Hopeful

by Louise Bay

  I didn’t sleep that night. Not for a minute.

  The next morning, exhausted and pale, I went to meet a classmate who had some research that overlapped with my thesis. Normally, on Wednesdays I would be in the library all morning and Joel would meet me there after his 9 a.m. lecture. I was grateful for a change in our routine. I was confused by his behavior last night. Things had been going so well, I didn’t understand why he’d put an end to things or why he hadn’t wanted me to stay. But maybe all he wanted from me was his release.

  Walking back to the library, I wondered if Joel would be there already. Normally he’d arrive by 11 a.m. and it was past noon now. If he was trying to avoid me, then I guess he wouldn’t come to the library at all. My heart was racing by the time I entered through the turnstiles. I made my way up the stairs to the third floor and I thought I might pass out from anxiety.

  I went the long way around the floor, prolonging the agony. But there he was, in his usual seat, with his jacket slung over my seat opposite him. I couldn’t help but pause and grin at the sight of him. I realized someone was crouched at his feet whispering to him, he was tilting his head to hear what she was saying and she had her hand on his knee. My vision blurred for a split second. I wanted to punch her. Hard. In the face.

  I made my way over and, without acknowledging either of them, unpacked my rucksack, sat down, and powered up my laptop. After a minute or so, the girl stood up and left and I could feel Joel’s eyes on me. I deliberately kept my eyes firmly affixed on my notebook. Then a ball of paper landed just by my hand. I couldn’t have not seen it, but I pretended it hadn’t happened.

  “Ava!” Joel stage whispered.

  I ignored him. I heard his chair being pushed back and I could see from under my hair that he was headed over to my side of the desk.

  “Hey.” He sat on my notebook, almost crushing my hand in the process. “Are you ignoring me?”

  Of course I was. “No,” I said curtly.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  He wanted to kiss me? Please kiss me. “No,” I said.

  “Oh, I see,” he said as if he’d had an epiphany. What did he see? He didn’t elaborate. He just sat there. I tried to ignore him and opened up my thesis and started typing. I was typing gibberish but I was typing. I saw him from the corner of my eye acknowledge various passers-by. Why was he still sitting on my notepad, smelling so good? His thigh was almost touching my arm, inviting me to stroke it through the denim, teasing me, tensing and relaxing as he swung he leg back and forth. We stayed like that for about ten minutes and then he pushed himself off the desk.

  “Come on. It’s lunchtime,” he said brightly.

  I’d just arrived. I sighed, a little exasperated by the whole Joel situation, and my over-thinking the whole Joel situation. “I need to get through this, Joel. If you want lunch, go on your own,” I hissed at him as quietly as I could.

  “I want to have lunch with you. If you want to fight with me, then let’s have it. If you want to try to break up with me, then let’s hear it. But don’t sulk. I can’t bear it when you look sad.” Break up with him? Were we together? He sounded serious, and he was right. I was sulking. But I was sulking because I thought he didn’t want me.

  In a huff, I followed him to the cafeteria. He kept falling back to walk with me, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. When we arrived, it wasn’t too busy. We were early for lunch. Instead of grabbing us both trays, which is what he normally did, he went over to the fridge that stored the take out lunches and selected two sandwiches and some sodas and then headed over to pay. I stood still and waited. I was unsure about how this was going to play out.

  Joel headed toward me with a bag with our lunch in it and without looking at me, roughly grabbed my elbow. “Come on.”

  Where were we going?

  I twisted my arm from his hand and pulled away. “Oh right, yes. God forbid anyone was to see us touching, Ava,” he sneered.

  I followed him out of the library and around the back toward the outdoor tennis courts. No one was playing, it had been raining, and it was the wrong time of year, so the place was deserted. We made our way to the benches set into the hill opposite the courts. Joel took a seat. “Sit, Ava.”

