Chapter 33
September
Our glasses clinked, barely audible over the din of the busy wine bar.
June, Hari, Moni, and I were sat around a table, having a few drinks at the end of a long day.
“Our newest graduate!” Hari crowed loudly. “Congratulations, Kaiya!”
I smiled graciously, a blush creeping up my neck as I muttered an unheard thanks.
Two years.
The bridge that spanned the past two years of my life and my move from Cumbria to London; from The Loop to Frequency.
I had finally completed my journalism course with the London College of Arts. I had a real diploma in a career I was actually doing.
It felt surreal. For so long, I’d wryly acknowledged my degree in music production, laughing it off as three years of student life, but the truth was simpler, and sadder.
It had been a dream that was never really mine.
I’d just never known how to give it up, because how do you admit that the thing you’ve spent years pursuing was the wrong path?
At the time, it felt easier to just go along with it.
But now… now I had a real life degree for something that felt real to me. It didn’t matter that it had ‘only’ been an online course. It was a real diploma, with real qualifications, and I’d earned it.
For the first time in so long, it felt like I was taking control of my history.
I wasn’t erasing the years I’d spent pursuing production.
It felt like I had given myself permission to chalk it up to experience, because now I was on a career path that was bolstered by an academic degree and a couple of years of practical experience.
I was doing it. I was really doing it. It was… purpose.
“How does it feel to finally be done with school?” Hari asked, leaning across the table to talk to me, as June and Moni put their heads together over Moni’s phone, giggling over a dating app.
I laughed quietly.
“It’s funny you mention that, actually,” I said, running my finger around the rim of my glass. “Because I applied to do a Masters with the Holloway School of Journalism.”
Hari’s eyes widened, and her mouth popped open. In the next moment, she was patting her friend’s shoulders, drawing their attention away from the phone. They looked up, eyes darting between me and Hari, expectantly.
“Kaiya is doing her Masters!”
“Oh,” said June without much inflection. “Cool. Good for you, darls.”
“Tell us!” Hari prompted enthusiastically, even as I saw Moni covertly sliding her phone under the table, where she continued to swipe her finger across the screen.
“Well,” I began, “It’s HSJ, so it’s a proper, sit down course-”
“Not online?” June interrupted. She’d never really tried to conceal her thoughts about my degree being an online one.
I sighed internally, but chose peace.
“Nope. I’ll have to attend lectures and everything.”
“How’s that going to work with your mag?” Hari asked.
“They’re fine with it,” I shrugged. “I’m salaried, so they don’t care what hours I physically work, so long as it gets done.”
In truth, I was a little anxious about balancing my work load. An MA was significantly more work than a BA.
June looked up from her phone to say, “Isn’t that campus all the way across the city?”
I nodded, and she whistled.
“That’s gonna suck for you.”
“Yeah, that’s the other thing,” I said, fiddling with my necklace. “So you know my lease is up at the end of this month,” I directed this at Hari, who nodded, frowning.
“I was offered housing with the college. I’ll be leaving when my lease is up. Sorry,” I said awkwardly.
Hari reached out a hand and squeezed mine. “This is good. I’m happy for you.” She offered me a kind smile, and I felt a pang when I considered how little we’d gotten to know each other over the past year.
“This is great news!” Moni said suddenly, and before I could share a smile with her, she continued- “Now Ashley can move back in! She broke up with her boyfriend last week! When did you say you were moving out?” She turned to me.
I just shook my head, biting my tongue.
“Does this look okay?”
I twirled around, trying to make sure Becka could see all the angles of my outfit.
“Much better than the last one,” she said, flashing me a thumbs up from my laptop screen.
“Are you sure?” I fretted. “It’s not too sexy?”
Becka rolled her eyes. “It’s a first date! It should be sexy!”
I bit my lip, scrutinising myself in the narrow mirror hanging on the back of my door. The bedroom in my new student room was much smaller than the one I’d had in Clapham, I kept tripping over discarded outfits and stray shoes.
“It’s so cute how nervous you are,” Becka cooed, clasping her hands together like she was a proud mum on prom night.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I grumbled, kicking a shoe under the bed.
Was I nervous? Is that what this was?
