Our Stop

by Laura Jane Williams

‘I repeat,’ Ivanka said, most likely in response to Nadia’s insistence at peeking at everyone else. ‘This is more beneficial to you with your eyes closed, so that you may enter communion with your body. Listen to what it is telling you. Listen to the stories it has buried. It wants you to know them. To find them. Seeking out the dark parts of your story allows you to shed light on them, and in shedding light you will cease to be afraid.’ Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe.

  Nadia tried the tennis ball under her bum like Emma had it. Nothing. She moved it to the left and tried it there. Nothing there, really, either. A sort of weird digging sensation, maybe, where the surface of the ball dug into her skin, but it didn’t feel like a release.

  She moved the ball up a bit so it was in the middle of her back. Nadia moved her feet up so her soles were flat on the floor, knees bent, and used the leverage to move her body up and down on the yoga mat. The ball slipped further up, to near her shoulder blade and behind her heart. There. There Nadia felt a hot, pulsating sort of pain, that if she had to identify out loud she’d only be able to locate as right in the middle of her body. She kept her eyes clamped tightly shut as the ball moved back and forth, back and forth, digging deeper and deeper and deeper. She altered the motion so that instead of up and down she went around and around, the heat rising and rising, and Nadia saw in her mind an amalgamation of every time a man had dented her heart.

  She thought about Awful Ben, and her school sweetheart, and the guy in her uni halls who had slept with her and then ignored her. She thought of all the nights – endless nights, it seemed – that she had stayed home alone, her phone by her side, waiting for a text message from a member of the opposite sex to validate her, to validate her existence. She thought about her grandfather’s affair and how he’d left her grandmother for their neighbour, and she thought about how much she wanted to love and be loved in return. That her appetite for it might consume her whole, because for all the pep talks she gave herself there was something, buried very, very deep, that told her that maybe she wasn’t worthy of it.

  ‘Good,’ said Ivanka now, kneeling down beside Nadia. She felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder. Nadia’s face was wet through with tears. ‘This is fascial release.’

  Winding through the tight back lanes that would eventually give out to an A road and then the motorway, the women drove home in companionable silence. Nadia reflected on the lightness she felt after the fascia class – like her shoulders were no longer bunched up in stress around her ears and her breath shallow, like she couldn’t quite steady herself. Her whole body had been tense since Thursday night – maybe longer. Nadia hadn’t realized how she’d carried anxiety in her jaw, tension in her arms. How had a tennis ball relieved her of all that? It was a miracle. She came out knowing that she had to take her life in her own hands, that she had to take charge of her own romantic destiny. Emma absentmindedly sang along to a Spotify playlist she’d made of all her favourite love songs, and Nadia noted that she seemed happier now too.

  Nadia typed in the URL for Missed Connections on her phone and stared at the submissions box. She took a breath. Take charge of yourself, she repeated in her mind. She typed:

  Train Guy: You, me, coffee on the platform at 7.30 a.m., Thursday? Love, Coffee Spill Girl (though I promise not to spill any on you)

  She read it, and reread it, wondering if it was too to-the-point, and if they were supposed to write back to each other a little bit more first. But, surely not. Surely the whole point of Missed Connections was to get a date in the diary and not miss what otherwise wouldn’t have happened. They’d established a rapport and she’d enjoyed that, and maybe before this morning she would have gone back-and-forth a little more. But now she’d decided: she desperately wanted to meet him, because she understood how she was a woman worth meeting.

  Yes, Nadia decided. I am going to be a modern, go-getting woman and get this off the page and into real life. I am ready for my future.

  And with that, she hit ‘send’.

  ‘Did you get that feeling too?’ Emma asked her, a little time later. ‘That you were having some big amazing release?’

  ‘Yeah, it was so strange. Like, she was right! There was something hidden in there, and I got it!’

  ‘Me too,’ said Emma.

  ‘Mine was in my heart, if you can believe that,’ said Nadia.

  Emma smiled. ‘I can.’

  Nadia smiled too. She could as well. ‘Where was yours?’

  ‘A bit all over, actually,’ said Emma. ‘Mostly around my pelvis though.’

  ‘Ooooh, how telling!’ said Nadia, about to make a joke about her sex life that was rudely interrupted by the ringing of a phone. It wasn’t Nadia’s ringtone. It was Emma’s. Emma’s hand jutted out, off the wheel to where it sat below the radio, just as Nadia’s did.

