One Small Step

by M. A. Binfield

  “Wow, seems like you’ve been plenty busy. Last time you were moaning about not having enough going on, now you’re the opposite. It’s good, yes?”

  “Uh-huh.” Cam was unsure of what to say. It was good but it was also bad.

  “Uh-huh, yes or uh-huh, no?”

  Her sister was a wise ass sometimes.

  “Both I guess. I’m doing okay. I’m probably just a little frustrated with Ryan. He’s working constantly and away a lot. He’s—” Cam was going to say, “he’s away more than I’d like,” but then realized with a wave of sadness that that wasn’t even true anymore.

  “I feel like he’s away—mentally I mean. We’re just not very connected. I do my stuff and he does his. We can’t seem to get into any sort of groove.”

  “Hey, sis, you’ve been saying this for a while now—”

  “Don’t tell me it’s normal and just a symptom of being in a long-term relationship. I don’t need to hear that tonight.”

  “I wasn’t going to. Actually, I was gonna say that maybe you should be worried that you’ve been feeling like this for so long. Have you guys tried talking about it?”

  “We’ve talked around it. He says it’s just his work being busy and he hates London and we’d be okay otherwise.” Cam sighed.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I don’t know. Alongside everything else, we’ve stopped having sex.” She made herself say it. “And I don’t even know if I care, not really. I feel like I’ve wasted so much energy trying to fix things, find things for us to do together, to try to get us back to a good place, and now I’ve stopped trying.” Cam took in a breath. “And I’ve met someone who makes me feel really good so I’m prioritizing that. It doesn’t really help and yet it does, y’know.”

  “You’ve met someone? Hot damn. I never thought you had that in you sis. You’re the monogamous, marrying her first serious boyfriend type. I thought I was the little hussy.”

  “I haven’t met someone like that, dummy.” It wasn’t like that was it? She wasn’t sure, she just wanted to be able to talk to someone about Iris, about how great she was and what fun times they were having. That was all. Right?

  “I mean I’ve made a friend—at work—someone I’ve been doing all that cool stuff with. We have so much in common.” Cam felt herself smiling. “She’s so cool and…well, I’ve been spending time with her and she’s made me realize that I am a decent human who has something to offer and who doesn’t deserve to sit around and beg her fiancé to show her some attention.”

  “Cam?”

  “What?”

  “Are you really okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s the middle of the night and you’re calling me to tell me that you’ve given up trying to make things work with Ryan in favor of hanging out with a woman named…what’s her name?”

  “Iris.” Cam felt butterflies as she said the name out loud, feeling faintly ridiculous, not wanting to imagine how Iris would react if she knew Cam was talking about her in this way to her sister.

  “Yeah, Iris.” Alison repeated. “Iris, your new friend, who you have so much in common with and who’s so damn cool. Is there some shocking revelation coming next, sis, because you know how much mom hates the gays and I definitely want to be the one who tells her that you’re coming out. It’ll take the heat off me for decades.”

  Cam felt the sharp and painful memory of a conversation with her mother many years ago. She pushed it away.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not like that. I’m just saying that when you spend time with someone new and they like getting to know you and you have a good time together, it makes you question why you accept so little from the person who’s supposed to love you the most.”

  Alison waited.

  “But it’s not just that. She’s kind of amazing as well, she’s funny and creative and strong, and she’s got these dark, surly looks that draw you in, that seem a little dangerous, but when you get to know her, she’s sweet, and soft, and just adorable really.”

  Alison was quiet. Cam waited.

  “Well, I think you and Ryan should go and see a counselor, try and figure out what’s going wrong. Four years together must mean something works, and you agreed to marry him less than a year ago. It can’t be something you can’t fix.”

  Cam wasn’t very experienced in relationships. She didn’t know what falling out of love felt like. Right now, she didn’t even trust herself to know what falling in love felt like. She wanted to ask Alison, but it seemed silly.

  “You’re really not having sex?” Alison asked gently.

  “Nope, it’s been weeks. Neither of us is looking for it, and neither of us is talking about it.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a sign. Maybe it says something about where we are, something important.” Cam hadn’t thought of it like that until she said the words. She didn’t care they weren’t having sex and she should, surely?

  “And, Iris? I mean, are you sure you two aren’t gonna…y’know? Is she married, engaged?”

  “No, it’s not like that. We’re just friends, we just ‘get’ each other. It’s…nice.” Cam felt tired, and a little embarrassed, wanting to go back to bed, not sure the chat was entirely helping. She wasn’t ready to tell Alison about her feelings for Iris. She had no right to have them. She should focus on making things work with Ryan. Doing anything else would make her as bad as Amanda. Suddenly understanding things that way shocked her, but it wasn’t unhelpful.

  “Cam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you did find you liked this Iris in that way, it’d be cool by me. I mean, I’m a millennial, we’re all for that kind of thing. I’d only be upset if she was a Republican.” Alison chuckled softly.

  Cam knew that she meant it, that she meant well. Her sister was all about following her heart whatever the consequences. She imagined introducing Iris to her. The two of them bonding over poetry.

