Tom take us to the Grand Resort in Bag Ragaz—it’s just an hour outside of Zurich and we haven’t run a piece on them in a while at Tatler so I don’t even need to pretend to have the flu so I can go away.
There’s a peacefulness here and it makes me feel further away from London than I am.
Us being, by the way, Tom and I and Paili and Perry. Insisted upon it, actually. He said he didn’t know them that well and that he feels he should know them better.
On the flight over Perry sat with him up in the cockpit and Paili and I drank wine at the back of the plane.
“He must be softening the blow at least a little bit,” she told me, and I nodded. “Are you sleeping together?”
I nodded again.
She smiled a little. “Look at you! Having sex—god, you might actually be moving on…”
I glanced over at her, and even in retrospect I can’t tell whether what she said made me feel relief or sadness. Maybe both.
“What’s he like?”
“Compared to BJ?” I clarified. She shifted uncomfortably and shrugged, but they’re the only people I’ve been with, so I assume that’s what she meant. “Well, I’ve not had sex with BJ for years—not since—well, you know—” Her eyes went sad and her mouth pulled, sorry for me. “—but from memory, it’s quite different. I learnt about sex by having it with BJ. We always talked a lot and laughed a lot and—” I trailed. “He knows my body better than anyone—”
It grew up in his arms, after all.
She gave me another sad smile. “And Tom?”
“And Tom?” I smiled. “It kind of always feels like a day-dream.”
My cheeks flushed a little. “I don’t know—whenever we do it there’s at least one occasion every time where I open my eyes and I think, ‘Gee! Look at us! Doing this! How’d this happen?’”
She laughed. “Does he live up to the reputation we gave him after seeing him in that boat?”
I blushed more. “He does.”
The hotel is beautiful, by the way. Of course it is. Everything about Tom is beautiful. From his choices to his eyes to his hair to his voice to his shoulders to his smile to his hands.
I don’t know why he brought me here, if it’s for any other reason than to get me away and give me space, but in the space he gives me all I wonder about is what my life would be like if I can do what I’m trying to do.
How would my life be if I actually cut BJ out? Because the life I think I could have with Tom would be good a one… and it’s not a money thing—money I have. It’s the calmness of him, the way he moves in a room, the way he holds my knee when I’m sitting next to him, his watchful eyes, how I can just barely fold my whole hand around only two of his fingers. The thoughtfulness of him.
And he isn’t mine completely, I know that. I know he loves someone else but so do I, and maybe that’s okay because maybe you do get more than one love in a lifetime. Maybe BJ is the great love of my life not because he’s great but because he’s been defining, and maybe Tom will be the redeeming love of my life, and maybe that’s better?
It’s fun being away with Perry, Pails and Tom. It’s a very drama-free combination.
Paili and Tom get along swimmingly. Perry tends to get a bit jealous when Paili likes anyone more than him, but the England charm once again overtakes.
I love being away with Perry because he’s always down to try weird things with me.
Tom guffawed at my suggestion of a singing bowl massage but Perry was automatically enthused and required no bribery whatsoever.
“You heard from any of them?” Perry asks me, while we’re waiting in the sauna. I shake my head. “You haven’t even spoken to Henry?”
I shrug. “I always speak to Henry—but never about his brother.”
Perry grimaces. “They went pretty hard in Amsterdam.”
“I’m sure they did.” I keep my face very straight. He watches me for a few seconds. “What happened before that you haven’t told us?”
I look over at him.
“You didn’t care that that girl’s tongue was in his ear, you cared that he was doing drugs—what happened?”
I stare at him for a few seconds. I consider lying, consider throwing him off the scent of the truth he’s picked up, but I decide against it. “He overdosed.” I don’t want to cover for him anymore. I don’t know much about him anymore at all, I suppose.
Perry blinks a few times. “When?”
I purse my lips, pretending the date isn’t etched in my mind, pretending I don’t see his clammy forehead and bleary eyes and raw nose and love bites all over his body at least once a week when I have bad dreams about it still. “Two years ago. A bit more.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
He thinks to himself. “The kiss,” he says. “At the cinema in Leicester Square—Paili and I always wondered about that.” I glance over at him, and my eyes soften at the memory—the feeling in my chest and an indomitable need to kiss him at all costs.
“And like, why the fuck were we at the cinema anyway? We go to premieres, not afternoon matinees.” Perry scrunches his face up. I laugh. “Are you really done with him?” he asks, after a few seconds.
Probably not, but I mean what I say genuinely: “I hope so.”
