I was coming out of the bathroom when my phone started ringing and on checking the screen, I saw it was Greg calling, and only then did I remember that I had promised to call him after dropping C.G off to let him know I was all right.
Of course I was far from alright, and so for a few seconds I considered not answering the call, worried that he would be able to tell from my voice what had happened.
He could be just as temperamental as Chris, and I did not want to mess up his mood while he was at a show.
However, not answering the call would in all likelihood only have the same effect, as he would probably start fretting over why I was not picking up; so, with no other option I decided to try to bluff my way through the call and taking a steadying breath, answered it: “Hello.”
“Hey, you were supposed to call me,” his voice came over the line, his tone slightly accusing.
“I was going to; I just got back,” I answered, trying to keep my voice light and carefree, and failing miserably.
“Are you alright? You don’t sound OK,” his tone was instantly transformed to one of worry and concern.
“I’m fine. I guess I just miss C.G already,” I jumped on the only other plausible explanation for my heavy voice.
It apparently did the trick, for once again Greg’s tone changed, this time to one of understanding, tinged with relief as he answered.
“I know; don’t worry, I’m sure something will come up soon and then you’ll get him back,” he said soothingly.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’ll try to pass by briefly after the show,” he replied, clearly trying to be comforting, but his words had the complete opposite effect.
As soon as he saw my face, he would know what had happened, and that I had lied to him. I panicked.
“No, you don’t need to do that.”
“Not for long because of the situation with Linda and the baby, but I can do an hour.”
“That’s really not necessary; you’ll probably be tired, and it’s a long drive,” I tried to dissuade him.
“Don’t be silly, Entebbe is practically next door; and in any case, you should know by now, that I’m never too tired to see you,” he said, then went on before I could come up with a response, “I’ve got to go now, see you later,” he promised and without further ado, hung up.
Hours later as it approached 1am, I was curled up in a foetal position on the couch with the lights off and the TV on, even though I was not actually watching it.
I heard a hoot at the gate, a car pull up in front of the house, and then moments later a quiet knock at the door before it opened and Greg let himself in.
“Hey, why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked in confusion, and then turned on the lights.
At the sight of my battered face, his eyes first widened in shock, before narrowing with fury.
“You lied to me,” he hissed in disbelief.
“I didn’t want you getting stressed while working,” I explained apologetically.
“You should have told me; you shouldn’t have lied!” he insisted angrily, and I was no longer sure what was infuriating him more, the state of my face, or that I had lied about how I actually was.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled softly, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m going to kill him,” he swore angrily as he came closer to take a better look at me.