Sunday Morning

Sundays were Anna’s favourite day of the week.

That Sunday, the last Sunday before everything changed, she woke early, in Jamie’s bed. She stretched, yawning, and his eyes fluttered open. They made love, slowly and lazily, soft touches and quiet murmurs. 

Around eleven they got up. Jamie disappeared into the bathroom, while Anna went to the kitchen. As usual, she found coffee waiting for her; black and strong, exactly the way she liked it.  Jamie shared his flat with his brother Martin, and Martin was an early riser, even on a Sunday. Anna almost inhaled the coffee, muttering thanks. 

Martin smiled, looking up from his tablet. “You’ll need it. It’ll be cold today, especially along the river.” 

Anna and Martin always went running together on Sunday. Anna had the motivation of a sloth when it came to exercise, and she needed Martin to push her along. 

“Do we have to go? It’s so cosy here.”

Martin grinned, wholly unsympathetic. “You can do it. Think of bacon and maple syrup.”

The lure of brunch at their favourite cafe. It was their Sunday post-run ritual.

Jamie walked into the kitchen. He looked at their exercise clothes with despair, as he always did. 

“How can you two be so disgustingly energetic? Sunday is for lazing on the sofa.”

“Says the man who’s off to work,” said Martin.

“Band practice and a gig,” said Jamie. “That’s not work, it’s fun. You should try it sometime.” 

“You should find some new lines, Jamie. That one’s getting boring.” Martin glanced towards Anna. “Although I have to cancel our movie night this week. Revision calls.”

Anna felt a stab of disappointment. “You always seem to have exams.”

“Penalty of being a lawyer. The exam’s Thursday morning, so it won’t stop me coming to your opening in the evening.”

“Good.” Anna’s chest flooded with excitement and trepidation at the thought of the first exhibition of her art in a real gallery. She had been working towards it for months, but still felt like pinching herself to prove it was real. “You can make sure Jamie arrives on time.”

Jamie’s poor time-keeping was notorious. Anna winked at him, expecting a laughing protest, but he stared at her, his brow creasing.

“Your gallery opening’s on Thursday.”

“You know it is.” Anna felt a pit open in her stomach. “Jamie...don’t tell me you can’t make it.”

“We’ve been offered a gig,” he muttered, staring at the floor. “A big one.”

“Jamie.” Martin’s voice cut harshly through the awkward silence. “You know how important this is to Anna.”

“This gig is important too. Support act for Yellow Moon. They’re so big right now, we can’t afford to turn the opportunity down.” Jamie sent Anna a beseeching smile. “I’ll see your art another evening. It’s on display for a whole month, right?”

Anna struggled for words, but Martin forestalled her.

“The first night of the exhibition is different; there will be art critics, press...it’s a big event. You should come.”

“I wish I could.” Jamie moved to Anna, taking her hand. “You understand, don’t you? I can’t let the band down.” 

“It’s fine. I understand.” Anna saw Martin open his mouth, and cut him off with a wave of her hand. It was almost true, now the first sting of disappointment was over. She’d been half expecting this anyway.

Jamie kissed her, murmuring more apologies, then glanced at the clock, swore, and hurried away to rehearsal, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

“It’s not that he doesn’t care,” said Martin. “He doesn’t think. That’s all.”

“I know.” Martin’s eyes were full of pity, and Anna didn’t want to deal with that. She wanted her golden, peaceful Sunday back. “Come on Martin, let’s run.”

They ran along the river, twice round the park, and finished with a race that Anna won easily enough that she wondered if Martin had lost deliberately. They ate pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, then went back to the flat and watched silly comedies until it got dark, and by then all Anna’s disappointment had faded away.

---

“Anna, this is amazing.” Her friend Naomi looked around the gallery with a wide smile. “All these people, here to see your drawings.”

“I know.” The small room was packed with glamorously-dressed people sipping champagne from long-stemmed glasses, chatting and laughing. “It’s terrifying.” 

“Why?”

“What if they think my work is awful?”

“They won’t, because it isn’t,” said Naomi, removing Anna’s glass from her clenched hand before she broke the stem. “Carla wouldn’t have chosen you for her gallery if she didn’t think you were good. She’s far too hard-nosed.”

That was true. Carla was a veteran of the art world, and Anna knew she should trust her judgement, but part of her still whispered she was a failure who should never have picked up a pencil.

She felt breathless, the noise of the crowd roaring in her ears, until her frantic eyes locked on a familiar dark head. She gasped with relief, her heartbeat steadying.

“Martin’s here. Sorry Naomi, I need to talk to him.” He had a way of boosting her confidence that no-one else did.

Martin was looking at one of her drawings. ‘Sunday morning’, she’d called it. It was a pencil sketch of Jamie in bed, his naked back rising out of rumpled sheets, head half buried in a pillow. 

Martin turned with an odd expression as she spoke his name, but it was swiftly replaced by a smile. 

“Anna, congratulations. This is amazing.”

“That’s what Naomi said. If you both keep saying it, I might believe it.”

“You should,” said Carla, appearing beside them. She shook her head at Anna reprovingly. “You’re a success, as I knew you would be. Enjoy it.”

