An Impossible Thing Called Love

by Belinda Missen

  ‘Right now, I feel that maybe I shouldn’t have been friends with you again, maybe I should have kept that distance.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘I’ve lost a boyfriend and half my friends over this, because he went home and declared I’d been cheating on him. I’ve had your wife haul me up in front of an entire gym class and make me look like a homewrecker, so obviously I am. That’s clearly how it looks to everyone. I mean, when does this end? When do I just get somebody who’s going to treat me with a little bit of respect?’

  ‘Now, Emmy.’ He pointed to the floor. ‘Me, me, I can.’

  ‘But you can’t, Will. You’ve proven that. Why am I supposed to buy into it now? What’s the big difference?’

  ‘So, what, what, that’s just … that’s just it?’ he asked, looking around the room frantically. Was he looking for something to grip on to? Something to stop him floating away?

  ‘I’m going home, William.’

  ‘Are you coming back?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’ I shrugged. ‘After everything, not coming back is looking like a good option right now.’

  His chin dimpled. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Right then, it felt like I was watching a small child crumble in front of me. There were hands that didn’t know what to do with themselves, eyes that filled with tears, and a trembling lip. ‘Because I love you and I don’t want to have to watch you disappear on another plane again.’

  My eyes, heart, throat, it all stung. ‘Could you please leave?’

  ‘Can I get some contact details for you? Would that be okay at least?’

  ‘You already know how to contact me.’ I nodded in the direction of the box.

  Chapter 32

  Frankie met me at the airport, a bunch of balloons in one hand, a WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON sign in the other, and my nephew all swaddled up against her chest. God knows how, though. Even inside the airport, the air held that sweltering warmth that only Sydney could provide in summer. It only got marginally better as the sliding doors opened because at least then the air was forced to move about. Ezra was there, too, ready with a hug and the offer to carry luggage.

  ‘How’d she get you out here?’ I squeezed my brother in a way I perhaps hadn’t ever done. There was something there about absence and hearts and fondness, but I didn’t want to ponder that too much in my state. I refused to let go until he did.

  ‘I’m just here so you didn’t have to catch the train down so early in the morning.’ He lifted me off my feet. ‘Also, because Mum said so. And because I missed your face. Welcome home.’

  ‘How was the flight?’ Frankie pinched at my arm as I gathered around her, stealing my first real-time peek at Aaron.

  ‘Yeah, the usual,’ I mumbled as Aaron was passed over to me. I wasn’t ready to elaborate on any of it.

  William had left quietly, collecting the box of letters and shuffling out of the apartment with his tail between his legs and a dozen variations on his apology. Not that it helped me out of my own sore spot. If anything, all it did was leave me questioning myself. Maybe I was being too harsh, or maybe not strong enough. Or, maybe I just needed to accept his apology and get on with life. Through all my customs checks, airport terminals, and weepy in-flight movies, it wasn’t as if I could get his face out of my mind. I just hoped that a few weeks away from it all might give me a bit of clarity.

  ‘He is so, so pretty.’ I threw an arm around Frankie’s neck and kissed her cheek. ‘How are you, Mum? Are you okay?’

  ‘It’s a shock.’ She gave an embarrassed smile. ‘But I do love him. He’s pretty peachy.’

  ‘He is.’ I pushed his hair back from his forehead. ‘He’s so heavy. It’s so deceptive, isn’t it?’

  ‘He likes food.’

  ‘Well, he’s mine now,’ I teased. ‘You can’t have him back.’

  He was even more beautiful in real life, a little button mushroom nose and mop of dark hair already. Added bonus: he was happily asleep. All I had to do was keep him that way until we got out to the carpark.

  We glanced up to find Ezra battling his way out the doors and towards the car park. Taking our cue, we dawdled slowly behind him.

  ‘Where are Mum and Dad?’

  Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘Currently on some Murray River Cruise. You know what Mum’s like with the discount vouchers on the back of shopping receipts.’

