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

I look over my shoulder and frown at Irena. “But she seemed… I mean, when she was talking about the wedding and their plans…”

“Maybe she want you to think that she is happy.”

I think of her playing with her engagement ring when we first met for coffee, flashing it so clearly for my attention. The ring I never saw her wearing again.

“And maybe she try to tell herself she is happy, too,” continues Irena. “But very quickly the truth come out with me. He made her very sad. And she was not sure what to do.”

I shake my head despairingly and go back to working the screwdriver, trying to make sense of things. She’d never given any indication that her wedding plans weren’t going ahead. If I’d ever doubted the strength of their relationship, it was only through a vague sense that things weren’t quite right.

“And so… what? She decided she couldn’t forgive him?” I ask.

“At first she try. But once she came here, she decided that whether he cheats on her or not is not the main problem. The main problem is that she realise she doesn’t feel for him what she should.”

The screw tightly in, I stare at it long and hard.

“What do you think made her realise that?” asks Irena.

I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Behind me, I hear a loud sigh of exasperation.

“For clever man, how you be so stupid?” she asks, bluntly.

I look over my shoulder at her.

“Excuse me?”

“She is in love with you, you stupid man! Like you are with her!”

I stare at her, shocked, feeling colour rise in my face.

“You think I don’t know? You think we don’t all know? For weeks and weeks, it is painful watching you two!”

I shake my head and frown.

“I don’t think…”

“She tell me this! She tell me how she feels for you! And I promise to say nothing, but how can I? That you are not together is silly! You are silly man!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say standing up, knowing how Irena is prone to misinterpretation. “What exactly did she say to you?”

Irena rubs her hand over her tummy and shifts in her chair, trying to get comfortable. “I can’t tell you that. Exactly what she has said is between us girls.”

“Irena,” I say firmly, pointing the screwdriver at her, “you can’t just make assumptions—”

“She tell me she always struggle to get over you! That she thought if she come back here she can get over you for good, but instead she fall in love with you all over again! And then she knows for sure she cannot spend her life with Will because she does not have those same feelings for him. She has been trying to make it work because she wants marriage and a family, but now she knows what she has with him is not good enough, is… what do you call… compromise! And she prefer be alone than compromise like that. I say I want her to stay, to carry on working in the bar, but she say she can’t, is too hard to keep seeing you—”

“Stop!” I snap. “Just stop!”

She puts her hand over her mouth and gazes up at me with wide eyes. If it wasn’t for her pregnant belly, she’d look like a naughty girl snuggled in her oversized chair.

“Okay, I say too much,” she concedes meekly, “I won’t say another word.”

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing to keep up. I can’t believe this. Can it even be true? But then I think of the moments when something seemed to pass between us, when the air felt thick with tension like an electric storm was brewing. And the things she said that made me wonder what was happening between us.

You could have given us a chance…

Is she really in love with me?

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, feeling shaken.

“Because you make me mad! Because I can see you feel same way and is silly that you two—”

“We want different things! She wants a family and stability—”

“And why you not? You have already raised lovely boy! Why no more—?”

“Because I don’t want more! I’ve done it! And because my life is chaos!”

“But you love her, yes?”

I stare at her, my lips tightly pursed.

“Yes?!” she snaps.

I shake my head slowly and look at the ceiling.

“Irena, it’s not that simple—”

“Okay, fine, is not that simple. You be sad and lonely and she be sad and lonely. That much more simple. Except she not be sad and lonely for long, you watch! She is lovely, pretty, kind girl who will find nice man—”

“Exactly! She will find a nice man, who can give her everything she wants. Someone way better for her than me—”

“Oh, so you are not good enough, is that it? No. You know what you are? You are scared. Scared to take a chance—”

“No, that’s not—”

“Yes, is it!”

I throw the screwdriver into the pile of discarded, cardboard packaging.

“I’m done here,” I tell her, heading for the door.

She lets out a groan, as if I’m exasperating her, and suddenly shuffles forward in her chair. For a second I think she’s about to stand up and batter me in frustration, but she just sits there, bent over, staring at the floor.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pausing in the doorway.

“Yes!” she snaps, waving me away. “Go. Go enjoy whatever you lonely English men…” She stops short with a sharp intake of breath.

“Irena?” I ask, walking over and crouching down in front of her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She shakes her head dismissively, but the fact she doesn’t shout at me or hit me when I’m so close sends alarm bells ringing.

“I need to lie down,” she says quietly.

I support her weight as she stands up, but even on her feet she remains doubled over.

“Aghhh,” she groans, gripping my arm.

With horror, I spy blood seeping through the inside thigh of her white jeans. I try to sit her back down,