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

I quickly evaluate the seating situation. The gap next to Libby is the most obvious place to sit, but the idea of being pressed so close to her fills me with dread. I don’t think I want that, and I’m worried she won’t either. Instead, I gesture for Michael to scoot up. There’s a moment of awkward confusion while he struggles to interpret my sign language, and then the two of them shuffle down, creating a space for me next to Michael.

Tyler and Theo are singing a song about searching for something you just can’t find, and although it’s just them on their guitars, the acoustics in the high-ceilinged room mean the music’s fairly loud.

Libby peers around Michael and gives me a friendly wave. I raise a half-hearted smile in return, even though I kind of wish she wasn’t here. I feel stressed out and fed up, and really could have done with talking things through with Michael tonight. Plus, seeing her again immediately tells me that whatever feelings I’ve been battling haven’t dissipated during the week at all. They’ve just been lying in wait for her return.

“You guys been catching up?” I ask eventually.

“We have!” they both chime, turning to each other and smiling.

“I think we’ve pretty much crammed sixteen years into the last half hour, haven’t we?” says Michael.

“Yeah, it really is amazing how—”

“—Little we’ve done.”

They laugh and then an awkward silence falls. Michael’s eyes dart between myself and Libby, as if he’s weighing something up.

I busy myself placing my phone and wallet on the oak coffee table in front of us, pouring lemonade into my glass and taking several gulps.

“They sound all right,” I comment, nodding towards the singers.

Michael crosses one foot over his knee and takes a sip of his sparkling water.

“I hear they used to be better,” he quips, “before they kicked their fantastic lead vocalist out.”

Personally, I was relieved when Breaking Days broke up. I’d never liked Tyler or Theo much. They were part of a wider group of people that I considered to be dragging Michael into a downward spiral. Ironically, they were the ones who kicked him out after his behaviour exceeded even their limits of acceptability. Nowadays, Tyler’s a driver for Tesco and Theo works in a call centre. Each of us has grown up, moved on. But I still don’t like them.

“Ohhh, no way,” Michael suddenly calls, shaking his head, “tonight’s my night off!”

I look up to see Theo holding a guitar out to him, while Tyler sets up another stool.

“For old times’ sake!” calls Theo.

A few shouts of encouragement go up around the bar.

“Get up there!” Stu calls to Michael, gathering glasses from a nearby table. “Keep my clientele happy!”

There are some hoots of laughter and a bit more egging on.

“Oh, Jesus,” mutters Michael quietly, as he reluctantly stands up and weaves his way towards the band to a spattering of applause.

As he slings the guitar strap around his neck and exchanges a few words with his former bandmates, the empty space between me and Libby gapes awkwardly. We both sip our drinks and wait silently for him to start.

The three of them play one of their old songs about wanting to rewind time and not being able to. It’s a good song with a heart-wrenching melody, too catchy to be depressing yet full of bittersweet regret. It’s one of the more uplifting songs they could have chosen, given that most of what Michael wrote back then was dark and full of pain. The lyrics strike a chord with me. How many times have I wished I could rewind time? It’s like the soundtrack to my life.

After a while, Libby shuffles a little closer, perching uncertainly on the edge of the sofa next to me as if she might need to flee at any moment.

“He’s got a great voice,” she says over the music. “I can’t believe how much he’s changed. He used to be so shy. He’d barely say a word to me.”

She gazes at the band, mesmerised by the music, but I’m distracted, acutely aware of her proximity to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I study her hands clasped around her wine glass. I notice she’s not wearing her engagement ring, presumably because she’s spent the day painting. Her nails still have flecks of white paint on them, even though she’s clearly made an effort tonight, wearing a thin, short-sleeved blouse with jeans and a dash of make-up. I find my eyes travelling over her wrists, up her bare arms, examining her sun-kissed skin…

“How did the painting go today?” I ask, trying to refocus.

“Oh, good. I finished before the rain started, so…”

“You finished?”

“I mean, I finished for the day.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah, not finished finished, obviously! Don’t worry, there’s still loads for you to do. I mean, if that’s still okay. For tomorrow, I mean. Is that…?”

“Yeah, yeah. No worries. We’ll be here.”

The band finishes to a round of applause and a couple of ear-piercing whistles. They decide to take a break, and to my slight disappointment Michael stays chatting with Tyler and Theo, leaving me alone with Libby.

I take a long sip of my drink and scratch at my neck.

“So are you staying here again tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah. Actually, I’m going to be staying here during the week as well. Just for a little while.”

“How come?” I ask, trying not to sound too alarmed.

“Well, they said they need some help in the pub, and I need a job. Poor Irena’s really suffering with this morning sickness still, and it kind of just makes sense. Plus, I can work on the painting, because just doing it at weekends… well, it’s going to take longer than I thought.”

“But have you ever worked in a pub?” I ask, half hoping to put her off. “There’s a lot to learn.”

“I’ve done pretty much everything!” she laughs.

I don’t know what to say. So now she’s got a job here? She’s going to be living here?!

“Well