An Impossible Thing Called Love

by Belinda Missen

  For the rest of the morning, I cleaned. Mum had always said she knew when I was properly upset, because I would clean my bedroom from head to toe and sell off all the things I decided I didn’t need. Today, I hit that level here. I scrubbed benches and toilets, made sure there was nothing left in washing baskets, and rinsed coffee cups the moment they were used, though I didn’t get around to listing anything on eBay, so that was good.

  * * *

  Heather waddled in the front door, her arms laden with enough shopping bags to cut off circulation. I unhooked the first few from each arm and helped her into the kitchen, groceries spilling in all directions. Josh lumbered up the stairs behind her, in charge of the alcohol component of the shop.

  ‘I think we should start getting this delivered.’ Heather laughed weakly. ‘I didn’t think there’d be that much. They do offer delivery. I’m going to look into that.’

  ‘Do I owe you anything?’ I grabbed at the bags on her left arm.

  ‘What?’ Heather glanced up from where she was hunched over a bag of fruit that had rolled across the kitchen floor. ‘Don’t be silly. The Community Chest is very … chesty.’

  Community Chest started as a joke, something I’d suggested while playing online Monopoly with her in the months before Craig and I moved in. What started as a joke about teaching me street names, ‘because you need to learn that Regent Street is expensive, Emmy’, became a mini planning device. The Community Chest became the spot I shoved our weekly monetary contributions. Grocery money and emergency funds were all tucked away inside an old Charles & Di biscuit tin. Heather took from that as needed. The only rule was, we needed to have our shopping list tacked to the refrigerator by Friday morning. No list equalled no food.

  ‘Okay. Good.’ I grappled for a stray orange that rolled towards me. ‘I do owe you an apology though.’

  ‘What?’ She grimaced as she straightened up. ‘What the hell for?’

  ‘I left my clothes in the machine yesterday. I was just heading out and didn’t want to keep people waiting. I should have stayed until it was done, I’m sorry.’ I scratched at the back of my neck and waited with baited breath for her response.

  ‘What? God, I wasn’t even angry. I just passed comment that you’d forgotten to empty the machine. I think I even laughed, threw everything else on top of it, and hit the go button again.’

  ‘Still, I’m sorry.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Em. If something’s wrong, I’ll tell you.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘It’s fine and thank you for cleaning the kitchen. It looks good. Finally.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘To be fair, I had to touch your lacy undies.’ Josh shook his head. ‘Yuck.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ll touch her lacy undies, but not mine.’ I swatted at him with a stick of celery. ‘I know where I’m not wanted.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Heather lets me play with hers.’ He pressed a kiss into the side of her head. ‘Love you.’

  ‘If that’s the price, I’d rather not,’ I teased.

  ‘Hey, what are you guys doing Friday night? Can we have a family dinner?’ Heather asked.

  ‘I’m free,’ Craig called from the bathroom.

  ‘How did he hear that?’ Heather whispered, top lip curled.

  I shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Did he tell you I was angry?’

  ‘Ah, yeah.’ I nodded, forcing a block of cheese into a spare refrigerator space. I made a mental note that the fridge would be next on the cleaning list. ‘Made out like I’d broken the fourth amendment of friendship.’

  Heather sighed and shook her head. ‘I think the problem is him. He’s been pretty touchy with everyone this week. There was one night he got home, walked in and didn’t speak to anyone.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I felt helpless. ‘Work has been a bit not so great for him.’

  Craig appeared by the kitchen door. ‘Everything okay? Need a hand?’

  ‘All good.’ Josh squeezed his shoulder. ‘Just talking about Friday dinner. I’ll get some fancy wine from the cellar in Fenchurch on my way home.’

  ‘Do you want me to cook?’ I asked.

  ‘Dumplings?’ Heather asked hopefully. ‘Because yes, please.’

  Chapter 13

  Standing in queues waiting for coffee gives you time to ponder life’s important things. Like, how much money did I have left in my account? Just how much were two meals, dessert, and drinks on Saturday night, and can I therefore afford that ham and cheese croissant that I’m sure is whispering my name. Emmy, please eat me. I’ll riddle you with guilt all day, but our short, loving embrace will feel oh-so-good.