Anna smiled hesitantly, and Martin chuckled. “I’ll try to persuade her.” 

“If you can, you’ll be a miracle worker.” Carla gave Martin a practiced smile, assessing him with her cool eyes. “It’s Jamie, isn’t it?”

Anna’s breath stopped in her throat. The voices around her were reduced to a dim buzzing in her ears.

“No, Carla.” The words felt like stones in her mouth. “This is Martin. Jamie’s brother.”

An odd look flickered over Carla’s face. “My mistake. What do you think of Anna’s work, Martin?”

At any other time Anna would have been eager to hear Martin’s opinion, but now his words barely registered. She was only vaguely aware when Carla left them. The world had narrowed down to the stricken look that had covered Martin’s face when Carla made her mistake. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why Carla said that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Martin was avoiding her eyes. “I’m so happy for you, Anna.” 

They were barely inches apart, but Anna felt as if he was drifting far away from her. An iceberg had splintered apart, carrying them in different directions. 

“I should get back to Naomi.”

“I’d better get home. Early start tomorrow.” Martin finally looked at her, but that made it worse. His smile was blank and impersonal, the real Martin hidden away.

“Martin.” Anna reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled back abruptly. She dropped her hand as if scalded.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” The silence screamed like nails on a blackboard. “I have to go.”

She watched his retreating back with cold unease.

---

Later, as the gallery emptied, Anna returned to her ‘Sunday morning’ drawing, lost in thought.

“Penny for them.” Naomi glanced at the drawing, then at Anna’s face. “I thought you’d be buzzing. It went well, didn’t it?” 

“Yes.” Anna didn’t understand why she wasn’t buzzing. Carla had sold most of her drawings, and her head was whirling with compliments, but she seemed stuck on the one sour note of the evening, the way Martin had left so abruptly.

“Something weird happened earlier.” Naomi was usually good at getting her head straight. “Carla assumed...well, she assumed Martin was Jamie.”

“Well, well.” Naomi looked oddly satisfied. “Carla is more perceptive than I gave her credit for.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw it at once too, but I’m your oldest friend. It’s my job to know these things.”

“To know what?” 

“I shouldn’t answer, but I’m giving up hope of you ever figuring it out on your own.” Anna bristled at Naomi’s patronising tone. “Carla saw what I saw...that you’re in love with Martin.”

For a moment, Anna couldn’t comprehend the words. Then she did, and the floor tilted beneath her. She put a hand on the wall to brace herself, staring at Naomi with horror.

“What...I’m not...that’s not true.” She stumbled, barely aware of what she was saying. Naomi’s words had flicked on a lamp in a darkened room, illuminating hidden corners and casting shadows in a different direction. The familiar landscape of her soul turned treacherous.

“Isn’t it?” Naomi’s voice cut sharp as a scalpel.

“I love Jamie.” Anna clutched at the familiar mantra. “You were there when I fell for him. In that grotty nightclub, remember?”

“Three years ago. I remember. You watched him singing, turned to me all starry-eyed and told me you wanted him.”

“Exactly. Love at first sight.”

Naomi’s lips quirked. “Maybe lust at first sight. When I came back to London last year, I was surprised you were still together.”

Anna’s spine arched with outrage. “Why? Do you think I'm so shallow?”

“No, but...don’t get me wrong, Anna. Jamie’s charming and funny, and it pains me to say it, but he’s a talented musician who’s going to go far. But…”

“But what?”

“He’s also irresponsible and unreliable and wrapped up in his music to the exclusion of all else.” Naomi smiled with a hint of apology.

“Is this because he wasn’t here tonight? It wasn’t his fault. He had an important gig.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did.” Naomi rolled her eyes. “His music is more important than your art, and it always will be. I’m surprised how little that seems to bother you.”

“I’m an adult, and I understand compromise. I know Jamie supports me. He doesn’t have to be here to prove that.”

“No, he doesn’t, because Martin is here,” said Naomi, with a sly smile that made Anna grit her teeth. “Martin comes to all your events. Martin encourages you when your inspiration fails…”

“Of course he does. He’s my friend.”

“Oh, yes. Your friend. The friend you spend every Sunday with, running and having brunch, and every Tuesday night watching movies, and text constantly...Anna, of course you don’t care that Jamie’s so engrossed in his music you barely see him. Martin is your boyfriend in all but name.”

“No. You’re wrong.” Anna shook her head violently, even though Naomi’s words pierced her skin and burrowed inside, festering. “It’s not like that at all.”

“Oh Anna, it is. That’s why you’re still with Jamie. Because if you broke up with him, you would lose Martin, and you can’t bear the thought of that.”

“No, that’s not true.” Anna felt dizzy, as if Naomi had shaken her life like a snow globe. “I don’t love Martin. I love Jamie.”

“Not convinced? Look at the work of your own hands.” Naomi pointed at the drawing in front of them.

“What does that have to do with this? It’s a drawing of Jamie.”

“No, it isn’t.” The look in Naomi’s eyes made Anna feel raw and exposed. “I’m not too familiar with his naked back, but I can tell that isn’t Jamie. He’s not that muscular, and he definitely doesn’t have a scar on his shoulder.”

