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A while later Sasha announces, “I handed in my notice today.”
I gape at her, stunned. “You did? Why?”
“The work wasn’t making me happy. You know that. But more importantly, I got offered another job.”
“Really! That’s great, Sash. Where is it?”
“A culture magazine here in London. I’ll be writing a column on local art exhibitions and such,” she answers, turning to me with a huge grin. “It’s only a small publication and doesn’t pay half as much as The Mail, but I think I could be content working there.”
“I’m so pleased for you,” I tell her genuinely.
She eyes me, curious. “You know, you never did explain to me why you ended it with Robert.”
I wince, not liking where she’s trying to direct the conversation. “It’s one of those things that are hard to talk about. Too fresh.”
“Well, I can understand that,” she says, getting to her feet. “If you ever want to talk, I’m all ears. I’ve certainly never seen my brother so torn up over a girl before.” She pauses, blowing air out through her mouth. “Anyway, I’m going to order in dinner. What are you in the mood for?”
Taking her place under the sun, I try my best to smile and push Robert out of my head. “Surprise me.”
Robert doesn’t come home that evening. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s hurting and can’t bear to face me or if he’s being passive-aggressive. I call my mum and tell her I’m coming back early. She doesn’t do much to cover up her glee at the news. She’d never been a fan of the idea of me going to London in the first place. She’s so overjoyed that she doesn’t even think to question why I’m coming home. I book a flight for the next evening and start packing. I also call Alistair and let him know I won’t be coming back to the restaurant, but he’s not too put out since I only had a couple weeks left anyway.
Sasha takes a few hours off work to drive me to the airport the following day. When it’s time to leave, I mournfully say goodbye to the house, selfishly grateful that Robert still hasn’t shown up. A clean break will be easiest for the both of us.
Unfortunately, just as Sasha’s helping me put my bags in the boot of her car, Robert pulls into the driveway. Emerging from his Mercedes, he comes to stand before us, scratching the back of his neck with his keys.
His beautiful eyes land on me, tilting down in sadness. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I thought it’d be for the best,” I tell him in a soft voice.
“It’s not for the best,” he replies, matter-of-fact. There’s no anger in his words, though, just pained resignation.
“Um, sorry to interrupt, but if we don’t leave now you might miss your flight, kid,” says Sasha, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag.
I look at her but don’t say anything. Glancing between Robert and me, she gives an awkward nod and slides into the driver’s seat to wait for me.
“I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind,” says Robert.
I shake my head, unable to find any words.
He lets out a long breath, and then he’s standing before me, pulling me into him for a farewell hug. His arms tighten around me like he doesn’t want to let go.
“I’m going to miss you, little red,” he whispers into my hair, smelling me.
“I’m going to miss you, too, Robert.”
He pulls back, his warm hands braced on my shoulders as he peers down at me, forcing a smile. “Until next time, eh?”
Unable to help myself, I give him a small smile in return. “Goodbye, Robert.”
His forced smile falls from his face. “Goodbye, Lana.”
After I climb into the car with Sasha, I stare out the window at him still standing in the drive, watching us as we pull away.
Twenty
Arriving at Dublin airport, I find my mum, Gran, Liz, and my sister waiting for me, an enthusiastic welcome-home party. I didn’t realise how much I missed them all until this moment, seeing their familiar faces in front of me, comforting like an old winter blanket.
Alison pesters me with questions about London, like did you go to any good gigs? and did you see any famous people? I tell her about the Olympics closing ceremony, and her mouth practically falls to the floor. Then I tell her about Alan’s birthday party, where there had been plenty of famous faces, but since most of them had their heyday in the ’80s she hasn’t got a clue who half of them are.
“You’re looking a little pale, love,” says Mum, eyeing me from her overhead mirror. “I hope you’ve been taking good care of yourself.”
“I have,” I answer her quickly. “The flight just drained me.”
Liz, who’s sitting beside me in the back, throws her arm around my shoulders and squeezes tight. “It’s great to have you back, Lana. I suppose you’ve got lots of organising to do before you return to college.”
I nod, and we make chitchat for the rest of the drive.
The next several weeks are a lesson in contrasts. It feels good to be home, but at the same time there’s an emptiness in my belly that marks Robert’s absence. I can’t stop thinking about him, missing him and wondering if he’s already got another girl by now. I thought that time would ease the pain, but it’s only making things worse. I picture his face in my head, worried I’ll somehow forget his features. The fact that it was my decision to end things only makes missing him that much harder a pill to swallow.
One evening I make the mistake of paying a rare visit to Facebook. When I do, I see that Robert uploaded and linked me a picture the same day I left London. It shows the two of us lying on the grass in the back garden, his arm around me, both of our eyes lit up from the shine of the sun. Underneath it has a comment that reads, “Miss you already.”
