Page 46 of Wish You Were Here
‘Is she hot though? That’s the big question,’ says Simon.
I look at Abigail, wondering if she’s going to give him another nudge, but she doesn’t and instead she looks at me, waiting for an answer. Is Jemma hot? I think the answer is a very definite yes. She looked fantastic the other day, and I’m sure tonight she might look even better, but it’s so much more than that. Jemma and I already dated for two years so we knoweach other. It’s comfortable, familiar, and yet we haven’t seen each other in eight years, so there’s also an element of the new. It’s exhilarating because I was almost done trying to find love in London and then Jemma appeared as if by magic – is it fate? I am trying desperately not to get ahead of myself because it is just a drink, and I have absolutely no idea if Jemma is A: Single. B: Looking for love. C: If she is single and looking for love, whether she even considers me an option due to our previous romantic history.
‘Jemma is attractive, but like I said—’
‘It’s just a drink,’ says Simon, doing a terrible impression of me.
‘Oh, that’s really good,’ says Abigail, giggling. ‘It’s just like him. Do it again.’
‘Jemma is very attractive, but like I said, it’s just a drink,’ says Simon, mocking me, and Abigail cracks up laughing, so I decide it’s time to get ready, but as I turn around to walk out, Jemma stops me.
‘Seriously, Ben, I really hope it goes well tonight.’
‘All joking aside, me too, mate,’ says Simon.
I say thank you, then I walk out and get ready, leaving Simon and Abigail on the sofa watchingPointlessand eating Simon’s homemade spaghetti bolognaise. It’s so strange that Simon and Abigail have gone from two people who were a part of our group to two people in their own little bubble. They have their own life together now, and I want that too. I want someone to create a life with, to sit on the sofa with on a Wednesday evening and watchPointlesstogether while tucking into a homemade Italian classic. Is that too much to ask for? It’s all I have ever wanted. The thing with Saskia is a dream, a distraction because I can’t see anything actually happening with her, but with Jemma it’s real. If tonight goes well, who knows where it might lead.
‘So, I’m in Fiji, on a desert island. I mean a proper desert island you can walk around in half-an-hour. It’s stunning with palm-fringed beaches, and a small hill in the middle you can walk to the top of and see for miles around. The most gorgeous, crystal clear water with tropical fish, and there are only ten of us on the entire island in the middle of the Pacific,’ says Jemma.
‘It sounds incredible.’
‘It was one of my bucket list experiences and I was so excited about it. The boat dropped us off and we had two nights on the island. No phone service, and all our food we had to bring on the island ourselves. I was so excited. It was a dream.’
‘I bet.’
‘Then it happened.’
‘What happened?’ I ask, leaning forward.
‘The worst food poisoning I’d ever had! Before we left that morning, I decided to have sushi for breakfast. Biggest mistake of my life. I spent the first twelve hours on the island, projectile vomiting, and the next day curled up in a ball feeling like absolute shit. I had two days in paradise, and it was ruined by one dodgy piece of sashimi.’
‘That is why I don’t eat raw fish.’
‘I love sushi, but that’s one moment from my travels I wish I hadn’t,’ says Jemma.
We arranged to meet in a pub in Camberwell, near to Jemma’s flat, which she only moved into two months ago when she moved from her parents’ house in Cambridge. She’s working as a project and solutions manager for a media tech company, and she’s in London to finally, in her own words, ‘settle down’. As soon as she walked in, I thought to myself that she looked even better than the first time I had seen her. She had clearly made an effort for our ‘just a drink’ in a stunning outfit, and I don’t know what it means, but it’s clear there is something brewing between us. I can feel it like it’s an extra charactersitting at the table with us.And you must be, oh yes, the sexual attraction that’s still there after eight years. It’s a pleasure.
‘I think I just needed to get all the travelling out of my system before I could settle down and do all the other stuff,’ says Jemma, holding a glass of white wine in her hand.
‘I know what you mean.’
‘Oh, you’ve travelled, have you, Benji?’
‘It depends on what you mean by travelled, Jem?’
‘I think it’s clear.’
‘Then no, I haven’t travelled. A few European trips, a couple of UK holidays, but nothing like you. I’ve been too busy building a career, which now when I say it out loud makes me sound like the most boring man in the entire world. Please feel free to get up and leave at any point.’
She laughs. ‘I’m not going anywhere, and it’s fine, Benji. We are all different, but do you think you’ll wake up one day and regret not travelling more?’ says Jemma, and she looks at me across the table, and I think how pretty she is and I wonder what our life would have been like if we had stayed together. Would I have travelled too? Would we be married? A house in the suburbs? Kids? It’s impossible to know, but clearly the last eight years have been good to Jemma because she looks even more beautiful than she did, and she has lots of cool, action-packed tales from her travels. I, on the other hand, have a reasonably healthy bank balance, a solid retirement policy, sound long-term investments, and good skin thanks to a decent skin-care regimen.
‘I don’t think so. Travelling isn’t something I ever prioritised, but I wouldn’t mind doing a bit more in the future. If I meet the right person to do it with.’
‘Oh yes, the Benji search for love! You know it’s why we had to break up when we did?’
‘I mean yes and no. I thought it was mainly because you wanted to travel, and I wanted to move to London and get a job.’
‘Yes, it was partly that, but also because I could see how much you wanted to settle down, get married, get a dog, have kids and I just wasn’t ready for it. I knew if we stayed together, I would have resented you for it, and I didn’t want to do that to us.’
