“Sure you can. Look, I have a few things I need to wrap up here before we go. Why don’t you two … er, three… go on ahead, and I’ll catch up with you. The place I’m thinking of isn’t far.”
He gives us the name and some directions, and we head off, me mulling silently over the fact that nobody bothered to ask me whatIwanted to do. It was almost as if I wasn’t even there. I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I said anythingat all, other than my brief explanation of how Chloe had turned up to surprise me earlier.
Nope. I don’t think I did. I was the invisible woman. I might as well have been… well,Gerald, really, for all the attention anyone paid to me.
Not that Gerald himself seems to have noticed, mind you. He follows Chloe and I quite happily from the Squirrel to the place Jamie told us about — a lively beach bar with all-white decor and thumping music that you have to shout over if you want to have a conversation — still carrying his carrier bag filled with Spanish snacks.
“I can’t believe we’re out clubbing with a pensioner,” Chloe yells at me as we find ourselves a table in the corner which has one long, curved bench seat for us to share. “What a laugh, eh?”
I smile weakly, hoping the music is too loud for Gerald to have heard her. And also too loud for anyone to hearhim, for that matter, because when Jamie finally turns up, three-quarters of an hour later, blaming “staff problems” for his lateness, it occurs to me that I’m once again at risk of exposure as the absolute lunatic who flew all the way here just to see him.
Jamie slides into the circular booth beside us, and Chloe, Gerald, and I all shuffle along to make way for him, me finding myself sandwiched between Gerald and Chloe, while Jamie’s at the end, sitting far closer to my best friend than is strictly necessary.
“Let’s all swap seats!” says Chloe brightly, seeing me looking in their direction. There’s absolutely no reason we should do this obviously,but Chloe’s obviously taking her role as ‘wing woman’ seriously, and she makes us all stand up and shuffle around as if we’re playing musical chairs, until she’s on one side of me, with Jamie on the other.
Jamie and I smile at each other like two people on a blind date neither of us wanted to come on. If I’d thought yesterday’s meeting was awkward, though, it’s absolutely nothing to tonight’s. Jamie seems anxious and on edge, constantly checking his watch, as if there’s somewhere he needs to be. Chloe is practically leaning on my shoulder, blatantly listening in to every word I say. Gerald is… here.
We are not having fun. It’s as obvious as the tan lines on my feet from my sunbathing session earlier, and yet no one’s willing to actually admit it, so we order a round of drinks, then another, and we sit there sipping them way too fast, while occasionally shouting, “What was that?” at each other over the thumping music, which is much too loud to allow for a normal conversation.
There’s no opportunity to talk to Jamie about The Kiss, and whether it meant anything to him. There’splentyof opportunity for me to sit and think about that diary entry I read last night, and how it’s been fifteen years since I wrote it —fifteen years— and I still feel the same. I still feel like I’m stuck on the wrong channel. Especially at times like this, when I’m sitting in a noisy bar, surrounded by people, but still feeling like I’m outside looking in.
More alcohol probably isn’t the answer to this predicament, all things considered, but we order some more anyway, then Jamie gets us all some burgers and fries when we realize we haven’t eaten yet. At some point, Gerald decides he’s had enough and goes off to find a taxi, then Chloe takes herself off to the bathroom in what I’m 80% certain is just a ruse to leave me and Jamie alone together.
And now we are.
“Jamie,” I say suddenly, the alcohol making me brave — or maybe just stupid. “Do you ever feel like… well, like you have this other version of yourself inside your head? One that only you can see?”
Jamie looks worried.
“You mean like voices in your head?” he asks uneasily.
“No. Not voices. It’s more like… like, you know when you see a photo of yourself, and it doesn’t really look likeyou? Or not like your reflection in the mirror, anyway? And then you’re left wondering which one is therealyou? Is it the photo you or the mirror you? Which is the one everyone else sees? Do you know what I mean?”
“Ummm. Are you sure you’re okay, Summer? Do you want me to get you some water?”
Jamie’s smile is kind, but his eyes are confused, and I feel my shoulder sag with disappointment. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “Never mind.”
I take another sip of my cocktail instead, and we sit there in silence until Chloe reappears.
“Right,” she says, taking charge as usual. “Where to next, then?”
“I don’t think we should goanywherenext,” I reply, trying to stifle a yawn. “I’m knackered, Chloe. Let’s just go back to the hotel.”
“Would you listen to Cinderella over there?” she says, nudging Jamie. “Remember how we always called her that because no matter where we went, Summer always wanted to go home at midnight?”
Jamie just looks at her blankly. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about because we never actually went out to bars together; not just because we were too young, but because we didn’t have that kind of friendship. We never progressed beyond walking home from school together from time to time, and having conversations that seemed deeply profound at the time, but which I now realize I don’t remember a single word of.
Chloe pouts. I can tell she wants our shared history to have been more than this. But it wasn’t. I can see that now. I don’t know why I couldn’t before. I’d always thought of Jamie and me as these star-crossed lovers; cruelly kept apart by forces beyond our control. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were just a bunch of mates hanging out.
I chew nervously on my bottom lip as I mull this over.
“Look, guys, I really should be going, too,” Jamie says, looking at his watch again. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
“Oh, comeon,” says Chloe, looking like she’s about to stamp her foot in a temper. “Why are you two being so boring? We’re on holiday! Surely we can stay out later than twelve o’clock without worrying that we’re going to turn into pumpkins?”
“You two are on holiday,” Jamie reminds her gently. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
“You can stay up late just this once, surely?” says Chloe, who isn’t giving up without a fight. “Especially after Summer came all this way just to see you?”