  There was no charge against my card for Saturday night. Nada. Zip. Not even for drinks.

  I checked all my accounts, just in case the money had come out of some random hidey hole, or was sitting in limbo, waiting. But, no. My first thought was that something had gone wrong, that the bank was about to call, and my stomach saddled up for the ride. Rubbing my forehead, I stuttered through my order and stepped out into the street with an oversized coffee and cold croissant.

  And then it dawned on me. I had sent William to pay, the sneaky sod.

  Pam was busy trying to untwist herself from her jacket when I walked into the clinic. She was flustered and cursing, and William was in the staff room, giggling like a child who’d just set a cherry bomb in a toilet. Following the sound like a trail of crumbs, I pushed the door open and glared at him. His face lit up like a great mystery had been solved and he hooted with laughter once more.

  ‘Right, how much?’ I asked.

  He glanced around, his face portraying a state of complete cluelessness, hand pressed against his chest. ‘Emmy, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You little shit. I gave you my card so you could pay for dinner. I checked the balance this morning, and there’s no charge on my account. So, how much do I owe you?’ I could at least breathe easier knowing there was nothing wrong with my card and wouldn’t have to explain that one at home.

  ‘I have zero idea what you’re saying, Emmy.’ He grinned. ‘I tapped and go-ed. Went. Whatever. I can’t understand your English today, you weird Australian.’

  ‘William,’ I complained.

  ‘Emmy, it’s fine. Honestly. I haven’t had a day like that in a very long time, so consider it a thank you.’ He stopped. ‘A welcome home gift, even.’

  I shook my head. ‘William, I wanted to do something nice for you.’

  ‘I tell you what.’ He shuffled around me, and backwards out of the room, a wobbly coffee in one hand, and a supermarket sandwich in the other. ‘You can pay this weekend. Pick somewhere else from your Death List.’

  ‘London List.’

  ‘We’ll do what we did on Saturday: work the morning, party in the afternoon.’

  ‘Madame Tussauds,’ I said. It was the closest I was ever going to get to the royal family, and I was prepared to put my pride on the line for a photo to send Frankie.

  ‘No.’ William shook his head, lips pursed. ‘I don’t do those creepy-ass dolls. I am out.’

  ‘Really? Aren’t they like cadavers?’ I asked. ‘They’re all dead on the inside.’

  ‘Yes, but cadavers don’t follow you around the room with their shifty little eyes.’ His office door kicked shut in my face. ‘Can you get my first file please, Em?’

  ‘I want to go to IMAX, then,’ I called through the door.

  ‘No!’ He called back. ‘We’re not going to the movies. You’ll probably try and hold my hand, or feel me up, or something romantic like that, before stealing my popcorn.’

  I snorted a laugh and walked away.

  ‘I’ll go see a movie with you.’ A leaf crinkled as Pam drew her fingers through her hair. She’d moved on to battling her headset. ‘What are we seeing?’

  ‘Anything, as long as it’s in IMAX. I’m not fussed.’

  William’s door shot open and he hung his body out into the hallway, eyebrow raised. ‘Do you
have a size thing, Emmy?’

  ‘What?’ I baulked, feeling my cheeks warm.

  ‘Why IMAX? Why not just go to the local Odeon or whatever?’ he pressed.

  ‘Because, despite what your mother told you, bigger is better, Red.’ Pam sauntered past him with a grin.

  I turned away and laughed.

  ‘I can see you laughing at me Emmy. I can see you.’

  ‘Alright.’ I steadied myself. ‘What about St Paul’s Cathedral? Can we climb to the top of that?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, are you trying to kill me? Do you have any idea how many steps are in that godforsaken place?’

  ‘Actually, it can’t be godforsaken. It’s a church. Technically, God lives there.’

  From the kitchen, I could hear Pam roar with laughter. ‘I love you two, just so you know. I’m so glad you got that stick out of his arse, Emmy.’

  ‘Oh, you have no idea.’ William closed himself in his office again.

