An Impossible Thing Called Love

by Belinda Missen

  I slipped my arms around his middle, ready for the perfect photo.

  ‘Oh!’ I gasped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Heathrow.’ I offered a nostalgic grin and threw in a few batted eyelashes for effect. He mimicked me, much to the delight of onlookers, who were now lined up with their own cameras.

  William clicked his fingers at the photographer. ‘Suze, I need these photos. Can you send them to me? Text, or email, or whatever. You know.’ When his hand came to rest, his fingers spread across my backside like Patrick Star on a pub crawl through Bikini Bottom.

  ‘My arse.’

  ‘Is particularly nice,’ he muttered through a smile. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of that … Heathrow.’

  ‘You were such a nice young boy then.’ I grabbed at his hand and moved it up to my hip.

  ‘I really wasn’t.’ He folded in on himself laughing. ‘The only reason I didn’t take you back to the hotel was because I didn’t want to share you with the two other guys I was staying with.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘You are such a grub.’

  ‘Actually…’ His hand slipped away completely when the photographer left. ‘I think that would be “gentlemanly”.’

  ‘Oh!’ His words had triggered a memory. ‘I have something for you.’

  William made a show of looking around my sides, over my shoulders. ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’ I stepped away. ‘Follow me.’

  We buzzed through the house, bouncing from person to person and engaging in small talk until we found ourselves back near the front door. I picked through the pile of bags until I found mine buried somewhere near the back.

  ‘I saw something in a shop recently that reminded me of you.’ I held a small parcel between us, its grey wrapping paper shimmering in the low light. ‘So, I thought I’d get it. Maybe open it on your own?’

  ‘Oh,’ he said softly, turning the gift over in his hands. ‘That sounds intriguing.’

  ‘It’s only something small.’ I hugged myself.

  ‘Right this way.’ He tipped his chin in the direction of the staircase.

  My limbs were tired with drink, so I trudged slowly up the stairs behind him. Each heavy footstep clunked and creaked along clumsily behind me. Perhaps it was time to turn down the next glass that was thrust my way, however well-meaning it might be.

  We bypassed the first floor altogether and moved on to the second. A light flickered to life and illuminated the small landing area and a bedroom door. I popped my head in for a look, expecting to find a grubby boyish mess.

  What I got was rich wooden furniture, a bed that looked cotton ball soft, an on trend light fitting, and a bedside table littered with medical literature.

  ‘Light reading,’ he joked, holding up the latest medical journal, and bookmarked textbooks.

  Oh, and two old coffee cups and a chocolate wrapper. It couldn’t have been all perfect.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ I let myself in to the en-suite. The fresh scent of shampoo lingered among the strewn toothpaste tube, disregarded toothbrush, and wet towel that hung off the counter.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Considering you could fit my room in here twice, yeah.’ I pointed. ‘You going to open your present?’

  William’s eyes lit up in remembrance. A few muttered words were joined by the crinkle of paper. Continuing my tradition of kitschy gifts, I’d found a tattered copy of William – An Englishman in a second-hand shop. With a title like that, I could think of no one better to give it to, and tonight seemed like the perfect moment. Judging by the look of smug satisfaction on his face, I was right.

  ‘It’s me.’ He grinned. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No, no.’ I forced the tattered, clothbound cover open. ‘You’ve missed the best part.’

  Inside the cover, a reprint of our Heathrow photo. A little larger and a bit more out of focus than the last, I’d had it printed recently on an afternoon in town. It might have been cheap, but it was cheerful, and a beautiful reminder of what started all of this. If someone were to ask what our favourite holiday souvenirs were, instead of our worst, this would be it.

  ‘Oh, Em. I lost mine.’ He flipped the photo over, just to be sure there wasn’t something on the back. When he noticed the inscription in the front pages, he smiled broadly. ‘“Dear William – my favourite Englishman.”’

  ‘You’re pretty much one of about four Englishmen that I know, so my options were limited.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he said, mouth in a downturned smile. He wriggled a come-hither finger.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just come here.’

