Chasing Clouds Page 8

  The more Elodie talked, the more she opened up. She found herself not only opening up to her friends, but also to herself. She realised that she had changed a lot since she had first met Tom, but he had hardly changed at all. She knew she couldn’t be mad at him for this: it wasn’t his fault and coercing him into becoming someone else was not only unfair, it was also foolhardy and selfish. Embarking down that path would lead to tears – well, more tears, anyway. Elodie had definitely shed her fair share: she cried for the loss of her relationship, she cried for her unknown future and she cried for herself. Carla and Steph had been amazing throughout the entire evening. Between the two of them, they struck a perfect balance of tough love and comfort, both of which Elodie was in dire need of. Elodie had made her decision, or at least she thought she had. She couldn’t stay with Tom: it wasn’t fair on either of them.

  It was a horrible idea to acknowledge that the person she had envisioned spending the rest of her life with was actually someone that she didn’t really like, let alone love. She tortured herself to sleep by picturing his face: she imagined the hurt in his eyes, him begging her not to go and promising to change his ways and how devastated he’d be afterwards. These thoughts brought on fresh tears and after Steph had put her to bed she cried herself to sleep. Carla and Steph had made do in the living room, both of them wanting Elodie to get the best night’s sleep she could.

  “You have to eat something,” Steph said with a finality to her voice that made Elodie reach out and grab a piece of jam on toast. She chewed on the corner thoughtfully, wondering exactly what her next move should be. She did feel a bit better about everything: she knew this was for the best. With Tom, her life had been mapped out, but it was like Steph had said, ‘a mediocre certainty is not the type of future to aim for.’ Elodie knew that Steph was right: life with Tom wouldn’t have been for her. She would have tried – in fact, she would have tried her very best – but she knew that even with her best efforts it wouldn’t have been enough. She would always have had a nagging voice in the back of her mind asking, ‘What if?’ Carla had pointed out that if she were to stay with Tom, not only would she be forfeiting any chance of long- term happiness for herself, she would also be forfeiting his chance of happiness too. So in the end, it was the idea of ruining both of their lives that spurred her decision.

  “I have to do it today, don’t I?” Elodie said, breaking her own train of thought. Her words were more of a factual statement than a question. Steph nodded and took a piece of toast for herself.

  “The sooner the better, El,” Steph replied, getting up off the bed and stretching. “I’m going to grab a shower. Carla’s up and watching telly. Why don’t you finish your breakfast with her and when you’re done I’ll drive you home?”

  “Thanks, that’d be great but it’ll be quicker on the tube and I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You’re not putting me out at all. Come on, I insist. It’ll give you one last chance to talk things over and,” she grinned, “if you burst into tears again at least you won’t have to do your ‘cry face’ in front of the general public.”

  Elodie, despite feeling pretty emotionally bruised, couldn’t help but offer a wry smile.

  “Okay then,” she said in a small voice.

  Steph nodded her approval and opened the door. Elodie followed her out into the living room where Carla was sat, covered in a fleecy blanket and positively glued to a Saturday morning TV show.

  “Morning,” Elodie greeted her. A sleepy edge to her voice still laced her words.

  Carla looked up and offered her a warm grin. She shuffled over and patted the now empty space next to her. Elodie took little convincing. She slumped down onto the sofa and pulled a corner of the blanket over her.

  “How are you feeling?” Carla asked, ripping her eyes away from the screen and turning to face Elodie.

  “Better,” Elodie said decidedly. She was well aware that there would be nothing more damaging than re- hashing her decision over and over again and despite the enormity of her decision, she felt decidedly clear of mind. She knew she had made the right choice.

  “That’s good. Do you need anything, do you want me to come with you?”

  Elodie shook her head. She needed to speak to Tom alone, one on one. She owed him that much.

  “Steph’s driving me home and other than you guys, and a stiff drink, I probably won’t need anything else – well, apart from a place to live,” Elodie said wanly.

  “Come live with me!” Carla said, excitement creeping into her voice. “I still haven’t found anyone to replace Dora and you’d be perfect. Oh go on, say yes.”

  Elodie thought about it for a moment: living with Carla seemed like a very easy, very obvious, very fun option. There was just one problem. Money.

  “There’s no way I can afford to live at yours, you live in a stupidly expensive area. It’s okay, I can find somewhere, I’ll flat- share, rent a room or something,” Elodie said.

  “El, it’s London, it’s all stupidly expensive,” Carla combatted, laughing, “seriously, though, my dad pays for most of the flat, we just split the difference and call it quits. It’s what I did with Dora. You didn’t think I could afford that place on my salary from Betty’s, did you? Even with the odd modelling job thrown in, I could barely afford a place half that size.”

  Elodie had, to be honest; she had never really thought about it before. She realised that having Tom as a financial crutch had made her pretty ignorant of how everyone else afforded things. Now she would no longer have the Bank of Tom, she would have to get a real handle on her finances. She groaned. The single life was going to be a lot of work.