  ‘I’ll get it!’ Nadia trilled, since Emma was driving, and she went to pick it up just as Emma said, ‘No!’

  Emma clawed at Nadia’s hand so that Nadia ended up holding one end of the phone and Emma the other. Startled, Nadia looked at her friend, and Emma turned her head away from the road and looked at Nadia, and Nadia didn’t understand. In shock, she dropped the phone, registering the panic on Emma’s face, who suddenly let go too, just as something happened outside of the car, beyond the windscreen.

  Nadia followed Emma’s gaze, and it all happened so fast, so quickly, but so slowly at the same time. No reactions were fast enough. There were people in the road – men. A group of men in the road. The car brakes screeched and the car jerkily slowed down.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Nadia silently prayed. Or did she say it out loud?

  Both women screamed as the group in the road turned their heads and registered the car, dividing themselves by either propelling forward or pulling back. The car came in at a halt, stopping inches from where the crowd had just been. There was silence. Shock. Nadia turned to Emma, who still had both hands on the steering wheel, her arms fixed straight in front of her, panting.

  ‘Ohmygod,’ she said.

  ‘You’re okay,’ Nadia said, unclipping her seatbelt. ‘Emma – you’re okay! Fuck.’ She went into organization mode. Rolling down the window, she said to the group to her left, ‘Are you okay? We’re so sorry!’

  ‘Fucking sorry?’ said one, in a Barbour jacket and wellies. ‘You almost bloody killed us! Jesus.’

  Nadia turned to Emma. Her face was deathly white. ‘They’re okay, babe. Can you hear me? They’re okay.’ She lifted the handbrake and put on the emergency hazards. ‘Emma?’

  Emma turned to her. ‘That was … horrible!’ she said, promptly bursting into tears.

  ‘Oh babe, get out. Come on. Let me drive. We need to get out of the road. Go on.’

  The women clambered out of the car, where thankfully the group they’d nearly hit had already headed off into a nearby field. They were mad. Really, really mad – but at least that was better than being hurt. One of them turned around and shook his head, but Nadia was relieved that they all kept walking. She climbed into the driver’s seat and drove them to a nearby pub car park.

  ‘Bugger me, that was close,’ she said, closing her eyes to finally catch a breath.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Emma. ‘That was … yeah.’

  Nadia switched off the engine and pressed her forehead to the wheel. It was no good thinking about what could have happened, but it was hard not to.

  ‘What happened?’ Nadia said, eventually.

  ‘I just took my eyes off the road for like, a second,’ said Emma. ‘That’s it. I just panicked.’

  Nadia shook her head and then turned so she could see her friend. ‘But why? I went to answer your phone and you freaked out. Why would that freak you out?’

  ‘I didn’t know who it was,’ said Emma, as if that explained it.

  ‘I really need you to talk to me,’ Nadia implored. ‘I need you to tell me what’s going on. Emma!’

  Emma stared blankly ahead and shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Just drive.’
>
  They didn’t speak another word until they’d got back to London.

  ‘I’ll text you later this week,’ Emma said, as a goodbye.

  ‘Okay,’ Nadia nodded, sadly. ‘I’m here, you know. When you’re ready.’ She didn’t know what else to say. She’d never seen her like this before.

  18

  Daniel

  ‘Fuck me!’ one of the lads said. ‘Watch out!’ Daniel was vaguely aware of a giant shove into the middle of his back, forcing him to stumble up the grassy verge at the other side of the road. Before he could turn around and see who it was, he heard an almighty screech – the sound of car brakes – and whipped his head around just in time to see Sam fling an arm out in front of Terrence, who had been about to cross the road behind him.

  A cream Mini skidded, swerving slightly, and stopped exactly where Terrence had been about to walk. Dean and Jonny, who had already climbed over the fence to the field that would loop them back around to the pub, shouted out, ‘What happened?’

  Daniel motioned for them to come over without turning around. He couldn’t take his eyes off what had just happened.

  ‘… Nearly bloody killed us!’ he heard Terrence say, foaming at the mouth in anger. Nobody was hurt, thankfully, but he could see the driver still gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white and deathly pale. She looked like she might throw up.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Daniel called, meaning both Terrence and the driver.

  Terrence dragged his attention away from yelling at the passenger of the car through the car window and looked at him.