  I scrunched my face up. ‘Sounds classy.’

  ‘They’ll be home tomorrow, or the day after.’ Ezra turned to us. ‘Enjoy the peace while it lasts.’

  Arriving home and ditching everything in one of the bedrooms was one of the strangest feelings. There was the ease of being at home, that I could truly unwind and, even in the heat, just lump about, enjoy a cold drink and close my eyes for a few moments without any of the stresses that London had brought. I think it was because I was so physically removed from all of my issues, I could pretend like they didn’t exist. For the first week or so, that worked incredibly well – after the two days of jetlag wore off, that was.

  My parents returned from their cruise, delighting us with photo after photo of the murky Murray, and all their tiny town pitstops along the way. Dad unpacked all the food I’d brought him, commenting on label changes and reduced package weights, and I revelled in more stories as he cleared a place in the cupboard for them all.

  Days rolled into each other. I stole Aaron away from Frankie so often she announced I could keep him, and that she was putting her ‘going out’ clothes on and disappearing with friends for a night, and I even chanced an overnight trip down the coast to see where Ezra had set up home with his girlfriend and her daughter.

  Socially, I crammed in as much as I could and, when Heather and Josh arrived, it only ramped up more. Their engagement party was strung out over a few days’ worth of events – just to make sure they covered off as many friends as they could while they were around. We had a small beach party at Bondi with friends, went to dinner at a winery outside the city, and climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

  It was something I’d done once before but was more than happy to indulge in again when someone else was footing the bill. Last time, standing at the summit and posing for photos held a feeling of achievement but, this time, something flinched inside me. There was a niggling annoyance that had been following me around all week. Until that moment I’d been unable to put my finger on it. But, as the flash fell across our smiling faces, I realised that all these things I’d been doing were exactly what William and I were looking forward to doing together. It was essentially our list of things we’d do when we travelled together. But he wasn’t here, and the realisation was awful.

  When our climbing suits and safety harnesses were returned, I split from the group. I didn’t have anything special planned, I just wanted to clear my head and gather my thoughts. I promised I’d be at the party later that night and farewelled everyone.

  At Circular Quay, ferries bobbed about in their terminals, and a preternaturally huge cruise ship seemed to lumber over the top of the harbour like an all-seeing, all-knowing deity. I took a quick walk along the dock, just to get closer to the enormity of it, before heading into the twenty-four-hour restaurant just by the water.

  When you get to know people well enough, you can tell they’re walking up behind you just by the fall of their feet, that distinct shuffle of the left foot and clobber of the right. Or, you can pick them out in a crowd because of how they tucked their right foot behind their left ankle as they leant against the bar.

  Craig.

  The Good Lord was apparently intent on cramming just the right level of Told You So into my trip as possible. Before I had a chance to hot foot it out the door and find a cheap eatery under the bridge, he spotted me in the bar’s reflection and, altogether too quickly, spun to face me.

  ‘Emmy?’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, although what I really wanted to do was run for the hills. ‘H
ow are you?’

  He bobbed his head about a bit. The casual summer shorts and polo look had returned, his hair was shorter again, but he looked fresh, happier, well-rested. ‘I’m really well, thank you.’

  ‘Good. Great. I’m glad.’

  Cue the awkward standing around while we both struggled with what came next. I looked around the restaurant like it had the most fascinating décor ever. I skipped over my options. Running would get back to my parents and make yet another bad story. It would also mean more flack for me and, even though I had every right to walk away, I kind of just stood there and waited for fate to decide.

  ‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘Me?’ This was certainly a change of pace for the same person who told everyone I’d cheated on him. My suspicions were aroused at the flash of memory, momentarily hazed by surprise.

  ‘Well, yeah. I’m not in any hurry to be anywhere. Unless you’re here with someone?’ He looked over my shoulder. ‘I just thought, you know, catch up for old times’ sake.’

