Chapter 30
I go to my parents’ house on my way home from my first day back at work.
‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ I say tentatively, easing myself down on the sofa next to Millie. Even though I’m feigning nonchalance, not a second passed in my grey cubicle where I wasn’t thinking about how to present my idea to her.
‘Mmm,’ she says, still focused on the reality TV rerun.
‘I actually want your opinion.’ My heart flutters in my chest. My palms are damp. I’m nervous to ask this much of my sister, but I am determined to give it my best shot.
Millie turns towards me, resettling herself on the couch, giving me her full attention. ‘What’s up?’
I take a deep breath and spew the words out of my mouth as fast as I can. ‘I want to apply to your lab. I know you said that they’re overwhelmed, especially with you gone, and I’ve seen online that they’re looking for a lab tech and—’ I gulp down a breath of air, not wanting to stop talking until I get out everything I want to say, terrified that Millie will think this is a bad idea. ‘And I think I meet the qualifications, I have the degree. And I know you’re going to say it’s a backwards step for me, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think it’s just a lateral move. I can’t work at Sunshine Foods forever.’
I don’t know what reaction I was expecting, but it wasn’t silence. Millie stares at me for a beat too long before she replies. ‘You’re sure this is what you want? It’s a lot of grant applications. Sometimes you have to stay kind of late, and honestly, the pay stinks. And it’s not like we’re at a marine station . . .’
‘Yeah, I’m sure. I can’t quite explain it, it just feels right.’ I pick at my cuticle. ‘I know Columbus isn’t the most glamorous place to do this . . . if you don’t want me to apply, I won’t.’ I rush to say the words. ‘I promise, I really don’t want to get in the way and if you feel like it’s your place, I understand.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Millie asks. I look up. She’s beaming. ‘I would love nothing more. I just wanted to make sure you’ve really thought it through. It is hard. Like sometimes it really sucks.’
I nod.
‘But we can carpool!’ Millie squeals. ‘And I’ve been asking you to hang out with Bianca and me for ages and now you will finally have to!’ she says. Bianca is Millie’s best friend from work. Millie squeals again. ‘Apply! Apply!’ she chants.
So, I do.
The interview process is easy. Millie refers me and talks me through the phone screen. I get fast-tracked through to final stages, mostly because of a letter of recommendation from an old marine biology professor. When I’m offered the job, I cry with relief. I feel like even though everything with Hugh still feels terribly wrong, something in my life is starting to feel right.
On the day I put in my notice at work, I return to the letter I wrote to Hugh. I’ve only been back at work a couple of weeks after New Year, and when Matteo asks what I’m going to do, I tell him that I’ve accepted a position at a marine biology lab.
‘You’re moving to Australia?’ he asks, so loudly that Becca’s head pops up from her cubicle.
‘I wish,’ I joke. ‘I’m starting at the lab here, where my sister works.’
Matteo nods, unaware of how much his comment pulled at my heartstrings. I wish I was moving to Australia. I would give anything to go back to the place that captured my heart, to hear the ocean again, to smell the salty air every day. The University of Sydney also has the best marine station in the world – every marine biologist dreams of working there. Even Millie respects it, despite the fact that Hugh works there.
‘I always thought you were destined for something greater,’ Matteo says cheerfully. He pulls me into a hug. He means it as a compliment, but it makes me want to roll my eyes.
For two weeks, my last two weeks of work, I revisit the letter to Hugh so frequently that it has torn edges and tear stains. On my last day, I decide to mail it, smudges and all. I send it to the address on his email signature. Vanessa had emailed all of us pictures of the formal dive logs, the air we consumed, the depth we dived to, the weather and the locations. Hugh had replied to the email thanking her, his Sydney address hovering surreptitiously at the end of his note.
I read back over the pages explaining why I lied to him and what he meant to me. I explain what I realised since coming home, that before we met, I thought that being in love meant that part of your identity became that person. I thought it was romantic, the idea that a ‘couple’ would lose part of their identities as they grew closer together. But then I met Hugh. And the more I fell for him, the more I felt like me .
The only change I make is adding a postscript. I quit my job, I write. Thank you for seeing something bigger in me than a 9–5 cubicle . Love, Andi.
