Chapter Twenty-Four
Except … I don’t just want to do that.
Heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a bowl of the Torres truffle crisps that she’s been powerless to resist lately, she sees the clock on the oven showing it’s now six minutes to midnight.
The diary . . . It’s still in the living room on the coffee table, and she forgot to write in it earlier.
Maybe I could … ? Not even bothering to finish the thought, Anika rushes through the flat and switches on her mixer.
She cues up a couple of records on the decks, then flops down onto her sofa and opens the diary, cramming some crisps in her mouth.
Underneath the general list of affirmations, to which she quickly adds a new one – Today I didn’t let anyone get in the way of what I needed – Anika begins to write in her next day.
Today started off before I even headed to bed after the shenanigans with Wendy and co.
(which all worked out fine, they all got home safely).
Decided to do a mix and whacked on my InstaLive to see who might want to tune in and hear me spin.
It was mad – I reckon a few accounts with decent followings must have shared it or something, because before I knew it over two hundred people were watching!
Every blend was seamless, my selections were flawless, and the audience loved it.
Think I might get into doing a few more DJ sets on there soon.
She grins at her camera, shimmying and rapping along for a moment, and then concentrates on her next blend.
The music-generated euphoria erases the awkwardness of her pre-midnight escapades, from the club all the way back to her encounter with Eloise earlier in the day.
Thinking about her brother being so close by somewhere out there in the city gives Anika a faint shiver of guilt, though.
She looks down at her decks and her vinyl and hears their father’s words echo through her memories.
‘With this you take your time. You really listen. You feel it!’
The vinyl, the record player? They weren’t the thing, but they were tangible. They were the things that got you to the thing. Anika is certain that using another item – the diary – to get to that something she’s searching for is the answer she’s needed all along.
The song she’s playing comes to an abrupt end and the silence casts a dark shadow through Anika’s thoughts. Tomorrows can disappear just as abruptly.
She reaches over and ends the Live.
Monday 30th July
Anika glances at the clock on her work computer as she pushes away from her desk. Five minutes to midday – probably the earliest she’s ever headed down to the canteen for lunch, but she’s entitled to that hour, and by God she’s going to take it.
And today, she has someone to meet.
When she arrives downstairs, the salad bar in the canteen is brimming, each compartment pristine and blissfully free of cross-contamination.
Anika picks up a bowl and starts putting together her favourite selections without having to fight for the tongs with a shirt-sleeved exec or a timid editorial assistant.
The quality of the canteen is surprisingly decent and her mouth is watering as she spoons lightly spiced couscous studded with plump sultanas into her bowl, followed by crisp tabouleh, a side-spoon of creamy potato salad, a few olives slick with oil and herbs, crispy orange carrot sticks and hummus. Today I ate what made me smile …
She’s nervous, though, which is expected perhaps, even with the diary’s general protection.
Anika doesn’t expect Cam to be there yet – she almost doesn’t even expect that he’ll remember their agreement to meet over lunch at all.
She’s eager to speak to him and not just for the purpose of her interview, which she barely has time to prep for as it’s been inconveniently scheduled for tomorrow morning.
Anika’s excitement to sit down and talk to Cam properly is dampened by the reality of their past, though.
She’s not sure what direction the discussion will take, or how much she should say about what happened back then.
She broke off from writing in the diary last night in bed while she considered the best scenario, but then realised it was after midnight.
She drifted off to sleep without projecting anything about Cam for the next day – so now she’s going to have to let the chips fall where they may.
In her dreams, Anika replayed that last time they spoke when they were kids.
The look on Cam’s face when he told her to leave, the moment that she did.
The diary that lay beside her as she slept last night was the very same diary from back then, lying dormant for so long.
Past, present, future were swirling together in her mind so much lately …
Anika goes to pay for her food, then to her surprise as she looks around for a table, she spots Cam.
He’s waiting on the upholstered seating in a corner by one of the huge windows that spills sunlight into the room.
Most of the other tables are, for the moment at least, populated only with smatterings of people wrapping up work meetings and canteen staff fitting in their own lunches before the rush descends. He’s not easy to miss.
