Though dark, it looks hot and stormy. There are palm trees, and white sand, its appearance familiar somehow... Is it Miami? (Not that I’ve been. Netflix is the closest I’ll ever get to transatlantic travel.)
Callie seems happy. They’re laughing about something. Heads inclined, torturously in tune.
And then I see the ring on her finger, and everything inside me goes dark.
67.
Callie
Days dissolve into weeks, and soon it’s late October. The air becomes crisper and the days contract, like the world is steeling itself for winter. Joel and I are at a stalemate, unable to move forward.
Esther knows something’s up, has asked if everything’s okay more than once. Maybe she sensed something that night Joel ducked out of dinner. Or perhaps she’s spoken to Ben, and he’s filled her in on my voice mail to Grace. But, of course, I can’t tell her, so whenever she asks I end up mumbling something about just being tired from work.
Joel and I are almost beyond discussion now—talking about it is like inching through gridlock, only to arrive at the wrong destination every time. But I have noticed that Joel has assumed a calm determination, an air of resolve that makes me quietly curious.
It feels to me like he’s planning something, but what it is, I couldn’t say.
•••
It helps that I love him so completely. I have no idea what our future will bring, but if I shut my eyes and think only of now, we’re somehow slowly getting through it. We’re still a couple—we can’t simply give up, turn our backs on the best thing in both our lives—which means we still go out, still have sex, still laugh our stomachs sore. But it’s a bit like holding up a roof with your bare hands: all it takes is one change in the wind, and you’re no longer strong enough.
•••
We’ve spent the day at Tamsin’s, celebrating her birthday. Doug and Lou brought an elaborate cake shaped like a unicorn that was really more for the kids than Tamsin, but there were also mocktails and old-school party games, which were definitely more for us than the kids. It’s been a joy-filled, hilarious day—a day that reminded me of everything Joel and I could be.
I dithered over helping myself to cake earlier, just for a moment. I’ve been agonizing on and off about cleaning up my diet, cutting out wine entirely, filtering my water, investigating yoga. It’s what people do, I suppose, when they’re reminded of their mortality—they give their bodies the best possible shot at making it. Maybe I should have a subtle word with Dad, ask him for some health tips.
But all of a sudden Amber was tugging at my sleeve, a slice of cake on a paper plate in her hand. “I saved you the unicorn horn, Auntie Callie,” she whispered. “If you eat it, you’ll live forever.”
I could feel Joel’s eyes on me across the table, but I couldn’t look up. If I had, I might have cried.
“You know,” I muse now, as we walk home through the woodsmoke-scented air of late afternoon, “it’s been nearly a year since Bonfire Night.”
He squeezes my mittened hand. “So it has.”
“I knew I liked you that night. I had a bit of a crush on you.”
“Just a bit?”
“Okay. A fairly major crush.”
“Understandable. Iwassomething of a catch.”
“Total catch.” My insides bunch up as I say it.Please believe it. Please believe how much I still love you.
We take a few more steps, our feet scuffing fallen leaves, strides in perfect sync. Last night the clocks went back, and the light’s already slipping from the sky.
“So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have a crush on me too.”
“A gentleman never tells.”
“Yes, but you can tellme.”
His hand firms up around mine. “It was more than a crush, Callie. I knew that from the start. There was never any point in me fighting it.”
