by Ellen Jane
Jo’s face softens, and she smiles into the distance. “First off, real estate. Then, if we’re lucky, finance.”
Lee’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”
Jo glances at her sidelong, a grin stretching across her face. “I’m moving back.”
AC DC wails the high notes of You Shook Me All Night Long, and Lee feels like joining in. Her heart swells and she gapes at Jo. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, but sssh.” Jo presses a finger to her lips. “Don’t jinx it. I need to settle some details first. Elise and I are looking to split the business—she wants to go into weddings, and I…” She shudders. “Really don’t. But I do want to start a more grass roots project. I want to partner with local artists and creatives and work on matching them up with businesses who don’t know what they’re missing.”
“Like an agent?”
Jo shrugs. “Yeah, but more free form. Agent cross event planner. I’m not digging the upmarket scene anymore, you know?”
Lee remembers when Jo left high school, two years before she and Max graduated. She’d been such an integral part of the local artist scene, everyone had been a little lost without her. But when she’d disappeared to London and built her event management business from the ground up, Lee had assumed it was where Jo had always wanted to be. Now, she isn’t so sure.
“It sounds great,” she says, her chest squeezing at the smile Jo gives her.
“So, you’ll help me pick a flat, yeah?” Jo insists. “It needs to double as a home office. And if it’s perfect and everything is wonderful, then you get to watch me embarrass myself by begging and pleading with the bank to give me money. Plenty of blackmail material for you.”
Lee waves her hand dismissively. “I’ve got nothing to blackmail you for.”
The look Jo shoots her makes her lose her breath. Jo’s eyes are dark, her smile a hint too intense.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Lee doesn’t know how to answer, so she lets the conversation fall into a lull and turns to look out her window. The world drifts past in a sea of white peppered with blinking Christmas lights. It has only been snowing lightly these last few weeks, but she knows they’re due for something big soon. The weather reports warn there is a blizzard coming, and Lee is getting anxious she won’t be able to leave the house on Christmas day. She doesn’t have big family plans, but she likes being able to pop home and give her mum a gift in person.
Thoughts of blizzards are soon shoved from her mind as they arrive at the realtor’s office and descend into a whirlwind of real estate. Lee barely has a moment to catch her breath before they’re being shown flat after flat. Some are huge spaces that could easily double as an office, some are nothing more than a single bedroom, but each one leaves Jo sighing and shaking her head.
“It isn’t a great time to buy,” the realtor confesses. “If you wait until after the New Year, your options will increase.”
“I want to move back soon,” Jo insists.
So they keep looking.
After several hours, Lee has hit her limit. Even Jo’s eyes are glazing over as she compares yet another brochure to the real product. At least this one doesn’t smell of mildew, but Lee is sure something doesn’t match against the description, if she could only get her brain to focus enough to find it.
Jo snaps her fingers. “Look at the light fittings! They’re newer than the photos.” She turns to the realtor. “How long has this been for sale?”
The realtor stammers and looks down at her notes. “I’ll have to locate the—”
“How long, sister? Spill.”
“Eight months.”
Jo sighs, giving the room a reluctant once-over. “I thought you were the one, too.”
“Why isn’t it selling?” Lee asks.
“I’m afraid I’ve only recently taken on the project,” the realtor explains, looking down at her notes with a faint air of panic. “I was told there were some zoning issues, but I couldn’t tell you specifically. I can contact the planning council and get back in touch…?”
“That would be great,” Jo says, smiling. “Now I’m pretty sure if I inspect another house without eating first I’ll become one of those deaths you legally have to disclose to new buyers. Lee, can we get lunch? Please?”
She rests her hand on Lee’s shoulder and stares beseechingly at her. For a second, Lee sees nothing but those deep brown eyes, and then Jo’s hand traces down her arm and squeezes, and the world floods back in overwhelming sound and colour.
“Um, yeah,” she says, smiling at the realtor. “Thank you for showing us the place.”
