Page 28 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“I think the best preparation here is for me to have a strong cup of coffee.”
In the kitchen, the coffee machine is overflowing with used pods, so I empty it into the bin. The bin is full, so I push the contents down, and my hand lands on a shopping bag that I don’t recognize.Curious, I open the bag and find all of Jess’s Sylvanian Families, small woodland animals dressed in clothes. I let out a gasp, as though I’ve stumbled upon a severed foot. These are Jess’s most treasured toys. I show the bag to Lottie.
Lottie frowns, understanding the significance. “Surely, she can’t have meant to throw those away?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “We donated a load of old toys recently, but she loves these, she makes those little stop-motion videos with them,” I say, rescuing the bag, then wiping off the outside with a cloth. “Is this it, the end of her childhood?” I ask, pulling out a small hedgehog wearing dungarees, feeling a heavy tug of nostalgia.
“Oh no, do you think she’s going to get a boyfriend and start vaping?” Lottie asks.
“I hope not.” We transfer the little figures into a new bag, then I stuff the old bag in the bin and the toys in a cupboard above the fridge. I’ll have to deal with this later.
—
The house partyis in a flat near Oldfield Park, and since I don’t want to risk arriving before Caleb, I don’t get there until ten thirty. I ring the bell, my heart racing, and someone buzzes me in without even asking who I am. The flat is scruffy, with a studenty vibe. The sparse furniture looks like it was salvaged from a yard sale, there are bikes crammed into the hall, and the carpet looks older than anyone at the party.
“Hi, I’m looking for Caleb?” I ask a girl with green sparkly eye shadow, but she just shrugs and then glances down at my boots.
“Nice boots,” she says, and I have no idea if she’s being sarcastic or not.
“Thanks,” I say doubtfully. The flat isn’t big and there aren’t many people here, so I quickly locate Caleb opening a beer in the kitchen.
“Hey,” he says, his face creasing into an enormous smile.
“Hey.”
“You look great, I’m so glad you could come,” Caleb says, fishing a beer from a bucket full of ice and handing it to me. I clutch it, hoping the cold might still my nerves. I don’t know why I’m so on edge, you’d think I’d never been to a house party before.
Caleb introduces me to the people who live here: Zeek, with the skin pallor of someone who doesn’t get enough sunlight, dressed in jeans and a tie-dye T-shirt. Jasmine, braless in a halter top with impossibly pert boobs and plump, youthful cheeks. Coco, of ambiguous gender, who sports a buzz cut and bright blue lipstick, then Chai, with a mane of curly black hair skimming her bare midriff and navel piercing. I have to stop myself from staring at this willowy flame of youthful perfection, but I am an aging moth, transfixed.
“You okay?” Caleb asks, touching a hand to my arm. I nod, anxious that he’s noticed my anxiety. “We’re early. Most people won’t come until midnight.”
Midnight? I hope he’s not expecting me to stay until midnight.Caleb takes my hand and leads me through to the living room, grabbing three Ping-Pong balls from a fruit bowl on the sideboard, then setting out a row of plastic cups on the windowsill.
“How many do you think you can land?” he asks, handing me a ball. Gingerly, I aim and take my best shot. Out of three, I’m delighted when the last one goes in; several people cheer, then it’s Caleb’s turn, and he lands all three. Caleb spins me around in a victory dance, genuinely delighted. There’s something so assured in the way he takes my hand; he is entirely unselfconscious. I start to relax.Maybe this will be fine.Neil and those men fromthe apps all had a world-weariness about them—as though they had seen what life had to offer and were disappointed. Caleb, by contrast, is like a child with a treasure map, everything an opportunity for adventure.Am I world-weary? Is that why I focus on the risk of humiliation and disappointment rather than delight in the joy of possibility?
“I want to show you something,” Caleb says, finally tiring of our game and leading me up a stairwell, through a fire escape, and out onto the roof. Here, we find the most amazing view out over the city, Bath Abbey lit up in the distance.
“Oh wow, what a view.”
He takes off his jumper, lays it on the roof, then beckons for me to sit down. “So, Anna, tell me your dreams. What do you want out of this life? What does life want out of you?” he asks, running a hand through his bright blond hair.
“What does life want out of me?” I repeat in bemusement.I am definitely world-weary.
“Yeah. What’s your thing?”
“My thing? Well, I work as a journalist,” I tell him. “I’ve got two kids, who you met. Last night I had a dream about climbing a ladder covered in pigeons. I have a lot of dreams about pigeons for some reason.”
Caleb laughs. “You’re funny. So, journalism, is that your calling?” he asks, and I shrug. He raises both arms toward the stars, exposing a slim, taut navel as his T-shirt rises up. “I’m studying ecology management—I think that’s what the world wants out of me, to help on a practical level, to till the soil like our ancestors, but like, in a macro way.”
“I see,” I say, though I don’t see at all.
“What’s your big want?” he asks, shaking his hands at the sky.
I pause, looking out over the city, at all the lights in all the windows. Each one a person with their own hopes and fears, dreams and disappointments.
“I think I just want to get through the day without anything bad happening,” I tell him. “Is that enough? I want my kids to be happy, I want them to do well at school, I want to keep my job so I can provide for them.”
“That’s a lot of wants for your kids,” Caleb says, pressing his hands together and then twisting his body. For a moment I think he’s praying, but then I realize he’s stretching. “What aboutyou?” He taps his joined fingers against my shoulder. His eyes are sincere, as though he really does want to know.
