‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, I don’t even care any more.’
‘Then why are you crying over it?’ he asks, peering at me gently.
I whimper. ‘I’m not. I’m crying because I’ve spent so long wanting to get somewhere to practically no effect. I’m nearing thirty and I don’t even know if I want anything I have written on my list any more. I’ve wasted years– decades– of my life climbing from step to arbitrary step, for what? It all feels so hopeless and– I don’t know– I just wish I could go back and start over again.’
‘Then start again,’ he says plainly.
‘I can’t,’ I say, whinging. ‘Didn’t you hear the part where I said I am nearly thirty? That’s no age to start over again.’
I can’t stop crying. It’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t dare judge. Instead, he leans from his seat and embraces me in a bear hug. We stay like that for several moments, until I reach up and yank his earlobe. He pushes me away roughly and I let out a watery laugh. The first real laugh I’ve had since leaving Evie’s house.
‘We’re going out tonight,’ he says firmly.
‘I appreciate the offer, but the last thing I wanna do is party with a bunch of twenty-year-old med students that are already cooler than me,’ I sigh.
‘Yeah, I’m not gonna go to that party.We’regoing out,’ he says.
‘Where?’ I ask, subtly pushing the cup of tea away.
‘Get dressed.’
‘Anton. . .’ He’s grown up with me, he should know that I need more information than that.
‘If you can hop on a train last minute, then you can get dressed without knowing where you’re going,’ he says. ‘Go wash your face and get ready. I’ll text Jul– I’m pretty sure she has a spare clean towel.’
Jul did, in fact, have a spare towel and it was by far the cleanest thing in the whole bathroom. How the two girls in thisflat get by I do not know, but I commend them for being two of the world’s strongest soldiers.
After freshening up and changing out of my grubby travel T-shirt, I join Anton at the foot of his stairs and wave goodbye to his flatmates, now at least three drinks down. We wander haplessly through the back streets and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from going full mum and questioning his safety. But eventually we arrive at his students’ union, heading through the foyer and straight up the stairs.
My ears fill with noise the second we turn a corner, music and laughter filling what looks like the union’s common room. The place is packed full of students, lounging across sofas, gathered round pool tables, and reaching for cups filled with ominous liquids.
‘The ACS have these casual hangs every Friday night,’ Anton says. ‘I swing by every once in a while, when I need a pick-me-up.’
He guides me through the room, swerving breezily through the different groups with fist bumps and head nods, and quick stops for private jokes. I’ve always known Anton was social– he’s never at home– but seeing him in his element is something different entirely. He’s so calm and comfortable, and it fills me with peace knowing that he’s found a community when he’s away. He stops at one specific group, greeting a guy with locs and two of his friends, before being handed a drink and turning around to introduce me.
‘This is my sister, Maddison. Mads, this is Monts, Sam and Tyrell. Monts is my ACS older brother,’ he says. ‘We’re on the committee together.’
‘You’re on the committee?’ I try to hide my shock, but I can’t help it– it’s so unlike him.
‘You’re not the only one who knows how to join a society, Ms Twelve Extra-Curriculars,’ he says jokingly.
The guys laugh behind him before introducing themselves again, Monts pouring me a drink as he does so.
‘Ants, you never said your sister was this fine,’ Tyrell says, throwing me a flirty nod.
‘Never say that again,’ Anton warns them off before I have a chance to respond.
They nod before shuffling up on their sofa so we can squeeze in and join the fun. Anton glows while he’s around them, approaching their conversation with wit and charisma I never get to see. I nervously tap the plastic cup with my nails as I listen to them talk between themselves, throwing in a stray laugh from time to time so as not to seem like some awkward bystander. They race through topics quicker than light, breaking only to shout their favourite lines of the songs that sound off in the background.
‘So, what’s your deal, Maddison?’ Monts asks me softly as the other three depart to find us another bottle.
‘Well, I work in events at a baggage company—’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ he replies, cutting me off. ‘Why are you here with us tonight? Anton said something was up.’
Of course he did. Apparently, I can’t trust my brother enough to understand that my breakdowns should remain secret.
‘Hey, relax,’ he says, noting my tense demeanour. ‘He didn’t saywhatwas up, just said you might need a chat. I’m pretty good at getting people out of their funks.’
