Cherry Coloured - Alex Turner

23. Confessions of Ambivalence

  She woke up alone the next morning.

The coldness of the space behind her crept in like an unwelcome breeze once her eyes had adjusted to the dull light of her surroundings and registered her consciousness. Maeve rubbed the sleep crystals from the inner corners of her eyes and turned over onto her back into the soft, alien mattress. A sickness washed over her, brewing in her stomach and boiling up to her heart. She often woke up alone but none of those solitary mornings felt as lonely as this one.

Pushing her hands into the sheets, she sat up and scanned the room, everything was undisturbed and eerie like an abandoned house. Then she remembered something that happened earlier that morning when the room was still blue and the sun was yet to seep through the cracks of the blinds and rock her awake. He had stirred behind her, arms around her so her cheek pressed into his bicep, she could feel it tense as he slowly woke up. He'd been almost silent and barely woke her up until he whispered into her ear.

  "I'm just getting up for work. I'll come wake you in an hour." He kissed her cheek and carefully detangled himself from her and slunk out of bed. It had seemed a dream at the time but with full consciousness she knew it was him assuring her he hadn't left the way he had last time. Maeve yawned and rubbed her sore neck, the room was dim with orange light and the bedroom door was closed. She slipped out from beneath the white sheets and opened the blinds like a fresh breath of air. The room flushed with light and exposed the unmade bed where she'd lain with the man she swore she'd never lie beside again. Everything had felt so secretive at night and with morning their whispers were realised.

  Maeve stood around in Alex's bedroom for ten minutes before she finally convinced herself to make her exit. Holding the door handle, she inhaled a deep breath with closed eyes, in the darkness she saw the scene that never evaded her mind. She could still see Alex and Vienna as clear as day, the accompanying horror never went away. Her tongue tasted sour and her stomach shrank even when she'd reopened her eyes. The only way to prove that he wasn't screwing another woman again was to go out and see for herself.

  The wood flooring went cold under her bare feet and sent goosebumps up her legs. She hugged Alex's shirt around her and crept out into the living room where she found him stood over the stove all dressed up in dark grey slacks and a smart white, pinstriped shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. The scent of breakfast was thick in the air.

  "Morning," she said quietly.

  Alex turned around and smiled, "morning."

★

  The tender notoriety of the expected excitement a strengthening connection between one persons heart and another seemed to mock Maeve as time passed. Lying on her settee alone, she gradually grew accustomed to the fact that when she thought about Alex — apart from the obvious desires of affection and intimacy — she didn't know what to think. When he was with her, she needn't think at all. Her heart was always smiling. The time he made for her saw lengths no one had gone for her in a very long time. In spite of everything they had gone through, everything she feared would happen after she asked him to kiss her, Alex had remained the man she'd fallen for and their poem was reading smoother than ever. Their rhyme yet to be rebroken.

  Her aloneness was all that stood in her way. Stirring her confusion like a cauldron that refused to let her believe anything good was likely to happen to her.

  Is this what I want? It should be...right? I knew exactly what I wanted when I asked him to kiss me so why don't I know now? Everything is going right so why are you already trying to fuck things up for yourself?

  "You seeing your Alex again tonight?" Chuck asked, noticing that despite holding a book, Maeve wasn't reading it.

  "No," she said, shaking her head, "just going out with some girls from work. Why?"