Something for a later date.
“Is that your primary job?” I ask instead.
“Not time-wise, but it pays the bills. My day job is new, and it may or may not pan out, but at least I’m doing something creative again.”
That sounds promising. “That’s great. What is it?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it’ll pan out. I can tell you more later,” she says. “What about you, Robin? Tell me about something that makes you happy.”
“Like what?”
“What’s your favourite book?”
“Books make you happy?”
“Yes, I love reading.” There’s a different tone to her voice when she talks about things she loves. I can almost hear her face lighting up. Maybe those dimples are popping.
“What’syourfavourite book, then?” I ask and realise I’m grinning too.
“I asked you first.”
“The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood,” I say, and she laughs, but I’m not joking. “I read it until it fell apart. I always liked Robin Hood as a character.”
“Are you a mischievous rebel, Robin?” she teases.
I laugh, unsure of how much to share.
“Hardly,” I say, going for honesty. What is this if not an opportunity to just be me? “I’m appreciated for being principled and steady.”
“Sexy rule-follower?”
“Hah. It was actually Robin Hood’s sense of freedom thatdrew me in as a child. He inspired me to carve my own path, to be my own boss.”
“Shit, my mum’s complaining about something downstairs. I’m so sorry, but I need to go.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Her mum is there? I sit up.
“How old are you?” I ask.
She snorts. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“But you live with your mum?”
“No, I live with my big brother. For now. Sorry, it’s a long story. My parents are here now, though.”
“Okay, Alice. You can tell me more next time when you’re not in a rush.”
“I’d like that. Have a good day, Robin Hood.”
“You too, perfectly old young Alice.”
She hangs up, and the world is quiet. But not in a relaxing way. Normally, quiet is what I prefer.
I stare at the ceiling. My status quo has shifted.
This is a world I don’t know.
For the first time, I don’t feel like being alone. It doesn’t feel right. I look to the side of my bed where she would be if she were mine. Her long dark hair would be fanned out around her here instead. She’d have a big smile on her face, framed by those dimples. The image in my head feels so familiar. Like I know her already. And she belongs right here next to me.
