‘It wasn’t happy then, your marriage?’
‘At first it was,’ he said. ‘But then… things happen… Life happens… And sometimes it changes you as a couple. Sometimes you just don’t fit together the way you used to afterwards. Sometimes you just can’t work through it.’
Anna let out a heavy breath. ‘I don’t know whether that’s easier or harder,’ she said. ‘Losing them when it’s great or losing them when it’s falling apart and you never have that chance to put it back together again.’
Losing them…He was glad she’d phrased it that way, because it meant he didn’t have to lie to her about Katri. ‘I don’t know either,’ he said, staring out the window. There were no streetlights this far out into the countryside, no light on in the yard, and the blackness of the night was complete. ‘But the past is the past. I suppose all you can do is try to move forward, work out what to do with the rest of your life.’
‘Everyone seems to think that enough time will pass and suddenly it’ll be easy,’ she said. ‘As if there’s an expiry date on love.’
‘For some people there is,’ he said, staring grimly into the dancing flames in his fireplace. ‘Maybe you were just very lucky.’ He knocked back another slug of whisky, enough this time to scald the back of his throat. ‘And maybe, if you do want to have another relationship again someday, you should just admit you need a bit more time. No one’s going to judge you for that.’
‘It doesn’t always feel that way,’ she replied mournfully. ‘Especially not when there are… possibilities… out there, should I choose to pursue them.’
‘Possibilities?’ he echoed, his voice low and rough.
‘Men,’ she replied simply.
Brody’s pulse kicked. For once, it had nothing to do with panic, and everything to do with the thought of Anna. Andpossibilities.
‘Someone asked me to dinner last week,’ she said so softly he almost didn’t catch it.
Brody stayed still, stayed quiet. He really didn’t know how to react to that.
‘I say I want to move on, that I want to stop feeling this miserable, but do I want to? Really?’
‘Only you can answer that,’ he said as he ran a fingertip around the rim of his tumbler. He’d read enough books on grief that he was an expert on it – inside his head, anyway. When it came to practical steps, he wasn’t doing quite so well. But that didn’t mean some of what he’d learned wouldn’t help Anna. ‘It isn’t that black and white, is it? Emotions… Life… They’re complicated. Grief has different stages, and the path is different for everyone. There shouldn’t be any judgement about which route you take or how long it takes you to get there.’
‘I suppose so,’ Anna replied, sounding tired.
‘And, sometimes, even when we truly want something,’ he added, the image of the supermarket entrance front and centre in his imagination, ‘we find ways to sabotage ourselves.’
‘Do you think that’s what I do? Sabotage myself?’
‘I don’t know,’ Brody said carefully. ‘I suppose you’ll only really know when you go on the date itself.’
‘Oh, I’m not going on the date,’ Anna said in a rush of nervous laughter. ‘I said no.’
Brody felt a flush of relief. He stopped messing around with his glass and drank the remaining sliver of whisky, reminding himself as he did so that he had no right to feel territorial about Anna. She was a friend, a voice on the end of the phone, that was all.
You’re just invested in knowing she’s finding happiness,a little voice inside his head said in a soothing tone, and Brody decided to agree with it. He was just feeling protective about someone he cared about.Nothing more, nothing less. And he did care about Anna. How could he not? She was his only regular human contact at the moment, unless you counted Moji, and he’d only seen her twice in the last six months.
‘Who is he? The man who asked you out?’
‘Oh, just a guy at salsa class…’
‘You do salsa?’ Brody’s eyebrows shot up. He’d imagined Anna curled up in a window seat reading a book, or taking long walks in a country park, not doing salsa dancing.
Anna gave a soft laugh. ‘Gabi talked me into it months ago. She’s one of those people who thinks I should immerse myself in new experiences. This one seems to have stuck. Although… I have to say, most evenings, I’d rather be curled up in front of the fire with a good book.’
Brody smiled triumphantly to himself. ‘Why did you say no?’ He’d decided not to pry, but the question had come out before he’d been able to stop himself.
She sighed. ‘I don’t know, really…’
That wasn’t what Brody wanted to hear, he discovered. He wanted her to say Salsa Guy was ugly or unbearably dull or had an extremely bad case of halitosis.
‘Jeremy’s nice,’ she continued wistfully.
Jeremy?Good grief.
