Chapter 6
6
Nataly
End of March, 2015, London
It’s been two months since I got back from Dublin, and I dove straight back into my normal routine: university, church, hanging out with friends, and binge-watching ten movies in two weeks thanks to my new unlimited Cineworld cinema card.
Romantic comedies being my personality made getting an unlimited card feel inevitable. I go by myself sometimes (why do people think that’s weird?), and other times I go with Joel. We’ve even got an Unlimited WhatsApp group, so sometimes we’ll join the others. There’s always good banter, and it always ends up being a great night.
Last week, we squeezed in one last movie before he jetted off to California for a few weeks.
“I can't believe I wasted my time watching The Best of Me, ” I groaned. “I’m sure you’re thrilled you skipped it.”
Joel chuckled. “Not really my kind of movie. What was so bad about it? ”
“He dies at the end!" I threw up my hands. "Total heartbreak! It reminded me of the time my mom and I watched Remember Me —and the main character dies in the Twin Towers. It was, like, 10 o’clock at night, and she started angrily vacuuming, saying, ‘Nataly! I can’t believe I wasted two hours of my life on that!’ As if I was to blame! I thought it was supposed to be a romantic movie with a very wonderful happy ending!”
Ugh. I hate movies that don’t have happy endings. I will forever be warning everyone off these two.
He chuckled. “Well, I’m definitely glad I didn’t watch it then. What are we going to watch on Friday before I leave?”
“I’m not sure. There aren’t that many movies left. I know they’re showing some oldies, though.”
He was already scrolling through the listings.
“There’s Ghostbusters, Cinderella … and that’s about it,” he grimaced.
“I’ve already seen the new Cinderella —so good. But I’ve never watched Ghostbusters ,” I said with a shrug.
Joel’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me you’ve never seen Ghostbusters ?”
I shrugged again. “Honestly, I’m missing a ton of the classics. Grease , Dirty Dancing ... they’re still on my to-watch list.”
“We’re fixing that.” He pulled up the times on his phone like it was his personal mission.
Friday came quickly, and as we headed in, he gave me a glimpse of his past.
“My dad used to take us to the cinema every other Friday,” Joel said, as we meandered past the cinema. “We’d grab the big tubs of popcorn and pretend we didn’t hear Mum telling us not to ruin dinner.”
I smiled. “That’s cute.”
“Yeah, I guess movies make me nostalgic sometimes.”
I nudged him. “So, you’re saying there’s hope you’ll one day willingly watch 27 Dresses?”
“Don’t push it. ”
We laughed through the night, fueled by popcorn and my favorites—fizzy strawberry pencils. They are definitely one way into my heart.
Going to the cinema is probably the thing we’ve enjoyed doing most together. I like being around him; we usually have a good time.
We grab lunch with his family often enough, and we’re usually around each other at church events or outings. We have things in common, and he’s always very charming. It’s the thing that’s intrigued me most about him.
But recently, I’ve had too many conversations with my best friend and my mom about how I like him but I don’t love him.
My best friend Chantelle (a.k.a. Chants—pronounced shaunts ) lives down in Bournemouth. We’re basically sisters, even though we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I wish I could’ve stolen her clothes growing up, but we still had the “talk about boys/sleepover” sister dynamic. We’re not blood-related, but that’s never mattered.
She came up to London last Saturday, the day after I watched Ghostbusters .
We had an absolute blast—shopping down at Westfield Stratford, grabbing tea at this hidden gem called God’s Own Junkyard. The whole place is unreal. Every inch is covered in neon signs. It's mesmerizing. And bonus: it's a café too, so you get to bathe in the lights as you sip your tea.
“So, tell me more about Joel,” she said, pouring milk into her tea. “You’ve hardly spilled a thing.”
“He’s a nice guy,” I said with a shrug. “It’s only been a few months, really. But he’s the opposite of all of the other guys I’ve dated. He’s different to my usual type.”
“In a good way, right?” She grinned. “I mean, your type is basically a guy out of a Hollister catalog, so generally they’re set in the looks department. But all of the guys you’ve dated so far were total cheese wads.”
“Cheese wads?” I laughed, nearly choking on my tea. She always comes up with the best sayings—it’s impossible not to howl in laughter when I’m around her.
