The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📗

She gives me the tiniest smile, and I want to feel something. Some kind of release. But I don’t feel anything, other than a sense that I’ve somehow missed the mark.

“You went through quite a trauma that year, Jamie,” she says, her tone softer now. “Then you got yourself in a difficult situation and you handled it the best way you knew how. You stepped up and there are a lot of boys who wouldn’t have.”

I look into her wide, brown eyes and for the first time I see something of the old Libby; the kind, compassionate girl who tried so hard to help me through those difficult months when I couldn’t sleep for fear, when I couldn’t take criticism without lashing out, when I couldn’t find a way to deal with life having so closely witnessed death. The girl who was always so much wiser than her years.

“Whatever happened, I’ve always known you didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I’ve never held it against you. So don’t feel bad. There’s really no need.”

And there it is; a shift, almost imperceptible, but I feel it in my core. That’s what I needed to hear, then. That she never held what happened against me.

“And you and me, we would have probably ended anyway, one way or another. I mean, all that talk about forever,” she pulls a doubting expression and shakes her head, “we were just children really.”

I nod and smile sadly. I know what she’s saying is right; we were just children, it was all so long ago, it’s all forgotten, in the past, of no consequence now. But that talk about forever; it had been real. At least for a while. But perhaps she doesn’t remember that now.

We sit in silence for a moment, and finally I feel calm enough to pick up my cold coffee and take a sip. I’ve said what I wanted – I think – and she’s heard me. This thing I wanted to do is done. Maybe it wasn’t the life-changing release I was hoping for, but I think perhaps it will make a difference. Maybe I can leave something here today that I should have left behind a long time ago.

Libby finally reaches out for her drink and takes several, long, slow gulps. She takes so long in fact that I wonder if she’s stalling. I don’t know what’s meant to happen now and presumably neither does she.

I watch her as discreetly as possible, composed enough now to really see her, to take in all of her altered features. She has tiny lines round the edges of her eyes, unnoticeable to me until now. The freckles on her nose are still there, but sparser and faded. Her face looks slightly rounder than I remember. In fact, everything about her is slightly softer. It suits her. When we were together, she was always on the skinny side, a little gangly. Perhaps it was her vegan diet, or the fact that there was never much food in the fridge, but she never seemed to quite catch up with the other girls her age with their new curves. I can still remember Libby’s flat stomach and jutting hips under my hands. Now here she is, no longer a girl but a grown woman with flesh on her bones, strong and healthy-looking, all the changes that were just starting to take place when I knew her now fully complete.

She sets her drink down and gives me a little smile while she taps her fingers against the side of her glass, her ring making a ching sound with every tap. Then she brings her hand up to her face, touches her lips, fiddles with her earring. And suddenly I notice the diamond ring sparkling in the light.

“You’re engaged?” I ask, nodding to her hand.

“Oh, yeah!” she smiles, flashing her hand at me proudly.

“Congratulations,” I smile, feeling both wistful and relieved. It’s another reminder that things have moved forward, that nothing I did to her mattered in the end. She’s found happiness. She’ll soon be married and having the family she always craved, albeit with someone else. And that’s fine, it’s how it should be. We’re in a different time and place.

“Yeah, I’m getting married later this year, so… yeah, I’m very excited. Um…Will, he works in London and… well, we’ve been together six years—”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I know! So… yes. Getting married, looking for a house… so much to organise!”

“Big wedding?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” she says, still fiddling with her ring, “the whole traditional thing.”

I’m not surprised. It could have gone either way with Libby. She could have been planning a barefoot wedding beneath the harvest moon just as much as a stiff white dress and hotel buffet. She was always so contrary and conflicted about her beliefs and desires. But I always knew that the future she guiltily whispered about when it was just the two of us, sharing our hopes and dreams, was the one she really wanted. Predictable. Stable. Ordinary.

“It’s possibly even going to be in a church. Harmonie’s not amused, as you can imagine.”

She looks at me and we both laugh a little.

“But then she’s living in an actual house now, so—”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, she’s finally on dry land. In Essex. All those years I wanted to live like other people and now she decides it’s a good idea. Can you believe it?”

“No, actually,” I smile.

“Yeah, and sometimes my dad even lives there with her, which is even weirder.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, he still has his boat and he’s always on the move, but sometimes he stops for a couple of months with my mum and… I don’t know.” She shrugs and shakes her head. “You know what they were like.”

The intimacy of this statement throws me for a moment. Yes, I do know what her parents were like, just as I know that her favourite colour was yellow and that her favourite food was raspberry jam and