Page 78 of Head First
‘You’re moving to Australia?’ he asks, so loudly that Becca’s head pops up from her cubicle.
‘I wish,’ I joke. ‘I’m starting at the lab here, where my sister works.’
Matteo nods, unaware of how much his comment pulled at my heartstrings. I wish I was moving to Australia. I would give anything to go back to the place that captured my heart, to hear the ocean again, to smell the salty air every day. The University of Sydney also has the best marine station in the world – every marine biologist dreams of working there. Even Millie respects it, despite the fact that Hugh works there.
‘I always thought you were destined for something greater,’ Matteo says cheerfully. He pulls me into a hug. He means it as a compliment, but it makes me want to roll my eyes.
For two weeks, my last two weeks of work, I revisit the letter to Hugh so frequently that it has torn edges and tear stains. On my last day, I decide to mail it, smudges and all. I send it to the address on his email signature. Vanessa had emailed all of us pictures of the formal dive logs, the air we consumed, the depth we dived to, the weather and the locations. Hugh had replied to the email thanking her, his Sydney address hovering surreptitiously at the end of his note.
I read back over the pages explaining why I lied to him and what he meant to me. I explain what I realised since coming home, that before we met, I thought that being in love meant that part of your identity became that person. I thought it was romantic, the idea that a ‘couple’ would lose part of their identities as they grew closer together. But then I met Hugh. And the more I fell for him, the more I felt likeme.
The only change I make is adding a postscript.I quit my job,I write.Thank you for seeing something bigger in me than a 9–5 cubicle.Love, Andi.
Almost as soon as I start at the lab, the Boston conference comes up. Millie still can’t travel, she’s not supposed to go anywhere while they’re monitoring her for risk of another infection, and she nominates me to go and present her research in her stead. Usually, the opportunity wouldn’t go to the newest lab tech, but everyone else is either buried in work catching up after the holidays or doesn’t want to prep a presentation. Now that I’m an employed marine biologist, Millie reminds me cheerfully, I can present research without feeling like a fraud.
I lean into preparation, trying to make the most of the opportunity. I’ll be the only one from the team going, which makes me both more nervous (I would rather have someone to show me the ropes) and less nervous (I am glad none of my peers will be there to watch my lecture). I like having something to work on that I’m passionate about. I even use some of my old slide deck skills from Sunshine Foods to add a little creativity to what I’m presenting.
After I show my boss the first draft of my deck, she formally adds my name to the conference agenda. I start to check it habitually after that, wondering if Hugh will see, wondering if he will change his mind.
It takes five days. Exactly a month after I sent the letter, Hugh’s name disappears from the schedule. I stare at my phone open-mouthed. My stomach drops. I try to use the breath exercises I’ve learned in yoga, now that I’ve finally started going to classes, but even they didn’t calm the jackhammering of my heart.
I know I’ll have to accept that I need to let Hugh go, but it’s easier said than done. When, a couple of days later, I hear someone with an Australian accent in the grocery store, it’s all I can do not to burst into tears in the condiment aisle.
The next time Millie asks me about the conference, I almost tell her I can’t go. I open my mouth to explain that some days I feel so sad I don’t even want to take a shower, that going somewhere Hugh was supposed to be feels impossible, but my gaze catches on the new wrinkles that have formed across Millie’s forehead and I hold my tongue. She teasingly pulls the ‘I got a double mastectomy’ card enough that I know that’s what she’d do if I said I was having second thoughts.
‘One day you’ll have to stop using that,’ I tell Millie after she guilts me into bringing her a latte on my way to work.
‘You’re the one who always falls for it,’ she replies with a smile, happily sipping her steaming coffee.
The cold in Columbus is bitter for weeks in a row, but day by day I weather it for a little longer with Murphy. I stay quiet about not wanting to present, and instead try to focus on what good opportunity it is. I fall into a rhythm at the lab. I like my co-workers; most of the other lab techs are a little younger than me, but we go to the bar next to the office for trivia together every week and it’s fun and lively and I feel like I’m finally getting back to having a life.
There’s one co-worker in particular that I get along with really well. His name is Blake and he’s twenty-four. I assumed I was too old for him to even think of me that way, but one day he asks me out. He does it so casually that I don’t register it for a minute or two, and I leave him hanging a beat too long.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say finally. He has big brown eyes and long eyelashes. He’s cute. Young, but cute.
‘I’m kind of hung up on someone,’ I explain. Ever since I found out Hugh cancelled his trip to Boston, the thought of him makes my heart feel like it’s being squeezed by a giant fist. I’m not ready to be seeing anyone else. I’m in no place to date someone, especially not a co-worker.
But the hole Hugh left is slowly filled by my new job. Millie and I spend more time together now because we see each other at work, and the insecurity I used to feel in her presence, that I was constantly being compared and deemed the worse sister, has significantly dimmed.
It started lessening after the first week, when I told Millie I couldn’t eat lunch with her and Bianca every day anymore. ‘Can we do twice a week?’ I offered instead.
‘Why?’ she had asked, clearly insulted.
‘I think I need some separation,’ I explained. ‘It’s not personal, it’s just that when you’re around I feel like I’m quieter . . .’ I trailed off and tried again. ‘You’re just good at everything . . . sometimes it feels like there’s no space for me.’
‘But I love having you around,’ Millie responded.
‘Yeah, but . . .’ I wriggled in my seat, uncomfortable.
‘I get it,’ Millie finally sighed, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take up all the space.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. It’s not your fault,’ I said, surprised to find that I meant it. ‘I choose to act that way, and there’s plenty of space for both of us.’
‘I think so too, but still . . . I should have realised I was making you feel that way. I just love having you around, An. It’s been so fun.’
‘Yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m having fun too . . . I just think . . .’
‘I get it,’ Millie said, laying a reassuring hand on my forearm. ‘You’re my biggest cheerleader. I thought I was yours too, but I think I put that on the back-burner when we’re together, which isn’t fair.’