  ‘What does he mean by that?’ Pam returned, a plate of toast with a small buffet of spreads dotted around the rim. If that’s what she ate at work, I was lining up for a weekend breakfast at her place.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I said, sifting mail into different pigeonholes. ‘Hey, question.’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Know any good gyms around here? I’m thinking of taking a class or two.’

  The quick solution to my tightening pants would be to just stop visiting the bakery on the way to work, but I was prepared to work for my baked goods if I had to.

  ‘Ah, the twenty-four-hour gym on the High Street is quite good. I went for a while but, you know, commitment being my strong point and all.’ She winked. ‘No, seriously, it’s a good place. You should try there first.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’

  She crunched on a piece of toast. ‘I do have a strong commitment to carbs though.’

  * * *

  Pushing the doors to a gym open for the first time wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, but that’s what I did shortly after eight o’clock that night. There had been internet searches and comparisons during lulls in the day and, in the end, Pam’s High Street suggestion was still the better option. I’d cooked dinner, got another ‘home late’ text from Craig, caught up with my friends about their days, and slipped out the door quicker than you could say ‘ham and cheese croissant with sweet relish, please.’

  It was inviting enough, as far as gyms went. The décor was sharp, and the equipment didn’t look one hundred years old, unlike the gym I went to in Sydney. I filled out my new member form and watched as the numbers on the scales chased me down like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. A bit of work to do, then.

  ‘What’s your aim?’ A girl with bubble gum pink hair and lipstick peered up at me from where she was squat by my hips, callipers in one hand, a handful of me in the other.

  ‘Overall fitness, I suppose,’ I said quietly. ‘I haven’t run in a while.’

  ‘Oh, you’re a runner?’ She stood, scribbling notes on my card. ‘You could do with some weights, too, tone it up a little bit.’

  Did I mention how much fun first nights at the gym are?

  I spent a little over an hour being poked, prodded, and counselled before being let loose in the cardio room, where I could pound the treadmill and watch reruns of EastEnders to my heart’s content. In a room full of people glued to the screen, one raven-haired woman chanced a waved. When I waved back, she claimed the machine next to me.

  She leaned over while setting herself up. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi.’ I gave her my best leave me alone grin and kept up my Thriller-esque zombie shuffle.

  ‘Good to get out of the house, right?’ she asked.

  I nodded. ‘It is.’

  ‘That’s why I come.’ Her movements had her bobbing about like a chicken. ‘Always nice to get a little bit of me time.’

  I grinned again, hoping to get out of too much discussion. But I did need to make more friends in the area, so kept chatting away for the next little while. It was light and barely broke surface tension, but it was refreshing to add another voice to the mix.

  When I left, glowing like a supernova complete with a lake of sheen over my face, I checked the class board by the front door – possibly designed to guilt members into coming back. Thursday night, eight o’clock looked like Pilates o’clock. And, if that didn’t suit, Friday night, too.

  ‘The Friday night session is great. Small group, lovely teacher. Everyone else is out on the town, so there’s not a lot of us.’ Raven-haired lady, whose name I still didn’t know, was by my side again. Maybe she was a Weeping Angel; I was sure she’d still been on the treadmill when I’d switched mine off.

  ‘Slow, sloth-inspired movement is more my speed,’ I joked.

  ‘Good for muscle tone,’ she said. ‘I mean, I won’t be there this week, I’ve got a client meeting at seven, so that’s cutting it a bit fine.’

  ‘That’s okay, I’ve got plans, too. Maybe next week, then?’ She might’ve been quick off the mark, but I could always do with a gym buddy.

  ‘Oh,’ she pipped, a sudden spring in her step. ‘Okay, yes. That’d be great.’

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and disappeared into the night. I made a calendar note in my phone and headed in the opposite direction. I was glad that, if nothing else, I’d met another local.

  Chapter 14

  On Friday afternoon, I dashed out of the office without saying my usual goodbyes. I was running on limited time. Me being me, I’d volunteered to cook something for dinner that was not only fiddly, but would need to be made in a sizeable quantity, else we’d all go hungry. I scrambled around local supermarkets, dashing into one when the other decided chilli jam was far too exotic to stock, and into a grocer for shallots when I couldn’t find spring onion. Checking off the last of my dog-eared list, I shoved the paper back in my pocket and hot-footed it home.

