Page 27 of The Rebound
“Didn’t I?”
Mam sighs. “Yes. You did. And we are so proud of you for that, but this is different.”
“It’s not,” I say. “I’m still me. I’ll find a way. Look, I have to go. Don’t say anything to Louise. We need to have a proper conversation about it and I haven’t found the right moment for it yet. I love you guys. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“We love you too,” Mam says. “And of course you’ll figure it out. But know that we’re here to help you.”
“I do.” I glance at my father, who’s still glaring at something off camera. “Dad?”
“You should never have dated a lawyer,” he says, carrying on a different conversation.
“I’ll remember that for next time. I’m hanging up now. I’ll call soon.”
“Abby?”
I pause, one hand on the lid of the laptop, one ear listening out for Louise. “Yeah?”
“Just…” Mam looks so worried that it almost breaks my heart. “Mind yourself,” she says eventually.
“I will.” I wave goodbye, ending the call. I’ll try.
6
Excluding the pubs and the man who drives around local events serving tea, coffee, and the occasional questionable sandwich out of his van, there are three places to eat dinner in Clonard that are open all year round. One is a small greasy takeaway that used to be the ultimate treat as a child. The second is the local Chinese restaurant that causedgreatexcitement when it opened twenty years ago, and the third is a midpriced Italian place called Roman’s, which used to be a shoe shop. It’s the fanciest of the options as it has tablecloths and corked wine and this is where I now sit with Louise and Tomasz on what is clearly supposed to be their date night.
This is not a guess. About five minutes after I finished the call with my parents, I heard them talking about me in the kitchen from where I hovered in the hallway, like a child eavesdropping. Tomasz insisted on inviting me so I wouldn’t be alone. Louise, as expected, wanted the opposite. I should have walked out of the house and pretended I was going somewhere. I should have announced breezily that I was fine and settled in for a night in front of the television. But I didn’t.
Because the thing is, I’m not fine. I don’t think I’ve ever been less fine.
I’ve never spent so much time by myself before. So much time with nothing to do. So when Louise knocked on my bedroom door ten minutes later and asked if I wanted to come I immediately said yes and chose to ignore the resigned look on her face.
I got dressed up, if not a little too dressed up, and now here I am, wedged between them, looking at six different kinds of pasta.
“The early bird is really good,” Louise says as if challenging me to say otherwise.
Across the room, a young child starts to wail.
“What’s the one I like?” Tomasz asks absently. “With the things?”
“The mushroom fettuccini,” Louise says, her eyes on the mother opposite as she tries to calm the toddler.
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“It is.”
I glance around the small restaurant. “I wish we had something like this growing up. Can you imagine? Actual pizza instead of frozen ones?”
“A few more places would be good,” she says. “We need some new businesses in this village that aren’t just open six months of the year.”
“What do you guys think of the new café?”
“Coffee?” Louise’s voice takes on an odd tone while Tomasz sighs.
“Ithink it’s nice,” he says.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask. With all the organic compostable talk, I thought it would be right up her street.
“There’s nothing wrong with it.”