I was getting ready for a date with Patrick. When he’d asked again, I had almost said no, but then I’d worried he might never ask again, and somehow that seemed like the worst option, because I should want to go out with him. So, I’d said yes.
“Babes, I’m so happy for you! It’s about time you did this! Get out there and get back on the horse, or Patrick, either one.” She flashed me a wide smile I only just managed to return.
“I’ve gotta go babes, call me later! Have fun!”
The screen went blank, and I sat down on the edge of the bed, clutching the duvet as if I needed something to hold onto, because the thought had suddenly hit me. Not like a sledgehammer, but like a sheet of ice.
I hadn’t been on a date since breaking up with him. I’d been asked out plenty, but not once had I been remotely interested. There had always been a reason to say no. Either I’d been too busy with work, or college, or I just wasn’t interested.
I’d always known there was another reason, but acknowledging it made me feel small. Damaged. Rejected.
I’d turned down those dates for the same reason I didn’t put too much thought into why I did. I just couldn’t bear it.
I’d almost cancelled this date a half dozen times. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Patrick; I did. There were so many things to like about him. I should like him.
It would be normal to.
I took a shaky breath and leaned forward, wrapping my arms around the gaping hole in my chest.
Going on this date forced me into the uncomfortable position where I needed to confront the feelings I’d studiously buried for two years.
It wasn’t just heartbreak, although there was plenty of that, it was also that it hadn’t just been him I’d lost. I’d lost the future I’d mapped out. All the plans I’d made.
Not being with him had been so inconceivable, that I’d never troubled myself to consider an alternative future where he wouldn’t be in it.
In a way, it had been incredibly naive, because I’d shaped myself around him, and it had only been after we’d broken up that I’d been able to understand that.
The most uncomfortable fact was acknowledging he hadn’t done that to me, I had done it to myself.
I had relied on him, and who I was when I was with him, that I hadn’t needed to be anyone else.
Hadn’t needed to be my own person. I’d put off creating an identity outside of who I was as his girlfriend, and that hadn’t been his fault. Now, I’d needed to confront that.
Going on this date was the first step.
In the time since, I’d had to relearn who I was, create my own future. Reshape myself to fit the mould of the life I wanted for myself.
That included a partner.
Even though I was almost physically sick, I was determined to try.
Patrick had asked me a few times to go out for a drink, or dinner, but it had always been casual.
A suggestion, part of a group thing. When he finally came by my desk and asked me on a proper date, it was clear he meant it.
It had been incredibly flattering. He was good looking, talented, kind and funny. I liked him.
I wanted to like him.
I met Patrick at the restaurant he’d booked.
He was standing outside, hands in his pockets as he looked up and down the street.
I stopped a few meters away. He hadn’t turned in my direction yet.
I took the opportunity to look at him. His bright white shirt was striking against the warm brown of his skin, and despite his height, there was an easy confidence in his posture.
He turned then and caught sight of me. A grin spread across his face that was so unaffected that it was almost disarming.
“Kaiya,” he exhaled heavily, closing the distance between us.
“Hello,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You look… wow.”
“Thanks, you too.”
Awkward silence inflated between us, until-
“Shall we go–”
“D’ya wanna–”
We both paused, and I held a hand over my mouth as I giggled. He shuffled his feet.
“Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Shall we?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the brightly-lit up entrance, and I nodded, falling into step beside him.
At first we talked about work. The jobs we were assigned, the people we worked with. The publications he’d freelanced on, my course. Very safe topics.
As the night wore on and we got used to each other in an environment outside of the professional one, we began to ease up.
Patrick picked up his glass, rolling the stem between his fingers.
“My mum and dad moved here from Grenada before I was born. Moved into the same house my family lives in now, which was way too small growing up. Mum still lives there, with my sisters.”
I leaned forward, watching the way the light from the candle reflected in his eyes.
“You’ve got sisters?”
“Two. And one older brother. I’m the baby,” he grinned, looking up and holding my gaze. The warmth in his eyes made me wonder if it was the candlelight, or just him.
“Three siblings,” I said, letting out a low whistle. “Your folks must have been busy.”
Patrick’s smile faltered, and he cleared his throat before taking a sip of his wine.
“It was mostly just my mum. My dad passed away when I was little.”
“Oh, Patrick, I’m so sorry.”