“You’re welcome, ladies. I’ll be in touch with those details, Jo. And Lee—” she glances at her notes, “—I don’t appear to have your number. Do you want to leave it with me, or are you happy for Jo to be the point of contact?”
Lee’s chokes on air. “Oh, we’re not—”
“Give her your number, babe,” Jo says, nudging her with her elbow. “Better to have us both on file.”
Lee stutters, her heart thumping, and records her contact details on the form the realtor gives her. The butterflies in her stomach are out of control, and she isn’t sure she even writes her number down correctly. Not that it matters, since she and Jo aren’t together, and why is Jo acting like they are?
“Why’d you do that?” she asks the second they’re back in the car. She tries not to sound like her heart is racing so fast it could leap out of her mouth, but she’s certain she fails.
Jo shrugs, chewing on her lip as if she’s holding back a smile. “Why not?”
“But then she’ll think—” Lee breaks off, not sure where she’s going with this. The realtor will think she and Jo are together. Why is that a bad thing again?
Jo laughs. “Yeah. So what?”
So what, indeed? Lee’s head spins, and she wonders if it’s because she’s turning upside down or if the world is coming the right way up.
“What do you say we get curry and bring it back to your house?” Jo asks before Lee has time to question it too deeply.
“Sure.”
Lee watches Jo as she drives. Her eyes follow the way Jo’s hands move on the steering wheel, deep red nails tapping out an inaudible rhythm against the vinyl. The road coasts by outside their window, but inside the car is a private world. Soft rock plays in the background, and Jo turns the heat up another notch. Her fingers drum against the dashboard as she assesses the heat level before nudging it up once more. The movement is as familiar to Lee as Max snoring in the morning, as leather jackets and brown curls. Jo has always been a touch too restless to remain still, but you have to watch her closely to see it.
Lee is almost the same, but it shows itself in other ways. She never fidgets, but she’s always moving from position to position, never content to stay in the one place for long. She’s known it for years—has spent too long seeing herself played back through the home videos her mum insists on at every family get together. Sometimes, she tries to squash it, but it’s so much a part of her she soon gives up.
Besides, without it, she would never have recognised it in Jo. Lee has always wondered what makes Jo so twitchy, since she doesn’t seem to have any of Lee’s low confidence or anxiousness, but she’s never asked. It seems too personal, and while they’ve known each other since Lee was fourteen, they’ve never had the type of relationship where you talk about such things. Lee has never had that type of relationship with anyone.
They get Max to text them her order, and soon they’re on their way home with several fragrant containers balanced in Lee’s lap. She breathes in, closing her eyes to the delicious scent.
“One mouthful,” she begs.
“Nope.” Jo glares at her. “This car is a rental, and as much as I, personally, love tumeric, I can’t afford to pay the damage costs on it.”
“They’re leather seats! It won’t stain the leather.”
Jo stares at her aghast. “Tu—mer—ic. I have dyed my hair with tumeric before.”
&n
bsp; They argue all the way home, but Jo wins and Lee remains hungry. Max calls out to them from the shower when they arrive.
“Start eating! I’m nearly done.”
Since Max’s ‘nearly done’ means another twenty minutes at least, they stick her containers on the counter and set up in the living room. Jo pulls the coffee table closer to the couch and opens her laptop.
Lee picks up her food and jabs it with a fork. “You’re not looking at more real estate, are you?” she asks with a glance towards the stairs. “Take a break. Seriously.”
“Nah. I need a present for mum.”
Lee falls silent, not missing the way Jo’s voice is overly light, removed of its usual dryness or humour. Jo and Max’s mum has never been what you would describe as nurturing. But even after all these years, the details are a mystery to Lee. She’s walked in on her fair share of screaming matches, of plates being thrown against walls, but Jo and Max have never wanted to discuss it and Lee has never pressed. They have each other for that. Whenever they talk about their mum in front of Lee, a familiar tension spreads across their faces and their voices become deceptively calm. Despite how much Lee’s heart aches when she sees that, she chooses to respect their boundaries.
