And then the full light from a small fishing boat hits us, blinding me, so I turn away.
“They’re going for squid,” he says quietly as I crouch down again, spinning my face away. “The light attracts them. They swim straight into the danger.”
I don’t reply. I am breathless. And as the light passes over us and begins to make its way out to the sea, I find my voice.
“That’s really sad,” I say, feeling my body begin to shiver.
“What is?”
“The squid,” I reply. “Swimming right into the danger. All following their instincts, happy and hoping for the best.”
I turn back to Ash, who is looking at me, his lips pursed, willing me not to overthink this moment. But it’s too late for that. I’m not going to swim into the light. No matter how much I want to.
“Can you look away while I get out?”
20
You’re not goingto let us down again, are you Mara?”My dad’s words swirl around in my mind and I roll my eyes to the heavens. I think I could be out of the will if I miss this family occasion. The last one—Easter—I claimed to be sick. I have invented and killed off a dog to get out of a Christmas. And who can forget bumping into my aunt at a gas station on my way through Northumberland to Edinburgh without telling my parents I was passing through. I have to go.
And yet, when I think about seeing them it makes me feel nearly sick with anxiety. The whole last decade—my twenties—I was burrowing down in my flat in London with Charlie and ignoring the distance that was growing. Pretending I was busy. Pretending I only had one night because they really needed me back at work. I had exaggerated my jobs. Made up boyfriends. Used any excuse I could to avoid going home and telling them the truth. That it didn’twork out. That I had my heart broken. That I had my dream crushed. That I failed. That recovering from that kind of betrayal was impossible.
That I had moved to a small town on the coast of England because it was near my only friend. That without my family she was my everything and that she didn’t have room for me anymore. I am so grateful Ash is going to come with me. The strange almost-moment in the water last night aside, he is my friend and my flatmate and he will be a welcome distraction while we are there.
As I’m packing my bag, I pull up a video of the Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra playing in the grounds of a castle on a summer’s evening. My eyes flicker back regularly to the screen to catch the moments when the camera is pointing toward the string section. There he is. His arms move the bow in strong, lingering strokes, his face focused and serious. It is good to remind myself of the plan. To also stay focused.
I try to imagine what it would be like to be led around those gardens by those strong hands, stopping for coffee or wine before he heads back to rehearsal and I take a sketchbook to a quiet corner of the rose garden to do some earnest but terrible drawing. I try to fantasize about the new life, a European life full of travel and coffee and little crisp pastries. Perhaps I could return to film school after all? I fall back on the bed and will myself to dissolve into the delicious fantasy.
My phone beeps. Another message from Charlie.Shit, I forgot to reply to her.
CHARLIE:You’ve gone quiet? Did you get my message?
MARA:Sorry, I’ve been super busy with work. How are you doing?
CHARLIE:Can you talk?
MARA:I can talk for a bit? Packing for Corbridge.
CHARLIE:No worries, call me when you get some time, or when you’re back. Love you xx
I stare at the exchange for a moment. Am I missing something here? I realize for the first time in as long as I’ve known her, I haven’t been thinking of her. It’s a strange, dislocated feeling now that I think about it. I message her again.
Why don’t you come visit? Say next weekend??
But this time, I see the little colored ticks that show she has read it, but she doesn’t reply right away.
I haul on jeans as black as my mood, but now, I pull on an electric-blue T-shirt and a pair of small leather saddle shoes—both new, both from Samira’s and my shopping trip. I carefully take my new green dress out of the cupboard and lay it over the back of my chair. Then I pack knickers. A toothbrush. A plunging push-up bra I can wear for approximately four hours before it feels like I’m being sliced through the underarms by an elastic guillotine. And then, just in case, I pack some high-heeled sandals. I look in themirror and see a new Mara looking back. Jackie has freshly cut my hair, and I’ve put on a little makeup, including a red lipstick. Everything about me says that I’m doing great. Now I just need to convince my parents.
Ash pulls up in a silver Mini convertible, looking every inch as though it might be his. I see his face from last night, looking across at me in the darkness.He was drinking, I tell myself.It’s fine. Just act like nothing happened.Ash looks good, though. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and faded jeans, and with his sun-kissed forehead it all kind of works with the car.
“Is it too much?” he asks, pulling a concerned face.
For a moment I wonder if he’s talking about the whole trip.Is it too much?Probably. Everyone knows you never go on a road trip as “just friends.” I cannot imagine a single film where it didn’t end in death or sex. But then I see he’s patting the side of the car door and I realize he’s talking about the car.
“It’s totally adorable,” I reply, tossing my pack in the back seat unceremoniously, but then taking some care with my green dress, which I drape across the seat. Then I jump into the passenger side.
“It’s Dad’s baby, but he let me borrow it,” he says.
I pull out my phone and plug it into the stereo. “I hope you don’t mind Vivaldi?”
