What Now?

by Shari Low

  I’ve no idea how long I’d been staring at the ceiling when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I had a hunch it would be Val. She would have been my first choice of negotiator in any situation that called for serious mediation.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Sam’s voice. Unexpected, but probably the only one I could face right now.

  ‘Sure,’ I croaked, my throat tight with unshed tears.

  The door opened and he crossed the room, almost silently, in a college T-shirt and shorts.

  ‘Hey, you,’ he said, his tone making it obvious that he knew exactly what was going on. He sat beside me on the bed, his back against the headboard, and I pushed myself up so that our heads were level. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Had better days,’ I said, still struggling to get the words out. I tried changing the subject, ‘I thought you were going out on location today?’

  He shrugged. ‘It was postponed. A problem with the weather.’

  It was seventy-five degrees outside, the same as almost every other day in this city, so I doubted that was true. Had he cancelled because he knew the girls were going to spring this on me this morning? Was he part of the conspiracy? Or was I actually losing my mind?

  Silence. He’d always been good at that. Of all the men I’d loved, Sam was the best listener, the best talker, the one who knew what you needed without asking. It was what had made him – for that crazy few years back in the nineties – one of the most in-demand escorts in South East Asia.

  After a few more minutes, I managed to form my words. ‘They want me to go back to where Sarah died.’

  ‘I know,’ he said softly.

  ‘I can’t,’ I blurted.

  He took my hand, and moved it over onto his lap, where he held it between his, as if transferring some kind of energy between us.

  He didn’t argue. ‘Okay.’

  ‘You think I should go.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘I think that sometimes you need to face pain, otherwise it never leaves you. It will consume you and then you find yourself, years later, regretting the choices you made.’

  For a moment I wondered if we were still talking about me, or if this was something he’d learned for himself. Either way, I knew he was right.

  ‘I’m scared.’ There, I’d said it. That was the truth of it.

  ‘Of what?’ he asked.

  ‘Of the guilt. That I’ll hate myself even more than I do now.’

  He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. ‘That could happen, and I could tell you all the reasons you’re wrong, but you won’t believe me. It’s almost two years now, Carly, and you haven’t been able to work this out, so maybe, for once, you just need to let go and trust the people who love you.’

  Another silence, but his words flooded my brain, drowning out the white noise, ebbing and flowing until finally they were still and made perfect sense.

  ‘I hate that you’re usually right about this stuff. It’s your least attractive quality,’ I said grudgingly. He knew me well enough to hear what I was saying. I was going to go.

  ‘I thought that was my feet,’ he argued.

  ‘Yeah, those too.’

  His face came towards me and for a weird second I thought he was going to kiss me on the lips, but his mouth just made a quick, sweet contact with my forehead, before he climbed off the bed.

  He was almost at the door, when I realised the conversation wasn’t done. ‘Sam, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘Does Estelle make you happy?’

  I was hoping he’d hesitate, but he didn’t. ‘She does.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve found happiness.’ I realised I meant it now. My chat with Arnie had shifted something inside me. ‘You deserve it.’

  The gorgeous Sam Morton looked at me with a sad, sympathetic smile. ‘I think maybe it’s time you started looking for it too.’

  19

  New York, 13th Aug 2019

  True Colours – Cyndi Lauper

  Back at home, I drove a twelve-year-old Mini that didn’t lock and had a window that fell down if I drove at over 40 mph. Mark might earn a good living, but in London it definitely didn’t stretch to anything close to my current standard of travel – I’d now flown in first class and on a private flight in the space of a couple of weeks.

  The plane that the IT company had chartered to fly their bloggers and influencers from the West coast to New York for the two-day trip was like a party in the air. Free food. Free alcohol. Lots of people taking pictures of themselves enjoying both. There was also quite a bit of fraternising and people spending unduly long periods in the bathrooms. I didn’t investigate.

  I had no idea how Carol had managed to wangle seats for us too, but if I had to make this journey, at least it was on a busy flight that gave me little time to wallow. Although, it did feel strange without Val and Toni after two weeks of being with them round the clock. Val had opted out, claiming that another flight would play havoc with her varicose veins and Toni chose to stay and keep her company. I suspect she was looking forward to the space she was going to get without her mum and me around and Sam had offered to take her along to some of his studio meetings. Carol had made Sam swear he wouldn’t let her borrow his car or his credit card. Sam had agreed but I wasn’t sure he could withstand the pressure of a teenager who was desperate to hit the shops. I was pretty sure his American Express card was in serious jeopardy.

  Kate and Jess slept most of the way, their body clocks completely destroyed by two flights in two days. Carol networked like a demon, accepting all requests for joint selfies and posing up a storm. I still found it incredible to watch her in the wild, and see her treated like the legend that she was by the younger stars of the industry. The minute she was on show, my chaotic, hilarious sister-in-law became a polished, switched-on professional – Carol Sweeney, the former top model, still a household name and now a social media influencer and commentator who’d refused countless requests to feature her family in their own reality show. Callum had squashed that possibility. Said he spent enough of his life making sure he got good angles.

  I passed the five hours in the air alternating between trying to calm my inner panic, and trying to take my mind off it by making notes for my next two weeks’ columns on my phone. Inspired by my surroundings, one was a commentary on mummy bloggers and the other was a recommendation piece on ten travel essentials for the exhausted mum. For research purposes, I might need to sniff a couple of Joe Malone diffusers in duty-free on the way home to London next week.

  Talking of which… I picked up my phone and saw that I had Wi-Fi, and typed out a text on our family group chat.

  Mum to Mac and Benny: Where are you now? Your mamma is missing you (I may have mentioned that before) xx

  I expected a wait, so I was pleasantly surprised to see the three little dots begin to pulsate.

  Benny to Mum: Nearly at Washington DC. Dad said we’ve to have an educational day tomorrow. Going to Smithsonian. Yassss! Mac says he wants us to drop him off and he’ll hitchhike to somewhere more fun (