Page 37 of Love and Other Paradoxes

“He didn’t think the past could be changed?”

“He didn’t want me to change it.” She swept the water into curlicues, branching out like leaves from a stem. “Course, he didn’t just come out and say it. He had to tell me a story first. It’s a Jamaican thing—they love to speak in riddles.”

He watched a fond, frustrated smile spread across her face. “What was the story?”

“It was about a girl whose friend was drowning in a river. Shejumped in to try and save her, but she ended up drowning herself.” She shook her head tightly. “I told him,I’m not going to drown. I’m saving her, then I’m coming back.”

“And what did he say?”

She swept her palm across her drawing, smearing it into oblivion. “He said,Someone’s going to step out of that river, but it won’t be you.”

He understood. “He doesn’t want you changing yourself. Even if it means bringing your mum back.” Tears were filling her eyes. He looked away, giving her a moment. “He sounds like a good dad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wipe her tears away. “I just miss him. His parties. His jokes. His stupid stories. Hiscooking. You know he learned how to cook all the Ghanaian food Mum used to make? Jollof rice, fufu. Because he didn’t want us to forget that side of where we come from.” Her voice was warm. “And my sisters—they’re fifteen and seventeen now. They think they’re so grown-up, but they’re really not. They’re babies.” She stared across the bar. “I feel so bad about leaving them. Even just for a while. But...” She shrugged, helpless. “I’m their big sister. I have to fix it.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Sorry,” she added with a sniff. “Just—sometimes, it gets to me, being here.” She tipped her head up, as if to stop more tears falling. “The loud cars, and the smoke everywhere, and the antique phones, and the stupid indie bands that all sound the same, and everything being—not what I’m used to.”

“You’re homesick,” he said gently. “It’s not surprising. The past is a foreign country, right? You’ve got the world’s worst case of culture shock, and you’ve been trying to deal with it alone.”

She made a strangled noise. He saw another tear fall, even asshe brushed it away. He could read her discomfort in every line of her body: she didn’t want to break down in front of him. He wanted desperately to make it better, but he didn’t know how. Then, an idea came to him, bright as a new poem. It was stupid, and it would be bad for his overdraft, but it would be worth it.

“Come with me.” He strode off, giving her time to collect herself before she followed. At the college gate, he checked up and down the street for Vera, but the tour guide was nowhere to be seen.

Esi came up beside him. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He led her through the darkened streets to the run-down shopping precinct of Bradwells Court.

At their destination, she stopped, staring. “What the hell is Laser Quest?”

They donned their vests and guns and entered the arena. He turned to face her in the flickering darkness. “You said you miss the future.” He gestured around at the cardboard neon dystopia. “Here it is.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s uncanny,” she said, in a kind of hysterical deadpan. “I could literally be in my house right now.”

“Including the body armour and laser guns?”

“Don’t laugh, Joseph Greene. I told you I played Assassins.” She raised her gun. “What I didn’t tell you is, I play to win.”

She darted away. He ran after her, his heart pounding. Joy flooded his veins as he crept along the wall, transformed from a cardboard prop to a neon facade in a city of the future. He peered around the corner, looking for Esi. He would take it easy on her, since it was her first time. He’d let her get in a couple of shots to boost her confidence, then—

A noise blared in his ear. He jumped, the sad bleeps of his virtual death echoing from his vest. “Hey!”

Esi, who had inexplicably ended up above him, waved and took aim again. He yelped and sprinted away to recover.

After that, he abandoned his chivalry and set his mind to taking her down. She should have been an easy target, in her patterned dress that fluoresced under the lights, but somehow his shots never hit her, as if she were a mirage, not truly there. He found himself with one life left, heart pounding, breath coming in hot gasps. He was staring ahead into the neon smoke, trying to see what was coming, when something rushed at him from the side. Before he could react, his gun was dangling from his vest and Esi’s was pressed up against his temple.

“Bang,” she whispered in his ear.

A shiver ran through his whole body. He had trouble keeping his voice level. “Laser guns don’t gobang.”

“No. They go like this.” She pressed the gun point-blank to his chest and fired. His digital blood spilled out in a gush of bleeps. “Pleasure murdering you, Joseph Greene.”

“Pleasure to be murdered.” He followed her as she sashayed towards the exit, wondering why he still felt like he was fighting for his life.

They tumbled laughing out into the cold. Esi struck a pose, blowing smoke from the barrel of an imaginary gun. “They call me Poetkiller.”

“Poets are notoriously easy to kill. Byron died of a cold in Greece.” She laughed, her warm, chaotic laugh that set him off like a firecracker. “Might as well call yourself Sheepkiller, or—or Lettucekiller.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand pressed to her throat. “Joseph Greene,” she gasped. “How do you keep on surprising me?”

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