Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce
Chapter 33
Tomasz is working late, Ed has gone to the airport to pick Dominic up and Yvonne is in Manchester. It had been hard to mask my surprise that Sacha was taking her to see Hairspray at the theatre, even the second time round, because musicals are as far from the brooding Sacha Nowak as you can get, but it seems Sacha is willing to sacrifice his bad-boy image to please her, which I’ll begrudgingly admit is a good thing.
So I’m at a loose end with everyone busy doing their own thing. The flat is quiet. Too quiet, and there’s a hard knot in my stomach. An uneasiness. Almost a sense of foreboding. Rain has been threatening all day, the sky a slate grey with angry-looking clouds and I keep pacing to the window to look out across to the pub. I put the telly on but nothing is grabbing my attention, and though I flick through the magazine I find in the living room, I don’t take in any of the articles. I feel unsettled but I can’t put my finger on why. I’m prowling around the room, shuffling from sofa to window and back again when Ed texts to say he and Dominic are in the pub if I want to say a quick hello before Dominic collapses from exhaustion. I jump at the chance to get out of the flat, throwing on a coat and clattering down the stairs while tapping out my reply.
Ed and Dominic are sitting in a quiet corner of the pub, away from the bar and the pool table and the fruit machines. They already have drinks, so I order a glass of wine and join them. Micha tries to coax me into getting a cocktail – she’s going to be hosting a cocktail night soon and wants to practise – but I’m not in the mood for anything more complicated than a chardonnay.
‘What is that?’ I sit opposite Ed and Dominic, who have both succumbed to the cocktails. Dominic has opted for a martini while the glass in front of Ed is filled with what looks like bright green mouthwash, garnished with a lime wheel.
‘It’s a shamrock sour.’ Ed takes a sip. ‘Tastes better than it looks.’
‘Good, because it looks vile. I’m glad I stuck with the wine.’ I take a sip. It’s delicious and cool but it doesn’t shift the unease. ‘Have you been to see your grandparents?’ It feels a bit weird sitting here with Dominic, because this definitely didn’t happen the first time round. Although things are a bit jumbled in my mind, I know Dominic didn’t visit a second time while I was still in the village.
‘Yep.’ Dominic scratches at the stubble under his chin. ‘Gran was not happy that I’m not staying with them.’
‘You’re brave, going against her wishes. I used to work for her at the minimarket, before I started at the hotel. I was never brave enough to stand up to Mrs Gacey.’
Dominic shrugs. ‘You only get one life. You have to do what makes you happy sometimes.’ His gaze flickers to Ed and I see a smile tugging at his lips. ‘And it isn’t as though I’m miles away – I’m only on the other side of the war memorial.’
Ed and Yvonne are still living together in the flat above the salon. I wonder if the sale of the salon came with the flat, which would make Yvonne Ed’s landlady. I’d ask Ed now but I don’t think I’d get away with the ‘tell me the story again’ ploy this time.
‘How long are you staying for?’ I don’t know if I already know this, but I ask it anyway and nobody gives me a strange look.
‘Three weeks.’
‘Which isn’t long enough.’ Ed tilts his head as he looks at Dominic. ‘You should move to the UK.’
‘You should move to Canada.’
‘Nah.’ Ed scrunches up his nose. ‘Too cold.’
Dominic snorts as he picks up his drink. ‘And the UK isn’t? Don’t you guys freak out if the thermometer sneaks past seventy degrees?’ He places the glass to his lips, hiding a smile.
‘We’re not that bad.’
‘It does rain a lot.’
My stomach lurches at the thought of rain, and I press a hand against it to try to settle it.
‘That’s true.’ Ed takes a sip of his Hulk’s piss drink before turning to me. ‘I ran into an old friend of yours while I was waiting for Dom in arrivals. They were coming back from their holiday with their girlfriend.’
‘Who was it?’
Ed pauses, for dramatic effect, I think, but it’s just really annoying. I’m about to kick him on the shin under the table when he finally speaks. ‘Otis. He didn’t stay to chat long – he wasn’t allowed to. His girlfriend wanted to get going. She was tired. Her feet were hurting. She was kind of annoying. Kept calling him baby. Ugh.’
Reena, his police officer housemate. I’m still Facebook friends with Otis in the present day, though we don’t really chat or anything. I did like his posts when he and Reena got married and when their babies were born, and he liked my post a few months ago, when I moved over to the Heron Mill Hotel, which is much bigger than the hotel I’d transferred from. I’d liked Reena when Otis and I were together, and I didn’t find her annoying, but anyone can be a bit grumpy after a long flight. Nobody wants to stick around the airport any longer than absolutely necessary. The thought of returning to the airport in just over a week is already filling me with dread.
The feeling of dread is still with me when I return to an empty flat. Tomasz is still working, pushing himself to finish the jobs he has lined up by the end of the week so he can have a few days off before we head out to California, so he can spend time with his family and sort out any last-minute issues. I know he’s going to miss his parents and his grandad – even Sacha because he’s Tomasz’s brother, despite his faults – but he’s willing to leave them behind, for me.
The flat is quiet and dark, and it’s when I hear the hum of the fridge from the kitchen that I realise why it’s making me so uneasy being here: it reminds me of the apartment in LA. The place I would spend hours on my own, lonely but unable to forge new friendships because I was afraid of letting anyone get too close again. I’ve been at Mum and Dad’s place while I’ve been on my jaunts to the past until now, where there’s usually someone else around, the TV blaring Wimbledon or the soaps or the latest crime drama. But here, in the flat on my own, I’m taken back to that apartment. To that life. And I feel afraid all over again. Afraid that I’ll end up with an amazing career that I love but not much else.
But that isn’t going to happen this time. I’m going over there with Tomasz. I won’t be alone and broken-hearted. I will be loved. Supported. There will be someone to share my achievements, to share my life with. It won’t be lonely. And yes, I’ll miss my friends and my family, and part of me will miss Little Heaton now I’ve come to appreciate it, but I can’t give up on my dream to live in America. I’ve wanted this for a long time and while the reality may not have lived up to the fantasy the first time round, surely it will be different now with Tomasz by my side.
I head into the bedroom and sit on the bed, sliding open the drawer of my bedside table. My Walkman is in there, the wire of the headphones wrapped around it, the tape still inside. I unwind the wire and place the headphones over my ears, hoping the batteries are still working as I push down the play button. There’s the rapid beat and synth sound and then Kim Wilde is looking down at the city through a window, and I’m wondering why. Why was this so important to me? Because I’m not feeling it right now. I dig deep to capture the need to fly away to another life but I can’t seem to grasp hold of it and it’s an ominous feeling I catch instead. A feeling of dread, as though my life is spiralling in a direction I no longer want to be heading in, as though I’m being swept away, silently kicking and screaming rather than soaring towards a bright and wonderful future.
It feels as though I had a choice to make and I made the wrong one.
I know I needed to save Ed and rescue my relationship with Tomasz, but would it be greedy to change one more thing? And am I brave enough to step off the path I know and throw myself into an unknown future?