“What? There is no-” Anna leaned forward, but Naomi was right. 

There was a scar. She’d drawn in a scar. A scar Jamie didn’t have. He wasn’t the one who’d fallen off his bike when he was twelve.

“Oh, God.” Anna staggered back from the wall, staring with horror at the evidence of her treacherous mind. “I can’t love Martin. I can’t.”

---

The following Sunday morning, Anna woke Jamie up. She was not in the mood for slow, or lazy. She was on top of him, fierce in her determination to prove Naomi wrong, when a thump echoed through the wall next to them, followed by a loud feminine moan.

Anna froze, even as Jamie laughed underneath her. “Sounds like my brother finally has company.”

The company was called Elise. She was petite and dark-haired, and somehow managed to look stylish even wearing one of Martin’s shirts over a pair of leggings. She smiled warmly over the coffee Martin brewed her, and asked intelligent questions about Jamie’s music and Anna’s art. 

Martin sat back in his chair with a fixed smile. He kept his eyes on Elise and never once glanced in Anna’s direction.

Coffee finished, Elise and Martin retreated back to his bedroom. Jamie looked after them with an impressed grin. “Good for my big brother. It’s about time he got lucky.” He kissed Anna, laughing. “You’ll be running on your own today. He’s got better things to do. I’ll call you after the gig.” He laughed again and departed.

The wind was bitter; it brought tears to Anna’s eyes as she ran. How had she allowed this to happen? How had she not realised? This whole situation was twisted and wrong. It wasn’t fair to Jamie, or to Martin. 

She had to do something. She closed her eyes, feeling sick with self-disgust. This had to end.

---

Carla’s gallery was a hive of activity. Lighting was adjusted, windows polished, glasses set out. Anna smiled, feeling a brief ache when she remembered her first opening, the year before. That night had triggered so many changes in her life.

“Anna!” Carla air-kissed her cheek. “I was worried you weren’t coming.”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey you.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have spent a year away from London.”

“I needed a change, after...”

“A hard break-up. We’ve all been there.” A flash of sincerity in Carla’s eyes. “I admit Norfolk has sparked your creativity.” 

“There’s so much sea and sky there. It’s hard not to paint it.”

The opening was busy, but Anna found the press of people less overwhelming this time. She let them wash over her, dealing with both compliments and criticisms with unruffled calm, and received an approving nod from Carla.

Then she saw Martin, and her composure cracked like a glass bubble.

He moved through the crowd towards her with single-minded purpose. Anna took a deep breath, bracing herself.

“Martin. I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“I couldn’t turn down a personal invitation.” His voice was easy, but there was tension in his shoulders. “Congratulations, again.”

“Thank you. How’s Jamie?” She got out the name without a hitch.

“On tour in the US. I suppose you heard about-”

“I could hardly avoid it. Their songs are on every radio station. Good for him.” She didn’t want to appear ungenerous.

“Anna...I should probably tell you…” Martin’s face was rigid. “Jamie’s dating his agent.” 

“Carrie?” 

“Yeah. She swooped in as soon as you...left him.”

Silence fell. Anna drained her glass, drinking him in. He looked tired, lines on his forehead she didn’t remember. Her heart thumped so loudly she felt sure he must hear it. She could see Jamie on every damn TV chat show without a twinge, but two minutes watching Martin, and she felt as if she would shatter at the lightest touch. Naomi proved right, over and over.

“I thought you might bring Elise,” she said, carefully casual.  

“Who? Oh, Elise. No, that didn’t work out.” Anna almost shuddered with the force of her relief.

Martin looked away, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. His face was blank, and a lump rose in Anna’s throat. Talking to Martin used to be the easiest thing in the world, and now she couldn’t think of anything to break this strained silence.

“Anna.” The intensity in that one word grabbed her attention. “I’m so sorry about what happened.” Martin’s blank expression had gone. Guilt seeped through every pore of his face.

“Don’t be. I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen your paintings, Anna.” He waved a hand fiercely at the bleak seascapes surrounding them. “I can feel...they’re so sad, so full of longing...it must be so hard for you, hearing Jamie’s voice everywhere-”

Something bloomed within Anna as she listened to him.  Delicate and fragile, but full of hope and potential. Suddenly, she knew exactly what to say. She stepped forward and silenced him with a finger on his lips.

“Martin.” His grey eyes stared into hers, bewildered. “It’s longing, yes, but not for him.” His face brightened with an echo of that fragile hope. “For you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Martin’s face was raw and unguarded as she had never seen it before. “I tried so hard not to let you see...I had no right...I shouldn’t have got so close-”

“I shouldn’t have been so blind.” Anna felt tears pressing against her eyes. “I was too scared to admit how I felt for you...it’s all such a mess.”

She felt Martin’s hands take hers, gripping tight. “We can sort it out, Anna. We can.”

Their eyes met, and Anna nodded, returning his grip. Martin always made her feel they could do anything together. His mouth found hers, sweet and certain, and Anna sighed with relief. For the first time in a year, she felt the world settle into place around her. She was home.