A man collided with me on his way out, a wayward elbow catching my arm and sending us both flying. I saw his shoes first. Brown suede Chelsea boots righting themselves against the uneven cobblestones, a splash of spilt liquid darkening the left toe. My eyes travelled up his jeans, which were slightly faded in that way that told you they were his favourite pair, overworn and under-washed. But it was the jumper, navy blue and hoicked up at the sleeves, that had my heart in my mouth.
‘Joe?’ His name tumbled so readily out of my mouth that I realised on some level I must have been expecting, hoping even, to see him today. A pair of unfamiliar green eyes frowned back at me from a glasses-less face.
‘Sorry, love,’ the stranger mumbled in a thick northern accent before hurrying off down the street. I shuffled forwards in the queue, my mind now racing with a single thought.When was the last time I’d seen Joe? I’d not seen him yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. Had it been .?.?. ? No. What about .?.?. ? No, not then either.I started to panic, sifting back through the events of the past few weeks, my heart beating faster the further back I went.Aha, on the bus on the way to Luca’s gig. I’d seen him on the bus on the way to Luca’s gig!But that was three weeks ago. Surely it hadn’t been that long? I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Joe’s face in the line of caffeine-hungry millennials that snaked behind me, pressing my face to the window of the shop to see if he was inside.
‘It’s Drew’s,’ I reminded myself quietly, taking a deep, calming breath in through my nose as I scrunched the sleeves of Luca’s sweatshirt into a tight fist. ‘He always shows at Drew’s.’
But he didn’t show by the time I reached the entrance, my foot taking over from the person’s in front to wedge the dooropen. Nor did he appear when I’d inched to the front of the queue.
‘One black coffee and an oat milk hazelnut mocha with extra whipped cream, right?’
I blinked at the barista, a sharp pain piercing my chest at the sound of mine and Joe’s regular order rolling off her tongue, her hand already reaching for the hazelnut syrup. Like we were a package deal. Neither making sense without the other. But I was here buying coffee for another man. A man who was waiting for me, naked and warm in the bed that not so long ago I used to share with Joe. The thought made my stomach tighten. Someone sighed impatiently behind me, the barista’s smile fading as I stood frozen to the spot.
‘Umm, no,’ I managed eventually, my voice cracking with the effort. ‘Just a black coffee and a flat white today.’
I had a sudden urge to sit at our normal table in the back, me facing Joe, Joe facing me, like always. But another couple were already there, mugs to one side, heads bent overThe Sunday Timescrossword puzzle in a way that screamed routine. I paid for the coffees and left, but instead of heading back to the flat, my feet took me in the opposite direction, striding purposefully towards the farmer’s market along the seafront. It was another place that I could always count on Joe appearing, falling into step beside me as we walked up and down the promenade, perusing stalls selling buckets of fresh olives and signs made from old pieces of driftwood that said things likesandy toes & salty kisses.My skin buzzed with that anxious need to keep moving, panic coursing through my veins like hot, molten lava.
It was busy along the seafront. The sun was out, shining down on the neat rows of stalls that magically appeared along the upper promenade every Sunday, and it had brought half the population of Hove out with it. I pushed through the crowds, my head snapping this way and that, desperately searching forthat familiar mop of sandy-brown hair amidst the kids with butterflies painted on their faces and the couples walking arm in arm at that leisurely Sunday pace, string bags filled with sourdough and olive oil the price of a house deposit swinging from their shoulders.
He’s not here.
I ran my hand through my hair, triggering a flashback of Luca’s fingers twisting their way around the strands at the nape of my neck, coaxing my head back as his lips murmured hot, delicious things against the bare skin between my breasts. I shook my head, screwing my eyes tightly shut as I tried to push the memory from my mind, to make room for Joe.
What if I never see him again?
I ground my teeth together, my jaw throbbing from the effort of keeping this heart-wrenching pain inside. Hot coffee sloshed down my front as my grip tightened around the takeaway cups, both lids flying off as a brown patch bloomed like a dead rose across the fabric of Luca’s jumper.
And now, somehow, I was here. Sat on the pebbles of Brighton Beach, my dress growing cold and wet beneath me whilst I stared out at the West Pier, as I had a thousand times before. Only this time I was alone. There was no Joe, camera pressed against his face as he skittered across the stones, theclick click clickof his shutter as he took photograph after photograph of the burnt-out metal skeleton of a pier. I never could understand how something so broken, a shell of its former self, could still be standing. How it could look so beautiful, with its now-useless metal beams standing tall and proud as the mist swirled around them.
‘Come on, Joe,’ I muttered, hugging my knees tightly to my chest as I looked around the empty beach. I swallowed, my throat suddenly thick with panic. My eyes stung with tears as I tried to block out the voice inside my head, the one that keptsayingit’s your fault he’s not here, you let him fade away.The voice was so loud that it took up all the space in my head, no room left for anything else. It was only then that I noticed my tears had turned to sobs, tearing raggedly through me. The seagulls joined in with my cries, bringing their high notes to the gentle melody of the waves against the shore, and I watched as a bird landed on a stretch of beach. It pottered around for a moment, its tiny feet performing a rain dance on the wet sand, trying to entice any signs of life to the surface before flying off again, an incoming wave wiping the beach clean. As if the seagull and its pattering feet never existed.
‘Where are you, Joe?’ I whispered, a single tear rolling down my cheek as I closed my eyes, wishing, willing him to appear. My phone buzzed against the stones beside me, Luca’s name flashing across the top. That thing in the pit of my stomach constantly pulling me between the past and the present stretched taut, like the moment of stalemate in a tug of war. I knew I couldn’t stay on this beach forever, but equally, I didn’t want to leave.
Leaving felt so final, like giving up, and I just wasn’t ready to admit that I might never see Joe again. And so I waited, watching the sun rise with a casual elegance to its highest point, teetering at its apex in the sky before it ultimately succumbed to its inevitable descent. My phone buzzed again and I sighed, heaving myself to my feet. My joints were cold and stiff from sitting for so long, but something else was weighing them down as I trudged slowly back up the beach, something heavy and absolute. I paused at the bottom of the steps, unable to resist the temptation to glance once more over my shoulder, a fresh wave of disappointment my only reward.
‘Leaving so soon? Personally, I thought I was worth at least five more minutes.’
I misjudged the next step, stumbling forwards and onlynarrowly avoiding dropping my phone over the side. Joe was stood at the top of the stairs, one brown boot slung casually over the other as thoughhe’dbeen the one waiting forme. The initial relief at seeing him was short-lived, swept away by an unexpected wave of anger. The sight of him stood there so calmly, after I’d just run around half of Hove searching for him, made my blood run hot. It took everything I had to resist punching him, imprisoning my hands in my oversized sleeves so as not to alarm the elderly couple on the bench opposite.
‘I waited for over an hour,’ I hissed, not pausing to see if he was following as I stormed off down the boardwalk. Joe had to break into a semi-jog just to keep up.
‘Huh. So, kind of like that time you were an hour late for the new James Bond film, then?’ he answered cheekily.
My jaw clenched. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Try and make light of the situation. There’s no light left, OK, Joe?’
We walked in silence for a while, weaving our way through the throngs of people.
‘You don’t have to wait for me, you know,’ Joe said softly, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck.
I closed my eyes, the pain almost too much to bear.
‘I don’t know how to do that,’ I said slowly, fighting to keep my voice steady.
‘You don’t know how to do what?’
