Page 132 of The Rebound
“A financial analyst at Hanson’s,” he continues. “I know it’s smaller than you’re used to but they had a few recruits drop out and I have a friend in—”
“I’m an associate,” I interrupt.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he says calmly. “You know how they are with these things. It’s a new company, a lot of competition. Give it a few months and you’ll be able to move up easily.”
“You flew all the way to Ireland to tell me you got me an interview?”
“No.” He takes a breath. “No, Abby, I didn’t fly over here just to tell you that. I thought we could—”
He breaks off as a cupboard slams, followed by a few words in Polish and the sound of the kettle heating up. It’s as if Louise and Tomasz suddenly realized how quiet they were being.
Tyler smiles, unruffled as always. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
Not in this house.“Do you want to go for a walk?”
“I’d love to,” he says, and he looks so relieved that I feel a little bad.
I lead him back to the front door, letting him go ahead of me as I stick my head into the kitchen. “Louise?”
“Go,” she mouths, her eyes wide. Tomasz gives me a sympathetic smile, eating a chocolate biscuit.
I bring Tyler without speaking down the street, past the kids and their skipping ropes, across the road and down the unofficial pathway to the river, where the grass is soft and wet under our feet.
It’s always beautiful just after the rain and although I know Tyler’s shoes must be getting muddy, he makes a point not to notice as we reach the weathered bench that looks out at the water.
“What does it say?” he asks, peering at the polished engraving.
“Do Margaret, mo chara,” I read in Irish. “For Margaret, my friend.”
“I’ve never heard you speak Gaelic before.”
“I don’t speak it very well. Louise is fluent.”
“Well, it sounds beautiful. And so is this river,” he adds when I look away. “It must have been wonderful growing up here.”
“It was alright,” I say, watching him from the corner of my eye.
God, he looks good. The kind of good that money can buy. A decent haircut, a good skin regime, fitted, muted clothing that Tomasz was right about: it is expensive. I know it’s expensive because my wardrobe used to be similar.
He glances at me and I look away.
“Sometimes there’s a heron here,” I say, turning to the heron-less river.
“Abby.”
“They’re pretty impressive close up.”
“Will you look at me at least?”
I turn to him stiffly, focusing my gaze somewhere above his right shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?” I’m unable to stop the note of tension that enters my voice. “For breaking up with me or for the timing of the breakup?”
“I don’t expect for this to be an easy conversation,” he says. “But I have a few days and if you have space in your heart to listen to me, I’d really like to talk to you.”
“We’re talking now.”