  Before I’d had a moment to catch my breath on the landing, he’d cradled my face in his hands and was kissing me. And, for all my protestations and assertions of a boyfriend, I kissed him back. His mouth tasted like badly mixed cocktails. I’m sure his tasting notes would read something like: chocolate birthday cake with a hint of cherries, cream tea, and seduction. A gentle thumb drawn across my jaw threw me back to earth with an electric zap.

  I clutched a handful of his T-shirt and pushed him back. ‘Don’t do that, please; please don’t do that.’

  But it was too late. Just as my lipstick had tinted his lips, I couldn’t rub him off mine if wanted to. It added a whole new layer of confusion to the night, to my already scrambled egg life.

  ‘What? Why not?’ he asked.

  ‘I can’t do this.’ I kept my eyes focused on the grey carpet between us, which blurred with angry tears. ‘Don’t confuse me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to confuse you. This is what I want. Us.’

  ‘How can you possibly know what you want?’ I looked up at him, hoping he couldn’t see right through me. ‘You’ve barely separated, I’ve got someone at home, and all you’ve done is lie, so why? Why do this to me? Is it not bad enough…?’

  ‘Is what not bad enough?’ he asked. ‘What are you scared of?’

  ‘What am I scared of?’ I asked. ‘What if this job doesn’t work out? What if I have to leave you behind like last time? I can’t go through that again.’

  ‘You’ve already decided you’re not staying, then?’

  I looked away. ‘That’s not what I said at all.’

  William forced himself into my line of sight. ‘That’s a bit premature, isn’t it?’

  I shrugged. ‘You’re putting words in my mouth.’

  ‘Shrug? What’s a shrug, Emmy? You don’t get to come back here like this and be wonderful you all over again and just leave,’ he begged. ‘Stay. Stay, and we’ll, I don’t know, get a home in the country. There’ll be a couple of animals that nobody will take responsibility for, even though we were sure the kids promised they’d look after them. We can have a big family car full of mud and toys that I’ll get angry about whenever I stand on them. We’ll have weekend excursions to scary London because we’re worried raising kids out in the country on Famous Five books won’t prepare them for the big bad world. It’ll be you and me and all those stupid, angry, annoying, tedious, beautiful things that we should have done years ago.’ His chest heaved. ‘Since you’ve been back, it’s all I can bloody think of. I want it so badly I can smell the ink on the property paperwork.’

  All I could do was watch him through blurred vision. How was it okay to just throw any of this out there? Tonight, tonight, my brain flitted about like a trapped bird.

  ‘You don’t get to do this to me.’ I shook my head. ‘You don’t.’

  ‘Do what, Emmy?’ he said. ‘Tell the truth?’

  ‘You mean you want to tell the truth right now? Right this second? As opposed to all the other opportunities you didn’t take?’

  ‘That’s hardly fair. You said yourself this morning we were barely anything.’

  ‘Even if we weren’t, you jumped straight from me to her, all the while you lied to me about it. Sorry, omitted the truth. Now, the minute she’s gone, you want to get straight back on my horse again? No. Not on my watch. I’m worth more than that.’ />
  William shook his head angrily. Lips pursed, his cheeks were marked with two dimples each, and I hated that I knew that look so well. It was just that it wasn’t usually aimed at me, but at lab results that he didn’t like.

  ‘I don’t want to argue with you, you’re one of my best friends.’ I rubbed tears away and tried to calm my breathing. ‘So, what I’m going to do is go home.’

  My brain was skittish at best, and crumpled like old wrapping paper at worst. All I could think was that I needed out. I had to go. Right now. William was hot on my heels, quietly protesting my leaving. How he thought it was okay to beg me to stay was beyond me. Even if I wanted to, I had to sort out what was happening at home. I wasn’t going to leave Craig up in the air, and I wasn’t going to cheat on anyone. As much as he had become a thorn in my side, he at least deserved that.

  ‘Emmy, I’m sorry. I overstepped. Please,’ he said in a loud whisper while I dug about in the darkened hall for my handbag again.

  ‘I can’t stay.’ I wiped a stray tear away. ‘You know I can’t.’

