hangover cure,” I respond. I shoot Ben a cheeky grin. “We all know H-S-P’s are where it’s at.”

Ben starts chanting H-S-P, and it feels good to laugh again. To be able to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around her.

But she’s still on my mind. I don’t think she’ll ever not be.

By the time I finish my first pint, warmth has seeped into bones. By the second, I feel lighter, unable to fully grasp what was worrying me. By the third? It’s not pretty.

“What did you say your name was again?” I try to pay attention to the dark-haired girl in front of me, but I can barely hear her voice over the thumping of the music. It’s too warm in here, too loud. But in a crowd of strangers, it’s easy to forget yourself.

“Molly!” She shouts back, arms sneaking around my neck.

Molly. Just like Eden’s sister. I take a swig of my beer, doing anything to keep the image of Eden out of my mind.