  I did as I was told.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I felt small and stupid and I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I wanted him to pull me onto his lap and bury his head in my neck. “You look sick, baby. Are you sick?” His voice softened and tears welled in my eyes at the sound of his endearment as I shook my head.

  “I didn’t sleep.” My eyes slid to his and back to my lap. He looked worried.

  “Why didn’t you sleep? Are you worried about something?”

  Did I say something? Did I say that I thought he was dumping me? “I wanted you to stay, last night, I mean.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment.

  He exhaled as he said, “I wanted to stay. I just don’t want this to … I don’t want to rush you, or me, or …”

  I felt relief roll off me.

  I reached across for his hand and linked my fingers with his.

  We ate our sandwiches one-handed.

  Present

  “Do you think that will work?” Will asked. He seemed genuinely interested.

  “We’re not sure. It’s a bit unusual, and the client is not one hundred percent comfortable but I think they recognize it’s probably the only realistic option,” I replied.

  Will and I were on date four, discussing work, a possible pre-emptive bid on a pharma company. I liked the fact he was interested in my work. He worked with many lawyers, so he understood my world.

  We were at another flashy restaurant. It was quieter this time, though. We could talk and I remembered that I liked him without having to try too hard. Since our last date, nearly a week ago, we’d had a few telephone calls that lasted into the night. It had relaxed me, and despite having canceled our mid-week date, I’d agreed to reschedule. It was Friday night and we’d met straight from work. I felt less pressure that way. I didn’t have to worry so much about what to wear or that he would suggest we stay in.

  “Do you want another drink? Shall I order another bottle of wine?”

  “Sure,” I said, slightly too fast. I was nervous. I was aware that Will would probably want to take things further tonight. I was ready. Well, I was wearing matching underwear.

  “Do you think you’ll always want to work?” Will caught the attention of the waiter just as he finished asking the question. It gave me a beat to think about what he’d said.

  “As opposed to what?”

  “You know, when you have kids. Do you think you’ll want to still work?”

  I laughed. “Do you think you’ll still want to work when you have kids?” I asked him right back.

  “Touché, Miss Elliot.”

  I wasn’t sure whether it had been a question off the top of his head or if I was being interviewed as potential wife and mother material.

  The second bottle of wine arrived. We fell silent as the waiter went through the ritual of presenting the bottle, uncorking it, pouring a small amount to taste, and then filling our glasses. It seemed to go on forever. Will caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back and looked down to my glass.

  “So how are your gang of friends?” he asked. I smiled. We’d spoken on Tuesday night, after I’d gotten back from Hanna’s and given him the rundown on my “gang.” It felt a bit juvenile when he said it like that. Maybe I should be offended. They were important to me.

  “Good. I’m shopping with Jules and Hanna tomorrow.”

  “Hanna’s the married one and Jules is in PR, right?” He grinned as if he knew he’d just aced a test.

  “Well remembered.”

  “Hanna’s married to Matt and Jules and Adam are single. Daniel is with Leah but Leah is not from University.”

  “Er, yes. Thanks for the recap.”

  Will laughed. “I just want to make sur
e I remember who they all are. I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

  What? “Oh right.” I didn’t know what to say. I suppose it wasn’t unreasonable for him to assume that he might meet my friends at some point. Some point a long way off in the future.

  “In fact, a friend of mine gave me a bunch of tickets to opening night of that new Simon Russell Beale thing at the National Theatre. We could all go, if you’d like. It’s next Thursday.”

  He was being sweet and sincere and he was trying hard to please me. “That’s really nice of you, but this week at work is going to be a nightmare for me. Another time, though.” He looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction. “Maybe the week after? We could all have dinner together or something.” That seemed to settle him and he took another sip of wine. I mirrored him, relieved I’d dodged the suggestion.

  Chapter Six

  Lost in thought about the evening, about Will, I fumbled in my bag for my keys, my head a little hazy from the wine. I hated my handbag; it was so big and had so many pockets that I could never find anything. Fuck. I started to empty it out onto my front step, every so often shaking it to see if I could hear a jingle that would give me a clue to where to search. No jingle. No keys. Double fuck.

