I finish my coffee, and watch the foam form a rim of scum around the cup, like the remains of a bubble bath. I want to go. This is awkward. But there’s something else I need to say.
‘I’m sorry. About what happened with Owen.’
Kofi’s face turns from the frown he’s had for most of our conversation, to a look of surprise. ‘That was a long time ago, Erica. And you’ve said sorry.’
‘I’m still sorry,’ I say. ‘Because it was… it meant… the end of us.’
‘Don’t think so…’ He looks around him as though he’s searching for evidence to the contrary.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I mean, that wasn’t why we broke up, was it?’
‘I don’t know. Wasn’t it?’ I sip at invisible coffee, trying to hide my confusion.
‘No… I think we were drifting apart. The Owen thing just moved things along more quickly.’ He reaches over the table, taking my hand. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Any of it. We wereallidiots – it could have been any of us. And I was just ready for… a change. To settle down. I wasn’t really feeling it anymore, d’you know what I mean?’
No, I do not know what you mean, I think. Kofi carries on.
‘I met my wife not long after you went back west. She’s a bit older. Natalie. She wanted to start a family. I mean, we both did.’
I’m not sure if he’s trying to make me feel better, or worse, or just likes talking about his wife. I need to say something though, so go for: ‘That’s… lovely. What are your kids called?’
‘We’ve got twin girls, Nia and Layla. And a boy. Owen, actually. They’re quite grown up now.’
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’ve spent nearly half my life being wrong about all this and it’s taking a while to sink in.
‘And you, Erica, did you settle down?’
If there is one molecule of liquid in this cup, I will find it. There isn’t. I put it back down. ‘No. It didn’t happen for me.’
‘Well, look at you. Still time, I reckon. If that’s what you want, of course.’ He picks up his wallet. ‘I need to get off now, I’m giving Nia a lift to Glastonbury after work. I’m just a taxi service these days…’
I force a smile, ninety-five per cent still nauseous with shock, five per cent annoyed I don’t have a Glastonbury ticket. Kofi stands up and checks something on his smartwatch, then, with a final look of what seems to be disbelief and/or concern – and could be either about me, or maybe a disappointingly low daily step count – waves goodbye.
And then he’s gone.
