Eight Perfect Hours by Lia Louis

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‘Of course you were meant to meet him in fucking America.’ Charlie looks to the ceiling. ‘Jesus guide me, we’ve been saying this for ever. The traffic jam, the hospital waiting room – none of it is a coincidence, my friend.’

‘But what does any of it even mean?’ I ask. ‘Theo? Honestly, it’s a mess. I’m a mess.’

‘This means you’ve always been linked to him,’ says Theo as if he’s just told me something as simple as he needs to purchase a loaf of bread. ‘From birth, most likely. And there are probably moments you were meant to meet before. It’s more than just the hospital and his dad’s flat. More than just the traffic jam.’

‘Totes,’ says Charlie, bouncing a gummy, dribbling Petal on her hip. ‘Isn’t that right, my girl? Is Auntie Noelle meant to be with tall, dark and rippling wet at the top of a mountaintop Uncle Sam?’

I groan. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘You’re meant to be together,’ says Theo, a miniature cucumber in his hand, which he crunches into a second later. I remember Charlie for a moment, back when she first met Theo, saying, ‘He eats these little cucumbers the way normal people eat like, a Twirl or an Alpen bar. It’s so Greek and exotic.’

I groan again, bury my face in my hands, rest my forehead on the countertop. ‘Then what’s the point of Jenna? What’s the point of Ed?’

‘You weren’t ready?’ offers Theo, the way someone offers an answer during a quiz.

I shake my head. ‘I don’t believe that. Me and Ed – we had so much and … well, Sam’s been with Jenna forever and she helped him through everything, and that’s where he is now – well, will be, two weeks on Monday.’

‘Where’s he going two weeks on Monday?’

‘Twentieth of October,’ I say. ‘Their anniversary. They’re having a meeting with their bloody couples counsellor. Like Steve and Miranda in Sex and the City. On the bridge. Make or break. To decide.’

I haven’t heard from Sam since the hotel. I punched out numerous text messages to him on the way home, watching the dark night rush by from my tiny little box on the sleeper train. But I didn’t send one of them. And neither did he. I don’t know when he goes back to Oregon, to Jenna. I don’t know if he’s working, or how long he was in Edinburgh for after the event. I didn’t see him, nor Clay, although I looked for him, every single time I ducked out of Candice and Steve’s beautiful wedding. I kept imagining, what it might be like, to see him standing across the lobby again, in that suit. To cross the floor, take his hand …

‘She cheated on him and he loves you,’ says Charlie factually, reaching over and taking the rest of Theo’s cucumber. ‘Don’t forget those minor details.’

‘He doesn’t love me, Charlie,’ I say. ‘OK, can we talk about something else?’

Theo nods gently, a soft, therapist’s smile on his face. ‘Let’s talk about Charlie’s birthday.’

‘Oh, yes,’ says Charlie clapping. ‘How do you fancy going glamping? Oh, come on, Nell, don’t give me that face.’

‘The bugs––’ I start.

‘There are no bugs in January.’

I laugh. ‘True. But nobody camps in January––’

‘But they do glamp.’ She reaches over and squeezes my arm. ‘ Come on, the little huts are even heated. And that’s plenty of time to sort stuff for your mum. And we might have to share a bog, but there is heating and a bed.’

I fold my arms. ‘And this is what you want to do for your birthday?’

Charlie nods. ‘I made a list,’ she says sheepishly. ‘Of all the things that are authentically me. Alan, my therapist asked me to. And being outside, camping, adventures, hikes … that was on there. Oh. We could do a hike soon too.’

‘Then it’s a deal,’ I say. ‘Glamping, hikes … sign me up.’

‘Don’t you remember we were meant to go camping,’ says Charlie. ‘You, me, Ed and Daisy. After you guys finished college. I was going to bring that bass player. The one with the arms. Remember? Soz, Theo.’

Theo laughs, rubs at his thick black beard.

I nod. ‘I do remember.’

‘Maybe you can bring someone,’ says Charlie. ‘Sleep under the stars.’

I groan again. ‘Oh, yeah like who? Who would I bring? The Storm? Gary at number twenty-one? I mean, I could bring Ed but you might drown him in a nearby stream.’

‘Oh, you know who I want you to bring.’ Charlie giggles, thumbing the charm hanging from a choker at her neck – a plastic cocktail glass today, complete with umbrella.

‘Oh, sure, hi, Sam, I know you’re about five thousand miles away doing a Steve and Miranda with your long-term cheat of a girlfriend, but fancy coming to shit in a local port-a-loo in the woods, with me?’

Charlie throws her head back, laughs throatily at that, as the bell above Buff’s shop door jingles.

Theo looks up, straightens, and gives his best proprietor’s smile.

‘Good morning, Mrs McDonnell,’ he says obliviously, and Charlie and I turn in what feels like slow motion to see Ed’s mum standing in the doorway of Buff in a puff of perfume, a handbag over her shoulder, her short hair blonde and bouncy on her head.

‘Hi,’ she says. ‘I’ve just come to pay up in full. For the canapes.’

She eyes Charlie first, smiles tightly. Then her eyes settle on me. They widen in unison with her mouth.

‘Oh my goodness – Noelle!’

‘Hi, Helen.’

‘My God, it’s been such a long time!’ The green kite-shaped earrings in her ears swing. ‘Do you – do you work here?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I just popped in to see Charlie. Theo’s Charlie’s husband.’

She looks at Charlie again, who nods at her and raises a little feeble hand.