  While I grappled with pulling the front door open, William tried to push it shut.

  ‘Emmy, please. I just want you to talk to me.’

  ‘What else is there to say?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, just … we should talk.’

  I glowered at him and gave the door one last tug. This time, he didn’t stop me. It was just my luck that, while I was snotty and teary, someone would be walking in my direction. I kept my head down and hoped for the best, but I’d barely made it onto the footpath before it became clear that she was heading right towards where I was leaving from.

  ‘Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here, Pilates partner!’

  I lifted my gaze only briefly. It was The Whinger from the gym. Her dark hair was perfectly styled, her black velvet dress a little rumpled, and her make-up unfairly perfect. I disliked even more that she got to witness me looking like a baked Desiree potato.

  ‘W – what are you doing here?’ I said. ‘You two know each other?’

  She gave a little self-satisfied snort. ‘Of course I know him. I’m his wife.’

  She looked at me, I looked at her, we both looked at William, and he swore under his breath like a sailor on shore leave.

  ‘Angela, this is Emmy. Emmy is my … work colleague. Wait, how exactly do you two know each other?’

  ‘Emmy,’ she emphasized, ‘is in my Pilates class. What a delightfully small world we live in.’

  Her face did not move, but there was something predatory in the glint in her eye, causing a thousand thoughts to run through my mind. Did she know I had kissed her – estranged – husband? Was my lipstick smudged across my face? Was it all over William’s lips? I couldn’t tell properly in the dark.

  Oh God.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ William’s voice punctured my thoughts, drawing me back into the conversation.

  Angela had sidled up closer, resting a hand on William’s elbow. ‘Sweetheart, I do live here too, you know.’ The laugh that rang out was more of a cackle than the wind chimes she’d tried for.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t come back until after midnight.’

  ‘But I missed you!’

  I fumbled with the remaining buttons on my coat. There was no way in hell I was staying for this. One way or another, it was going to be painful.

  ‘I think that’s my cue to leave.’

  ‘Emmy, no wait, we need to talk.’ William’s attempt to extricate himself from Angela’s grip was fruitless. She only held on tighter.

  I sighed. ‘There’s really nothing to talk about. I’ll see you Monday.’

  ‘Goodbye, Emily! It was lovely to meet you again.’

  With a pitiful wave, I took my leave. What had happened to tonight? First Craig, now William. Then … Angela. Tears threatened in the corners of my eyes.

  Where had everything gone horribly wrong?

  Chapter 20

  By Sunday evening, it became apparent that Craig and I were avoiding each other. He spent the entire day at home and, if I walked into a room, he backed out quicker than a cat heading for the vet’s. When he volunteered to buy us all pizza and a few bottles of wine for dinner, I refused. I’d have rather the time alone, soon finding myself scoffing hot chips in a local park while ogling a football team and batting away Chihuahua-sized seagulls.

  I knew that ignoring our problems wasn’t the best long-term solution ever, but the space it gave me to think was nice.

  There was too much going on in my mind. The angel and the devil had retreated from my shoulders and were fencing somewhere around the tight spot in the back of my neck. Allez!

  That night, he slept on the couch.

  Heading into work on Monday morning didn’t help anything. I was faced with more questions than answers. Where had I disappeared to on Saturday? Was everything okay? There was suggestion I was just too drunk and got an Uber home before it got ugly. To save face, I smiled and played along with that option. Explaining anything else was opening myself up to all kinds of scrutiny I wasn’t ready for.

  Nor was the issue of one missing Dr William Scott, and a cryptic voicemail left on my work phone.

  ‘Emmy, it’s me, William. Uh, I won’t be in Monday or Tuesday. Brian already knows, just thought I’d give you the heads up. At this stage, Wednesday is a yes. So is the rest of the week, including Saturday, though maybe just don’t schedule anything new for the weekdays. Please don’t call me. I’ll call you Tuesday morning if anything changes. Yeah … bye.’

  I hung up the phone and looked at Pam. She was always good for gossip, but this time offered nothing more than a polite shrug and averted eyes.

