Page 39 of Love Is…?

With a nod to my phone lying on the table, I ask if this is work. She tips her head from side to side, and purses her lips.

“Yes, and no. I’m enjoying this immersive process, actually. Although, to be honest, initially the idea of twenty interview sessions made me gasp, but suddenly we’ve done quite a few now which is astonishing because I’m sure it was only last week that I was introducing myself and shaking your hand. So, I’m enjoying this, which is unusual because I’m not a huge fan of talking about myself. My work? Sure. But this is intimate, isn’t it? Digging into what makes love what it is. My family is usually off limits but as I mentioned, I can control what I share, including my responses to the profile topic.”

Abigail makes eye contact, and after a pause, I ask if she wants to add to her growing list of responses to Love Is…

“I’m adding a few to the list, aren’t I? Okay. Let’s see. Love is fierce. That’s so true, and it fits with today’s interview.”

Abigail puts her hand up, as I reach for my phone.

“Wait. There are a couple more. I’ve been thinking a lot—thanks for that, by the way. So, love is family, but family can be what you make it. I have friends in the US. Sam has friends here. We’re all part of a family. Like onion rings, or perhaps tree rings. Love is connection, whether it be friendship, familial, or romantic love. Families, friends, we see each other and so do people fallinginlove when they discover their person. That’s connection. So how about that one? Love is connection.”

Abigail apologises again for the interruption to the interview, but I wave the apology away. I imagine that Abigail Taylor’s life is one of constantly juggling people, places, and events, and yet, based on videos of her interactions with the public, testimonials from cast and crew who speak highly of her professionalism and approachability, and now with the time spent during these interviews, it is clear that Abigail is able to manage those competing aspects with goodwill and kindness. With the occasional unnecessary apology.

We step away from the table, then Abigail retrieves a plastic container from the counter, and presses it into my hands. The box is heavy with baked goods.

“Seriously. They’re breeding.”

The look of despair is short-lived because she grins—mouth wide and the hazel eyes twinkling with laughter—then she flips her long hair over her shoulder as she is absorbed into the group of instantly animated professionals eager to create a masterpiece.

Chapter

Ten

Tessa plonkedherself onto the stool at the kitchen counter, and watched Angel empty two cans of baked beans into a container, crack two eggs on top of the lump, then grind what seemed to be half a kilo of pepper over all of it. She snapped on a lid, flung the container into their microwave that dominated half the dark green counter, twirled her finger towards the touch pad as if casting a spell, then poked at numbers, and, after an elaborate flourish, pressed start. She spun around, and beamed.

“Ta da! Dinner.”

“It’s just as well I can cover the whole thing with cheese because that meal is not aesthetically pleasing,” Tessa said, shaking her head. Her disparaging remarks were all bluff. Despite the pedestrian ingredients, the dish was oddly delicious, which is why Angel ignored Tessa whenever she whinged.

Angel leaned against the counter. “Babes, tell me something. We live in the same apartment and yet sometimes can go up to two days without seeing each other. How?”

Tessa looked at the ceiling, and hummed. Then she dropped her head, and frowned. “The time slip paradox. The front door is a portal.” She nodded wisely, and Angel laughed, heading back to the microwave as it beeped. She spoke over her shoulder.

“I only ask because it’s been a whole twenty-four hours since your speed dating ethnographic study and you have yet to fill me in.” Angel dished up the food, managing to keep the cooked egg on top of the steaming beans in each bowl, and passed Tessa the bag of grated cheese.

“I’d like to point out that you and I have jobs, and a comprehensive summary of a date with many women needs time, setting, and space for expansive gesturing.”

Angel grinned. “Come on.” She picked up her bowl, and tipped her chin at the lounge. “You can gesture expansively over here.”

In between spoonfuls of dinner, Tessa regaled Angel with the highlights of the night. Normally Tessa would divulge intricate details as well. Not this time. Despite the fact that Tessa shared nearly everything with her cousin, certain pieces of information about Sunday night were just for Tessa, and she hoped that Angel wouldn’t notice the missing bits.

Missing bits like the fact that Jayde had lovely hands and used them a lot when she spoke, particularly when she was being funny or excited about something. That Jayde smiled easily and it made her eyes sparkle. That Jayde listened attentively to the person who was talking. That Jayde tilted her head slightly when she ran her fingers through her gorgeous hair. That Jayde folded her arms on the table and leaned forward as if an intimate moment in the conversation had been reached and she wanted to respect it. That Jayde’s freckles were more prevalent on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. That?—

“I don’t know where you’ve gone but take me with you because your face says your faraway land is sensational.”

Tessa blinked, and refocused. Angel was smirking.

“I was simply trying to put the events in order,” Tessa huffed, forcing the blush away. Apparently, her lack of detail had been blatantly obvious.

Angel shook her head. “You are useless at bluffing. Okay. Give it up. What’s the moony look for?”

“I don’t have a…” Tessa trailed off at Angel’s slow smile.

“It’s Jayde, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

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