by Amy Cross
***
“London's getting faster,” Annie said as the waiter brought their food to the table. “I swear to God, the city's speeding up almost like it's outta control. Isn't that brilliant?”
Kate smiled, but as they sat at the open-air restaurant on the South Bank, she still didn't feel settled. London, her home for so many years, seemed to have had a layer peeled away, becoming somehow different. Things that had been comforting before were now disquieting, and she felt that she hadn't relaxed once since she got back from Thaxos. She kept telling herself that it was the uncertainty of her work situation, and the fact that she only had six months' worth of pay saved up to keep herself going until she could snag another freelance position, but she also knew that these constant dreams about Edgar weren't helping.
Then again, the dreams felt more real than anything that happened during her days at the moment.
“So you don't have any leads?” Annie asked. “Not even a sniff of a job?”
“Tough times,” Kate said with a faint smile, as a plane passed above and a nearby bus honked its horn. Had London always been so noisy, she wondered, or was Annie right when she said that the entire city out of control?
“I don't know how you freelancers manage it,” Annie continued, nibbling at a diet-compliant carrot. “Especially with the way the economy's going. I mean, sure, it says in the papers that things are getting better, but are you feeling any of that trickle-down wealth?” She raised her glass of white wine in a toast. “If I didn't have a rich husband, I honestly don't know what I'd do. I'll tell you one thing, though. Scott ain't letting none of his wealth trickle down to anyone!”
Kate clinked her glass with Annie's, but she took only a sip before setting it back down. She really didn't feel like drinking.
“Do you want to get hammered?” Annie asked, checking her watch. “It's your last day, right? Skip it, and we'll go out on Scott's credit card and get absolutely wasted.”
Kate shook her head.
“Come on,” Annie half-whined. “Be fun.”
“I only got back from holiday a month ago,” Kate pointed out.
“No you didn't,” Annie replied. “You're still there. I can see it in your eyes. Are you sure you didn't have a fling with some hot, Mediterranean-skinned sailor?”
Kate couldn't help but smile at the memory of Fernando's clumsy attempt to come onto her. She hadn't mentioned any of that to Annie, because she knew she'd take a verbal battering if she admitted that she'd turned the poor guy down. She also hadn't mentioned anything about Edgar, or the mysterious stones, or anything that had happened out on Thaxos. As far as Annie was aware, Kate had simply sat on the beach and sunned herself.
“Maybe I should go to this Thaxos place some time,” Annie said as she examined a stick of celery. “See what this place is like for myself.”
“I wouldn't bother,” Kate replied, suddenly feeling a little defensive, as if Thaxos was hers and hers alone. “There's not much to do.”
“Any night-life?”
“None.”
“Hot men?”
“Nope.”
“What's the beach like?”
“Pebbly.”
“Huh,” Annie replied with a sigh. “Fine, I guess I'll just drag Scott to Ibiza again instead. We went a few months ago, but I want to go back for the main season. You wanna tag along? Scott'll pay!”
“Thanks,” Kate replied, “but I think one island's enough for me this year.”
“Suit yourself,” Annie said with a smile. “You're gonna have to have fun some day, though. You can't spend your whole life daydreaming about being some big academic superstar. Live a little, babe.”
Kate smiled as her sense of panic began to subside. She was shocked by her own reaction to the idea of Annie going to Thaxos; the island felt like her own private world, and she wanted to keep it that way, even if she knew deep down that these feelings were irrational. In truth, she yearned to go back, but she knew she had to keep her feet rooted firmly to the ground. As she stared down at her plate of pasta, however, she found herself daydreaming about the seeming inevitability of another dream about Edgar that night. She'd come to enjoy his strange nocturnal visits, even though she knew that they weren't really very healthy.
In a strange and twisted way, she was looking forward to the next dream, and curious about whether it would last even longer than before.
“Another toast,” Annie said, raising her glass. “To English people going to Mediterranean islands and having a damn good time.”
“Cheers,” Kate replied, taking another sip of wine. She checked her watch and saw that it was almost 2pm. Half an hour until she had to be back at work. More importantly, only seven or eight hours before she could justifiably go back to bed and wait for another of those dreams. Although she hated to admit it, they were intoxicating, and she felt they were becoming unhealthily important in her life. It was almost as if she was becoming obsessed.
