Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
WILL
‘Will?’
The voice was everything I needed to hear, but not on a sopping wet February, and not when I’m in Cardiff Waterstones in the travel section staring at travel guides for Athens and Greece.
‘Will, is that you?’
I could open a book and hide behind it. Could shuffle away with my back turned. Maybe even put my headphones in and pretend I’d had them in the whole time. But none of these are plausible and I have to face the music.
I force a beaming smile, turn, and say, ‘Ollie.’
Good Lord, what a perfect specimen. Tall, toned, hair wavy and parted in the middle, he is the hot professor fantasy. Even though rain pours outside, he doesn’t have a speck of water on his clothes. His charcoal coat is spotless, and oh no, he’s opening his arms, and he’s walking to me, and…
He hugs me, and I stiffen like an ironing board, and he freezes.
‘I wasn’t expecting a hug,’ I say, then, before he can say anything else, I say, ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’
‘No, well, me neither.’ He clears his throat and lets me go. ‘Uh … I’m here for…’
‘Oh, me too, yeah, some poor bookseller has asked me twice if I need help.’ I think they were asking me on a deeper level. I reach for an Athens book, hand it to him.
‘Oh.’ He laughs. ‘No, I was looking for inspo for the honeymoon.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ I squeak. ‘Silly me.’
Ollie scratches the back of his head. ‘Did you, uh…’ He meets my eye. ‘Did you get the invite, uh, to the … to our … to my wedding?’
I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. He doesn’t care I’ve accepted the invite, then. Fine. I’ll match his energy and play it cool. ‘Oh? No.’
He gestures at the Athens book he’s still holding. ‘But you gave me this?’
‘That.’ I point, tap the cover. ‘That is right, yes.’ My eyes widen as I feign realisation. ‘Oh, that wedding invite?’
‘You had more wedding invites?’
‘Well, everyone wants me at their wedding, you see.’
Ollie hands me the book on Athens. ‘Cool.’
I put the book back on the shelf, taking the time when Ollie can’t see me to let out a deep breath. ‘Yes, I got your invite.’
I turn back to him.
‘Cool,’ he says again, hands going in his pockets.
‘So cool.’ Then, remembering I haven’t seen him in person since, I say, ‘congratulations’. But I stumble over the word and flush red.
‘Thanks.’
Neither of us says anything more. I know I should go, but I’m also too prideful. The same bookseller starts to approach. I cannot have them asking me if I need help again.
‘Uh … so, I’ll leave you to this, and…’
He nods, I nod, and God, what happened to us?
‘Will?’
‘Yes?’ I turn, seeing him watching me.
‘Are you coming?’
‘Hm?’
‘To the wedding? Will you be there?’ He pauses. ‘Please?’
If there was ever a time to spontaneously combust, now would be perfect. ‘Of course, Ollie. I’ve already accepted. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘So, you’re going?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I say.
It’s the evening of my encounter with Ollie, and Alice and I are in my apartment. The rain is still pouring, as if it has come to mock me.
‘Good idea,’ Alice says.
‘I can’t afford it, anyway.’
‘You would go if you could?’
‘No!’ Yes.
Alice, in the kitchen, pours us a white wine. She feels at home here, and I like that. I don’t know why we never shared a home together, but it feels like we should have. Having her around just feels right.
When she comes to sit with me, she twirls her hand around her face, almost like how the queen might wave if she were still alive.
Something on her finger glints.
My eyes bulge and my mouth drops, along with my stomach. ‘Alice!’ I grab her hand, pulling her engagement finger towards me. A shining diamond reflects my strained expression as I arrange it into something that resembles joy, and not sinking despair. ‘What the hell?’ I look at her. ‘When?’
‘Last night,’ she says. ‘It was our anniversary.’
I let go of her hand, placing my own to my face. ‘I can’t believe I forgot.’
‘You’ve been preoccupied, don’t worry about it,’ she says.
‘We went to the theatre and he only goes and takes us up on stage during the interval. I don’t think he was allowed because the stewards came running, but hung back once they saw him get down on one knee.
I was an absolute state, too, because of how hungover I was.
And I’d already spotted a student from my class in the audience.
Oh, it was not a vibe, and yet it was the most magical thing ever. ’
She shines as she’s talking, and I beam like I’ve not just swallowed something sour. Alice met Jackson three years ago. Jackson is nice. Sensible. I like him.
‘Have you set a date yet?’
‘Oh God, no,’ Alice says, admiring her ring. ‘I feel like we’ll be engaged forever.’
I hope so. I can accept that. If she’s engaged forever, I won’t lose her and we can act like nothing has changed and…
Good God. What the hell am I thinking? Why do I have to be like this? This is Alice. My best friend, Alice, marrying her best friend who isn’t me, because he isn’t gay and he’s her lover. The happiest moment of her life so far, and all I’m thinking about is what this means for me.
Get a grip, Will.