  It was well after midnight. Hanna and Matt would be asleep. The only other person who had a spare set of keys was Adam. He wouldn’t be asleep now, and if he was I wouldn’t feel bad about waking him. Trying to focus on my mobile, I felt more drunk than I had realized. That wasn’t going to incentivize me to get to my 8 a.m. Pilates class.

  His number went to voicemail. Jesus, this wasn’t going well. I called back, hoping he just hadn’t heard it the first time.

  “Ava?” Adam sounded like he’d just woken up.

  “Hey, sorry if I woke you. I’ve had a disastrous evening—can we skip the banter and arguing? Can you bring my spare keys over? I’m locked out.”

  “Ava, are you ok? It’s Joel. Adam forgot his phone when he left mine earlier.” Holy fuck.

  “Oh god. Sorry. Don’t worry. Sorry to bother you.” Oh god.

  “You’re not bothering me. Where are you?” He sounded stern.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  “Ava, answer me.”

  “I’m outside my flat. It’s fine, though. I‘ll think of something.”

  “Give me your address.”

  “No it’s fine. Look, I’m going to go.”

  “Ava Elliot, give me your address.”

  I did as he asked. I could never argue with him when he used that tone with me. And he knew it.

  “Are you safe to wait there?”

  I mumbled into the phone that I was and he hung up. Was he calling a locksmith or was going to go to Adam’s to get my keys?

  Fifteen minutes later, a cab pulled up and Joel stepped out, squinting into the darkness. I stepped out into the streetlight. My breath hitched.

  “Hey, come and get in.” Get in? I didn’t argue.

  Joel held the door open for me and I clamored into the cab far less elegantly than I would have liked. I scooted over to the other side of the seat and tried to make myself as small as possible. Joel got in beside me, as unselfconscious as always. His long legs fell stretched out in front of him; he had no problem taking up space in this world. I tried to direct my gaze away from him and out of the cab window. It was all too much. Being this close to him, I could touch him if I just moved a couple of inches. His familiar smell engulfed me and I wanted to put my head on his chest and drink it in.

  What now? “Where are we going?” I asked quietly.

  “My flat,” he replied.

  Oh.

  “Sorry to do this,” I said.

  “It’s fine, Ava. You can stay at mine tonight and get your keys tomorrow.”

  If we were just old University friends, he would be right, it would be fine. But we weren’t just old University friends, and staying at his place didn’t feel fine. Not to me. It felt wrong.

  “I could just get a hotel.”

  He exhaled but didn’t respond.

  The rest of the cab journey was spent in silence, the air thick with awkwardness. I closed my eyes and tried to remember happier times, the wine allowing me to block out how much I hated that I didn’t know him anymore, that he didn’t love me any longer.

  As we pulled up, I grabbed my wallet. Joel stepped out of the cab first, and before I had a chance he was paying the fare.

  “Please let me pay, Joel,” I said as I pushed some cash toward him. He ignored me and headed to the door behind us. Joel greeted the concierge with a nod and headed to the elevator. I followed a couple of steps behind.

  “Thanks … for this and the cab,” I mumbled as the doors closed.

  “It’s fine.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “What would you prefer?”

  “What about, ‘You’re a pain in the ass,’ and ‘How the fuck did you lose your keys’?”

  “You mean I should react like Adam would react.”

  That’s not what I meant. But he was right; that’s what Adam would have said. I followed him out of the elevator. Straight opposite was a door. The only door. Was his the only flat on this floor?

  The door led to a large hallway. Too large for London. It was as big as my bedroom. Joel slung his keys into a bowl on a console table and strode through an arched doorway into darkness.

  “Do you want another glass of wine?” he called from wherever he was. I quickly slipped off my shoes and followed his voice. The archway led to a huge open living space. Joel was stood with the fridge door open.

