35
BOBBI WANTS TO have a meeting to talk about the future. I’m worried, suddenly, that she wants to sack me. Surely not. I scan back through everything I’ve done since I started. A lot of mistakes, sure. I’ve accidentally set off the alarm, I’ve crashed the computer system, I’ve sold things at the wrong price. This makes me sound terrible. But I’ve also sold a lot of books. Plus there’s our social-media success. There’s now a bunch of regulars who come in and ask for my recommendations, my thoughts on the newest release, and happily buy the books I press into their hands, which continues to be the best feeling ever. I hold on to this list in my head, a ready defensive battalion, as I sit across from Bobbi in the backroom. We have fifteen minutes until we open. The backroom is so small that when we are sitting like this, opposite each other in swivel chairs, our knees are touching.
‘What’s up?’ I say.
‘Well, you’ve been here for a little while now, and I wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.’
‘I’m feeling good.’ It’s true. But maybe that’s too confident.
‘Pretty good?’ I say, trying to downgrade in case she’s going to sack me. Am I still on probation? I have no idea.
‘How’s the book?’
‘All done. It goes to print soon.’
I have two good endorsements from bigger-name authors. The sell-in is looking solid. I am tentatively optimistic. This is the most I can hope for. Well, that and becoming a major bestseller.
‘I mean, the next one. Book three.’
‘Oh, I’m only dabbling. It’s not anything.’ I’m playing with the idea of time travel.
‘Do you need time off from the shop to work on it?’
‘No. I don’t have a contract, or anything. There’s no timeframe.’
‘Well, that can be dangerous.’
‘It’s fine. I want to see what happens with The Scam first.’
‘And what about marketing? Are you thinking of going back?’
‘I have no plans to go back.’ This is the only thing in my life I’m certain about. I can’t. I would never write again, I know it in my bones. And my feet have finally adjusted to retail work.
‘Okay. Good. Because you’ve been doing so well and you’re a natural. And I want to float an idea by you.’
‘What’s that?’
‘There’s an opportunity for me to open a second shop, in a great location, with a very reasonable lease. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. And I wanted to see if you were interested in being the manager of the new shop.’
‘Oh. Wow.’
‘It would be full-time, with more responsibility. Higher pay. You’d need to do the ordering, a lot more of the financials. But you’d have the opportunity to really make it your own.’
‘Okay. Wow.’
I need to stop saying wow.
‘What are you thinking?’ Bobbi says, leaning forward a little, which is a lot when we’re so close already.
‘I’m thinking it sounds amazing.’
‘Really? You’ve been happy working here?’
‘I love it.’
‘Because if I commit to this new shop, I’m hoping you can commit to the manager position. For at least a year. Or longer. For as long as you want to have it. I don’t know if you took this job mainly because it allows you flexibility. Or if you were planning to stay that long.’
‘No, I took it because I love books and I love this shop. And I love working with you.’
And it’s true. Every time I walk in, I feel good .
‘Think about it overnight. Or for a few days. I love you, honey, and I think you’re so good at this. I love working with you too. But you’re young. You could be good at anything you want. Live anywhere you want. Go overseas.’ She is giving me a meaningful look. She knows I am talking to Mac, but I’ve been playing it down, saying we just chat occasionally.
‘That’s not in my plans,’ I say.
She stands up, and I do too, and I give her a hug.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
That night, I get into bed early, telling Hayley and Luke I’m going to do some writing. Instead, I reread the email Bobbi sent me, where she’s written up a proper job description for the manager role. It’s very official. Until this moment, I didn’t fully appreciate how relaxed I’ve felt in this job, how freeing it was.
But Bobbi’s right. I love working there. I haven’t dreaded going in to work a single day since starting at the shop. And the opportunity to manage a whole new bookshop, from scratch—I will probably never get that again.