“Cheese wads,” she repeated proudly. “But seriously—those guys never saw your worth. Please tell me Joel is a good kind of different.”
“I’m still figuring that out,” I said slowly. “He’s a good guy—don’t get me wrong. Super charming. But… I’m not in love with him. My heart doesn’t exactly leap when I see him.”
She pressed a hand to my forehead, and I arched a brow.
“I’m just checking you’re not sick.” She laughed. “You’re an all-in kind of girl.”
“I know,” I sighed. “That’s what’s got me worried. But I’m holding out. Maybe it’s just a slow burn… something that’ll build over time.”
“Okay, we’ll table this for now,” she said, cutting into her scone. “But you butter believe I’m bringing it up again soon,” she continued as she knifed the butter. I giggled.
We thankfully left the conversation there—probably because I didn’t give her enough details to worry.
And as much as I don’t want to think about what’s not right, there’s something that’s been eating at me. Things have been feeling off between Joel and me. There’s an undercurrent I can't name. He doesn’t pay much attention to me—or to the little things about me. It’s not like he’s stopped being nice. It’s just... like an invisible mess I keep sweeping under the rug. Neither of us is head over heels, and my indecision feels heavier than it should, but I shove it away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Like the mess.
Maybe it’s time to clean up both.
Now, with him away in California, the doubts are flaring even louder. He’s there for a few weeks, and half the time, I don’t even know what he’s doing. I text him, and it takes hours to hear back.
Me: So, what’s it like out there? What have you been up to?
(Hours later)
Joel: I’m loving the sunshine. Been hanging out with some of the guys I’ve met out here.
Me: The Cali sunshine must be amazing. Where have you guys been hitting up?
Joel: A few bars, a few restaurants.
And… that was it. No follow-up. No “goodnight.” He barely even says that anymore.
I keep blaming it on the time difference, but deep down? I don’t think that’s the problem.
Something feels off between us—like a distance neither of us is naming. And for some reason, my insecurities feel louder than ever.
I'm sitting at the DLR station (the Docklands Light Railway—basically part of the London Underground system), pondering all of this as I wait for my train. I’m heading home from university, DSLR camera by my side—I brought it with me today to get some shots.
Photography’s been my thing since I was fifteen. I’ve loved it as a hobby, but what I really love is making Youtube videos. I came to university to study music, hoping to learn how to produce my own songs so I can make more Youtube covers—so I like having it with me in case I need new photos or videos.
I set my camera down beside me.
Just then, my phone rings. It’s Joy.
“Hey girl! How are you?” I say, answering.
“Hey! I’m good! Just thought I’d check in on you about team night later. I know Joel’s not around, so I figured we could meet up and go together?”
“That sounds great!”
“How are you feeling with him away?”
I sigh.
“Uh-oh, that bad?” she says.
“I was actually just sitting here thinking through it. Things have been so off with him being in California. Honestly, they were a little off before he left, but now... it’s like he barely texts. Barely calls. Surely if he really cared, he’d want to know what I’m up to?”
“Yeah, that sounds totally weird. Something’s not right there.”
“I’m also thinking about that list I wrote once upon a time…you know, the list of things I want in the guy I marry.”
“The one your parents inspired you to write?”
“Yeah, that one. I know it’s not some sort of magical list but... it matters. It helps me know what I’m actually looking for.”
Number one on that list: muscles. (Yes, really.) Joel… does not have muscles. I don’t have a long list of requirements when it comes to looks, but this one’s kind of non-negotiable. Can you blame a girl if broad shoulders and biceps make her swoon? I didn’t put this one on the list, really, but I’ve always imagined being with someone I could tilt up to kiss—reaching for his neck while standing on tiptoe. Joel’s barely taller than me.
But the thing that really threw me off the other day? One of the things I actually did put on that list: I want a man who pays attention to me. A man who wants to hear whatever I have to share. And the other day, Joel and I were on the DLR, and I was telling him something. I can’t even remember what it was now—when, in the middle of me talking, he picked up his phone and stayed on it for a full ten minutes before even noticing I’d stopped talking. He apologized after a while, but like… come on .
“If I’m remembering right, he doesn’t really fit your list entirely,” Joy says gently.
“It’s just so hard,” I say, voice trailing. “He’s a nice guy. Our relationship is comfortable. We laugh together. We have good times...”