Almost as soon as I start at the lab, the Boston conference comes up. Millie still can’t travel, she’s not supposed to go anywhere while they’re monitoring her for risk of another infection, and she nominates me to go and present her research in her stead. Usually, the opportunity wouldn’t go to the newest lab tech, but everyone else is either buried in work catching up after the holidays or doesn’t want to prep a presentation. Now that I’m an employed marine biologist, Millie reminds me cheerfully, I can present research without feeling like a fraud.
I lean into preparation, trying to make the most of the opportunity. I’ll be the only one from the team going, which makes me both more nervous (I would rather have someone to show me the ropes) and less nervous (I am glad none of my peers will be there to watch my lecture). I like having something to work on that I’m passionate about. I even use some of my old slide deck skills from Sunshine Foods to add a little creativity to what I’m presenting.
After I show my boss the first draft of my deck, she formally adds my name to the conference agenda. I start to check it habitually after that, wondering if Hugh will see, wondering if he will change his mind.
It takes five days. Exactly a month after I sent the letter, Hugh’s name disappears from the schedule. I stare at my phone open-mouthed. My stomach drops. I try to use the breath exercises I’ve learned in yoga, now that I’ve finally started going to classes, but even they didn’t calm the jackhammering of my heart.
I know I’ll have to accept that I need to let Hugh go, but it’s easier said than done. When, a couple of days later, I hear someone with an Australian accent in the grocery store, it’s all I can do not to burst into tears in the condiment aisle.
The next time Millie asks me about the conference, I almost tell her I can’t go. I open my mouth to explain that some days I feel so sad I don’t even want to take a shower, that going somewhere Hugh was supposed to be feels impossible, but my gaze catches on the new wrinkles that have formed across Millie’s forehead and I hold my tongue. She teasingly pulls the ‘I got a double mastectomy’ card enough that I know that’s what she’d do if I said I was having second thoughts.
‘One day you’ll have to stop using that,’ I tell Millie after she guilts me into bringing her a latte on my way to work.
‘You’re the one who always falls for it,’ she replies with a smile, happily sipping her steaming coffee.
The cold in Columbus is bitter for weeks in a row, but day by day I weather it for a little longer with Murphy. I stay quiet about not wanting to present, and instead try to focus on what good opportunity it is. I fall into a rhythm at the lab. I like my co-workers; most of the other lab techs are a little younger than me, but we go to the bar next to the office for trivia together every week and it’s fun and lively and I feel like I’m finally getting back to having a life.
There’s one co-worker in particular that I get along with really well. His name is Blake and he’s twenty-four. I assumed I was too old for him to even think of me that way, but one day he asks me out. He does it so casually that I don’t register it for a minute or two, and I leave him hanging a beat too long.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say finally. He has big brown eyes and long eyelashes. He’s cute. Young, but cute.
‘I’m kind of hung up on someone,’ I explain. Ever since I found out Hugh cancelled his trip to Boston, the thought of him makes my heart feel like it’s being squeezed by a giant fist. I’m not ready to be seeing anyone else. I’m in no place to date someone, especially not a co-worker.
But the hole Hugh left is slowly filled by my new job. Millie and I spend more time together now because we see each other at work, and the insecurity I used to feel in her presence, that I was constantly being compared and deemed the worse sister, has significantly dimmed.
It started lessening after the first week, when I told Millie I couldn’t eat lunch with her and Bianca every day anymore. ‘Can we do twice a week?’ I offered instead.
‘Why?’ she had asked, clearly insulted.
‘I think I need some separation,’ I explained. ‘It’s not personal, it’s just that when you’re around I feel like I’m quieter . . .’ I trailed off and tried again. ‘You’re just good at everything . . . sometimes it feels like there’s no space for me.’
‘But I love having you around,’ Millie responded.
‘Yeah, but . . .’ I wriggled in my seat, uncomfortable.
‘I get it,’ Millie finally sighed, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take up all the space.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. It’s not your fault,’ I said, surprised to find that I meant it. ‘I choose to act that way, and there’s plenty of space for both of us.’
‘I think so too, but still . . . I should have realised I was making you feel that way. I just love having you around, An. It’s been so fun.’
‘Yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m having fun too . . . I just think . . .’