Anika walks over carrying the tray with her salad and Coke, eyes trained on him.
Cam is oblivious, a large pair of headphones over his head as he stares down at his phone, absently tapping a syncopated rhythm on the tabletop.
Dressed in dark jeans, his typically pristine white trainers and a matching white T-shirt, the simplicity makes him look pulled together, relaxed, confident.
Anika briefly checks over her bright shirt-and-shorts co-ord, her toned arms exposed to the cool of the canteen’s air conditioning.
She knows she’s looking good – but once she gets closer and sees what Cam is studying on his screen, her nerves jump.
Her Instagram feed – it’s familiar even at a glance.
Anika quickly realises that he’s nodding along to the DJ set she saved to her grid last night.
Did he watch it live? Maybe it was him who shared it?
Anika taps him on the shoulder. ‘What’s the verdict? Any good?’ she asks as Cam’s face whips up to meet her. She expects some red-handed embarrassment, but instead she’s greeted by the bright perfection of Cam’s smile as he pulls the headphones down to settle around his neck.
‘Understatement,’ he says. ‘This mix slaps. Every time I’m thinking I know what you’re gonna draw for, I’m taken somewhere different.’ He continues to smile at her. ‘You said it back then, though, didn’t you? Goal unlocked. You’re a DJ.’ He remembers that? ‘I should be getting you on the show.’
Anika sets her tray on the table and pulls out the chair opposite him, letting out a sarcastic puff of a laugh.
‘Yeah, I don’t know if I’m quite on that level, but I appreciate the belief.
’ She sits down, studying the contents of her tray for a moment before deciding she might as well tackle the ambient nostalgia head on.
‘So … you’ve had an epiphany about our past, then? ’ she asks cautiously.
‘Could say that.’ Cam leans back against the high, padded seat behind him and folds his arms, the smile on his lips weakening.
‘In fact, if we’re thinking in religious terms, that night did lead to an excommunication of sorts.
For a while anyways. Not that any of that is my bag.
’ He turns to look out of the window at the train tracks far below.
‘It was a turning point, that’s for sure. ’
Anika studies his profile. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I know. For me too, for what it’s worth.’
He turns back towards her, his eyes twinkling faintly even as his expression is serious. ‘Maybe that’s good, though. That there was some good back then, too.’
Cam is clearly trying to stay buoyant and Anika doesn’t want to sink him.
She lets out another brief, wry laugh and pops open the tab on her can of Coke.
‘Even though you got my name wrong back then and didn’t remember me when we met again.
Good to know I’m so memorable.’ Admitting as much out loud still stings. She takes a sip of her drink.
Cam shakes his head. ‘Damn, now I’m not so sure about the impression I made, either.’
‘It’s all good. You changed your name too, I guess.’
He shrugs. ‘Went for something punchier when I got into radio properly.’
They’re quiet for a while and crackles of complication pass between them – that this is what they’re talking about to avoid talking about everything else. She considers a moment. ‘Anika. Anika Lapo,’ she says, holding out her hand.
Cam takes it, holding it still rather than moving it up and down.
Anika experiences every cliché about feeling electricity at his touch and tries to keep her breathing even.
‘Kwame Cameron Asiedu,’ Cam replies. ‘And I hear you loud and clear now, Anika Lapo. Trust.’ His next words are slow, sown with meaning. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘Is it?’ she asks softly. She’s still grasping his hand, and, eventually, Cam pulls it back to rest both of his forearms on the table, his fingers interlaced in front of him.
‘Look,’ she says on an exhale. ‘I know it’s weird I didn’t explain that I knew you from before.
It just felt, like … Tough to bring up, you know? ’
‘Sure.’ He shakes his head. ‘This whole thing spun me – I’m not going to lie.
When I put the pieces together …’ Memories dart across his features.
Anika lifts her hand, keen to reinstate that connection from moments earlier and years before, but then Cam looks away and she leaves it hovering then lets it settle back beside her tray.
‘I … I actually forgot to get cutlery.’ Gesturing to the empty space in front of Cam, she adds, ‘Did you not want anything? Food is customary at lunch,’ with a weak laugh.