EZRA

‘ O H ,’ E DIE SAYS , HER GAZE CATCHING ON THE POT PLANT NESTLED in my elbow. ‘Is that for me?’

‘It’s a succulent,’ I say, ‘The guy at the store said it was low maintenance.’

‘I’ll try not to take that personally. Come in.’

I follow her into her apartment. She shuts the door behind me, and I kick off my shoes, noticing her own slipper-clad feet. She’s wearing a chunky pink cardigan over what I assume are her work clothes, a snug black polo-neck and tweedy skirt.

‘I’m cooking,’ she announces, shuffling over to the stove. ‘Have you eaten yet?’

‘No,’ I say, glancing around with no small amount of interest. Edie’s place is a studio, smaller than mine but full to the brim with things. There’s colour and texture everywhere – blankets on the sofa, prints on the walls, cushions, ornaments, candles. Her dorm room was similarly curated. I wander over to a bookshelf and pick up a dog-eared copy of The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter . I think it might have been mine once.

‘You can put the plant wherever,’ she says, stirring the contents of a pan. ‘Thanks, by the way. It’s cute.’

‘Figured I owed you a housewarming gift,’ I tell her, setting it down alongside the book. ‘I might have done better with more notice.’

I thought that I was lying, earlier, telling Audrey I wasn’t free tonight. But no – my phone pinged with a message from Edie almost as soon as I hung up:

Are we still on for tonight?

Turns out I’d simply forgotten about the plans I’d made to spend the evening with my ex-girlfriend, instead – much better.

I thought said plans would involve another bar, honestly, and that’s half the reason I hauled myself off the sofa to leave my apartment, abandoning a Twilight Zone marathon and a half-empty bottle of vermouth in favour of an ice-cold old fashioned and conversation with someone who’d never heard the name Julian fucking Mars in the entire course of their life. But it didn’t quite pan out that way – when I messaged Edie to ask where I should meet her, she replied with her address.

‘Sorry,’ she says absently. ‘It was a long day – I couldn’t face going out. And I have alcohol here, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Ha ha,’ I say, wondering if she realises that I’m already drunk. I think Audrey did when she called me earlier. I didn’t hesitate to answer, though, knowing full well that it might be the last time I get to hear her voice. She’ll see Marika tonight, and Marika will tell her everything I said about Julian. Maybe that in itself will be enough to unravel the truth and Audrey won’t be alone in carrying it any more. It’s good. It’s right. But Marika will tell her more than that, I’m sure, including the weird, underhand way I went about things-

‘There are glasses above the sink,’ Edie continues. ‘Wine in the fridge.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. Edie’s fridge is jarringly immaculate, I see – her vegetable box has actual vegetables in it. I grab the wine and glasses, taking great pains not to spill any as Edie grates cheese into a saucepan. She’s making risotto, and it smells good enough to make me realise that I haven’t eaten today. Still, I’m a little unnerved by the effort she’s gone to – to be nice? To show me how much better she’s doing than I am?

‘Were you working today?’ Edie asks, lowering the flame and turning towards me.

‘Just an early shift,’ I reply, handing her a glass. ‘You?’

‘Nine to five and all that.’

‘What a way to make a living.’

She smiles, swirls her wine and says nothing for a moment. Then:

‘I’m sorry if I was harsh, last time. About you working in the restaurant – it wasn’t my place.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘It’s not.’

‘Lucky I’m not the type to hold a grudge, then.’

‘I know. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

‘Ha.’

‘I’m serious,’ she says quietly. ‘The way we left things – I really wish I’d handled it all differently.’

Me too , I think, taking a hasty gulp of wine. The week before we broke up is excruciating to remember. School was finished by then, and Edie’s parents had (very kindly) agreed to host me for a few days before I left for New York. They lived out in the country, so I’d envisioned Edie and me passing long, sun-dappled days trekking through fields and lying in sun-warmed grass, kissing, talking, reading aloud. All nauseatingly twee in hindsight, sure, but cut me some slack – I was in love.

The reality was a little less idyllic. All Edie wanted to do was sit inside and read in silence. Or watch films – again, silently. In fact, she barely spoke at all except during meals with her parents, and though I fantasised that she might creep along the corridor to my room one night, she never did. She never even kissed me, which at the time I was (deludedly) willing to chalk up to my freshly broken nose.

The morning that Edie’s dad dropped me off at the airport, she followed me out of the car and up to the departures building to say goodbye. I remember being touched by how genuinely upset she looked, still under the impression that she’d eventually be joining me.

‘See you later, then,’ I said, attempting to keep things light.

‘Ezra – there’s something I need to tell you,’ she said haltingly, unsmiling. ‘About New York. I don’t – I should have done this sooner.’

‘Okay,’ I replied, dread pooling in my stomach. ‘Is it logistical or personal?’

‘Personal,’ she said, twisting her hands together agitatedly. ‘I’m not – I don’t know how to say this …’

‘Are you breaking up with me?’ I blurted out, hoping to get her denial out of the way so I could breathe again. But she didn’t deny it. She just sighed, and the sound cut through me like a knife.

‘Oh,’ I heard myself say.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and it felt as though the ground beneath my feet was melting, pulling me downwards. I vaguely remember gripping the handle of my suitcase like it might somehow anchor me, my palm slick with sweat.

‘Okay,’ I managed, but I didn’t move to leave. I just stood there, waiting for her to contradict herself. To throw her arms around my neck and apologise for the world’s worst joke.

‘Sorry,’ she said instead. ‘I’ll go.’

And I stayed and watched as she walked away and got back into the car, stoically waiting until it was out of sight until I started to cry.

Anyway.

‘It could have been worse,’ I say mildly. ‘You could have done it in the car.’

‘Please don’t,’ Edie says, her brow crumpling. ‘I know it was my decision, but that doesn’t mean you were the only one hurting.’

‘Okay, well – I forgive you, if that’s what you want to hear.’

Apparently not. Edie turns back to the pan and resumes stirring, expression taut.

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘If you want to leave it like that …’

‘I don’t know what else to say!’ I exclaim. ‘You ended it! It sucked! I was miserable!’

‘So was I!’ she says hotly. ‘And then Eleanor decided to blow up my life again and I had no one to talk to.’

‘You never talked to me about her anyway!’ I retort, incredulous. ‘And what about that group you ran around with at school? Jules and Ella and … the rest.’

‘Seriously? You can’t even remember the names of my friends?’

‘In my defence, it’s been a while.’

‘Not even six months, Ezra. I knew you didn’t like them.’

‘They were fine. I was just a selfish idiot who wanted you to myself.’

Edie blinks at me, her next riposte presumably dying on her lips. She’d suspected as much, I know, but I doubt she ever thought I’d admit it.

‘Well,’ she says finally. ‘I guess I wanted to talk to you. And I hated that I couldn’t.’

‘I’m here now.’

‘It’s not the same, though.’

‘No,’ I concede, thinking of everything that’s happened since. ‘Guess not.’

It might just be projection, but Edie looks slightly pained when I say that. Like she’d hoped I’d argue otherwise.

‘I think this is ready,’ she says then, still stirring. ‘Do you mind grabbing bowls? They’re above the sink.’

I do as she says, briefly imagining that I’ve been transported to an alternate reality where Edie never dumped me. This domestic scene – I’d be lying if I said I’d never pictured anything like it, but it all feels hollow, now. We may as well be two kids playing house.

I hand her the bowls. Edie smiles and I return it – I can offer her that much, at least.

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