Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
As Callum leads me to our original seats at the front of the aircraft, I wonder whether he might gloat about the fact that he just rescued me from quite a mortifying situation with my ex-boyfriend.
Use it to his advantage, somehow. But as he wordlessly eases my bag from my shoulder, stashing it in the overhead lockers and pauses to make sure that I’m settled in the window seat before he sits back down, I realize I needn’t worry.
I get the impression that he’s giving me the space to think, aware somehow that my mind is whizzing around at a hundred miles an hour, and I feel genuinely touched by it.
Which is odd.
‘Hey, Callum?’ I say, turning to him after a while. ‘Thank you.’
He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Moss? That sounded alarmingly like gratitude to me.’
I roll my eyes.
‘I am grateful. You kind of came to my rescue there. Ex-boyfriend. Weird emotions. What is it with today?’ I’m basically muttering to myself at this point. ‘How did you know?’
Callum shakes his head. ‘I didn’t. Just wanted to come and see you, I guess.’
‘Were you missing me?’ I make it sound like I’m teasing him even though my treacherous mind would love him to answer with a yes.
‘Like a hole in the head,’ he fires back, smiling at me.
‘Well, your timing was perfect. Have you ever met up with an ex after a long time apart and … and …’ I trail off.
‘Wondered what the hell you were thinking in the first place?’ he offers. ‘A thousand times yes, Moss.’
I splutter out a laugh.
‘You have a thousand exes? You have been busy.’
‘You know what I mean.’ He twinkles at me. ‘Humphrey seems great, by the way.’
‘Stop it. He was great, once.’
‘And now?’
‘I’m not so sure.’
Callum is quiet for a minute. ‘If it helps, you did me a favour too,’ he says after a pause.
‘How?’
He casts a furtive look behind us, to where Jennifer and her ‘end of an error’ pals are sitting.
‘The one with the sash on kept asking if I was going to take my shirt off,’ he says, dropping his voice to a low whisper. ‘I was genuinely terrified.’
I let out a little huff of laughter.
‘Maybe we do make a decent team, after all,’ I muse.
‘Kat will be thrilled,’ he replies.
I take a moment to stretch my legs and enjoy my new surroundings.
Callum is a much more beautifully scented travel partner, I must admit.
How does he smell so good after so much time in the air?
We’re about four hours in and every time he moves, I get these intoxicating wafts of spring meadow meets citrus zing.
Somebody should bottle it.
The work thing was obviously a ploy, because both of us know that there’s very little to do.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Callum offers.
‘Not quite yet,’ I admit.
‘Well, I’m here if you want me,’ he says, and the look he’s giving me makes me melt like candlewax. What is going on here?
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I mean it.’
‘No problem, Moss.’ With that, he picks up his remote and flicks through sitcom options on his screen.
I lean back against my headrest and shut my eyes, grateful for the time and space to decompress. There’s so much to consider.
Hamish has let me down again. I don’t understand it.
How can something that was once so good become something so difficult to get up and running a second time around?
Of course, I understand that we’ve grown up and grown apart.
There’s so much life between us now that we’re bound to have changed – I’m not stupid.
But now I’m starting to get this niggling feeling that Hamish was always like this, even back then, and somehow I’d forgotten it along the way.
Did I spend so long looking back with my rose-tinted glasses on that I managed to alter my recollection of what he was actually like? Make it better than it really was?
Because right now, I’m not even sure that I like Hamish anymore.
I certainly don’t want to rekindle a relationship with him.
For the longest time I’ve thought that Hamish was the one that got away.
Going back to our beautiful relationship would be the cherry on the cake.
It would mean that my lacklustre love life was finally living up to all the other, really good, elements of my life.
But even if Hamish had turned up on this flight and been exactly the man I remember, he’s made it quite clear that Australia is his home now.
So even at a simple, logistical level, there’s no way we could make a relationship work if we lived on other sides of the world.
And I am not in the market for uprooting my lovely London life.
I love living with Penny and spending Saturday mornings eating fresh cinnamon buns at our local café.
There’s no way I’m swapping that. I’m so lucky to have this life I have. Or rather, had.
And, practicalities aside, every single time I try to reconnect with Hamish, he’s let me down. I’m starting to wonder if he’s my way out of this mess at all.
Now that life is one eternal Monday I’d assumed that Fate had brought Hamish back to make me see what I needed to do to fix my problems. To focus on my love life for a little bit.
