Page 54 of Five Years
Time seemed to stop. Leah found herself willing the clock to tick forward. She just had to make it back to the house, pretend they’d had a wonderful day, watch Ariana blow out some candles, then slip away unnoticed. She could fake an illness the next day, warn everyone to stay clear in case it was contagious, and before she knew it, the trip would be over—and she could avoid Ariana for the rest of her life. Easy.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she didn’t have the patience to bicker with Grace anymore. The colour of the card, and what was written inside, would have to remain in her capable hands.
“Have I said something that’s upset you?” Ariana asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem upset.”
“Do I?”
“Not upset enough to burn a hole in my suit jacket, but a little upset,” Ariana smirked.
“That’s not funny.”
One time she burned a hole in that suit—just once—and Ariana never let her live it down. Sobbing during a well-known TV drama while ironing resulted in her losing focus, and she’dapologized countless times for not turning down the heat. The result was a giant, crusty, shrivelled, repulsive-smelling burn mark on the front right side—unfixable.
“I adored that suit jacket. My wardrobe has never been the same since.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh,” Leah squinted.
“Why don’t you want to laugh?”
“I don’t feel like laughing.”
“Why?”
“Are you broken?”
Ariana sniggered. “I’m just curious why you don’t want to laugh.”
“Because...” Leah hesitated. She was stubborn, avoiding the real reason—her inability to shut off the longing she still felt for Ariana.
“Because?” Ariana probed some more.
She wasn’t letting it go.
“You know, all this time apart made me forget how annoying you are.”
“I’m happy to remind you,” Ariana teased.
Leah laughed, but it was forced. Words she wanted to say hovered on her tongue but never made it out. For years she’d imagined this moment—or one like it—just the two of them, free to talk and rehash the past without consequence. Except there was no such thing. Everything had consequences, and whichever way she spun it, that would always be true.
“Leah . . .” Ariana whispered.
Don’t fall for it. Don’t say anything.
“Leah . . .please.”
She recalled her mother’s words from years ago, imprinted in her mind—a reminder whenever she felt the urge to stray:
Nothing new ever comes from old feelings.
Her mom learned that the hard way after the divorce. She told Leah about her own temptation to go back, to seek the safety of her comfort zone. It was all she knew—her life, her love—but a brief relapse, a moment’s poor judgment, showed her that while her feelings might never change, their story—and what led them there—wouldn’t either.
“What do you want me to say, Ari?”
“Anything.”