  “I think you’d think she was amazing actually. And she’s so damn attractive, she’d probably have even you in love with her.” Cam was aiming for a teasing humor, but saying the words out loud made her feel strange.

  “Is she gay?” Alison waited a beat before asking.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is she seeing anyone?”

  Cam hesitated. “No. She’s kinda sworn off women for a while, bad breakup.”

  “Then be careful, eh? I mean, if you’re getting close and spending all this time together and she’s gay, how do you know she won’t end up liking you as more than a friend?”

  Cam felt the hammer drop. She hadn’t really thought of that, had been so wrapped up in her own feelings about the friendship. “I think I’d know if that was the case.” Cam thought that was probably true, but then she remembered Iris leaving her house in a hurry, acting all scared and embarrassed. Was that a sign of something? Cam shook her head. No, Iris wasn’t interested in her that way. She’d be able to tell.

  “Just be careful, sis. You might think being with her is something that picks you up when you’re bored with Ryan, but she might not see things the same way.”

  Alison was wise beyond her years, and Cam could do with a bit of her savvy sometimes. She wished her luck with the experimental theater—pretty sure that she’d need it—and drained her cup, knowing she should get back to bed.

  Cam had denied her feelings about Iris were feelings “like that,” but sitting here on the couch, with the purple blanket draped over the arm next to her, it was hard to keep away the image of Iris waking in her arms, and gazing up at Cam sleepily. The wanting to pull Iris back to her when Iris had pulled away had only lasted seconds, but it had been there.

  Even if she was falling for Iris in some way—and she wasn’t sure that she really was—Iris had made it clear she was someone who didn’t do drama, and her friendship with Iris was the most important thing in her life right now. Cam took in a deep breath. The simplest thing to do was to make herse
lf stop having the feelings, to remember that she was engaged to be married, and that she had a lot to lose. She let out the breath and headed up the stairs to bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cam sat at her desk rubbing her temples knowing she should try to do some actual work but finding it near impossible to concentrate given the headache that the lack of sleep and the prosecco had left her with. All of it was compounded by the email that Iris had sent her late last night.

  In Cam’s mind a whirlwind of thoughts were jostling for space. The email had a time stamp of one thirty-four a.m. Iris must have agonized for a long time after getting home on Sunday before finally sending it to her.

  They hadn’t exchanged personal email addresses so Iris had sent it to Cam’s Cottoms account, and it had sat waiting for her until she’d arrived at eight thirty that morning and it was the main reason why she hadn’t done a stroke of work since she’d opened it almost two hours ago. It said:

  Hello you

  I know I owe you a poem. I’ve attached the one about my dad that I told you about and also another that is a bit older. Maybe you can help me choose which one is best if you’re really going to make me perform #panicattack

  Oh, and thanks, Cam. You’re a good friend for making me do this x

  PS: If they are bad, you need to please tell me. I hate the idea of performing, but performing bad poems is even worse. I’m relying on your American bluntness ;)

  Cam loved the poems, and she hadn’t been able to stop reading them. One was simply called “John” and was a moving account of Iris’s relationship with her dad and the things her mother had missed out on by leaving them, and the other she had to admit that she was kind of obsessed by. It was called “Bridge to Nowhere” and talked of a relationship breaking apart that she could only assume had been inspired by what happened with Amanda. The imagery was so bleak, so dark but somehow still beautiful, and completely and utterly relatable. And of course it made her think of her relationship with Mia. And if she was being honest, it made her think even more often of Iris, which wasn’t entirely helpful. The poems showed a sensitive and creative side to her that Cam had often imagined but never seen. And Iris sharing them with her made her feel special.

  More than once that morning, Cam had drifted into imagining Iris standing on the bookstore stage reading the poems to the audience and Cam sitting alone in that audience hearing them for the first time, not knowing who Iris was. She would think them amazing and she would probably think the handsome poet reading them was awesome and fall for her straightaway. Cam should have felt bad about the daydream, but she didn’t. She’d denied herself so much over the years, and lived in the shadows with Ryan for months, so if spending time thinking that way about Iris was what got her through a bad morning, she wasn’t going to feel bad about that. There were worse things than a crush on a friend that she had no intention of doing anything about.

  Cam read the email again. Iris had said that Cam was a good friend, and above all else, she really wanted to be. She shook the lustful feelings away and went to her Sent folder to open the email she had sent Iris in reply a few minutes ago.

  Re: Hello you

  Wow. What can I say about the poems? Wonderful, poignant, and a privilege to read. I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I’ve read them over and over. You have a way of describing feelings so authentically, so imaginatively that it’s impossible not to understand, not to identify with them and that’s a real gift. Literally awesome.

  And I can’t actually choose between them. They are so different. I looked on the website and it says that performers are restricted to ten minutes each max (not one poem each) so you could actually do both. So I guess if you still want me to help you choose, I choose both.

  Thanks so much for sharing them with me. How about lunch today so we can have a proper chat about them? (And also because I like watching you eat!)

  C x

  She was happy with the email overall. She worried she’d been a bit over-the-top but couldn’t help herself. And the comment about watching Iris eat was a joke. Sort of. Iris would know that, right? The computer in front of her beeped to signal the arrival of a new message. It was from Iris.