  ‘Yes, mate,’ he said. And then, directing his fury back at the car, ‘No thanks to this BLOODY LUNATIC!’ He hit the bonnet with the flat of his palm and he crossed in front of it, startling the driver, who seemed to burst into tears.

  Daniel looked back to where the car had come from – to be fair, they had all crossed over just after a blind bend. Daniel didn’t think it wise to bait Terrence in any way, though, so didn’t mention it. It was just lucky everyone was okay. He tried to catch the eye of the driver to share a sympathetic smile, ducking at the knees slightly to get a better look. She needs to get out of the way, he thought, and watched as the hazard lights came on, blinking in the early afternoon light. It looked like whoever was with her knew what to do. They’ll be okay, he thought. He turned around to climb over the fence where the rest of the guys were.

  ‘I’m bloody shaking!’ Terrence was saying, and Daniel saw Sam turn around and give the car the finger as its engine roared into life again. It drove slowly away. For a second Daniel thought it was Nadia driving. He shook himself out of the thought. You’re obsessed, he told himself.

  ‘Talk about earning that beer,’ Daniel said, forcing himself to get the energy of the group back. He grabbed Sam’s shoulder and steered him in the direction of the pub. ‘Jesus.’

  ‘First round is on you, mate,’ Sam said. ‘That was nearly the end of us!’

  ‘You know what?’ Daniel replied. ‘I’m feeling generous. First round is absolutely on me.’

  19

  Nadia

  On Monday, Nadia started again with The New Routine to Change Her Life. She spent Sunday evening doing what she thought of as a ‘Big Shower’. A small shower is like what her mother would ashamedly call a sailor’s clean – a quick splash of warm water upstairs and down, and on occasion a hair wash. A Big Shower is dry body brushing and a teeth-whitening sheet, a deep cleanse and exfoliation and double shampoo and hair mask. A Big Shower is shaved legs and armpits, a body oil on damp skin, followed by separate face masks for the T-zone and chin area, collagen under-eye mask, and actually using a hairdryer to keep the frizz at bay for the morning. By the time Nadia had soaked off the masks, used a midnight oil, hyaluronic cream, moisturizer, exfoliated her lips and dabbed under-eye cream on with the third finger of her right hand, like she’d seen on YouTube (apparently that finger has the most nerve endings, so applies the least amount of pressure), she was so exhausted that it wasn’t a problem to be asleep by 10 p.m. She woke up before her alarm, the summer sun bright through the gap in the curtains, and was up, dressed, and out of the flat by 6.45 a.m.

  She sat on the 73 bus to Angel, firing off a text to check on Emma, and it occurred to her that she’d be earlier than her normal 7.30 train, and it was the 7.30 train she needed to be on if she wanted to see Train Guy. She had twenty minutes to kill.

  Coffee, she decided. I’ll go get coffee.

  By the station there was a small cart – a sort of van that doubled up as a coffee station once the back doors were opened and revealed an espresso machine and milk frother. The owner, a squat man with no hair who had a friendly smile and called everybody ‘love’, had a few short stools and tables out, so Nadia took a seat and put on her sunglasses and enjoyed feeling, if only briefly, like she was in the piazza of a European capital instead of a roadside overlooking what was technically the A1.

  She had a sudden pang for her mother in that moment – the last time she’d seen her was on a girls’ trip to Rome they’d had over Easter weekend. Nadia plugged her headphones into her iPhone and hit the icon to call her.

  ‘Well, look who it is!’ her mother laughed down the line, after only two rings.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Nadia said. ‘I’m a disappointment of a daughter who doesn’t call enough.’

  ‘You are darling, yes. But as long as you’re busy having fun instead of calling, your old mum doesn’t mind.’

  Nadia smiled. She loved how kind and forgiving her mother was, and how she accepted others exactly as they were. ‘I am, Mum. I just got back from a weekend at Soho Farmhouse with Emma, and I’ve got a good feeling about this week. How are you?’

  Nadia and her mum chatted about the dog, and Nadia’s work, and, bizarrely, considering it was not even August, what their Christmas plans might be, when suddenly Nadia realized the time. She hit the screen of her phone. It was exactly 7.30. She’d missed her train.

  ‘Darling?’ her mother said. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Nadia said, ‘I’m still here. I … I didn’t realize the time.’ She hung up not long after and slowly made her way to the station.

  Dammit! She chastised herself. Goddammit!

