Page 17 of The Reunion

‘Um.’ I scratch the back of my neck, not sure if that’s supposed to be an insult or not. A couple of people laugh; is it that laugh that you do to fill space and keep the mood up, or are they in on Bryony’s joke too, if it does exist? I clear my throat and say, ‘Yeah, it’s quite an adventure, I suppose. I work in software development, too, but that’s all remote now and the hours are flexible. I’m thinking of moving to full time now both the girls are in school, but I’ve been saying that for the last year and still haven’t spoken to my boss about it.’

I laugh, and wait for them to join in, but this time they’re all quiet. Ashleigh manages a smile, but she’s still got a mouth full of pizza.

‘Because the girls just take up so much of my time,’ I go on, but that doesn’t sound right. It’s not right. It’s true, but not the truth. I pause, floundering for the right way to phrase it, but Steph’s friend Thea is nodding along and making sympathetic noises.

‘I bet. And childcare is so expensive, isn’t it? My sister’s always banging on about that. She still hasn’t gone back to work since her maternity leave, and that was four years ago, now. It must be so tricky to balance.’

Noodles Greg, who I hadn’t noticed join the group, pitches in. ‘No wonder you’re stagnating, Hayden! You had to give everything up for those kids. Maybe soon though, eh? Now they’re getting a bit older and that. Never too late to turn it all around!’

Bryony nods fiercely. ‘Exactly!’

‘Turn it around?’

‘You know, get out there and make a name for yourself. Do all those cool things you could’ve done otherwise. I mean, you should be the boss.’ Greg laughs. ‘Still plenty of time to do something and make a ‘thirty under thirty’ list, right?’

‘I, er, yes. I suppose there is.’

‘And you must have something you’re working on,’ Thea says, with an encouraging nod. ‘I always remember you shutting yourself up in the DT rooms or somewhere because you were coding something or working on those robots you used to play around with. Stuff like that. Do you still do that?’

‘Not … so much, these days.’

‘Oh, that’s such a shame! You were always tinkering about! Making stuff!’

‘Yeah,’ not-Paul from maths says. ‘It was so awesome – why’d you give it up? You could be making tons off that, I bet.’

Awesome. My attempt at a polite smile tightens into a brittle line and my teeth clench. They didn’t used to think it was ‘awesome’ ten years ago, when it was just geeky and weird. But now – oh, of course, now that they recognise it could be worth money, that it might add up to something they use in their everyday lives – now, it’s cool.

I try to think about the last time I settled into one of those projects, the sort I used to do at school. Passion projects, my parents and teachers tended to call them, and it was an apt label – I was passionate about the work. It was exciting; a novel take on something that provided just enough of a challenge to get the gears in my brain spinning. Testing it to see if it worked this time was the best kind of adrenaline rush.

How long has it been since I last did something like that?

I still invent things, but these days it’s games for Margot and Skye or bedtime stories. I did program a mobile with different settings when Skye was born – it played different songs and shone different lights depending on the setting, and what sort of mood she was in. That’s the only thing I can remember making in the last ten years.

I have endless lists of notes on my phone. Scraps of ideas, or photos of diagrams scrawled haphazardly in crayon that I wanted to jot down for myself while I sat colouring with the girls – diagrams that promptly ended up scribbled over or coloured in and which I never felt any great sense of attachment to beyond a fleeting concept. Easier to get it down on paper to come back to later, rather than letting it take up space in my brain where it would fester and grow and threaten to take over when I had other – real – responsibilities to deal with. More important things that required that energy and focus.

Later, I think, any time that happens. Another time.

It’s never been ‘later’. That wistful ‘other time’ has never transpired.

I wonder what my teenage self would make of that. Not the stay-at-home dad stuff or the university drop-out status – but … giving up. Reprioritising. Brushing that spark and passion aside like it means so little, is so unimportant, when it used to feel more essential to me than oxygen.

I wonder what he’d think of the fact I’ve forgotten what it’s like to let myself dream.

It’s a stark realisation to discover that I’ve forgotten I ever even had those sorts of dreams, once upon a time.

My mouth drops open as I try to think up a response – anything, anything at all – as the others watch me expectantly. Nothing comes out.

Ashleigh finally steps in with an offhand laugh. ‘Come on, guys, you really think he’s about to spill all to you? Hayden’s projects have always been top secret until they’re ready to go out into the world. If he told you, he’d have to kill you.’

My smile returns and I laugh along with everybody else, but the tension remains in my shoulders. Not-Paul starts talking about some start-up he used to work for that was developing an app for home and online security for public figures and celebrities, and all the NDAs that had involved.

‘Nice!’ Noodles Greg says. ‘Are you still there? Did you get to meet any of the celebs and that?’

‘Oh, no. It … started coming under quite a lot of scrutiny. Data-leak risks, stuff like that, paparazzi hacking accounts. I left; it didn’t seem like the sort of thing I wanted to be involved in.’

The group nods along sagely and I join in by default, but Bryony interrupts.

‘I remember that app. Didn’t they go bust? Lose a shedload of money getting sued by the beta users because of violation of privacy, and some people at the company were selling the info on? And you were really all-in before that, I thought. You worked on building their partnerships, didn’t you?’

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