But, another pathetic, snivelly, tiny voice sneaks in. It would also mean staying here longer. I have run through endless fantasies of moving to New York to be with Mac. When I picture myself there, it’s December, it’s snowing, and I’m wrapped up in his bed with him. I’m in that apartment that I fell in love with at first sight. Or it’s spring, and we’re walking around the city together, enjoying the sunshine. It’s autumn, and we’re cosy with coffee and books. We’re ice-skating, we’re in galleries, we’re lying in the park. I’m in the audience watching him on stage. I am imagining happy snapshots of our life. Singular moments of a few minutes at a time. Little fairy tales. I am not picturing me working or the logistics of living there legally or where I am living, exactly, or how I am affording the move, or what it feels like being so far from everyone and everything I know, or what I truly want, for myself, for my future, what I might be giving up. I am just picturing being with him. Slotting into his life, watching him. Making my life about him. Accommodating him. Which is what I was doing all those years with Joel, in a lot of ways.
My head hurts. I have to stop thinking about it all.
Hayley knocks on my door, and climbs into bed beside me.
‘Hey,’ she says.
‘Hey.’
‘Tell me about the new book,’ she says, looking at my laptop, where I have quickly closed the work documents and brought up my draft.
‘Well it has time travel.’
‘Oh you’re keeping that part?’
An utterly terrible, devastating thing to say to an author midway through their first draft, but I try not to hold this against her.
‘Yes, I’m keeping it. I can’t just cut it out, once you put time travel in your book, it’s kind of the backbone of the whole thing.’
‘Right, right. I know. How does it work?’
‘Well, it’s one of the kinds where it just happens and you don’t get bogged down in questions of how it works.’
‘Luke won’t like that.’
‘I know. He already told me.’
‘You know he always wants to argue about time travel.’
‘I am not engaging with him on this. He’s already sent me links to an article on the metaphysical reality of time travel through wormholes.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I don’t want wormholes in my book.’
She nudges me with her foot.
‘Are you going to accept the manager position?’
I look at her.
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Mum told me.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, it’s a big commitment.’
‘You love the shop. You love working there.’
It annoys me the way she says this with such authority, even though she’s right.
‘I do love working there. But…’
We lie in silence for a moment.
‘Is it…?’ Hayley trails off and looks at me with the expression she always has before she’s going to say something that will irritate me.
‘Is it?’ I prompt her.
‘Look, I have to ask. Is it about Mac?’ she says.
‘No. It has nothing to do with Mac.’
But Hayley is sitting up. She’s got more to say. She’s opened the floodgates.
‘Because sometimes I worry that you’re in some kind of holding pattern, waiting for him to ask you to be together, to come to New York.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I say, with a feeling like ice running through my veins at how accurately she is seeing me.
Am I waiting for that? No. Well, yes it would be nice to have him ask, but I’m not waiting for it. She doesn’t know, she doesn’t get it, what Mac and I have.
I almost laugh when that thought crosses my mind. What Mac and I have? We have nothing. We have lots of conversations. We have a few nights together. What does that add up to? Hayley’s right, and it makes me want to push her off my bed, push her right out of my life.
‘You obviously have feelings for him,’ she says, and her tone makes it clear she thinks this is an embarrassing and terrible thing.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘So you have sex, and then talk every day since, and there are no romantic feelings there? Come on.’ She folds her legs under herself, sitting up straight. I’m still lying back on the pillows and it makes me feel like she has the edge in the conversation.
‘It’s not like that,’ I say.
‘Are you lying to just me, or to yourself as well?’
‘Fine. There are feelings, but I have them under control.’
I sound like an addict. I’m dabbling, but it’s under control.
‘Why do you even care?’ I add. ‘I thought you didn’t like the fact that I was working with your mum, and now you’re mad at me for not being sure about taking a more permanent position?’
‘I never said I didn’t like you working together.’
‘It was implied.’
‘Well, it means a lot to Mum, she loves working with you, so it means a lot to me, and I want you both to be happy.’
‘Sure.’ I fold my arms. She is not about to convince me this is all coming from a place of love. ‘If you are so worried, why don’t you work there?’
‘I don’t want to work there.’
‘But I have to.’
‘You want to.’
‘I don’t want you to pressure me into it. I want to choose it for myself.’
‘Don’t work there then! That’s fine! I just don’t want you to waste years pining for a man on the other side of the world, giving up opportunities, giving up other nice and cute men, and then wake up one day and realise you’ve sacrificed everything for nothing.’
‘Wow. Okay. Thanks for the advice.’
‘I’m not trying to be a bitch.’
‘No, you don’t need to try, it’s coming to you very naturally.’
