The Liberation of Alice Love(82)
Author: Abby McDonald

Julian mustered a weak smile. “Hush, you. That’s Woody we’re talking about.”

“Exactly.” Alice gave him a playful nudge. “You know, for someone who isn’t a Jewish, New York intellectual, you’ve got a rather strange attachment to the man.”

Julian took a swig, straight from the bottle. “What can I say? He knows a thing or two about the futility of commitment and human connection…”

Alice rolled her eyes. “I’ll watch the damn film—again—because that’s how good a friend I am,” she informed him with a grin. “But seriously Jules—next time, how about we find a new breakup anthem. Terminator, maybe; I could live with that.”

“Next time?” Julian groaned. “You mean I’ll get to fail at this all over again?”

“Oh, at least two, three times.” Alice kept her tone light, but he looked so morose that she softened. “Did you…love her?” she asked gently. He’d never said so, but she wasn’t sure if he would.

He shrugged: a slow, defeated gesture. “I don’t know. Which, is a no, I suppose. But I thought…I thought this one would work. At least, a bit longer, anyway.” He took another gulp and passed it to Alice. She sipped, wincing at the taste.

“Don’t you have any mixers?”

“In the kitchen, maybe…” He let out an extravagant sigh.

Alice grinned. “God, all that way.”

“Don’t mock me, woman. I’m in mourning.”

“For Yasmin or the idea of a stable, committed relationship?” Alice challenged, shooting him a sideways glance.

He rolled his eyes. “Wait until the film is finished, at least.”

“Fine, then.” Alice tugged open the bag of crisps and offered it to him. “But I refuse to sit through Hannah and Her Sisters as well. My love for you has its limits.”

***

By the time the film was finished, they’d worked their way through a large portion of the vodka, with the help of a carton of sugary fruit juice she dug from a back cupboard. Sprawled on the sofa, Julian slumped with his head resting almost in her lap.

“And she was obsessive about flossing,” he added, expounding on Yasmin’s multiple flaws. Aside from her rigid work schedule, taste for Ronan Keating records, and completely unreasonable embargo on butter, oral hygiene rated highly. “After every meal, she’d disappear off to the bathroom with that little packet of string.”

“How dare she?” Alice couldn’t help but tease. “What next: bathing daily? Washing her clothes on a regular basis?”

Julian lightly nudged her thigh. “You’re supposed to be offering me unconditional support in my time of grief, you know?”

“Sorry, forgot.” Alice yawned. “She’s a bitch, and you’ve made a lucky escape from a lifetime of misery and doom. Better?”

“Much.” Julian fell silent a moment and then let out a defeated sigh. “There was nothing wrong, really. I mean, that stuff annoyed me, but it wasn’t serious. Not enough to cause the breakup, at least.”

Alice tilted her head down. “So what really happened?”

He shrugged again. “She was…pushing. Not being a nag or anything, but she kept bringing it up: where this was going, what it really meant.”

“Not exactly unreasonable,” Alice had to point out. “You’ve been seeing each other, what, six months now?”

“Seven.”

“Seven then. And she moved in; it’s a big step. You can’t really blame her for wanting to know if this was real, or just…killing time.

Julian sighed again. “That’s just it—I know. And I know that I didn’t have anything to say to her that would make her stay.”

Alice paused, surveying their near-comatose bodies and various debris; the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds now filling the room with its melancholy harmonies. “So, why the wallowing?” she asked eventually. “If you didn’t love her, and you don’t seem to mind so much that she’s gone…Isn’t this a good thing? At least, you’ll be able to meet somebody else now. Someone better for you.”

Julian gave her a dubious look. He heaved himself up until they were side by side. “Aren’t you tired of it yet, Aly? All this running around, trying to…I don’t know, fit yourself to someone; like some Meccano model.” His head fell back on the cushions. “I mean, all this effort…And for what?”

Alice reached over to give him a comforting hug. “Oh, I don’t know; how about love, companionship, human intimacy…”

He rolled his eyes. “But we have all that already.”

“You’ll get there, eventually,” she told him. “Think of it, as one of life’s enduring mysteries.”

“Oh, jeez.” Julian made a face. “You really have been spending too much time with that American.”

“What are you talking about?” Alice made a mock-innocent face. “I’ve always been one to look for the meaning in the journey, not the destination, and dig deep, every day, to share my inner radiance with—hey!” she squealed, as Julian began to tickle her. “Not fair! You know I—” Alice laughed, trying to push him away, but with years of experience behind him, Julian knew exactly which spots to target. “Stop it!” she spluttered, gasping for air. “I mean it!”

“Weakling.” Julian shifted, crushing her into the sofa while she flailed helplessly. Finally, he lifted himself up onto his elbows, grinning down at her. “You know, that never gets old.”

“Actually, it does.” Alice laughed, but instead of letting her up, Julian gazed down at her, a peculiarly intense expression suddenly drifting into his eyes.

He gave her a smile, quiet and intimate. And then he moved to kiss her.

Alice stopped. She knew that she should break away now, make a comment about his maudlin despair and put some safe distance between their bodies, but a morbid curiosity in her made her stay.

How far would he go?

Slowly, Julian reached down to brush a stray piece of hair away from her cheek. His hand lingered there, his weight still pressing her into the sofa with his mouth just inches from hers, breath metallic with the faint smell of vodka.

Still, Alice didn’t move.

The thought had crossed her mind, of course. In their ten years of friendship, it had occurred to her, occasionally, what they might be like together, as a real couple. But the prospect had faded, with time and familiarity, until only Flora’s jokes about declarations of undying love reminded Alice of the possibility.