Page 44 of The Reunion

Even in the wake of my delusions of grandeur I’ve played into so much tonight – for years – even I can tell how try-hard and fake I sound. I could not be making it more obvious I’m hiding something. Even I wouldn’t give me a callback for this role.

Hayden doesn’t budge, but just says very gently, ‘Which way is your classroom, B? Drama department?’

And, shit.

There goes the lie. The beautiful dream of who I used to be.

It’s too late to mourn it, when that dream died almost a decade ago, but it snuffs out some flicker of hope in the pit of my chest I’ve been clinging to all this time, and I suddenly feel so cold and weary. My shoulders slump, the gusto and gumption vanishing from my bones in one long, heavy exhale, and I can’t meet Hayden’s eyes.

How many times did I pooh-pooh his dorky interests, or giggle when someone made a joke at his expense? How many times did I overlook him because he was too quiet, too uncool? I bet he’s loving seeing me laid low like this. I would, in his shoes.

‘Yeah,’ I mumble, folding my arms around myself. ‘Drama department.’

Hayden nods once, and leads the way. And I don’t know what else to do except trudge after him, the fragments of my glory days falling away from me in a trail of sequins, left glittering and crushed on the floor behind me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Steph

‘Most Likely to End Up Together’

The lights tick off in the stairwell behind us, apparently having been left too long without the motion sensor being activated. It should, I think, be a sign that Shaun and I have spent too long out here alone; Ashleigh and Ryan must be long gone by now. It tells me that it’s time to wrap this up and go back inside – back to my fiancé, and leave our past behind us for good.

But I can’t, not when this feels so right. Shaun and I have hardly stopped for breath between our conversation in the library and now out here, catching up on everything we missed in each other’s lives.

Sitting next to Shaun like this, listening to him talk about how he had to brush up on his old Year Nine-level French when his parents decided to emigrate to live in the French countryside … It’s so easy to remember all the ways I once loved him. It’s painless when all those old emotions rise back up; more like sinking into a warm bath than dredging up a decade-old heartbreak.

I realise that he’s just wrapped up the story he was telling – something that involved accidentally buying a bag full of cabbages instead of a bread knife – and that I’ve missed my cue to laugh, too wrapped up in enjoying the moment. Shaun’s wide smile eases, softening, and he looks down at his feet. His inhale is like the electrical surge before a lightning strike; I can taste the charge of anticipation in the air, know instinctively that something else is about to break any moment.

And it does, when he asks me, ‘Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we hadn’t agreed to end things?’

Yes. Always.

And also – not really.

Shaun’s voice is low, the question gentle in its vulnerability, steady in his ever-present lack of fear of judgement. The words carry through the air around us, like the fluff off a dandelion, delicate and mesmerising before settling around me.

As much as I want to gather them up in my hands and cherish them … Make a wish, maybe, too …

I swallow the lump in my throat, finding it very hard to look at him all of a sudden.

‘You shouldn’t be asking things like that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because …’

Because of course I wonder. It’s impossible not to let my mind drift occasionally, but up until this reunion party, Shaun was always so firmly in my past. Put away carefully and lovingly, like an old family photo album you put on the shelf and rarely bring out. We were so sure of ourselves; but that’s also part of the reason I don’t wonder, because I’ve always known what our life would have looked like if we’d stayed together.

Shaun goes on, undeterred. ‘We broke up because it was the right thing for both of us, at the time. We were both overwhelmed at being away from home and when you switched your degree … It just got to be too much. It wasn’t …’ He sits up a little straighter and his gaze returns to me. I keep looking determinedly off at the rugby fields. ‘It wasn’t our time, Steph. But don’t you wonder what would’ve happened if we’d reached out to each other after we graduated? If we’d ever given it another shot?’

‘We shouldn’t be talking about this.’

‘I’m not—’

‘I know. I know you’re not.’ Instinctively, I reach for his hand, squeezing his fingers in mine. This isn’t Shaun trying to make a move or anything like that – he’s just reaching out, speaking aloud the same things I’m too nervous to voice myself. He doesn’t turn his palm to hold my hand back; he doesn’t seem to know what to do about the gesture at all, in fact. ‘But we still shouldn’t … It’s not … What about Aisha, and Curtis? We aren’t being fair to them, talking about things like this.’

Speaking their names is jarring, a reminder that we might already be missed and how suspicious this might look if we were found like this. We should go back, especially before we get any further down this path. It’s dangerous, if only for how simple and easy it would be.

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