  “Another?”

  “Yes, another. Are you suggesting for one moment that this one might be your first?”

  I gave in to a small laugh. “Sure, I’ll have another glass of wine.”

  He brought two wine glasses out of an overhead cupboard and poured chilled wine into each of them. “So did you have a good evening? Before you got locked out, that is?” He went over to the sitting area and took a seat. I followed.

  “Er, I guess.”

  “With Will?”

  I gulped my wine. He was obviously listening to the conversation at Hanna and Matt’s.

  “Er, yup.”

  He nodded, his eyes on his glass of wine.

  “How’s work?” I asked wanting to change the subject.

  “Good. Busy. Things are kicking off.”

  I nodded, my eyes on my glass. Was he waiting for me for me to say something? Apologize?

  “So you’ve not had much time to just hang out, just socialize?” I asked, trying to force lightness into my voice.

  “No, not really. Just with the guys a bit, but not really.”

  “And Jules, of course.”

  He looked at me for the first time since we got into the flat. He had a quizzical look on his face. I shouldn’t have said it.

  “I thought you’d had dinner with Jules or something.” I was mumbling.

  “Oh right, yes. Next week.”

  I’d been deliberately dodging Jules’ phone calls, so I didn’t realize that she and Joel hadn’t caught up. I was relieved.

  “Do you mind if I get to bed?” He shifted to the edge of the sofa. “I have a conference call first thing with Beijing and I need to be on it. I can show you a guest room, but feel free to stay up.”

  God, I was keeping him up. This evening was just getting worse. “Of course, I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I’ll head to bed, too.”

  He showed me to his guest room, or one of them. “The bathroom is through there, and I think there are some toiletries in there. Toothbrushes and robes and stuff. The housekeeper stocked everything up yesterday.”

  “Housekeeper?” I forgot myself and grinned at him. The words didn’t seem to sound right coming out of his mouth.

  He grinned back. “I know. We’re grownups now.”

  His grin quickly disappeared. It was as if he remembered himself, remembered his indifference to me. A sharp pain slice
d through my stomach.

  “Joel. I’m so very sorry,” I whispered.

  He nodded, a small nod. He knew I wasn’t talking about inconveniencing him this evening. He knew.

  “Goodnight, Ava.”

  “Goodnight, Joel.”

  And he closed the door behind him. I burst into tears and fell back onto the bed.

  The good thing about my huge handbag was the amount of stuff I could carry around in it. Through my tears, I fished about and came up with a hair tie, which I put to use, and padded into the bathroom to wash my face. The tears slowed. When I’d finished brushing my teeth, I headed over to the bed, undressed to my bra and panties, and slipped beneath the covers.

  A second later, I heard a knock at my door.

  “Yes? Come in,” I said trying to hold my voice steady.

  He opened the door and stood in the doorway.

  “Hey, I thought you might want a T-shirt. You know, to sleep in.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped in to give me the blue T-shirt he was holding in his hand and I looked down, trying to conceal my tears.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  I nodded and tears spilled over my cheeks. Clearly not OK.

  Tentatively, he stepped into the bedroom. I lay back down on my side, closed my eyes and put my hands over my face, embarrassed and hoping he’d leave the T-shirt and go. I tried to control my breathing.

  I felt the bed sink behind me. Oh god, he was still here. On the bed.

  Next to me.

  I could feel him behind me, separated by the bedcovers. His head sank on the pillow behind me and I felt his breath on my neck. Oh god. I couldn’t handle the tidal wave of emotions that crashed over me. My body shuddered with sobs.

  I still loved him.

  I would always love him.

  I was so, so sorry.

  I was devastated to have missed the last eight years of his life, and the rest of our lives together. His arm came over and rested at my waist over the duvet.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered and stroked my arm over the duvet.

  I reached across for his hand and linked my fingers with his.

  We lay like that, neither of us speaking for what seemed like hours. His presence soothed me and I eventually I fell asleep.