Besides, it would be the pot calling the kettle black if Lee complained about them keeping their family life private, since she has never talked about her own family either.
“Are you buying her a gift certificate?”
Jo nods, the late afternoon sun sending long shadows across her face as she does. The light has all but disappeared, hidden behind heavy cloud cover, and the living room is tinged with darkness. It’s as if a storm is brewing.
“I want to print it now,” Jo continues, spooning up mouthfuls of tikka masala and only just avoiding spilling it down her front. “Then it’s not a mad dash at the last minute, you know?”
Lee isn’t so lucky. A spoonful of butter chicken dribbles down her shirt, and she swears and cleans it up as best she can with the napkin.
Jo’s eyes flick to Lee, but instead of laughing at her she falls silent, eyes distant like she isn’t really seeing. Her brows are drawn together into an unreadable expression. She pauses and draws a breath.
“Mum always checks the price of her gifts,” she says in a rush, eyes fixed to the stain on Lee’s shirt. “If they aren’t above a certain price, she throws a fit. It’s easier to buy gift cards.”
Lee stares at her. This is already more than Jo has ever shared about her mum; why now?
“That’s horrible,” Lee says without thinking.
It seems to snap Jo out of whatever fog she’s drifted into, because her eyes blink several times and then she is looking up at Lee—seeing her this time. It hits Lee that even after eight years, she doesn’t really know Jo all that well.
Jo’s mouth quirks into a smile. The humour is back, and Lee is unmoored at the sight, like she glimpsed something real and now it’s gone.
“Yeah,” Jo agrees, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “What can you do, though?”
She starts scrolling again, but Lee’s body is already acting without her mind’s permission and she reaches out to grab onto Jo’s wrist. She wants to catch hold of the moment before it escapes—even though that’s impossible, and whatever she was trying to capture has already moved irrevocably to the past.
Jo’s eyes snap to Lee’s. They’re dark in the dim lighting, and something in them shimmers. It isn’t tears; it’s something brighter, and Lee forgets how to breathe.
“Christ, I’m starved.” Max stomps into the room and throws her towel onto the coffee table.
They jump apart.
Lee scooches over on the couch so Max can sit between them, balancing her food containers on her lap.
“Did you guys have fun Christmas shopping?” Max asks around a mouthful of food, blue eyes wide and guileless.
Jo nods, but it’s erratic and her voice when she speaks is breathless. “Have a good lie in, lazybones?”
Max makes a rude noise. “It’s the holidays. Why the hell would I be awake before lunch?”
“You mean this is your breakfast?” Jo wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”
While they’re bickering, Lee slinks out to the kitchen, leaning her back against the wall and closing her eyes. She needs to get a hold of herself, or else all these Christmas miracle vibes will make her do something embarrassing. The way the light was hitting Jo’s face made her seem… hesitant. Poised, as if she was waiting for something, and with Lee’s heart stammering like it is, there is only one thing she can imagine doing.
Like she said; she needs to get a grip.
She’s halfway across the kitchen, on her way back to the living room, when it occurs to her that she hasn’t thought about the matches once today. Hasn’t wondered if it was all her imagination. Hasn’t tried to use them at all. She takes a few careful steps forward and hovers in the doorway, looking through the corridor to where Max and Jo are laughing in the next room.
The lovers card that Rebecca drew was about Jo; there’s no denying that. But Lee has no idea what that means if her good luck is so blocked. How can she clear the block when she doesn’t know what it is? Should she use the matches to wish for Jo to stay, or should she wish for something else instead?
Responsibility… Change…
An idea creeps its way into her mind. Jo is trying to move back home, but she can’t find a flat. Lee’s fingers twist around the matchbook in her pocket, sliding across the cardboard while she contemplates.
Before she knows it, she has drawn a match from the container and is holding it up in front of her. The match-head sparkles, catching the light and sending it dancing across her skin. There are no light fixtures above her head to come crashing down and brain her this time.