  ‘I haven’t heard anything,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

  No one would give me any answers. All I got from Brian was that it was William’s business. If he wished to share it with me, he would. In fact, everyone was eerily quiet. It made me feel like I was an outsider. The village leper.

  That didn’t help my mind one iota. I was awash with panicked theories. What if I’d sent him running straight back to his wife? What if they were busy right now, having insane make-up sex, the kind that makes your toes curl and skin sticky with sweat? William’s toothbrush back in the communal bathroom and a box of torn condom foils strewn across the floor. It was enough to make me break out in a rash, but I was too scared to ask.

  Instead, like the mature adult that I clearly am, I ate my feelings.

  ‘There’s no caramel popcorn left, Ems,’ Josh announced from his perch on couch sometime between dinner and Doc Martin reruns. ‘You ate it all.’

  Sighing, I pushed aside a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and dug deeper. Two stray chocolate biscuits, a packet of stale cream crackers, and one rogue muesli bar. In the absence of Nutella, a jar of peanut butter wasn’t such a bad option. I grabbed the first clean spoon I saw and settled onto the couch.

  A cushion swung out and tapped me on the head. ‘You alright?’

  ‘I am a rainbow of fruit flavour.’ I sucked my cheeks in and hoped to dislodge the tacky mess stuck to the roof of my mouth. It was bliss. I pulled the coffee table across the carpet and dropped my feet on top. ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Sure.’ Heather flopped beside Josh and spread herself out. ‘That’s why you’re eating like a pregnant woman.’

  Craig chose that moment to walk through the front door. Without making eye contact with anyone, he dropped his bag by the door and slipped off his shoes. Shoulders slumped forward and tie hanging limply from his pocket, he kept his head down and kept walking. Worry lined his face. For the first time in days, the bedroom door closed with a quiet click. He didn’t reappear until the dishwasher was whizzing about with the dinner dishes.

  While I was happy enough to not see him, because it meant I didn’t have to deal with him, I hated the grubby atmosphere that made itself comfortable around the house. It wasn’t just the two of us that it affected. Heather and Josh, and every co
nversation in between, had to tread lightly and be run through filters.

  ‘Emmy, have you got a moment?’ Craig appeared by the doorway, picking at his cuticles. ‘In private?’

  Josh was making grabby hands for the peanut butter before my feet had touched the floor. The last thing I saw was my spoon dangling from his mouth like a broken cigarette. He mouthed a ‘good luck’ as I followed Craig down the hall.

  The closer we got to the (our?) bedroom, the heavier my feet fell, and my heart disappeared somewhere ahead of me in a nervous canter. I was quite sure it had nothing to do with the copious amounts of peanut butter I’d just hoovered, and everything to do with my own idiocy. I squeezed past Craig, rounded the bed and made myself busy folding the latest load of washing.

  ‘Emmy, I’ve, ah…’

  I lifted my eyes to meet his. He paced back and forth along the tiny path beside the bed. Doing his best little teapot impersonation, he placed a hand on his hip and threaded his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m going home.’

  Shit. I knew things were bad, but was putting an entire continent between us going to solve anything?

  I placed a T-shirt on his side of the bed. ‘You’re what?’

  ‘This – us, me, living here. It’s failed. I know it’s only been a few months, but we haven’t made headway at all.’ He stopped on the spot and took a deep breath in. ‘I’ve pulled the pin.’

  ‘Oh.’ Even with all the arguments and sniping comments, this all felt a little unfair for him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So, what I wanted to do was to have a chat, see where we were.’

  ‘Where we were?’ I asked. ‘I’m more interested in why you’ve suddenly decided to go home without at least telling me what’s gone so wrong at work.’

  ‘I have been struggling with the workload,’ he finally admitted. ‘It’s too much for one person, but the powers that be don’t believe so. Today, I lost a million-dollar client. I was told I could leave or be fired.’

  ‘Oh, Craig.’ My shoulders fell. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’ve been an ass, Em.’ His shoulders relaxed, and bottom lip trembled. ‘I know that I have been rude and awful and snappy and just not a nice person to be with.’