  And that was how I came to have coffee and afternoon tea with Craig in what was fast becoming a very strange trip indeed. We picked the furthest table in the quietest corner and hoped that this would all go smoothly. He smoothed his clothes down as he sat, tossed me a packet of sugar and a spoon for my cake.

  ‘So, how are you?’ he asked. ‘Are you well?’

  I nodded. ‘I’m not too bad, thank you. You?’

  ‘Good.’ His own spoon landed on the table with a clang. ‘Uh, so, I didn’t start that company. Not just yet, anyway.’

  ‘No?’ I asked. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Back in the family fold.’ He shrugged. ‘But I’m piecing things together each night when I get home from work. Hustle, hustle.’

  ‘I’m sure when you do get there, you’ll be completely fine.’ I distracted myself with cake in the mouth and watching a small child drop a perfectly domed, fresh ice-cream on the ground.

  ‘Are you just home for Christmas?’ he asked. ‘When did you get here?’

  This all felt way too familiar and distant all at once. He was polite, completely rational and calm. And, while I didn’t expect anything else of him – he always was all of those things – it just seemed so at odds with how I expected our first post-breakup meeting to go.

  ‘About a week ago.’ My head bobbed a little. ‘It’s been really good to catch up with everyone.’

  ‘And how’s work?’

  ‘Still a dumb receptionist,’ I blurted.

  ‘God, Emmy, I’m sorry. I never meant that. I was angry and irrational, and not an entirely nice person to know around that time.’

  So this was fast sliding into territory I wasn’t sure I wanted to enter. I yanked on the handbrake and tried angling the conversation towards things I’d been doing with family since I got back. I was scared that, if the conversation kept on its current trajectory, we’d end up not so much discussing, but fighting over the English elephant in the room.

  ‘I’m really glad you’re having a good time here, Emmy.’

  ‘You are?’ I said from behind a napkin.

  He nodded. ‘Sure, I mean, I was upset when I came home, but I don’t wish you any harm.’

  And that was officially the red rag to a bull moment.

  ‘But didn’t you tell people I’d cheated on you?’ I asked. ‘That was pretty hurtful. I lost a lot of friends from that.’

  ‘I didn’t tell them that.’ He shook his head gently. ‘But it was very clear you weren’t telling the truth about your relationship with him.’

  My eyes widened, possibly to the size of the saucers on the table. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Your friend from work? He wasn’t strictly that, was he Em?’

  ‘No, you’re right,’ I admitted. ‘I’d known him a while longer.’

  ‘You could have just told me.’ He pushed the last of the cake towards me, but I’d lost my appetite. ‘Friends are cool, but you deliberately didn’t tell me that there was history. I think that’s the part that hurt the most, because it said all it needed to about the friendship.’

  Christ, he dropped that wrecking ball right through the lounge room window. My own words to William began ringing very loudly in my ears.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I take it you’re dating him?’

  I shook my head. ‘You know what? I can’t do this with you. This is too strange.’

  I left. Quickly. I slipped up a stairwell and onto the first train that took me in the right direction. I wanted home, only my question now was: where exactly was home? Was it here, in the warmth, protection, and ease of family? Or was it on the other side of the world, choosing to sit down and iron out a few problems to make sure William and I didn’t completely combust before we’d even given ourselves a chance. The realisation that I had been just as awful to others as I thought he’d been to me was a little … sickening.

  * * *

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Frankie’s voice held a twinge of smugness which was only slightly covered up by the squalling baby in her arms.

  ‘I think I did.’ I dropped my bags on the kitchen stool and held my arms open to take Aaron. ‘The ghost of Emmy’s past came to visit.’

  The ride home had been a bit of a foot-jiggling, hand-wringing angst-fest. I was sure a small family approached the seats across from me, only to turn around and hotfoot it up to the second level of the carriage. I didn’t blame them, really. I scrolled through the numbers in my phone over and over, the digital screen rolling to a spinning wheel stop at W for William. I debated calling, not just the once. More like The Police would – a thousand times a day – except it was clear that nothing I was doing was magic.