  “So how much are we talking?” Elodie asked, not wanting to agree to anything that might end up affecting their friendship.

  “Five hundred, all in?” Carla said, the smile fading from her face when she saw Elodie’s look of incredulity.

  “Five hundred? I just won’t be able to afford that, that’s…” she counted on her fingers quickly, “almost half of my earnings, on rent!”

  “El, that is a crazy good deal, you’ll have a decent- sized bedroom, furniture included, a living room with a balcony. I’m telling you, you couldn’t even get a studio in zone six for that money. How do you not know this?” Carla finished incredulously.

  “Really?” Elodie asked dumbly; doubt was creeping up on her now and threatened to overturn her decision over Tom. ‘A life of mediocre certainty doesn’t sound that bad when the very realistic prospect of bankruptcy is the alternative option,’ Elodie thought to herself.

  She mulled it over. It would be fun living with Carla; her flat was lovely and she’d never lived with a proper friend before. If only she earned more money, she could be more certain of what she should do. She hated that it was something as shallow as money that was steering her: she shouldn’t think about money, she should think about what she wanted. It was at that precise moment that a realisation struck Elodie as hard as a hammer hitting a nail. This was the kick in the backside she needed. A sudden burst of excitement exploded in her chest. She needed a job. No, she needed a career.

  Carla looked at her, a puzzled look etched across her features.

  “What?” she asked, unable to read her friend’s expression.

  “I think I’ve just had an epiphany,” Elodie said slowly. “I need to figure out what I want to do with my life.”

  “Join the club,” Carla answered with a dry laugh. “I’m hardly Kate Moss yet.”

  “Don’t be daft, you know exactly what you want and you’re taking steps to get there. I’m just well, floating, I guess.”

  Elodie paused. She hadn’t realised up until that point that when compared to the rest of her friends she was definitely bringing up the rear, career- wise. Steph was going to manage her family business, Carla was on the path to catwalk superstardom and she was, well, she was a part- time waitress.


  ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with waitressing; I just can’t imagine doing it part- time for the rest of my life,’ she thought.

  Elodie pondered her future. She had no clue what she wanted to be. What she actually wanted to do or where she wanted to do it was a complete mystery to her. Elodie could think of no particular skills or passions that she had which would lend to any obvious career path. Unless professional holidaymaker was a job there wasn’t anything that immediately stood out to her.

  “What’s going on in the head of yours?” Carla asked, interrupting her thoughts. Elodie was surprised to hear a note of concern in her voice.

  “I just…” Elodie sighed, trailing off. “I just don’t have any idea what I could do. There’s nothing I’m good at – Ouch!” She squealed as Carla’s punched her in the arm.

  “Less of that. You absolutely rock and so what if you’re not obviously a chef or scientist or whatever! Plenty of people take ages to figure out what they want to do, Christ, J. K. Rowling was in her thirties when she got published, Kristen Wiig was thirty- odd when she made it big and Vera Wang was forty when she designed her first dress. If we go by their standards you’re an early bloomer,” Carla offered enthusiastically.

  “Hmmmm,” Elodie answered, sounding less than convinced. “But they’re all talented. I just wish I’d figured this out sooner.”

  Elodie felt a hand on her shoulder and a fleeting moment of thankfulness settled within her. She was so lucky to have such good friends and promised to repay the kindness both of them had shown her if they ever needed it. She groaned, realising that before she could start her new life, chase new dreams or even put a new load of washing on, she had to talk to Tom. After all, they were still technically together and he had no idea what was coming.

  Elodie and Steph left later that morning; Elodie had showered and put on some fresh clothes that she had packed the day before. The journey back to her old home was uneventful, which didn’t go down well. Elodie had been desperate for anything to go awry: a traffic jam or torrential downpour, anything to prolong her travels and put off the inevitable conversation she had to have with Tom. She’d gone through what she wanted to say over and over in her head, prompting different responses and coaching herself on how to react. By the time she got to her front door, she felt prepared and felt at one with her decision. Deep down she knew she was doing the right thing. She just hoped that in time Tom would see this too.

  Elodie turned her key in the door and pushed it open. She blinked into the darkness, her eyes struggling to adjust to the new, dimly- lit surroundings. Her home presented her with an unsettling smell, somewhere between old ashtrays and cheap perfume. She stretched out a hand and felt for the light switch. The sight that met her eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. The place was a mess: empty beer cans strewn about the floor and haphazard shoes from both sexes told her that Tom must have had some sort of after- party. Elodie wrinkled her nose and let out a groan of disgust. Tom certainly hadn’t mourned her absence for very long. She couldn’t believe she’d felt sorry for him, imagining him all alone the previous evening. It seemed to her that he was getting on just fine without her.

  Elodie jerked her head as she heard an unfamiliar noise coming from under a pile of jackets that had been piled high on the sofa. She gingerly picked up the lapel of a dark blue, pinstriped one and lifted it up. Tom’s face came into view. He had lipstick stains on his cheek, his shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was no longer around his neck but now around his forehead. He looked like some sort of second- rate Rambo.