She takes a deep breath, glances above just in case, and strikes the match. Her mind is clear of everything except Jo’s dilemma and how much it would mean for her to find the perfect place. To Jo, and to Lee.
The match dies, and the world holds its breath.
Something invisible tugs at Lee’s naval, like at the pub last night, though it’s far weaker this time. She peeks through the doorway, but nothing has changed. Max and Jo are laughing, and nothing has fallen down or set itself on fire. Perhaps this time, it worked.
But if it worked, shouldn’t there be proof? Lee frowns at the matches. God, what if they turn out to be nothing but ordinary matches? She strikes another one, focusing on apartments and Christmas miracles, but also watching for signs it’s all in her head and she’s going more insane.
The match shines as bright as always. Pinpricks of shimmering light bounce off the walls, and she swears if anything could be magic, it’s this.
Someone’s phone rings, a distant vibrating sound followed by Jo’s voice answering. Lee looks up and waits and hopes.
Jo’s face falls. “You’re kidding me?”
The bubble of excitement in Lee’s chest fizzles out and dread seeps in instead.
“But I—” Jo breaks off. “Yes, but.” Her face contorts into anger, but she falls silent, nodding along even though the person on the other end of the phone can’t see her.
Lee’s dread is blooming into full-blown panic. She walks into the living room and leans against the door frame.
“I understand,” Jo says. “I’ll see what I can do.”
When she ends the call, the room has fallen silent. Both Max and Lee are staring at her with twin expressions of apprehension, their lunch forgotten on the table.
“Well, they rejected my pre-approval.” Jo stares down at the phone in her hands. “They said without a guarantor, I won’t be able to get the figure I need, not for this area.”
Max’s brows draw together. “Loan?”
Jo gives her a wry smile and waggles her fingers in the air, like sad jazz hands. “I’m moving back home. Surprise.”
The silence thickens, punctuated by Max’s horrified expression. Lee wishes she could crawl into the ground and disappear.
She should never have struck that match, not when she knew the damage it could cause.
But she lit two matches, and only one thing has gone wrong. So maybe it isn’t her fault; maybe this is all in her head.
“Jesus!” Jo yelps, breaking out of the fog of apathy and shoving the laptop away from her and onto the coffee table as it fizzles and sparks.
“Unplug it!” Max dives for the cable and with her slippered foot—rubber soles on the bottom—she knocks the lid down.
The laptop whines, but the sparks disappear, and after several agonising seconds, Lee’s heart rate slows.
“What the hell?” Jo winces, looking at her scorched laptop.
“Shit,” Lee breathes. “What rotten luck.”
“Yeah,” Max says, regarding her with an odd expression. “Rotten luck, indeed.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Lee decides she’s been going about this wish thing all wrong. Rebecca said she needed to clear the block by accepting change and responsibility, so if she can use her wish to do that, the rest should resolve itself. Then the way forward will clear for Lee to move towards whatever the lovers card has planned for her.
Probably.
Rebecca told her to look inward, so, as she sits across from Max and Jo at the restaurant they have chosen for dinner—three options were picked out of a hat and subjected to a rigorous elimination round of paper, scissors, rock—she forces her mind clear of all extraneous thoughts and focuses on the now.
The now, it turns out, is full of overwhelming sensations and emotional baggage. It’s too hot in here, even after the blistering cold of the walk. Her jumper is scratching against her neck, there is something stuck in her left shoe, and Jo looks so beautiful it’s all Lee can do not to lean across the table and kiss her.
The now sucks.
Still, the restaurant has a lovely atmosphere—velvet drapes and candles on every table, although a few of their candles are unlit. It’s soothing and warm, and Lee is with her two favourite people. She sucks in a breath, letting it out in a slow exhale that feels like a release. The light from their one lit candle flickers across their faces. Contentment stirs in her chest; she still has this. Even if everything else is a disaster, she has this.