  ‘Oh, hello, Emmy.’

  Our neighbour, Jim, lived in the two floors below us. He was a carpenter in his late thirties, had beautiful brown eyes, and a face that looked ten years older with a beard. Over the last twelve months, according to Heather, he’d spent a lot of time redecorating the entry to the building. Josh kept him in a steady supply of gin in lieu of paying for any of the work.

  ‘Hey, Jim.’ I leaned over the railing. ‘How’s life?’

  ‘Good.’ He smiled warmly. ‘Do you need a hand?’

  ‘Oh, no, thanks,’ I called, dashing up a few more stairs. ‘Got two.’

  Gentle laughter filled the stairwell, and for a moment I thought we should maybe invite him to dinner. Maybe another night. That would be nice.

  ‘How are you settling in?’ he asked.

  ‘Very well, thank you! I love your city.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ His door clicked shut behind him, and he was gone for another day.

  Still mindful of the Great Washing Faux Pas of 2014, I gathered up every limp, discarded piece of clothing I could find around the apartment, and shoved whatever would fit in the washing machine. As it whirred quietly by my feet, I cracked a bottle of white wine, turned the radio up, and started dinner prep.

  Heather arrived home first, cradling a bouquet of flowers like a baby. Full of vivid pink, white, and purple blooms, she danced around the lounge, trying to determine the best place to display her new spray. Settling on the coffee table, she dug about the back of the cupboard for a vase before disappearing to change. When she returned, I handed her a glass of wine.

  ‘How is it we live in the same house and it feels like we barely see each other?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not just me, then?’ I relaxed against the counter as she refilled my glass. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m so good. Look at my flowers, he’s so lovely.’ She scrunched herself up, shoulders around her ears, eyes crinkled. ‘I could squeal like an escapee balloon.’

  I tried to recall the last time Craig had bought me flowers, and I was sure the answer was buried somewhere in th
e summer of 2013, about five minutes after we started dating. The realisation pinched at something uncomfortable. I didn’t want to think of things as a competition, because they weren’t, and every couple was different, but a bit of spontaneity wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I should buy him flowers. Yes, I’d do that.

  ‘What about you? How are you?’

  ‘Me?’ I turned my concentration back to my mixing bowl, tipping chopped shallots into pork mince, spices and cabbage. It didn’t feel great between the fingers but would feel much better in my belly later.

  ‘Yeah, you. How’s the work situation?’

  ‘Work’s great.’ I smiled at the memory of William carrying a small child out of his office. Held way above his head, arms and legs akimbo, both he and the boy laughing like it was the funniest thing to ever happen. ‘Everyone is just … it’s a great team.’

  ‘And?’ she pressed.

  ‘And?’ I asked.

  Heather pinched at my arm. ‘What about William? Is everything sorted there?’

  ‘It’s really nice to have my friend back.’

  Craig appeared next. His face was bright and open and, when he offered me a hug, I was only too glad to accept. It had been far too long since he’d seemed so relaxed, and he did look particularly lovely with his suit and tie just that little bit loose.

  ‘Hey you.’ He peppered my face with kisses.

  ‘Hey you.’ I bit back laughter, my hands still sticky with dumpling mixture. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘Just good?’ I asked. ‘You look great. Relaxed. It’s nice to see.’

  ‘It’s just good to get out of work early, innit?’ He kissed me again and leant into my ear. ‘We can have an early night, maybe?’

  ‘Ooooh.’ My lips curled into a delighted ‘O’. This was the side of Craig I liked best. ‘I’m on board with that. But you smell, go wash up for dinner. I’m almost ready to go.’

  ‘I smell?’ He played, sniffing his armpits. ‘Yeah, I smell like dank office. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  When I finally had a small pyramid of dumplings crammed into the fridge, Josh arrived home with even more wine and a spring in his step. Heather poured drinks and set the table, and Craig was just … Craig. For the first time all week, all four of us sat down to dinner together, and we were positively buoyant – living the dream, even. With soft background music and an open window, it was the perfect setting for a warm evening.