See you there,
Love,
Iris
Four weeks after New Orleans
Dear Iris,
It feels both strange and ridiculously comfortable writing this. For someone who makes a living from writing words, I haven’t been able to write any words to you apart from the very few I managed to string together in messages on social media.
For the first time ever, I’ve felt like I’ve had writer’s block, yet I’ve managed to write pretty much all of the first draft I’ve been working on. How it’ll read I don’t know because I’m still trying to work out what happened that night.
And it had to be the last night, didn’t it? And you were leaving at stupid o’clock in the morning to get to South Africa and there was no time to talk.
I’m sorry. I’m also not sorry, because it was a fucking brilliant night and probably the most perfect night of my life so far. I’m sorry if that night wrecks our friendship because we pushed it a step too far, but I don’t know if we did.
There was alcohol and a party atmosphere and emotions were high because of the date and kissing you felt so right, out there in the middle of the street with all those strangers surrounding us.
What happened after that felt right too.
So I guess what I need to make sure you know is that I don’t have any regrets. I’m not sorry it happened. We said we’d do something to change the memory of the day Ivy died and I guess we did.
I know from your messages that you’re okay with it and you don’t regret it either. I hope you know I didn’t regret it. I hope I managed to say enough so that you were okay with it all. I guess it didn’t help that you were in the air on flights for the next day and then I was, so we couldn’t talk.
I don’t want anything to change between us. You’re one of my best friends and I can only thank Ivy that she let our paths cross.
Can we carry on as we were?Because I’m not sure you want a repeat even though there’s nothing I want more.
Love,
Gully
Dear Gully,
I’m intrigued with the line was you crossed out. I can’t lie, I tried my best to work out what you’d written but it was beyond me and my detective skills, so I’m trying to reconcile myself with the fact that I’ll never know.
Of course we can carry on as we were. It was a one-night stand and I’m glad it happened for so many reasons. I needed to be close to someone that night. The second anniversary felt different than the first and I needed something to ground me. Sex does that – I can separate the physical act of sex from the emotional aspect, so don’t worry that I’m going to become fan girl number one and start stalking you. It’s given me good memories of that date and of New Orleans and I agree with you, it was the perfect night.
Maybe me having to leave when you were still asleep was for the best because it stopped a morning repeat and if that’d happened, things might feel different. Maybe.
We’ll never know.
I’m back home (or what I call home right now)– and writing this – from Cape Town and the surrounding area. I’m going to be spending the next four weeks or so in my studio now, editing these photos and working out what to do with them. I also have an exhibition coming up soon which is being moved to the National Portrait Gallery, so things are definitely happening. I’ve also had a request from a member of the Royal Family to take photos that will potentially be used on their ‘chosen publicity materials’ so my agent is currently creaming herself with utter delight because this seems to be the year when my career won’t implode and seems to be going from strength to strength.
I’m also booked next week to take shots of a big Hollywood actor, which I’ll message you about just in case someone readsthis by accident and decides to track me down, destroying all security that’s in place.
A little extreme maybe, but I also know how much you HATE not knowing things.
Back to the original topic – we are good. We had a perfect night. We can park that there for when we’re old and grey and our bones no longer work like they should and our joints are seized up, both of us sitting side by side in specialist chairs watching the boats sail up and down the Menai Strait.
How’s Mavis? And how’s Ruby’s pregnancy? Any update on Freya and Rowan getting engaged or Clover getting married? Enquiring minds want the gossip from a small town they’ve been to once.
We should fix that.
Love,
Iris
