Page 42 of Love and Other Paradoxes

“Guess I understand now why you think Cambridge is a city.” Esi stretched, arching her neck as Joe’s dad got their bags out of the boot. “You going to show me around?”

“Got thirty seconds? That should be enough to cover the highlights.”

His dad dumped their bags inside the front door. “I’m afraid Joe doesn’t have thirty seconds. He’s going to be too busy catching up on his reading. Turning that 2:2 into a First.”

The 2:2 was a lie. In fact, he’d scraped a Third, one step away from failing. The knowledge of his predestined 2:1 made him weak with relief. But he needed to moderate expectations. “A First’s not going to happen.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“No, I mean it. It’s metaphysically impossible for me to get any higher than a 2:1.”

Esi gave Joe’s dad a look. “I keep telling him, the future’s not set in stone. If he justtries, he can do anything.”

Joe’s dad shook her hand. “You can come back anytime.”

“Joe!” His mum flew down the stairs, enveloped him in a hug, then immediately pushed him away to look at him. “Oh, darling, you’re skinny as a rake! What are they feeding you down there?”

“I’m feeding myself, Mum. I’m an adult.” He took in his parents, his mum’s freckled face sporting new wrinkles, his dad’s posture a little more stooped. Since he’d moved away, he’d started to notice them aging secretly in the gaps.

He became conscious of the way Esi was watching, with a wounded softness he couldn’t bear. Her mum didn’t age. She was frozen in her memory, forever as she’d been when she last saw her.

Joe’s mum turned to her. “You must be Esi,” she said warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Really?”

His mum laughed. “All good things! Come on in.” She ushered them inside, where she gave Esi a lightning tour of the ground floor, then immediately dispatched her and Joe on a mission to the village shop.

As they headed down the road, he looked sideways at her. He had been surprised she’d said yes to his offer: surprised, and delighted, and a little anxious, in a way he couldn’t explain. He had half expected her to change her mind. Now, here she was, walking beside him on the streets he had run down as a child, hugging herself against the sea wind he’d been missing. Realities were colliding, and it made everything feel unmoored.

He felt the shy, restless flicker of her attention. “Was that your poem on the wall of the downstairs loo?”

“It is, indeed, an original Joseph Greene,” he said dryly. “I won a national contest with it while I was in high school. That’s why it’s on display.”

Her brow furrowed. “But—in the loo?”

“It’s their way of showing they’re proud of me, but also turning it into a joke in case anyone thinks they’retooproud of me.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been here two minutes, and I already feel like I understand you better than I have for the past two months.”

“You mean that’s not how your family does it?”

She laughed. “Yeah, not exactly. One time I came second in my class in school, and my dad wouldn’t shut up about it. He was telling strangers on the street. Posting about it on”—her cheek dimpled—“the facebook. And it was neverEsi came second in maths, isn’t that great. It was,My daughter came top in the entire school! In every single subject! She’s a future genius!”

“Maybe he’s right about that.”

She rolled her eyes. “And maybe you’re a future comedian instead of a poet.”

They reached the village shop. He bought the tattie scones and butter his mum had asked for, then found Esi in the back, browsing the tiny DVD rental section. He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...” She pointed at one of the DVDs. “That was my mum’s favourite when she was a teenager.”

He took it down. It was a romantic comedy starring Meg Ryan, but not one he’d heard of. “Have you ever seen it?”

She shook her head. “Dad had the thing that plays the tapes, so we could watch some of her old Nollywood collection. But we didn’t have anything to play her—discs, or whatever.”

“Your dad has a VHS player, but not a DVD player?” She stared at him blankly. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s rent it.” Her blank look continued. In a series of gestures, he explained. “We pay some money. We take this home. We watch it. We bring it back.”

“Like, the physical object?” She burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious.”

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