Page 64 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“It was a work thing,” I say evasively.
“I love it, it’s so cool. Can I get one?” Jess asks.
“Absolutely not.”
“What does it mean? ‘And’?” Lottie asks while trying to stifle a laugh.
“It’s supposed to be a symbolic ampersand rather than literally the word ‘and.’ ”
“I think you should keep it,” Lottie says. “It’s got so much attitude, like you’re saying ‘AND?’ to the world. ‘Yeah, my name’s Anna, AND? You got a problem with that?’ ” Lottie says in a gruff voice, then starts giggling to herself.
“Speak to the and, ’cause the face ain’t listening,” says Ethan, holding up his hand, which makes all three of them fall about inhysterics. The sound of their laughter fills the car and it’s such a wonderful noise, I find myself laughing too, despite their teasing.
—
When we gethome, Johnny the handyman has been, and the kitchen cabinets are now a beautiful dark green. They look perfect. Now all I need is some more houseplants, and every meal will feel like I’m foraging for food in a jungle.
“Green, cool,” says Ethan.
“The house smells of paint,” says Jess.
Neither of them seems as excited about the change as I am, and they soon disappear upstairs to start homework. I should make a plan for dinner, put a wash on, respond to some work e-mails, but instead I head toward the garage.
“Jess, Ethan, I’ll be in the garage if you need me,” I call up the stairs. “Takeout for dinner. Your choice.”
They yell down their approval of this plan. When I open the door to the garage, a cold gust of air hits me. I grab a cardigan from the hall, then plug in an oil heater. Next, I find a folded picnic table in the corner, dust it off, and lay a piece of tarpaulin over the top. Unwrapping the huge block of clay, I lift it onto the table, and it makes a satisfying “thwack” as I set it down.
I’ve been putting off starting a sculpture, worried my efforts will be embarrassingly childish, fearing I’d misremembered having any talent for this. But seeing Ethan on the pitch today reminded me you don’t have to be good at something to find joy in it. Taking out the box of molding tools, I cut off a large chunk of clay. Maybe Lottie is right: I do overthink things; I say no because it’s less scary than failing or being disappointed. Perhaps I should try to be more like her and follow my instincts more.
The last few years have been about keeping everyone else happy—trying to cushion Jess and Ethan from the fallout of theseparation, soft-stepping around Dan and Dan’s mood. I have shut out the voice asking what else I might want, what I might need. As my hands start to warm the cold material, the infinite possibilities hidden in this lump of brown clay make my fingers dance with anticipation.
Google searches:
Sculpting with clay, tutorial
Is it really naff to have an ampersand tattoo?
Is Patrick Swayze’s Ghost on Netflix?
Chapter 21
“I’m so sorry, I didn’tknow we were doing costumes,” I say with a nervous laugh when I see Michael waiting for me in the tearoom. He is dressed in high-waisted breeches, a high-collared shirt, and a single-breasted green tailcoat. He stands, and bows, and then pulls out a chair for me.
“No, no, not compulsory,” Michael says, flicking his tails as he sits back down. “I’ve just finished my shift. I usually play Bingley, but today I am Edward Ferrars, at your service.”
The Jane Austen Centre is a quaint little museum dedicated to Jane Austen’s life and how she came to live here in Bath. It boasts a wonderful gift shop, a Regency tearoom, and actors roaming the halls dressed as characters from her novels.
“You work here as a guide, as well as delivering parcels?” I ask in surprise.
“Two afternoons and every other Saturday. Austen is my life.” His face lights up. “You’ve read her, I presume?”
“Some,” I admit. “I think I readEmmaandMansfield Parkin school. I’ve watched thePride and PrejudiceTV adaptation and Emma Thompson’sSense and Sensibility—I loved that one.”
Michael’s face goes pale, and his mouth falls open in horror.“That is not the same, not the same at all. An adaptation is but a shadow of the original text,” he says, his tufty eyebrows sinking into a frown. “The books offer such a keen insight into human nature. Austen’s turns of phrase are exquisite.” Michael fiddles with a cufflink, clearly bothered. “Just think what we might have had from dear Jane if she hadn’t died so young.Sanditon, of course, but what else might she have gifted us with?” Michael lets out a low sigh.
“Which is your favorite novel?” I ask, suppressing a smile.
“Oh,P and P, undoubtedly, though I know that makes me predictable. Some claim thatPersuasionhas more depth, that she was a more experienced writer when she penned it, but I don’t think you can top the characterization inP and P. I have read it thirty-eight times.”