  Tomorrow, she promised herself. I’m going to bloody well make that train tomorrow. Train Guy will just have to wait.

  She idly picked up a discarded newspaper on the platform and checked the paper to see if her advert had run, and to her surprise – wasn’t it only twenty-four hours ago she’d sent her submission in? – it had. It calmed her nerves. She didn’t have to be on time tomorrow, or even the day after – as long as she made it to the platform for 7.30 on Thursday, she’d be fine.

  If he turned up, of course.

  It was Gaby who texted her a photo of Missed Connections the next day, where Train Guy had written back. Nadia didn’t understand – her adverts before were taking at least a few days to get published. She wondered if there was somebody on the news desk of the paper giving them a helping hand to write to each other faster. The notes were becoming daily, now.

  His letter said:

  Morning coffee? How about evening drinks? I once overheard you talking about your work, with a colleague, and you, Devastatingly Cute Blonde, are really smart. And your messages back to me make you smart, and a flirt. We could have some fun together, not to mention good chat. What do you think? If I say 7 p.m. on Thursday, at the bar opposite where you got your charity investment, will you say yes? I think this is our stop.

  Yes! thought Nadia. Yes, Yes, Yes! She bobbed up and down on the spot, her whole body shaking with excitement. I’m going to meet him! she thought, I am actually going to bloody well bloody meet him! She knew it. She’d known all along this is where it was heading, even when she hadn’t wanted to admit it. She was about to meet a funny, charming, romantic man who had already done all the right things and in the space that she had only just cleared in her heart she felt it: it was going to be brilliant. Sh
e pulled up the submission box for Missed Connections as soon as she had Wi-Fi signal on her phone, and sent back:

  Train Guy: You’re on. 7 p.m., Thursday. I think I know where you mean. And, for what it’s worth, I’m excited. See you then, Train Girl.

  20

  Nadia

  ‘The only thing I can think,’ Nadia said, pouring the bottle of Albariño into the three glasses evenly, ‘is that he means The Old Barn Cat. The day I convinced Jared to believe in my non-profit idea, we went to the courtyard there. I just … I don’t understand how this guy knows about it?’

  ‘Unless the guy … is Jared!’ said Gaby, holding up a glass to signal that they should cheers.

  Nadia was horrified. ‘Don’t say that! No!’ Gaby knew Jared because she often worked closely with the board of directors at work. Even joking about a man like him was a step too far. ‘Jared genuinely had tickets to Fyre Festival. Absolutely not.’

  Gaby snorted. ‘I can believe that,’ she said, sadly.

  ‘Gang! Hello? We’re celebrating?’ Emma lifted her glass to knock it lightly against Gaby’s. ‘Here’s to love, lust and romance,’ she said.

  ‘To love, lust and romance,’ said Gaby, coyly.

  Nadia scowled. ‘You two are laughing at me! Don’t laugh at me.’ She took a huge gulp from her glass, refusing to join them in a cheers. Was it just her, or were they mocking her slightly?

  Gaby looked away and directly to Nadia. ‘Oh no, sweetie. No, no, no. No we’re not. We’re—’

  No. They weren’t mocking her.

  Nadia sighed. ‘Oh stop it,’ she cut Gaby off. ‘I’d be laughing too. It’s all so ridiculous.’ She was actually in a playful mood tonight, daring to get excited about her forthcoming date. She couldn’t help but think that everything she’d been through, everything she’d endured and every doubt she’d ever tortured herself with, it was all in service of this. Of course it had never worked out with anybody else, because she was always supposed to meet this guy. Right? That was how it worked, wasn’t it? That’s what all the couples she knew said – that in the end, the path was always leading to the one they ended up with. Katherine had once said, ‘You only have to get it right once, Nadia,’ and Nadia understood that now. There was no such thing as a past relationship failing when relationship success was still to play for. When the right man came along, nothing about her past could be a failure. It was all working towards the one big success that would matter. Nadia didn’t believe in soulmates so much as she believed that some people were simply worth making the effort for, and it was about finding the one willing to work as hard as she would to have something special. That one (or one in fifty, if Emma’s maths was to be believed) who truly wanted an equal – that’s what excited Nadia. From everything Train Guy had said – that she was clever and funny and that they’d have good chat together – Nadia could just tell that he had his head screwed on. That he was clever and funny too. And most of all, kind.