‘Oh,’ says Helen. ‘Of course. Small world.’ She turns back to me, crosses her slim arms across her chest. ‘And how are you, Noelle? You look …’ Her eyes linger over me for a moment and I curse myself for wearing the shitty tracksuit bottoms with the bleach stain on the knee shaped like Pac-Man. ‘Ed’s back. Did you know?’

In the corner of my eye, I see Charlie turn to look at me.

‘Um – yeah. We bumped into one another actually.’

‘Really?’

My heart sags then. Ed and I haven’t spoken much since Edinburgh. He’s called a few times and we’ve chatted, caught up, and of course, it’s been easy. But it always is with Ed and me. We just pick up where we left off, fill the silences with waffle and small talk. But I feel wounded that he hasn’t told his mum. But then he’s always said she butts into his life – maybe he concealed it because he doesn’t want her to know his business. She was always like that. She liked to know the ins and outs, the plans we all had, to get those McDonnell boxes ticked.

‘Did he tell you about Alistair? His birthday?’ I open my mouth to reply to say of course, he said you’re boring him shitless, but she swoops in. ‘No, I don’t suppose he did. He isn’t going to stand in a street harping on about a birthday is he, after bumping into you by chance.’ Helen laughs and reaches into her bag for her purse, all the while waffling about everything Ed has already told me. About how Alistair has never let her organise a birthday party, has always had golfing weekends and how she’s trying to prove she is capable and also, that he’ll enjoy it more, and I stare at her as she speaks, and think, ‘Your son was with me all last weekend. He was in Edinburgh with me.’

I nod along, I smile, I say, ‘Oh wow.’ I even compliment her manicure. I know how to play Helen, I did it for long enough.

‘I’ve been so selective,’ she says, ‘and do you know, I think that’s the key. A select amount of people. My boys and their partners make six. Plus, Alistair’s brothers and their wives, makes ten, some old colleagues. We’re at thirty-two. Quality over quantity, I say. Couples, no children, you know.’

Helen pays for the canapes and praises Theo over and over, as if I have no idea who he is or what he’s capable of, despite standing right here, as his friend. Helen always did this. Made me feel like a hollow person with no idea how to operate in real life. I once introduced her to a photographer I used to clean for, to take photos at Ed’s brother James’s wedding and she would talk about him as if it wasn’t me who introduced them. As if she understood him much more than I ever would, and it took her half the time to do so.

She hovers in the doorway, still droning on about the party, about James, about Borneo, as she picks and weighs up shiny red apples in her hands from the outside fruit and veg boxes. I follow her out into the grey October chill, the dutiful listener as I always was, and she starts telling me about Ed.

‘The hospital wanted him to stay over in Oregon,’ she says.

‘I know.’

‘And I think he was tempted, you know, because the way of living over there is so fantastic. Their flat over there – half the price of rent here, and right round the corner from work, so they could get there and back within minutes.’

‘Right,’ I say, but they. Who’s they?

‘… well, he recommended him for it, for the job here and I said to Alistair, I said I know he’s happy out there but––’

‘I know,’ I cut in. ‘I know, and he missed home. So he took it.’

Her hackles are up now, invisible porcupine needles – I’ve interrupted her, Helen’s worst nightmare, and she tilts her head to one side, a predator sizing me up.

‘We’ve seen a lot of each other,’ I say, hating that I’m flustered. ‘In fact, we went to Edinburgh together this past weekend. I had a wedding up there – I designed the flowers. As their florist. And Ed came with me. To help.’

Helen says nothing, but her nostrils flare.

‘Is that why he said he came back?’ she asks, almost musically. ‘To England?’

‘Sorry?’

‘That he missed it? Is that what he told you?’

I nod, reluctantly, pulling my cardigan around myself as a breeze picks up. ‘Yes. He told me everything.’

‘Right.’ She shakes her head, looks vindicated all of a sudden. ‘No, I’m just surprised. I actually didn’t think he was too pleased to be back at all. Planning to leave again, last time I checked, meet her up in Virginia, as planned.’

‘Virginia? Meet …’ I start. But I stop myself. It’s what she wants. I can tell, the way she’s looking at me. Tossing scraps, hoping I’ll go for one. ‘Yes. I know. He said,’ I lie instead, and she gives a titter of a laugh. A laugh she’d always give after delivering an insult disguised as banter.

‘Oh, well, who knows?’ she says with a theatrical sigh. ‘I’m only his mother and we know boys give nothing away. I’m sure your mum would say the same. Anyway, must dash. Nice to see you, Noelle. Always such a novelty bumping into someone from your past, I find.’

And yet, you asked me nothing about myself, I want to say, so I don’t see what the novelty would be exactly, Helen and your horrible, puke-coloured earrings.

‘Enjoy the party, Helen,’ I say. ‘Best of luck for it.’

‘Oh, it’ll be a dream,’ she says, and she clops off across the damp cobbles, as rain starts once again, to spit from heavy, charcoal clouds.

Theo appears behind me. ‘I wish people wouldn’t handle my apples,’ he says. ‘They never do it with care.’

And then something opens up in my chest, something that feels like a chasm. I think of what Helen said. My boys and their partners make six. I think of that photo. Ed and the woman on his Twitter profile with the auburn curls. The way Helen said they. Twice, was it? Three times? And Virginia. Isn’t that what that guy in the hospital said, the night of Mum’s accident – ‘Didn’t fancy Virginia then?’ and what had Ed said? ‘Fuck knows.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ I say to Theo.

‘What? Where?’

‘To deliver the canapes for Ed’s mum’s party tomorrow. Can I come?’