But is it that head-over-heels, butterflies-for-breakfast, sing-in-the-shower love? No. It’s not anywhere near that. I’m getting doubtful about my place in this relationship and whether I should even be in it. I can’t stop wondering if I’m staying because it’s comfortable. Because it’s familiar. Not because it’s right .
On paper, it sounds like an easy decision. But choosing the unknown? Leaving the familiar behind? It’s not as simple as it sounds. Even when things feel unsettled... stepping into uncertainty takes guts. Even if things feel unsettled at the moment… I need to take my time to really think about this.
“I get that, girl. Just don’t settle. That’s not you.”
“I know. Thanks for looking out for me. I’m looking forward to team night!”
“Me too! I’m on my way home from uni now—I’ll see you at the station around 7?”
“Perfect. See you then!”
I’m so focused on my phone, scrolling away, that I forget—my camera’s still sitting next to me. I glance up to the notice board and see my DLR is arriving. I sprint up the escalator and make the train by a breath.
And that’s when it hits me. I didn’t grab my camera. I left it on the seat when I decided I needed to be the Flash to make it in time for the DLR.
Oh no. No no no no no. NO.
Why do I do these things to myself?!
I get off the DLR at the next stop, heart racing, and catch another train to double back to Canning Town. Desperately hoping my camera’s still sitting there.
But when I get there—it’s gone. Of course it’s gone. Bad things happen in the world, I get it. I wouldn’t entirely call myself naive . I’m just optimistic. And maybe I was way too optimistic that my camera bag would be sitting there beautifully ripe for me to pluck right into my hand 15 minutes later in London. A capital city of the world. But I’ve heard of more impossible things happening.
I talk to the TFL staff, I call up lost and found, but it’s hopeless. My camera is gone.
I ride the DLR home in a cloud of regret and rage, mentally throwing myself a pity party. I should probably buy balloons. Maybe a cake. A party hat, too—to go with the twinkling sob of tears streaming down my face.
I am so mad at myself for losing my camera. It’s a stupid mistake. How could I forget something so important? I do this too often for my liking. I just… I’m so done with my own clumsiness right now.
I close the curtains, flop onto my bed, and ugly-cry into the darkness. At one point, I even stare at myself in the mirror. Why would I want to ugly-cry at myself in the mirror? Because I need to witness my own pathetic moment, I guess. I need to see how ridiculous I look when I feel sorry for myself.
But eventually... enough’s enough. It’s been 2 hours and 14 minutes of the world’s smallest violin playing. I need to go to team night. I’m not even going to bother putting on makeup. I’m too mad at myself. I just… need to get out of this house. Nothing’s going to bring my camera back, and wallowing isn’t going to fix it.
I need someone to talk to.
I grab my phone and call Joy.
“Hey girl!” she answers cheerfully.
“I left my camera at the tube station.”
A gasp. “Nooo.”
“Yes,” I say with a crack in my voice.
“Did you get it back?”
“No. It’s gone. Vanished. Adios.”
“Nataly…”
I groan. “I know. I know. I’m an idiot! I’m having a full-on melodramatic meltdown and I just needed someone to tell me I’m not the worst person alive.”
“Okay, you’re not the worst. You’re top 15 at best.”
I laugh through the tears. “Gee, thanks.”
She laughs too. “Now come to team night. We’ll walk in together, and maybe God will drop a brand-new DSLR out of the sky just for you.”
I giggle, already feeling a little lighter. “Okay, that’s a better idea than the lame pity party I’m throwing myself here. Complete with party hats and all,” I joke.
I hang up and head for the DLR. I make my way toward the Warehouse, the campus where we’re having team night. Team nights always feel extra special. What better place to snap me out of this funk? I also just need to be around people to refresh my mind. I’m probably what you would call an extroverted introvert. Or an introverted extrovert? I don’t know, but I draw energy from being around people. Although, I also have a social battery that can get drained. But tonight, I need people around me.
I’m glad I don’t have to walk into team night alone. After the day I’ve been having, it just makes sense. And okay, I tossed some mascara into my bag. I’m not completely prepared to see anyone, but at least I don’t want to look like I just finished my starring role in a tragic drama.
When I arrive, the first person I see at the door is someone I haven’t seen in months: Nathan.