He’d thought of the four of them, Alex and Rob especially, as the best friends he’d ever had and yet now there was a veneer of caution between them, like they’d all taken one step back toward being strangers. But then maybe that was the price to be paid for drinking, for driving too fast, for killing someone and leaving her in the road like she didn’t matter.
He found a booth in the library, put his coat over the chair, his papers and bag on the table, then went in search of Will. He couldn’t see him in the Politics section, even checking the vacant booths to see if Will had left a coat the same way he had. He wasn’t there though.
Matt was beginning to get concerned about Will. He’d hardly seen him about at all in the last few days, never answering his phone, never in the library. Alex clearly thought he was working hard but Matt wasn’t so sure. Wherever Will was hanging out, Matt got the impression he was going to pieces over this, and that in turn made him think Will would be the one who got loose-tongued. And what kind of fix would he be in then?
He started to walk back to his own section but couldn’t face it now, the thought of sitting in that enclosed booth with the silence oppressive around him and only historical journals to keep his mind from dwelling. Rob had done nothing but work for the past week and Matt couldn’t see how he did it.
He headed downstairs to the small coffee bar and sat there in a corner where he couldn’t be seen by people passing through the library lobby. He didn’t want to be seen. None of the handful of people in the coffee bar looked familiar but even in there, he wished he could be less visible, less big, like he could disappear into himself.
There were a couple of girls talking quietly at one of the clutter of tables in the middle of the room, all the other tables around theirs looking recently abandoned, cups still waiting to be cleared, ashtrays overflowing. It always looked like that though, the staff never too eager to tidy up.
Matt couldn’t hear what the girls were saying because the couple on the next table along the wall from him were talking loudly and non-stop about the theatre. It was annoying him but he didn’t say anything, just trying to shut it out instead while he watched the two girls.
They were both slight and pretty, both with long hair, one only marginally fairer than the other. Their faces looked alike too, enough that if it was anywhere but a university campus he’d have guessed at them being sisters. They had that aloof quality he often noticed in English girls.
He didn’t know what it was but the English girls he found attractive always seemed so unapproachable, and when he spoke to them he always seemed to be saying the wrong thing, running up against brick walls. He still couldn’t help looking though, being intrigued.
The theatre couple finally left. He still couldn’t hear the girls at first but he looked down into his coffee and listened, picking up odd words, then more of the conversation. He heard the word “funeral”, his attention focussing more, realizing now that they were discussing something he knew about.
By the sound of it, the funeral had already taken place, something which seemed obvious when he thought about it and yet it hadn’t occurred to him until now. One of them still sounded upset, the other offering words of comfort. He wanted to look up but felt like he’d be intruding if he did.
And then the comforter said she had to go and he heard the sound of her chair scraping the floor, her final words of assurance, footsteps. He looked up. The girl who’d left was the fairer one who’d been sitting in profile to him. The remaining one was almost facing him but her eyes were downcast.
Her friend was dead and she was upset, perhaps more so because the driver hadn’t been found. That was a part of her grief he could ease even now by coming clean, but he wouldn’t, as much for the others as himself. And maybe he really had left it too long now anyway.
She picked up her coffee cup and lifted it to her lips, and he noticed that her hand was shaking. She looked so small and vulnerable, lost in an untidy landscape of tables and chairs. He wanted to talk to her, offer her words of comfort, even if it made him a hypocrite to do so.
Her head sank a little and though it was barely perceptible he could see she was crying. He looked at the few other people in the room but none of them had noticed, and probably wouldn’t have noticed if she’d been sobbing and wailing, another English trait he hadn’t quite managed to get his head around.
He thought about it for a second or two. He could sit feeling sorry for himself, looking at this girl crying and knowing that indirectly it was his fault, or he could get up and go over to talk to her, ask if she was okay. She was one of those girls he didn’t know how to handle but he couldn’t sit there and watch her cry, because he couldn’t sit by and watch anyone who needed help.
He got up and walked over, threading between a couple of tables. Typically, one of the other people in there looked up from his book as soon as Matt moved and watched his awkward progress toward the girl. She looked up only as he loomed over her, wiping her eyes, looking unfriendly all of a sudden.