“So, it’s decided then?”
“If only it could be that easy.”
He swung his messenger bag around to the front, slipped the mug inside, and drew out a brown cardboard box. “I got you something, too. It only arrived by courier this morning, so I didn’t get a chance to wrap it.”
She took it with a curious look. He felt strangely nervous as she lifted the lid and separated the tissue paper. “Oh my,” she said, sounding choked. “The cushion from the tree hut!”
“Only the cover. I figured you wouldn’t want the extra bulk in your suitcase. Plus, the stuffing wasn’t in good nick.”
“It’s been restored!”
“I tracked down a former conservator from the V&A museum to do an urgent fix. I think the challenge appealed to her.”
“She’s done a remarkable job,” Amelia said, examining the handiwork.
“But I do understand how you feel about new cushions—or very old ones, in this case—and honestly, you don’t have to keep it if it’s going to be triggering.”
“It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever given me—and it’s not at all triggering, because it’ll remind me of you. Of this.Goodtriggering.”
“I thought about what you said about not letting the bad stuff erase the good. About wanting to buy the cushion. That cushion was made with… What was it you said—with love and hope? And it provided literal comfort to a lot of people, over centuries. Including me and Eddie. So maybe it will bring something positive to you. Help you to remember that there were good things about your trip—as well as lifelong trauma for which you will need ongoing psychological treatment.”
“The yin and yang.”
“There you go, you see? Sometimes it is good to zoom out, look at things in context.”
“Sometimes,sure.” She hugged the box to her as if it were a filled cushion. “And all I got you was a stupid mug!”
“Which I will treasure.”
“I’ve spent the last year trying to erase everything from the six years before it. Every photo and candle, every cushion. My entire relationship. My every experience in that apartment. Buterasing the good stuff doesn’t change the fact that the bad stuff happened. It just denies you the joy of the good memories. Why can’t we do it the other way around? Why can’t the good memories erase the bad?”
“I guess it’s more important for our survival if we remember that one time we spotted a tiger in the jungle over the gorgeous blazing sunset we see every week. It’s the same reason people—somepeople—are attracted to haunted house tours. Fear keeps us sharp.” He winced. “Bollocks, I did it again. Zoomed out. And now this is all you’re going to remember about me—the guy who always puts things into perspective.”
“I will allow it, just this once.” She held up her pointer finger. “Some context is helpful. But not all of it, all the time. Life isn’t lived in the wider picture—it’s lived in close-up. In the right-now.”
“In the moment.”
“Exactly. Though you do need some idea where you’re going.” She stroked the cushion cover as if it were an illicit act. “I’ve been guilty of failing to live in the moment—letting the past ruin the present and the future. But maybe it’s time to land this damn plane and deal with whatever’s on the ground. Uncertainty is okay, right? Uncertainty is life. I’ll just be sure to be extra cautious at the lights at twenty-fifth and Main.”
Tom smiled, recognizing the reference as his own.
“All this time I’ve been looking for closure,” she continued, “but maybe I need to start lookingpastthat. Accept that there are questions I won’t ever find the answer to and skip over them so they don’t continue to screw up my life.”
“Like in an exam. Sometimes you get to a question you haven’t studied for. And you can agonize over it, and run down the clock on it, and run out of time for the stuff you do know, and fail the exam. Or you can choose to leave it blank and move on to the good stuff, and pass.”
“My therapist said I can learn to accept that my mind will sometimes stray to the robbery, and when it does, I can acknowledge that but calmly bring it back to the present. I don’t think I was ready to hear it then, but maybe I am now. I don’t want all this crap in my head anymore. I mean, I never wanted it in my head, but now I’m gonna do whatever it takes to shove it aside and live my damn life.”
Her train approached, and Tom had never resented seeing a train so much. He had a sneaking suspicion that as soon as it pulled away, with her in it, the past and future he’d been so intently avoiding would come screaming along the rails to vomit all over him. The overlapping circles in their Venn diagram, in which he’d been living for the past glorious week, were about to split. Living for the moment was dangerous when you discovered you enjoyed it. He’d been so determined to stretch out their moment, he’d bought a ticket to the next station that he had no intention of using, just so he could walk her to the platform.
“You’re a survivor, Amelia. Twice over. And not just a survivor—you were awarriorback there.”
“I don’t know about that, but I did surprise myself. Despite everything that happened—or maybe because of it, I don’t know—I feel like I’m going home stronger than I was when I arrived, which was my plan all along.” She raised her voice over the shuddering engine and the hiss of brakes. “But I thought I would accomplish it by escaping my fears, not being forced to face them!”
She balanced the cushion box on her suitcase and smoothed her palms down the front of his coat. He’d bought both of them new coats, seeing as their old ones were trashed. It was the first money he’d spent on himself in a year.
“So, My Lord Tom, or however it is I’m supposed to address you…?”
“Just Tom.”
