‘You wanted to talk to me. I’m here,’ says Adam, the smile still on his face. ‘All ears. What’s really going on in that head of yours?’ He takes two empty wine glasses from her hands, places them by the sink and turns her to face him. They look at each other, a moment too long perhaps, in low light and smiles. ‘Thank you,’ he says, and she thinks she sees his eyes try to focus below the influence of all that booze. ‘Thank you for hosting tonight. It was really fun. I had so much fun.’
He is brimming with wellbeing and the moment is so joyful that she can’t bring herself to destroy it with further conflict about Matthew and Scott and how any decisions made could seismically reshuffle their carefully balanced life together.
‘I had a nice time, too,’ she says.
He never seems to have a list of problematic ‘issues’ in the same way she does. Never seems to run out of steam, or kindness, whereas, she seems to have to ration both. Why is that? Was that always the case?
And now, a moment passes through and they both feel its flashing edges, the thrum of its warm heart, the sparkle of its energy – impossible not to, what with them playing house, having these conversations about the family, sharing a kitchen late at night, catching up after a dinner party. Just like husband and wife. He is still holding her arms gently, still looking into her eyes when he says, ‘I realized something tonight …’
She thinks about his kindness and generosity, his wisdom, how much his friends love him, how much he loves her daughter, how he is the one she can talk to about her day, her mundane life.
‘I think that I really need to talk to Kate,’ he says.
‘Why?’
The scaffolding behind her smile melts and too late she realizes that this is not the question she meant to ask out loud.
Becky had been watching Kate that night, between courses and conversations, Kate had worn a top that Becky had never seen before: scarlet, one-shoulder, with a black lightning flash motif, the kind that draws attention and appreciative comments. And she had a new haircut. Again, drawing appreciative comments.
Also new: Kate had tried not to look at Adam when he was talking, like she didn’t want to be caught out listening to him.
‘We went bowling last night and it was nice. We get on really well.’
‘Of course you do, you’ve always got on well.’ She feels her powerlessness.
They are meant to be a platonic group of friends, now. All the ‘trying each other on’, all the sleeping together and alliances made and broken, had taken place while they did their accountancy exams and broke out into the world of jobs, together. All that had taken place while Becky was still in the muggy sleepless haze of baby and toddler. By the time Adam had introduced Becky, the wild times had calmed into pub visits and dinners and the occasional weekend spent together. Their fondness for each other is familial and friendly – not special, not romantic. That’s the rule.
‘I guess I’m finding it confusing, these hanging-out things that sort of feel like dates but never turn into … dates. I mean, we left the bowling alley holding hands last night and I didn’t even know what it meant.’
‘Right.’
He shrugs. Her response is unhelpful. ‘Well I don’t know, I just need to talk to her about it, I suppose. What do you think?’
‘Why do you need to talk to her? Don’t you know what you want?’
She feels like her feet are trying to stay anchored to the ground as she controls a kite that wants to take flight without her.
Adam and Kate. Jules and Maisie. New relationships, growing up toward the sun, all green shoots, while all she feels is her own rotten roots diseasing everything and pulling her back.
‘You’ve got to know exactly what you want before you ask a woman a question like that.’ Her words sound accusatory now and the smile on Adam’s face struggles to beam as brightly. ‘You can’t just sound things out. Surely you know that? If you talk to her about this thing that you’re wondering about, that you think is between you, then you’re basically saying that you think about her as someone without her clothes on. You can’t ever undo that. It’s like if I told you I’d murdered someone in my past. You’d never, ever be able to forget that about me.’
‘I don’t know about that. I’d forgive you anything.’
Would he?
He squints at her. ‘Becks?’
‘What?’
‘Have you murdered someone?’
‘Not yet.’
His grin widens. ‘I just feel like you’re trying to steer the conversation around to telling me you’ve murdered someone.’
‘You’ll be the first to know when it happens.’
‘Is that because I’ll be the person it’s happening to?’
‘Most likely.’
‘So you don’t think I should talk to her?’
She looks away, thinks about busying herself with the dishes. ‘I didn’t say that. I just pointed out that there are some things you can’t undo.’
‘You sound like you’ve thought it through. More than I have, at least.’
His words are disconcertingly calm and she thinks she can see a smile in him. ‘Not really, I haven’t thought about it at all, not at all in fact, I just …’
Adam drains a half-empty wine glass on the table. His lips are lightly pixelated with black from the red wine. ‘What did you want to talk to me about again?’
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. And you should speak to Kate, if that’s what you want. I just think you can’t have everything. You can’t want to move us all into a house together and then start going
