Page 113 of One Summer

I decide to discard Happy and try again. I’ll take the next word instead.

As I play Betty’s game, I think of Caleb’s face. His hair. The width of his shoulders. How it felt when we had sex.

Route.

What does this mean? Is Caleb my route to happiness? Is that what fake Wordle is telling me?

It’s still unclear.

One more and this is the one I’ll listen to.

Even if I don’t like the message, I’ll take this one on board, whatever it is.

The word is Gnome.

What? What could that possibly mean? Caleb is nothing like a gnome. Is gnome a code word for something? Will a gnome appear at a pivotal moment and then I’ll know what to do?

Gnomic, according to my phone definition, means ‘difficult to understand’ or ‘enigmatic and ambiguous’.

Is fake Wordle messing with me?

No, it has no thoughts either way, because it’s a pre-programmed app on my phone.

I am losing my mind.

I come out of the app, and look out the kitchen window.

They’re here.

Ninety-Six

Truth

Betty is walking Caleb towards me like he’s six years old and she’s bringing him to apologise for stealing an apple from a greengrocer.

Before I can even begin to collect my thoughts, I’m opening the front door to them.

‘Caleb has some things to tell you,’ Betty says, releasing Caleb from the vice-grip of her arm.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ I say, seeing how unwilling he is to be here.

‘Yes, you do. Tell her who Marlene is.’

‘I already know she’s his wife.’

‘She’s my ex-wife,’ Caleb says. ‘The divorce was finalised a few weeks ago. It was not particularly amicable.’

‘It looked pretty amicable as you went off for a cosy walk together.’

‘She’s no longer my wife, but she’s still my manager. She got me this book deal that I’m locked into. She was worried I was distracted by you and thought that was why I couldn’t get the work finished.’

‘But it wasn’t?’

‘No. I couldn’t finish it because I was never meant to start it.’

He looks so morose that I want to hold him close, pull his head down onto my chest and make it all better, but I can’t. He lied to me, or at least, withheld things I deserved to know.

‘What are you going to do?’ I ask.

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