After dragging myself to the shower and pulling on anything I can lay my hands on, I plod down the stairs, finding Nan on her knees loading the washing machine. I slip silently onto a chair at the table, but Nan seems to have a radar on me these days and every movement, breath and tear is detected, no matter if she’s in the room with me or not. She’s caring but confused, sympathetic but encouraging. Trying to make me see the positive side of my encounters with Miller Hart has become her life goal, but I can see nothing but imminent misery and feel nothing but lingering pain. There can never be anyone else. No man will ever spark those feelings, make me feel protected, loved and safe.
It’s ironic, really. All my life I’ve despised that my mother abandoned me for a life of men, pleasure and gifts. And then Miller Hart turns out to be a male escort. He sells his body, takes money to bring women pleasure. For him, every time he took me in his thing, held me so tenderly in his arms, it was to erase the taint of an encounter with another woman. Of all the men in the world who could’ve captured me so completely, why him?
‘Would you like to come to Monday club with me?’ Nan asks casually while I try to choke down some cornflakes.
‘No, I’ll stay at home.’ I plunge my spoon into my bowl and take another mouthful. ‘Did you win at bingo last night?’
Huffing a few times, she slams the door of the washing machine, then proceeds to load the tray with laundry detergent. ‘Did I heck! Waste of bloody time.’
‘Why do you bother, then?’ I ask, stirring my breakfast slowly.
‘Because I rock that bingo hall.’ She winks, smiling a little, and I mentally plead for her not to hit me with another pep talk. My plea goes ignored. ‘I spent years mourning your grandfather’s death, Olivia.’ Her words stun me a little, the mention of my grandfather the last thing I expected. My stirring slows. ‘I lost my lifetime partner and I cried oceans.’ She’s trying to put things into perspective, and it’s in this moment I wonder if she thinks I’m pathetic for being so blue over a man I’ve known so briefly. ‘I didn’t think I would ever feel human again.’
‘I remember,’ I say quietly. And I remember how I came close to multiplying Nan’s grief. She wasn’t even over my mother’s disappearance before she was cruelly faced with the premature death of her beloved Jim.
‘But it did happen.’ She nods reassuringly. ‘It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll see that life can go on.’ She’s up the hallway now, while I’m considering her words, feeling a little guilty for mourning something I barely had and even guiltier that she’s comparing it to the loss of her husband in an attempt to make me feel better.
I slip deep into thought, running over encounter after encounter, kiss after kiss, word after word. My washed-out mind seems hell-bent on torturing me, but it’s my own stupid fault. I asked for it. Hopelessness has taken on a new meaning.
The chime of my mobile makes me jump back in my chair, bringing me out of my daydream, where all of the misery is real again. I don’t particularly want contact with anyone, least of all the man responsible for my heartache, so when I see his name appear, I quickly drop my spoon into my bowl and stare blankly at the screen. My heart is sprinting. I’ve clammed up with panic, and I’m far back in my chair, putting as much distance between me and the phone as possible. I can’t move further away because every useless muscle in my body is on shutdown. Nothing is working, except my damn memory, and it’s torturing me some more, making me speed through every moment that I’ve spent with Miller Hart. My eyes begin to pool with tears of despair. It’s not wise to open this message. Of course it’s not wise to open this message. I’m not being very wise at the moment, though. Haven’t been since I met Miller Hart.
I swipe up my phone and open the text.
How are you? Miller Hart x
I frown at the screen and reread the message, wondering if he thinks that I may have forgotten him already. Miller Hart? How am I? How does he think I am? Dancing on the ceiling because I got myself a few rounds of Miller Hart, London’s most notorious male escort, for free? No, not for free. Far from free. My time and experiences with that man are going to cost me dearly. I’ve not even begun to come to terms with what’s happened. My mind is a knot of questions, all jumbled up, but I need to unravel it all and get it in order before I try to make any sense of this. Just the fact that the only man I’ve ever shared my whole self with is suddenly gone is hard enough to deal with. Trying to fathom why and how is a chore my emotions refuse to bear on top of my loss.
How am I? ‘A f**king mess!’ I yell at my phone, stabbing at the delete button repeatedly until my thumb gets sore. In an act of pure anger, I throw my phone across the kitchen, not even wincing at the crash as it smashes to smithereens against the tiled wall. I’m heaving violently in my chair, barely hearing the rushed clumping of footsteps down the stairs over my angry gasps.
‘What on earth?’ Nan’s shocked tone creeps over my shoulders, but I don’t turn to see the stunned look that’ll most certainly be plaguing her old face. ‘Olivia?’
I stand abruptly, sending my chair flying back, the screeching of wood on wood echoing around our old kitchen. ‘I’m going out.’ I don’t look at my grandmother as I escape, making my way quickly down the hall and viciously snatching my jacket and satchel from the coat stand.