He laughs, and after that we eat in silence for a little while.
“Well,” he says eventually, “if nothing else, you can’t say I don’t know how to show a girl a good time. Fast food and gridlock at rush hour—what more could you want?”
“You’re off the hook—this was totally my suggestion.” I think again about why we’re here. “It’s mad, though, isn’t it?You knew this was going to happen.”
His smile fades a little. “Believe me, the novelty wears off pretty quickly.”
Beyond the window, car doors open. An altercation between two pent-up drivers unfolds.
As they square up to each other with their chests and fists, Joel grabs his drink. “Fancy making a move? Not sure I want to watch this bit.”
“It’s not your fault, you know,” I tell him, as we exit the restaurant and walk swiftly away, drinks in hand. “It’s a burst pipe. You couldn’t have stopped it.”
“I could have done something. Called the water company—they’d have checked it out.”
“No one’s been hurt,” I remind him softly.
“No,” he agrees. “And showing this to you tonight felt more important.”
34.
Joel
We head back to Callie’s place. I’m relieved to have been able to prove myself to her, even though she didn’t ask me to. But the whole episode has left me slightly unsettled. So when we get in I change the subject, ask about her day.
She tells me she gave Ben her notice at the café this lunchtime.
“How’d he take it?”
“Better than I thought. He’s going to promote Dot, I think, then find someone to replace her.” A sigh. “He was really nice about it, actually. So supportive. Which kind of made me feel worse—like I’m turning my back on him. Maybe even Grace too.”
We’re sharing the sofa, though only our gazes are touching. Beyond the window, a scallop of moon is suspended in the darkness. The sky is wired with stars.
“He was supportive because it’s a great move for you,” I assure her. “The start of a whole new chapter.”
Callie’s braided her hair, draped it over one shoulder. It exposes her slender neck, the drop earrings she’s wearing set with real pressed flowers. “I guess it’s been a long time coming. I had this weird fear, just after Grace’s funeral. I kept waking up in the middle of the night, wondering what people would say about me if I died. Fixating on it, almost. Esther thought I was trying to avoid dwelling on Grace. You know—blanking out the sadness by stressing about my own failings.”
I think back to my mum. How intently I started obsessing over my dreams after she died. That’s when I began hardcore note-taking, recording every damn thing I saw.
“I was worried my eulogy would read like a CV,” Callie says. “You know—Extremely reliable. Recipient of a long-service award at Eversford Metal Packaging. Punctual, hardworking... That was what gave me the final push, I guess. To quit my office job and take on the café. I went a bit mad, I think, for a couple of months.”
“Mad how?”
She shrugs. “Doing loads of ill-advised stuff. Like deciding what I needed was a really bizarre haircut with a fringe, which I absolutely hated, obviously. Then I thought I’d paint my entire flat dark gray, but it lookedawfuland I had a meltdown halfway through about my damage deposit, so I had to paint it all back again.” She lets out a self-reproachful breath. “What else? Signed up to online dating—disastrous. Got drunk and...” She trails off.
“Oh, no.” I laugh. “You can’t stop there. Got drunk and... eloped? Got arrested? Racked up a five-figure bar bill?”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “I got atattoo.”
I grin. “Excellent.”
A pause.
“So what is it?”
“What is what?”
“The tattoo.”
