Chapter 36
Hunter
Maybe I notice the rain less when I’m happy. It’s not like we don’t get enough of it in London, and usually it blends into the background. But when it starts pouring shortly after my conversation with Max, I feel like someone has flipped a switch to match my mood.
Why did I let myself feel hope even for a fraction of a second? There’s no good way for this to end. Max was only doing what I did a few weeks ago when I suggested not sleeping together.
In a weird way, I’m proud of him. He’s learning to be honest with himself about how he’s feeling and what’s best for him. But that doesn’t make this any easier.
I’m not one of those people who like to wander through the rain and get soaked to the skin.
All I want to do is curl up in bed and watch a trashy movie.
Unfortunately, I have plans. As one of her many wedding gifts, Doily arranged for me, Zosia and Thiago to go and hate-watch Anna Karenina On Ice at the Tower of London, a production that encapsulates everything that Doily despises about the modern theater industry.
The production doesn’t disappoint, in that there’s a lot to hate about it.
It’s unclear what the producers were thinking.
Why did Tolstoy’s most famous novel need to be adapted for the ice rink?
Why not just stage a play? The cast is a mixture of professional ice skaters and celebrities who’ve appeared on Dancing on Ice.
The acting ranges from mediocre to dreadful.
There’s barely a scene that isn’t ruined by a random bout of ice skating, the worst example being a bizarre grouse-hunting expedition where the cast all start doing axels and triple toe loops for no apparent reason.
And yet I can’t help but be drawn in. As Anna and Vronsky long for each other, I feel like I’m right there with them.
I have never wanted anyone the way I want Max now.
Being apart from him for just a few hours is physically painful.
I want to gaze at him across a ballroom, run away with him to a remote country estate and make love all day, stand up in a crowded hall and declare my love for him.
But what shocks me, what rocks me to my core, is realizing what I want most of all.
Until recently, seeing the tragedy play out between Anna and Vronsky would have confirmed for me that it was wrong to believe in love.
So many times in the past when I’ve been down, art like this has reinforced my bleak view of the world.
But as the play comes to its tragic and slightly ridiculous conclusion, I’m not comforted. Not even slightly.
What I long for more than anything is a happy ending.
As we file out of the theater, I get a text from Doily saying she’s paid for a meal for us at Joe Allen, the restaurant beloved by London’s theater community.
There, as a West End stalwart stands by the piano and massacres ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’, we order cocktails and bitch about the show.
But while Zosia and Thiago wet themselves laughing over the moment when Anna was skating to catch Vronsky’s train and did what we all hope was an unintentional pratfall, I find I can’t join them.
Eventually, Zosia notices and frowns at me.
‘Did you not enjoy that?’
‘No, I did.’
Neither she nor Thiago believe me.
‘I did! I actually got caught up in the romance.’
‘OK,’ says Zosia. ‘What’s going on, Hunter?’
I let out a sigh and tell them what happened at Chevening, how I finally felt like Max and I were going somewhere until he dropped that bombshell when we got home.
‘Oh babe.’ Thiago takes my hand. ‘You’ve created a monster.’
I laugh bitterly. ‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine,’ says Thiago. ‘It’s bullshit.’
‘It’s not bullshit,’ says Zosia firmly. ‘It’s just hard.’
I want to cry, but I can’t do that or I might never stop.
‘I’m not mad at Max,’ I say. ‘I’m mad because . . . I didn’t think I would ever feel hope again. I honestly thought Rafferty had ruined me.’
It’s a risk saying his name to these two because I immediately see their hackles go up. Zosia takes a swig of her cocktail and shakes her head.
‘No,’ she says. ‘He never had that power.’
I give her a grateful smile. ‘It’s just so unfair that I finally get over him and then it’s unclear if Max and I can be together.’
‘There’s so many ways you could be together,’ says Thiago. ‘If he doesn’t get this job, he won’t have to move to Greece.’
‘But he wants to be a diplomat,’ I say. ‘He wants to travel abroad. I don’t want to get in the way of that dream.’
‘You won’t,’ says Zosia. ‘You two would never do that to each other.’
‘Yes, that’s the problem!’ I blurt out.
I can’t bear it, I really can’t. The prospect of a life without Max has fast become intolerable. But if I’ve gone to a dark place, my friends won’t meet me there.
‘Look,’ says Zosia, ‘Max is being mature. He’s protecting his feelings. But don’t tell me he’s given up on you two. Don’t tell me he’s stopped dreaming.’