Hayley makes a face. We’re both in attack mode now. We rarely fight, but when do, it can get mean in the way I think real sisters fight. We each know all of the other’s weak spots.
‘I just…’ She pauses.
‘Say it. You’ve said everything else.’
‘I just think Mac is eventually going to meet someone over there.’
‘Good! Great! I hope he does.’
‘And you’ll get your heart broken.’
‘Please stop worrying about my heart. I’m not that fragile.’
Now Hayley softens. ‘It’s not about being fragile. Your heart is more important to me than anybody else’s.’
‘My heart is my business.’
‘You never messaged Patrick.’
‘I was busy.’
‘You didn’t message him because of Mac.’
‘That is not why.’
‘You haven’t been on a date in forever.’
‘Yes I have,’ I say automatically. I’m lying. I have not.
‘When?’ Hayley demands.
‘A man flirted with me at the bookshop the other day.’ He was cute, and he bought two novels by women, which automatically increased his attractiveness by two points.
‘And what happened?’
‘Well, nothing.’
Hayley is giving me a you’re-proving-my-point look. Or maybe it’s a you-are-a-sadder-case-than-I-realised look.
‘And I went out to the pub last week.’
‘Trivia with old work colleagues is not a date.’
‘There was a single man there.’
‘Who?’
‘Kane.’
‘Oh, please.’
‘What? He’s cute. Kind of.’
‘You hate Kane.’
‘Hate is a strong word.’
‘When you worked with him, you said he was obnoxious and profoundly uninteresting.’
‘Well, guess what, people change.’
I actually hate Kane more than I ever have. He made three offensive statements in a row while we were at trivia.
‘Oh, so you’re lowering your standards now?’ Hayley isn’t going to let this go.
‘Well, maybe I have to. You haven’t been single in ten years. You have no idea what it’s like out there.’
‘You’re not out anywhere!’
‘Because it’s awful, okay? The apps, first dates, the energy you have to put into it all. I hate it! Not dating has made me happier than I’ve ever been.’ How dare she lecture me about getting out anywhere. She has no idea what she’s talking about. It’s breathtaking how easy her life has been.
‘That’s because you’re giving all that energy to Mac. And he’s nice and safe because he’s filling the role of boyfriend for you without you having to enter into an actual relationship.’
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Yes, he is. You talk to him every day, you save up all your stories for him, you rely on him, you watch movies with him. I see your face when you’re texting him. I saw you, in New York. I saw your face when you were with him! You still wear his hoodie all the time. You’re in a long-distance relationship with him, but is he in one with you?’
‘No one is in a relationship, and no one thinks they’re in a relationship. Trust me, I am painfully aware I am single.’
‘But you don’t have to be.’
‘Have you ever considered I am happy on my own? That it’s actually a very freeing state to be in?’
‘It’s just, you left Joel because you wanted kids.’
‘I’m looking into freezing my eggs.’
‘Are you really?’
‘Yes.’
This is true. And I decided maybe, but not yet. In two years. Because I am an avoider and two years is a nice safe amount of time to make decisions in. Maybe four. It’s quite expensive.
‘Okay. Well. Okay. Look. I just—’ Hayley takes a deep breath. ‘I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Then please stop psychoanalysing me.’
‘I’m not.’
She is, and the thing is I can do it right back, and she’s pushing me into it.
‘Do you ever think about why you care so much if I’m single or not?’ I say.
‘Because I love you.’
‘No. You care because Luke wants kids but you’re too scared to do it on your own. You want me to be in the same place as you.’
‘Yes, I do! We always said that, that we wanted to be like our mothers and have kids at the same time and raise them together. You saw me with Birdie! I have no idea what I’m doing.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to ruin your timeline, but I can’t live my life based on where you’re up to.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’
‘Really?’
‘This isn’t about having kids. This is about what is being offered to you and why you’re going to turn it down.’
‘I’m not turning anything down.’
‘You’re going to, I can tell. In the hope that he asks you to come to New York.’
‘Well, it’s my life, and my choice, and I want you to just leave my room right now.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
I am seethingly mad. Hayley is a good target for my anger. I argue with her in my head for hours after this. How dare she? Who does she think she is? I should never have moved in here. What was I thinking?
Then I lie awake, not arguing, but letting the truth of her words wash over me and feeling sick, feeling terrified.