Page 6 of Love and Other Paradoxes

He took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

She turned to face him. “No,” she said, with a hoarse laugh. “No, I’m really not.” Her eyes focused, as if she was seeing him for the first time. “Thank you for asking.”

“Esi, is it?” She nodded. “I’m Joe.”

“Hello,Joe,” she said, with a strange, desperate smile.

She really was extremely odd. He was relieved. It took the pressure off him to be normal. “So, can I walk with you?”

“Sure.” She made an extravagant gesture of surrender. “But if you’re anywhere near me in half an hour, I’m making a run for it.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but he was starting to get used to that feeling. “So, was that your manager?” he asked, doing a fair impression of a person who fell into conversation with attractive strangers all the time.

“Yup,” she said, the syllable loaded with distaste.

“She shouldn’t treat you like that.”

“She’s doing me a favour. Giving me a job off the books, paying me in cash.” She looked away. “I’m not exactly here legally.”

“Really? You sound like you’re from London.”

“I will be, if you wait around long enough.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“No,I’msorry. Ignore me.” He couldn’t have ignored her ifhe’d tried. She was a flutter of nervous motion: eyes darting, head turning, like the world might end if she stopped paying constant attention.

“So how long have you been in Cambridge?” he asked.

“A few weeks.”

“How do you like it so far?” He cringed even as he said it. He sounded like a phrase book.

“Honestly? People are kind of rude. And everything’s expensive. But it’s okay. I’m not staying.” She paused to peer through the window of a whole foods shop; apparently disappointed, she kept walking. “I’m here till the twenty-third of June. Then I’m gone.”

He wasn’t surprised. It put words to the way she carried herself: unanchored, like her feet weren’t touching the ground. “What’s happening on the twenty-third of June?”

“Something important.” Her eyes glanced off him. “Family stuff. Okay? It’s not actually your business.”

“Okay,” he said, chastened. “Sorry.”

In silence, they passed the Reality Checkpoint. Esi seemed to get more tense as they approached the centre. He said goodbye to her in glances: her eyes, seeming to take in everything and everyone; her hands, fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves; her bag, almost sliding off her shoulder. Pin badges dotted the strap. Most of them saidThe Swerves.

“What are they, a band?” he asked.

She smirked. “Yeah. You won’t have heard of them.”

It stung: a strange, cooler-than-thou thing to say. “All right.”

She realised how it had come across. “Oh. No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, it’s literally impossible for you to have heard of them, because they don’t exist.”

He gave her a look. “You’re a fan of a band that doesn’t exist.”

She winced. “Yeah?”

“You’re really odd.”

“I know. Sorry, I—”

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