  “Babe?” he croaked at her. “Fetch me some water, will you? With ice,” he stipulated.

  Elodie began walking to the kitchen, an automatic response to any of Tom’s requests. She stopped dead in her tracks. This was exactly the sort of thing that had pushed her into the decision she had made. She’d been a doormat for almost the entirety of their relationship; she sure as hell wasn’t going to continue to be one now.

  “Tom, we need to talk,” she said, more abruptly than she had intended. Tom waved her away.

  “Water first, I’m dying here,” he said, pulling the blue pinstriped jacket back over his head. “And can you turn that light off, for the love of God? Are you trying to blind me or something?”

  Elodie scowled, got up and poured him a glass of water. She did this against her better judgment but knowing Tom he wouldn’t give her an inch until his every whim was catered for. She pulled the jacket back from over Tom’s head and handed him the glass. He slurped at the water noisily then dropped the half- empty glass onto the floor to join the beer cans and haphazard shoes. It tipped over and the remainder of its contents splashed out onto the carpet. Elodie watched the dark stain spread outwards with an interest born from procrastination and apprehension. She sighed. Her carefully chosen words evaded her now, she opened her mouth but the well- rehearsed script died on her tongue.

  “Babe,” Tom said, a sweet, almost girlish tone to his voice, “would you get me some breakfast from Maccers?”

  Elodie grimaced at this request. What did he think she was?

  “I’m not your personal waitress,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

  “But you’re so good at it,” Tom cooed, as if expecting her to be pleased.

  Elodie stared at him, her eyes searching. She was almost willing him to understand what was about to happen. If he’d just get there quicker, perhaps he could do, or say, something to make everything better. She waited, but Tom did and said nothing. His eyes flickered as he began to doze back off to sleep.

  “Tom, this isn’t working,” Elodie began, the words suddenly seeming to tumble from her lips. “I think we should break up. I’ve been feeling this way for a while now and, well, a few things have made me see that we’re just not right for one another...” Elodie trailed off, giving Tom an imploring look that simply begged him to make this easier for her.

  Tom didn’t say anything for several long moments; in fact, neither of them did. They sat in what felt like a stunned silence: the force of Elodie’s words seemed to have struck them both dumb. After a few minutes, Tom sat up and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “You’re not thinking straight, El, you can’t be. Why would you want to give all this up?” he stretched out his arm and pointed.

  Elodie’s gaze followed his finger. Give up what, exactly? Sure, they had a nice home, she never went without and for the most part they had a stress- free, pleasant enough existence. But now, Elodie realised that just wasn’t enough. She wanted, no, needed more from life. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d done things differently.

  “I am thinking straight Tom, and I think you think the same thing. We’re not suited, we want different things.”

  “Is this about the group holiday?” he cut across her abruptly, a nasty edge creeping into his voice. Elodie shook her head.

  “That’s just one thing in a long line. We’re just,” her mind raced trying to find the right word, “mismatched.”

  “This has literally come out of nowhere, you can’t just up and leave me. It’s humiliating.” He looked at Elodie with an expression she’d seen so many times but never truly understood; disgust.

  Elodie looked at him. ‘So now we get down to it,’ she thought.

  “Humiliating? It’s not about humiliation, I’m not doing this to get back at you or hurt you. I want what’s best for both of us. Tom, we don’t make each other happy. At least not any more we don’t. I’m so sorry but I’ve made up my mind. I’ve thought about it long and hard and as horrible as this is, we’re just not…” she broke off, her voice beginning to crack with the weight of her words.

  Elodie put her head in her hands and sighed; she felt awful. She questioned herself over and over again: was this the right thing to do? Should she work on being a better girlfriend for Tom and push all these negative thoughts to the back of her head? She knew what her mum w
ould say, but that was fine for her, she’d already found her...

  “Soulmates,” Elodie said aloud. “You’re just not my soulmate, Tom, and I’m not yours. Face it, I’m not the person you want me to be.”

  “You would be if you just shut up once in a while. You never do anything, El, you hardly make any effort now,” he spat. “For fuck’s sake, of all the days. I’ve got friends over, I’m hungover and now you’re saying that we’re over. Look at you, playing the ‘holier than thou’ card. I thought you were better than this, but no! God, you’re so selfish sometimes. Look, just come here, you’ll like the holiday when we’re on it and just think, all that extra money I’ll be earning will be going on something extra special.”

  He gave Elodie what she assumed he thought was a cheeky wink and reached out for her. She pulled her hand away from his. She didn’t want him to touch her. She had thought she would feel sorry for Tom, that this whole breakup would be made even harder by his tears of pain and hurt. But here he was, making out that somehow all of this was her fault and that worse still, he would forgive her if she’d only quit her whining.

  “I don’t know how else to say it, Tom. This is horrible and, believe me, I’ve tried but we just don’t fit anymore. It’s no one’s fault, so please don’t try and make out that I’m the one to blame. I’m not and I’m certainly not shouldering the responsibility so you look better in front of your friends.”