  ‘Huh?’ She shook her arms about, glad to have them freed up for even a few moments.

  ‘I just ran into Craig.’

  She was silent, but the raised brows and O-shaped mouth said it all for her. ‘Right, well, I suppose you might. He lives around here still, so, you know.’

  ‘I was a bit of an asshole to him.’ I followed her around the kitchen as she filled the kettle, switched it on, kicked the door shut on the dishwasher, and searched the cupboards for coffee cups. ‘Not today, of course. I mean, when he was in London.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ She held up a box of tea and a jar of coffee.

  ‘I would,’ I said. ‘Tea, please.’

  ‘And what makes you say that?’

  I rewound that tape right back to Edinburgh and laid it all out. My brain hit download, and Frankie copped a torrent of whatever was happening in my head. I told her all about William, my friend from work, who wasn’t strictly just a friend from work, but an important piece of my history. We went back and forth about Craig and the stress of his job, and everything that had come to pass before he came back to Sydney and, when I relayed William’s life plans, she sighed like it was it was the most romantic proposal ever. Despite reminding her it wasn’t a marriage proposal, she wasn’t buying it. Paris and everything after was covered off quickly, because there was no way she needed to know all the gory details, though I suspected she not-so-silently lived for it. By the time I wrapped up my fight with William, we were resting on banana lounges outside with ice-creams and oversized hats.

  ‘So, you see, I’ve been an awful person,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know if I’m sure what to do.’

  ‘I don’t think you have,’ she said. ‘But you both did some stupid things, neither of you could possibly deny that.’

  ‘Correct,’ I sighed.

  ‘Now, this isn’t excusing anybody’s behaviour, but do you think he did those things to hurt you? Honestly, sit and think about it for a second.’

  ‘I’d like to think not.’

  She swung her legs off the lounge and sat up to look at me. Or Aaron as it turned out. He was fast asleep, sprawled out on my front. ‘Just being selfish, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Which isn’t that different to you
not wanting to share him with anyone else. What do you think would have happened with Craig if he knew about William’s history?’

  ‘I think Craig would have come home earlier.’

  She shrugged. ‘Probably.’

  ‘We’ve both been ridiculous.’

  ‘Now she gets it.’

  ‘I should call him.’ I squinted into the sun. ‘Shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you should.’ She stood up and took her son. ‘Do it before the party tonight. Get it out of your system. You know, like deadlines. Do them, get them done, then chill out.’

  Chapter 33

  There were no two ways about it. William didn’t want to be found. I didn’t call him when Frankie suggested.Later that night, at the engagement party, and after one too many drinks, I stepped out of the darkened venue and into the carpark. I dialled once, then twice. When his phone went straight to voicemail, I resorted to an email and hoped that, in the sober light of morning, he would find it as Drinking Emmy did right now.

  William?

  Can you call me?

  I’m bored.

  Call me when you can?

  xx E

  I realised that having an epiphany in the middle of someone else’s engagement party was probably not the best way to handle things, but they happened when they happened, and all I could do was roll with the tide. I watched on absently as speeches were made in the decadent Edwardian building overlooking Sydney Harbour. We were sat around tables with crisp white linen and ornate centrepieces, indulged in share plates of that didn’t seem to stop, and danced to a DJ who span tunes on a platform normally reserved for a bridal table. It was, in essence, a wedding in place of the one they’d decided to have in London. With the cocktail dresses and men in suits, the only thing it was missing was the exchange of vows.

  I still had no answer as I climbed out of a taxi and into bed in the early hours of the next morning. When I took to helping Mum with the Christmas baking the next day, my phone sat silently on the counter. Did I try again? Only if I wanted to look like a complete nutter, though I wondered if that wasn’t too far from the truth given the last few months. Mum was on hand with a bit of quality side-eye, but thankfully didn’t air her thoughts.