Here’s your ex-boyfriend, make a go of it again!
Only now I’m starting to fear that I was looking at my old life through rose-tinted glasses.
Sure, we had fun, but I think I must have glossed over the annoying bits to create this dream world for myself.
No one has ever compared to Hamish because I haven’t let them.
And now I wonder if he’s not that great, after all.
Now I wonder if he’s actually kind of a douche.
So, what next? Absentmindedly I stare out of the tiny cabin window.
I’m literally flying into the future, cruising through time zones at high altitude.
The thought makes my head spin. Outside is an endless blanket of cloud, like a cotton wool spillage.
And on the horizon, nothing but brilliant blue sky.
How am I going to get out of this loop if it’s not with Hamish by my side?
Or am I meant to carry on pursuing Hamish, questionable sandwich dependency and all?
Is he really my only way out of here? Am I meant to give it one more shot with him, perhaps?
Because it’s so incredibly strange that I’ve got stuck in this loop at a time in my life where the only thing that needed some improvement was my love life.
It can’t be a coincidence, can it? Here the world is, offering up my dream man on a plate for me to right my wrongs and get back on track.
I snap my eyes shut, struggling to make sense of any of it.
I guess the Hamish of today was an improvement on Monday Two.
If I’m going to have to endure a Monday Five, will he be better again then?
Is that what’s happening here? Just a gradual improvement of Hamish until he really is back to the man I think I remember so well?
And also, very much as a side note, why oh why does my mind keep snagging on the moment where Callum held my hand earlier?
Why is life so confusing right now?!
‘I have no idea,’ Callum replies to the question I thought I asked in my head.
‘Did I say that out loud?’ I whisper. Not sure today could get any more humiliating, to be honest.
‘Yes, you did, Moss.’ He’s squinting at me, the sun pouring in through the window to my left. Then he does this strange nodding motion, like he’s agreeing with a thought.
‘What?’ I ask, ever eloquent.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, come on! What were you nodding about?’
He shades his eyes as he looks over again, his hand casting a shadow over his glasses.
‘Just thinking that your hair really suits you like that.’ He shrugs. ‘I hope you paid no attention to what Humphrey was saying back there. Sorry if I’m overstepping but, God, what an ass.’
I bite my lip.
‘He is a bit of an ass. You think puffy suits me, then?’ I ask, flicking my hair behind my shoulders.
‘It’s not puffy.’ Callum clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘What does he know?’
‘I’m starting to wonder the same,’ I admit.
‘You want to talk about it now?’
It takes me a split second to process the following …
Chances are I’ll be doing this all over again tomorrow and Callum won’t remember a thing, saving me from future embarrassment.
My emotional landscape is shot to shit.
I need an outlet and right now, Callum Bang is all I have.
And so, without going into the kind of time travel detail that might get me sectioned, I explain how I feel stuck in a rut. How I thought Hamish was my get-out-of-jail card and now I’m freaking out that perhaps he isn’t, which leaves me with zero means of escape.
‘You feel trapped,’ Callum summarizes once I’ve finished.
‘Yes.’ I exhale, struck by how astute he is. ‘Trapped and also stupid. I’ve compared every partner to Hamish, unfavourably, and now I meet this man I’d put on a pedestal and even he falls short of my own standards. It’s ridiculous! Like, is there any hope?’
‘You are not stupid,’ Callum says firmly. ‘You’re just figuring things out. And of course there’s hope.’
The sun’s no longer in his eyes and he lowers his hand. I watch, mesmerized, as his pupils narrow to dots.
‘You deserve good things, Moss,’ he adds, pupils expanding wide again.
‘Did you know that you have the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen?’
‘I do?’ He huffs out a laugh.
‘Seriously. Dark greens like pine and basil but also light, too, like a fresh olive.’
‘Are you sure you’re not describing a salad? You’re making me hungry.’
My gaze tracks to his lips and stays there.
I swallow, hard.
‘Do you need to order more food?’ I manage eventually. ‘I could go to the galley? They’ve got good snacks there.’
‘I’m good,’ he says. ‘But thank you.’
‘Look at us, getting along.’ I grin.
‘Dreams can come true,’ he quips.
‘Okay, Gabrielle.’
