Page 86 of The Reunion

‘You didn’t kiss her,’ she says. ‘But something happened.’

She looks like she already knows the answer to that question.

‘No, I didn’t kiss her,’ I finally manage. ‘But I would have done.’

Her mouth pinches into a small, tight pout, but not before I see her lower lip wobble, and I hate myself. There’s a small voice wheedling in the back of my mind saying I should’ve done a better job of hiding it; another that says I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I asked Steph to go for a quiet chat. But mostly, right now, I regret that I did anything to make Aisha hurt like this and throw everything away, when we were so close to having such a perfect life together.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, but the words are flat and useless, and they won’t change anything now.

I don’t know how to make any of this painless for her. I wish I could spare her the truth, but it’s too late for that, and maybe a different, deeper truth would’ve come out instead eventually. One that says we’re not meant to be and she’s not the one and I’m not her one, and maybe I’m not even ready for that kind of serious, lifelong commitment anyway, not if this is the kind of thing I do given half the chance, and …

Whatever else, I know she deserves better than that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, unable to find any other words.

‘You’re still in love with her,’ Aisha says, but it isn’t even remotely a question. There’s not an inkling of doubt in her eyes – or mine, I guess, because she adds more agitatedly, ‘I saw the way you looked at her. All night. Like you were missing half of yourself and – she was it. You’ve never looked at me like that.’

I shrug, palms up, because I have no defence. There’s only surrender. And I hear myself say, ‘I’m in love with a memory. Or – a ghost, maybe. Someone she used to be. Someone I … thought she still was.’

Aisha’s answering mirthless smirk and short breath of laughter are cutting, and I take the blow. She bites her tongue, turning half away.

‘She rejected you.’

I don’t deny it.

‘When we get home tomorrow,’ Aisha tells me, twisting the ring off her finger and pressing it into my palm, cold and heavy, the diamond digging into my skin, ‘you can pack up your things and find somewhere else to live.’ Her eyes dart over my shoulder. ‘I’ll give you two a minute, shall I?’

I hear a quiet, ‘Hello,’ behind me as Aisha passes by, and turn, and – there she is. I can only gawk in surprise, trying to figure out why she’s here and why her fiancé looks so okay about it all from where he’s standing, and if I should even give her the chance to say anything at all when Aisha is fumbling through her bag for a tissue and already tapping furiously at her phone but probably doesn’t want to talk to me right now anyway, understandably, and …

Steph follows my gaze and her expression crumbles. I feel her sorrow like it’s my own.

Maybe it is. Too much has happened tonight to make sense of right now.

‘Are you two …?’

I nod, because there’s not much else to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ Steph tells me, and I know she means it.

‘It’s …’ Not okay, at all, but there’s no undoing it now. It just is. I can’t hold her responsible for the breakdown of my relationship with Aisha, not when how I acted tonight was all my own decision. I ask, ‘Are you two …?’

She also nods, but it’s a very different kind of answer to the one I gave. Hopeful, and shy, and content, just like the smile she tries to keep from her face.

‘I’m happy for you,’ I tell her. ‘Really. You guys … You seem good together. I’m glad that we – that I didn’t …’

‘We both made some mistakes,’ Steph says quietly, and looks suddenly awkward, unsure of her limbs and words and like when she was fifteen and didn’t know how to act around me once we both realised we fancied each other but weren’t going out yet. She steps a little closer, looking like she dared herself to do it, and then reaches for my arm, giving it a firm but brief squeeze near my elbow. ‘I’ll always care about you, Shaun. I just want you to know that. I hope – I hope one day, we can be friends again. Like we used to be, before.’

Before, but not ‘before’ like when we were teenagers in love, ‘before’ like when we were kids who just hung out together.

‘Maybe by the next reunion,’ I say, only half joking. If I haven’t quite gotten over Steph in ten years – maybe another ten will finally put those ‘what-ifs’ to rest. I look over at Aisha, now disappearing into a taxi she’s sharing with some of the art girls, and hope she’ll get over me better than I ever got over my first love. But she doesn’t even glance back.

Steph hesitates, but then closes the distance between us and wraps me into a warm hug, one that’s unfamiliar and new. I hug her back, recognising this moment for what it is: the two of us finally deciding to move on.

I wish it weren’t the case, but I wish a lot of things were different right now.

The moment passes, Steph’s arms loosening from around me, and I let her go.

‘See you around, Shaun,’ she says quietly, and offers me one last tender smile before she turns to go back to her fiancé, who’s waiting by a car, leaning to talk to her mum through the car window. I lift a hand to wave when both of them look over.

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