‘And you are a silly shit,’ he replies immediately.
And there’s something about the way he says it – completely seriously – that’s very, very funny, and suddenly I’m not really irritated with him any more and I start to snigger.
And then I think how the whole situation could be viewed as funny.
We thought we’d be together forever. We thought we’d get married. And then… we didn’t. And that hurt. I know it hurt him too, because he cried like a baby the last time we saw each other. We both did. And then we got on with our separate lives. And I am totally over him and he’s clearly totally over me – I’ve never seen anyone act so uninterested (I park that thought because I wonder whether it’s slightly offensive and I don’t want to be offended because finding things funny is aloteasier emotionally) – and we are both living our own, separate lives.
But here we are now, about to spend a whole evening pretending to be married to each other and then sleeping in the same room before leaving in the morning still pretending to be a happily married couple before quite possibly bickering hard in the van about the wipers and lights before continuing to bicker or just not speaking for the rest of the journey before going our separate ways. (And I do know that we will go our separate ways because I don’t think I can have him in my life as an acquaintance.) And being forced by chance into this ridiculous positionisfunny.
I snigger some more.
‘Something amusing you?’ Callum’s surface tone is conversational, with an undertone ofwhat the fuck is wrong with you?
‘Just this. You know. The situation.’
He doesn’t speak for a moment, and then he says, ‘Yeah, it is ridiculous.’
I look at his profile and see that he’s definitely thinking about cracking a smile. But still looking pretty serious.
And suddenly I think I’m just going to ask something, because we’re going to be stuck together for a while and I feel like the words are going to burst out of me at some point so it might as well be now.
‘Since when were you this… sensible?’ I ask.
‘Since I grew up. And also got sober.’
That gives rise to a lot more questions in my mind. I’m not sure whether I’m going to ask any of them – whether Ishouldask any of them – but I don’t get the opportunity, because Callum carries straight on with a question of his own.
‘Since when were you this…notsensible?’
‘I have not changed,’ I tell him. ‘You just never noticed because you were rarely sober in the evenings. And I had no choice but to be the voice of reason.’
There’s a pause, not a comfortable one, and then Callum says, ‘Yeah. I’m sorry. Really sorry.’
And again there’s a lot I could say, including that I’m not totally being straight with him. Part of the reason for this whole trip was that I’ve always had a nagging feeling since I was with Callum that Iwastoo sensible, and maybe I could have seized the day a little more. And then when my ex, Dev, asked me to marry him and I realised that I just couldn’t imagine spending my whole life with him and we then broke up, I thought back to Callum and wondered what he would have done in that preciselife situation. Particularly because, during that last conversation with Dev, he told me that I was always supercarefulabout life.
And then I decided to do this trip. The one that I always thought Callum and I would do together.
Also. Again. I’d really like to know why he didn’t come back to me when he’d sorted himself out.
But also, I don’t want to ask that question because I can’t believe the answer won’t hurt.
So I say, ‘Don’t apologise. It was what it was. I’m just pleased you seem… happy now.’ Does he actually seem happy? I can’t tell. He seems rich and successful, going by his clothes and the way he holds himself. He seems really quite annoyed to be with me but that’s mutual, and separate from our real lives. I have no idea whether he’s usually happy or not. And it’s nothing to do with me, although I do of course wish him very well.
And here’s the dining hall.Thank goodness.
‘Let’s go, hubby,’ I say, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere that’s grown between us.
He gives me a look and replies, ‘Certainly,wifey,’ which makes me smile, before holding the door open for me.
There are more people here for dinner than there were for lunch, with two long tables being used instead of just one.
We’re seated towards the end of one of the tables, with the American women, Laura and Carla, who we met earlier, plus several other guests and a couple of the monks.
‘Oh, hello, again,’ Laura trills before we’ve even sat down properly. ‘How did the honeymoon couple spend their afternoon?’
As I’m imagining saying:Mad sex all afternoon, actually, Laura, Callum says: ‘Unfortunately I had to work. Something urgent came up.’
‘Oh, no!’ Several people around the table echo horror at a honeymooner having to work for an afternoon.