‘I get it,’ Millie said, laying a reassuring hand on my forearm. ‘You’re my biggest cheerleader. I thought I was yours too, but I think I put that on the back-burner when we’re together, which isn’t fair.’
‘I’m an adult,’ I remind her. ‘That was my choice too.’
And now, maybe because I’m closer to Millie than ever, or I’m busy preparing for Boston, but whatever the reason, my loneliness is starting to subside. Millie figured out a way to livestream my presentation, which only made me work harder to make it perfect. I’m proud of how it’s shaping up and excited to show my new team that I can do something apart from working heads-down in a research lab.
I run through my presentation with Millie for the final time. ‘This isn’t necessary,’ I complain, reiterating again that our boss already OK’d the final draft. We’re presenting on the regeneration of coral and implying that the butterfly wrasse is still alive, but without the dive log we can’t say definitively that it is. Millie forced me to include some of the photos I took, even though none of them are clear proof. I look over the photos again. I find nothing.
‘I want it to be perfect,’ Millie says, clicking through slides. She settles on the one that has the least grainy photo of the reef. ‘You’re sure you don’t have any better pictures?’ she asks.
‘Millie,’ I say, rolling my eyes, ‘yes, I’m sure. I’ve told you that a thousand times.’
‘And no one else took pictures?’
I hesitate. ‘I mean,’ I say, ‘Derek did.’
‘You never told me that!’ Millie says, leaping up from the couch. She’s regained all of her vitality and previous mobility. She’s even coming to terms with her new breasts, although she still refers to them as her ‘chicken cutlets’.
‘I didn’t?’ I ask. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of Derek sooner.
I hastily search back into my email for the last one I received from the Coral Sea Dreaming tour company. In the string of CCs, it included Derek’s email: dwilson@texastech.
‘Are you gonna ask him? The camera guy?’
‘Yes! I’m going as fast as I can,’ I say impatiently, taking the computer out of Millie’s hands and plopping it into my lap.
I fire off a quick email, explaining why I need the pictures and asking if he minds just sending off whatever he took during the last day.
I am about to shut my computer, not expecting Derek to respond right away, when I hear the familiar ding of a message landing in my inbox.
‘OMG,’ Millie says, peering over my shoulder.
‘We don’t know if it’s even him who’s responding,’ I remind her.
But it is. Derek has attached a zip file with over a hundred photos.
His message reads:
Hi Millie/Andi,
Nice to hear from you. I hope you’re well. I attach a zip file of all the photos I took on the last day. If you’re wondering how I could send them so fast (because yes, working in tech is quite time-consuming, I wasn’t lying about that), it’s because Hugh just asked for the same set of photos. If I’m honest, Natalie was worried she left a bad taste in your mouth after the trip. If you’re reaching out to me for photos, I’m glad to assume that’s not the case!
She was hoping to speak to you while we were on the boat, but she never got the chance to – she is spearheading a new campaign for a skincare line that includes sunscreen and she wants to pitch to her boss the idea of including a marine biologist as a user. Would the marine biologist in your family be interested? I’m going to pass along your email so she can send you more details.
Cheers!
Derek
Millie snorts with laughter when she reads the opening lines of the email.
‘I told you,’ I say, also laughing, ‘he is that guy. You know how many times I heard about how much he works?’
‘Skincare!’ Millie squeals. ‘Did she ask you to model?’
‘ That’s why she kept talking to Hugh?’ I shake my head in disbelief.
‘You could have gotten free sunscreen?’ Millie squints at me in disbelief. ‘And you didn’t ?’
‘I didn’t know,’ I say. ‘God, I’m so dumb.’
‘Is she the one you didn’t like?’
‘Yes. She gave me weird vibes and kept giving me weird looks.’
‘All because she wanted to put you in a marketing campaign.’ Millie starts to laugh. ‘You can be so dense.’
I can’t help but laugh too. But after a beat our laughter dies down again. ‘But . . .’ Millie says, trailing off.
We haven’t addressed the elephant in the room.
‘If Hugh was asking . . .’ I say, but I trail off too. Does that mean he’s still thinking about me? ‘Do you think . . .’ I say.
‘Do I think he’s going to Boston?’ Millie supplies.
I gulp. ‘Do you?’ I squeak.
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ she says.