  Re: Re: Hello you

  Thanks, Cam, for the encouraging words. I’m sure you know it’s hard for me to believe them, but I’m trying really hard to let them land. And don’t think I haven’t spotted that you’re trying to make me perform two poems now rather than one. Very crafty, very crafty indeed. I’d love to have lunch with you, but I’ve just been told I’m needed in Bristol this afternoon. I’m going to be there all week. I’m even gonna miss training, which is crappy. Hopefully, back in time for the dinner dance thing on Friday though. The food is usually pretty good. Can’t always say the same for the dancing!

  Cam felt annoyed that work was taking Iris away. She sighed at just the moment that Graham dumped a pile of invoices on her desk on his way out the door, asking her to scan them. She didn’t particularly care if he thought the sigh was directed at him. His processes were so old-fashioned, and she knew that the task would take hours.

  Cam looked across the room at Sylvia typing into her computer. Graham’s departure had provided an opportunity for Cam, the would-be journalist, and she took it.

  “Hey, Sylvia, do you happen to know what funding the men’s soccer team receives from the company?” She tried to sound casual.

  Sylvia looked up from her screen and fixed Cam with a questioning look. “Who wants to know?”

  Sylvia had a scary demeanor, but she’d always been friendly to Cam and they’d shared many an eye roll in Graham’s direction over the weeks so Cam felt okay about asking.

  “We’re just curious. Oliver said that the men get a lot of extras that the women’s team doesn’t, and it doesn’t seem fair. I tried asking Liam, but he just said I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about it.”

  “Ew.” Sylvia had made it very clear how much she disliked Liam, and he tended to avoid the office when she was around. She peered at Cam. “That kind of information wouldn’t be in the shared files. I imagine Graham would hide it away somewhere. I mean, I’d probably have to look in Graham’s inbox to find out, and while I do have access for when he’s absent, I’m sure a fishing expedition like that would get me into trouble.”

  Sylvia sounded like she was serious, but then she smirked at Cam and gave out a little chuckle. “And I wouldn’t want to blot my copybook so close to my retirement date.”

  “No worries, I understand.” Cam worried she shouldn’t have asked. She picked up her cup. “Coffee?” Sylvia nodded and looked back at her screen.

  Cam headed to the kitchen still wondering about the article and feeling a little stuck. Iris’s poems were so good that she felt they had raised the ante and now she wanted to write something that would make Iris proud. All she had so far were the stats on how the teams had performed in each of the last six seasons, since both teams had been formed. The women’s team had improved their position year by year and were now top of the league and the men’s team had an opposite trajectory and were second from bottom with two games to go. There was a real chance that the women would win their league, and maybe the story should simply be about that—a celebration of something positive, of victory against the odds. She felt sure it was the kind of story that Cottoms would like their clients to read. She could even imagine a picture of the team looking victorious on the front cover. The idea of it made her smile.

  Cam headed back to her desk with the coffees. Graham was sitting back at his desk. He lifted his eyes toward her and semi-scowled. The drinking coffee thing really did make him mad. Cam sat at her desk and noticed a folded piece of A4 paper on top of her keyboard. She was sure it wasn’t there before and wondered if Graham had tired of verbally giving out orders and resorted to paper notes. It wouldn’t surprise her. She unfolded the sheet of paper. It was a printout of an email, an email from Graham to Liam.

  Liam,

  I’ve managed t
o increase the funds for next season by a further £300. You know I’m supportive, but that’s probably about the limit. It just needs Iris or one of her man-hating friends in the women’s team to find out that you’re now getting three times the funds they do and we’ll have them being all hormonal and #metoo about it. If you could try to win a few more games that’d help. It’s embarrassing that you’re getting all the money and they are winning all the games.

  Regards, Graham

  Cam was holding her breath. Damn, this was dynamite. Not only was Graham admitting that the men’s team had way more funding, but he was being offensive about Iris and the women in a way that she knew no one in the senior team at Cottoms would tolerate.

  And she had a copy of the email.

  Cam coughed and Sylvia looked up at her, giving her a small nod and an imperceptible wink.

  Cam tucked the piece of paper into the inside of her bag, wondering what on earth she should do with it. She couldn’t use it for her article. Janie would never let her use the in-house magazine for a whistle blowing story, and giving it to Megan or Hazel would mean they’d raise hell and Sylvia might get into trouble. She needed time to think. She picked up the pile of invoices that needed scanning and headed out of the office. Having Graham’s unfairness and misogyny confirmed chafed at her, and getting out of his presence was as important as scanning his stupid invoices.

  On the way along the corridor to the main office, Cam told herself that her elevated heart rate was simply the bombshell of an email she had in her bag and had nothing to do with the chance of bumping into Iris before she left for Bristol. She couldn’t believe they wouldn’t see each other all week. The feeling of loss was strong, stronger than she was entitled to feel, and it made her feel uneasy. By the time she’d reached the copy room and scanned the first few invoices, Cam had made herself believe that a few days away from Iris was exactly what she needed. She’d cook a nice meal for Ryan and try to talk properly to him about their plans.

  Chapter Eighteen