Page 54 of Not Moving Out
‘Whatever. I love it.’
‘I actually think it’s brilliant. You shouldn’t have waited so long to join.’
‘I know. I think I put a lot on hold because of us and Dolly.’
‘Well, I’m glad you aren’t any more. You seem happier.’
‘I am. And what about you, Joe? What’s your Cold Water Club?’
‘I don’t think I have one. Maybe once I’m done with this script, I’ll have time to find a new hobby.’
‘What about lawn bowls?’
‘Surely I’m too young for lawn bowls, Freya?’
‘Tennis?’
‘I’m awful at racket sports. Hand-eye coordination issues.’
‘Fishing?’
‘Boring as fuck. Have you ever been fishing?’
‘No,’ replied Freya.
‘It’s shit. Worse than lawn bowls.’
‘Then I give up.’
We kept walking, meandering through conversations until we got home. I struggled to get the key in the lock, which made Freya giggle, and then when I did finally get the door open, we stumbled into the house. Dolly was staying at Maya’s overnight, so we had the place to ourselves. Freya said she’d put the kettle on, and I made us some toast – an old habit after nights out drinking that hadn’t gone away. I put in four slices of white bread and retrieved butter from the fridge, and marmalade and Marmite from the cupboard, while Freya focused on the tea. Once done, we ate our toast and drank our tea in the kitchen, reminiscing about nights gone by when we had done the exact same thing.
‘I’m really going to miss this house,’ said Freya, looking at me across the table.
‘Me, too,’ I replied, eating the last corner of my toast.
‘We’ve put so much work into it and it’s perfect. Now someone else is going to enjoy the fruits of our labour, and what, we’re going to have to move into a flat or something and start over from scratch?’
‘I already have nightmares about moving into a one-bed flat or, worse, a bedsit! What exactly is a bedsit, anyway?’
‘It’s a room in a shared house. You have a kitchen in the flat but you share a bathroom.’
‘Oh, God, it sounds awful. It will be like being twenty again and broke. What’s next? I’ll have to sign on, and move somewhere cheaper like, I don’t know, Darlington.’
Freya laughed. ‘I think you’re being a bit melodramatic, Joe.’
‘Am I?’ I said, and then I smiled at her. ‘Fine, perhaps Darlington was a little far.’
‘I’m just sad we have to leave our beautiful home,’ said Freya after a moment, and I looked across at her, and we both smiled a sad, reflective smile. The sort of smile that said something like:What the fuck are we doing with our lives?
Eventually, it was time to head off to bed, the alcohol being slightly mopped up by the toast, and we stood on the landing, Freya heading off to our old bedroom and me to my room.
‘Happy anniversary, Freya,’ I said.
‘Happy anniversary, Joe.’
Instinctively, I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, but slightly misjudged it, and it landed on the side of her mouth.
‘Sorry,’ I said, pulling away slightly, but Freya just looked at me. She didn’t say a word. I didn’t know why, or what was pulling me towards her, but I leaned in and kissed her properly this time, and she kissed me back, our lips coming together with more passion than we’d had in years. A confusing mixture of nostalgia, alcohol, and the thought that suddenly filled my mind was that we had never had a ‘last time’. I mean, there had been a last time, but we hadn’t known it was the final time when we were doing it.