Callum stretches out, affording me a glimpse of abs, and I have to avert my gaze. ‘You wanna watch a film together?’ he asks. ‘Bridesmaids is on. It’s one of my favourites.’
I just manage to stop myself from telling him I already know this. Do I want to watch Bridesmaids in tandem with the colleague I have very confusing feelings about? The answer is yes, yes, I do.
‘Sure,’ I say.
‘Are you for real?’ Jennifer the divorcee sitting behind us suddenly pipes up. ‘Extremely hot and offers to watch Bridesmaids to cheer your friend here up? You are the perfect man.’
‘Don’t tell him that!’ I pretend to groan. ‘He’s going to be impossible to handle if his head gets any bigger.’
‘I would love to handle him in any which way,’ she replies delightedly, taking a long swig of something boozy.
Callum shoots me a terrified look.
‘See?’ he mouths.
I reach for the earphones they were giving out as we boarded the plane. I couldn’t get to grips with the headset you’re given in premium economy, my hair kept getting stuck in it, and now the earphones really will come in handy. I hand him the right ear, stifling a smile.
We’re well into the movie when another meal is wheeled around. Dinner? Breakfast? Who blooming knows. As long as there are more Australian biscuits, I am not complaining.
But as the flight attendant reaches my seat, she frowns.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to return to your own seat, ma’am,’ she says.
Damn it! I’ve been so comforted sitting here, feeling at peace for the first time all flight, that I’d almost forgotten about today’s seat swap.
‘Oh no!’ I wail. ‘Please don’t send me back there. I’m sitting between my ex-boyfriend and a man who smells really bad and, honestly, I’m not sure I can cope with any more of either of them.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but passengers have to sit in their allocated seats.’
I eye up the trolley filled with fancy premium economy food longingly before I make to stand up.
But Callum’s hand settles on mine.
‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Could we please allow my friend to stay here? She’s having a tough time of it today and that seat has been really triggering for her. Plus, there’s an empty spot right here next to me. Would it be too much trouble to let her stay?’
The flight attendant’s formerly firm expression melts.
‘Of course, sir. No problem.’
And then she hands me a fancy breakfast!
‘Wow,’ I say once she’s left us to it. ‘You are such a charmer!’
‘It’s a gift.’ Callum grins. ‘Nah, just kidding. Sometimes all you can do is ask, right?’
‘But I did ask and it was a no until you brought out the big guns. Is no one immune to your charm?’
‘I can think of one person,’ he says, gaze flicking to mine. ‘Small. Looks like butter wouldn’t melt. Razor-sharp tongue.’
‘Me?’ I clutch my chest. ‘Please, as if you’ve tried to charm me. Unless we consider criticizing my job “charming”.’
‘How have I criticized your job?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Now you’re just being obtuse.’
Callum sighs.
‘Not being able to charm you is my one stumbling block,’ he says.
And I’m so confused by this. So thoroughly overwhelmed by everything that has happened today.
The misfire with Hamish, again. The devil-may-care attitude in which I apparently just now tell people exactly what is on my mind.
That time I decided that spritzing deodorant over somebody else wasn’t an enormous infringement of personal space and, in fact, a really great idea.
AND NOW THIS?
So it is perhaps not surprising that my response to Callum is not as intellectually brilliant as I’d hope it could be.
‘You’re a stumbling block,’ I retort.
‘Oh Moss.’
‘Oh Bang. At least we’re back on firmer ground now.’
‘You mean the ground where you are constantly taking the piss out of me, or misjudging my character, or both?’
I shake my head at him.
‘I’m going to eat this breakfast-slash-dinner now,’ I reply, shutting him down.
It’s all too much. As I eat, one thing becomes crystal clear.
I am going to have to make sure this is not my last Monday.
I am going to have to kill Callum at the airport.
I do feel bad about it, because he’s been – whisper it – quite nice today.
But I have somehow found myself in a position where I’ve told him way too much stuff.
What has come over me? Imagine if this was the last loop and Callum was armed with all this knowledge about me for the rest of my life?
The thought makes me shudder.
I’ve let him get in too deep, and now we both must go again, I think stoically.
Besides, it’s not like our tragic and sombre demise isn’t bound to happen anyway. The only way out of it is, erm … backwards.
And so, as we arrive at Perth airport and the wayward luggage buggy comes speeding towards us, I give Callum a hearty shove in the right direction. I am a stone-cold killer now.
Here we go again!