“I still think you’re addicted to beating yourself up.” Emily sighs. “So, you actually told him to fuck off?”
“Well, I was slightly more polite about it, but basically, yes.”
She shakes her head.
“What did you say, exactly?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I stopped short of saying something about me being busy washing curtains while writing an essay and packing for Wales, because, if anything, that might sound even worse…”
Emily groans. “Charlie. Is this the gay equivalent of saying you’re staying in to wash your hair?”
“Ha. It’s true! Go on, ream me out. I can tell you’re dying to say something.”
“No, I’m not.”
I’m quiet for a long moment, wary as we contemplate each other across the video call. “I worried maybe he wouldn’t understand because he’s got bad dyslexia. But then I haven’t heard a peep since then. He’s obviously gotten the message that I’m busy.”
Emily runs her fingers through her long hair as she frowns. “You’re avoiding someone who’s into you? That you like?”
“Well, yes—just because I’m into something doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.” I look at Emily, defiant. I could rattle off a long list without even trying. “There’s plenty of evidence to back that up, remember?”
“Charles.”
“Emily.” I sit up straight, giving her my besttake me seriouslyface. It’s the next face after the Renfrew poker face. If she’s gonnaCharlesme like my mother, she’s getting the face. Even if she does have a point, I’m not ready to concede. I could totally die on this hill.
“I know you, remember? This doesn’t sound like your usual hookup. You don’t ever tell me about those.”
I screw up my face. Putting Emily off isn’t an easy thing. “Believe me, he’s got plenty of admirers out there. He doesn’t need to be single if he doesn’t want to be.”
“Do you want to be single?” she challenges.
Startled, I make some kind of undignified sound. I suck on my bottom lip before I reply more properly like I actually have an answer. I mean, I kind of do. It’s just the answer to a different question. “I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t matter what I want, does it? I have things to do that are more important, like helping you. And Carys.”
She’s quiet. In the background, Carys plays and sing-songs to herself.
“You know you deserve happiness, don’t you?” Emily says. “A chance to live? You get to do that, even with Carys.”
Heat rises in my face. Caught. Emily went straight for the jugular. She may look nice, but behold—apex predator. I open my mouth but no sound comes out.
“Happy doesn’t factor into it,” I say finally. “That’s a luxury.”
She ignores that. “Does Ben make you happy?”
I hesitate. A million times yes. “Well, of course—”
“Then you better tell him. Before it’s too late. And give yourselves a chance to explore whatever’s between you, whether it works out or it doesn’t. You just need to let yourself live. Not stuck in things behind you or waiting for future you. Obviously, Ben sees something in you that existsright now.”
Of course she’s right. And I’m overwhelmed, so I just nod, letting this sink in.
Emily shifts. “How about a glimpse of Carys? She’s playing.”
“I can hear her.”
“She’s talking to the dinosaur you sent.” Emily smiles. So do I.
After a smallish sort of commotion, with the net result of seeing Carys plonked on the floor in her mum’s lap, Em holding the phone so Carys can see me, I smile at my daughter.
Carys is cute in her goat pajamas, with dark hair and green eyes like me. Spitting image, Emily insists, but Carys is far more adorable. No matter how miserable I feel, whenever I see my daughter, I wonder at this small, magnificent person we made. Everything seems more hopeful when I see her.
