Page 83 of Five Gold Rings
‘They’re vintage Stan Smiths, you’re both the same size and I can’t bear to return them. But I also got you those headphones you wanted, chill.’
He throws his arms around me. ‘Then I am grateful, not hateful. Except towards Chris. Always.’
This is the power and joy of having a twin. He’ll carry that hate for an eternity. He opens the shoes and feigns shock and gratitude, getting a shoe out and holding it to his chest. They’re super rare and I bought them because I knew Chris loved them and I wanted to see that exact same expression when he opened the box. I hope Chris never finds a pair for himself or spends an eternity bidding for them on eBay and never winning that auction.
‘So what did turkey boy say on his text again?’ he says, kicking his boots off and trying on his new trainers. ‘He really just left? Does that not have legs? He had good vibes,’ Noel quizzes me.
‘I don’t know what happened. All I can imagine is the last few days have been fun, but it just ran its course,’ I say, lining up chocolates on my knee. ‘Maybe in the New Year when I’m less of mess and the air has cleared. Maybe. Maybe it’s just veered into platonic. I just don’t think he’s into me like that.’
‘Is it your feet?’ he asks me.
‘What’s wrong with my feet?’
‘You have very strange little toes, they’re like cashew nuts hanging on at the end there.’
I playfully push Noel but look at my toes in my heels. Am I a freak? What if he was a foot man?
‘Call him…’
‘I tried. He must be driving. His family are down in Brighton. Don’t do this…’
‘Do what?’
‘Give me hope,’ I say, eyeballing him.
‘Well, I thought it might go well with the socks I bought you.’
‘I feel so loved.’
‘They are very fluffy socks,’ he tells me, his eyes still shifting around this place. ‘What happened to your bed?’ he asks, peering through to the bedroom.
‘Oh, I dismantled it,’ I say casually.
He nods slowly to take that in. His attention is caught by a photo on the floor, crumpled and half torn. A photo of Chris and I in happier times, at someone else’s wedding reception, before the deceit, before really understanding what love is or was. ‘Did the wanker at least apologise?’ he asks.
‘He wrote me a note.’
‘Really?’ Noel says, pulling a face.
‘Why really?’
‘He never came across as much of a wordsmith to me. Was it song lyrics? Did he apologise with you via Coldplay? Show me the note.’
‘It was quite a good note, to be fair. There was some semblance of sentimentality to it.’
I get up for a moment, remembering Joe rolled it in a ball and threw it on the floor. I look amongst all the debris of wrapping paper and half-opened gifts, Noel’s attention caught by a set of espresso mugs I bought one of his aunts.
‘You can have them, too,’ I tell him, looking around the room. Noel fist pumps the air. I find the ball of paper in the corner of the room and open it up, scanning the words. Hold up…
I’ll send you the bill because that was all you… You can buy me a new phone, too, and that ring cost me £1K so think about how you’d like to pay me that back… If you want to know why we finished, it’s because we got boring. I don’t want a life like that… I just want more out of my life.
I can feel my hands grab at the paper, crumpling it, my hands frozen like claws, every inch of my body tense with emotion.
‘Eve,’ Noel mumbles, taking the paper from my hands then reading it for himself. ‘Hun, this is worse than Coldplay lyrics. This is one of the worst things I’ve ever read. How dare he! You said it was a good note.’
‘It was,’ I say, trying to think back to being here with Joe, offering him a sandwich toaster and glancing over at a hole in the wall I made.And a letter I made him read to me because I couldn’t bear to do it myself. And a tear rolls down my cheek to think of words Joe said to me.
You are the most wonderful person I know… I see it in how you ask people about their days, in how you cry when people tell you about their pets… I love how you stand at countertops and sway to music that no one can hear, that you bite at your thumbnail when you’re thinking really hard.