‘This is so exciting,’ I say, truly meaning it. ‘Where will you get married? Will I be bridesmaid? Actually, I could be maid of honour? Or … I don’t know. There should be more gender-neutral terms at weddings.’
‘Well, I thought maybe you might marry us.’
Laughter escapes me, hunching over. I cover my wine glass with my hand, trying not to let anything spill onto the laminated wood flooring. Alice is giggling too, but it’s light.
‘You’re serious?’
‘Deadly,’ she says.
Sweat breaks out across my forehead. I hate weddings.
Hate, hate, hate them. That’s why it felt hilarious when we both agreed to do a celebrant course and booked it one drunken night, saying that we would officiate each other’s weddings.
At the time neither of us thought we’d get married.
We booked it a few weeks after my first rejection of Ollie’s proposals.
That’s something I should tell my therapist. Lucy would have a field day with that one.
We both got qualified, though.
‘I suppose we did make a deal with each other,’ I agree. ‘But we also said that if we were single at forty, we’d marry each other.’
She wobbles her fingers at me, the engagement ring laughing at me. ‘Yeah, sorry about that one.’
‘There’s still hope,’ I reply. ‘We didn’t say engagement in that. You’ll still have to marry me even if you’re engaged by then.’
‘Fair,’ Alice replies.
‘Oh, Alice.’
‘Oh, Will.’
‘I can’t believe you chose this cheap wine when there is champagne in there.’
‘Champagne?’
‘I stole it from the Christmas party last year,’ I say. ‘Thanks to Clive, we can celebrate your engagement.’
‘I’ve always loved Clive,’ Alice says.
‘Oh, me too.’
‘Now, tell me about this meeting with Ollie.’
But before I can, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Looking at the finger-marked screen of my iPhone, my brow furrows.
An unrecognisable number is calling. Location: maybe Athens.
All sorts of thoughts run through my head in the split few seconds.
I answer.
‘Hello?’
‘Yeah. Your room is double booked. I’m upgrading you.’ A female voice, monotone and sharp.
‘Sorry?’
‘Is this Will?’
‘Uh … yes.’
‘Then do you want an upgrade?’
She has an accent, but I don’t think she’s clipping her words because of a language barrier. I think she just wants me off the phone, which is weird considering she rang me. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘You booked our hotel for August first, but there was a system error and now I am asking if you want an upgrade. Take it or leave it. I don’t care.’
‘I didn’t book any hotel.’
‘Yes, you did. I have your booking right here for twenty-five days in Athens. Will Cooper.’ The woman sighs as I groan. ‘Are you wasting my time?’
I hold the phone away from me, looking at the number again, which is definitely foreign. My eyes scan the apartment, as if I might be on some prank show.
Then my grip tightens as my stomach flips.
‘Wait. I booked a hotel?’
Alice stops what she’s doing, staring at me.
‘Yes.’
‘In Athens.’
‘Yes.’
‘I booked a hotel in Athens?’
Alice’s mouth drops.
The girl on the phone mutters something in Greek and I’m sure it’s not kind. ‘If you don’t want an upgrade be my guest. Or don’t. Because someone else will have it and you won’t have a place to stay.’
I pinch the bridge of my nose, pained. ‘I’m sorry.
There’s been mistake.’ I wrack my brain for that night when the invite came through.
I vaguely recall now looking through hotels after Alice left that night, swiping with a deft hand, trying to focus on a blurred, spinning screen.
I swear I checked my emails for booking confirmation, finding none.
Putting the girl on speaker phone, I check my emails again. Then check my junk folder.
Booking confirmation.
I open the app I used to book the hotel.
About your stay at The Laurel Hotel.
Fuck.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck it, fuck, fuck.
‘Sorry, but I need to cancel this. I’m really sorry, there’s been some error here and—’
‘No refunds.’
‘What?’
‘No. Refunds.’
‘But I’m not coming,’ I say. ‘I have no plans to go to Athens.’
‘People don’t book hotels if they don’t plan to go to the country.’
‘No, I suppose they don’t, but maybe I do, and…’ Any attempt to save face falters. ‘Look. Can we just forget this happened and … and refund me?’
This is Athens in August. Peak travel season. The most expensive time. Twenty-five fucking days. I need that money back.
‘We don’t do refunds. Company policy. You booked a room and it has been paid for. It’s all in the terms and conditions. We can cancel it.’
‘But I want my money back, not just for you to cancel it.’
‘No refunds.’
‘But I don’t want the room.’
‘Even better, then, that you weren’t getting it, anyway. Works out for the best, I’d say.’
I pace, drawing circles in the flooring. ‘It doesn’t work for the best. You’re not giving me my money back?’
‘That’s right.’ She pauses.
‘Is everyone in Athens this unhelpful?’
‘No, just me.’ I think I hear her laugh, an evil, twisted laugh. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘A refund.’ I yelp.
‘Goodbye, Mr Cooper.’
She hangs up, and when I try to call back, it just rings and rings and rings.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Uh … you might need to water my plants come August because I think I’m going to Athens.’