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I think of all the pictures he has of me from our weeks together. I’d been in such a hurry to leave that I never gave much thought to asking him to delete them. Does he look at them often? I’m strangely jealous that he has those pictures to remember us by and I have nothing.
Unable to bring myself to delve further, I deactivate my account and shut down my laptop.
A couple of hours later I get a phone call from Sasha that sounds suspiciously like Robert put her up to it (which makes me both on edge and overjoyed). She asks me about Facebook, and I tell her that I’ve simply outgrown it. No need to explain the fact that it hurts too much to be reminded of her brother every day.
Before I know it, it’s the end of September, and I’m waking up early on a Monday morning to get the train into Dublin for college. I have a meeting with my thesis supervisor, and I’m going to pitch my idea for a new topic to him. I also plan on getting some studying done in the library. It’s Freshers’ Week, so suffice it to say the library will be empty and the campus bar jam-packed.
I haven’t been making much of an effort with my appearance lately, my melancholy over missing Robert causing me to spend most days in my pyjamas. If Mum didn’t work such long hours, she would have noticed and questioned me endlessly about why I’m acting so miserable.
Deciding to put my best foot forward, I French-plait my hair to the side, leaving the ends loose. I put on a grey pencil skirt, comfortable boots, and a cream woollen jumper. It might not sound so fancy, but compared to my recent attire it’s practically Oscars-worthy.
Arriving at Pearse Station, I make the short walk over the road, going through the back entrance to Trinity College. There are first-year students everywhere, all hyper and excited to be there. I get a pang of loneliness as I think how all of my friends have either graduated and started jobs or emigrated.
I go first to my supervisor’s office and tell him how I want to draw a comparison between cruelty in the classics and cruelty in the modern age for my thesis. He seems interested by the idea and tells me to go ahead with my research. Leaving the office with a swing in my step, I go to take care of my registration. Then I decide to treat myself and have lunch at my favourite place to eat in the city, the rooftop restaurant over Marks & Spencer.
After I’ve eaten, I make my way to the library, standing outside and rummaging through my bag for my student ID card, which I need to get inside. As I’m doing this, I get the distinct feeling I’m being watched. Looking in the direction I’d felt it from, I see a group of students walking away with their backs to me. My heart gives a quick jolt as I take in the recognisable stature of one of the guys. He’s exactly Robert’s height and build, with the same haircut and everything.
I shake my head, telling myself that my imagination is running away with me, and venture inside. I spend longer than planned researching, getting lost in my study as I usually do. When I get home, Gran heats me up some chicken casserole for dinner, and we talk about my first day back. She doesn’t ever ask any questions about that phone call we’d had weeks ago, when I’d told her all about my romantic woes, and I’m grateful for that.
The next morning I’m sitting by the window, eating breakfast, and Mum’s getting ready for work, buttoning up her shirt as she stands by the fireplace. Across the way I notice a car in Liz’s driveway – a very familiar one. The front door opens and Liz walks outside, followed by the unmistakable figure of her son.
I let my spoon fall into my bowl, clanging loudly, as I gasp in surprise.
“Lana, what’s wrong?” Mum asks, her brow furrowing.
“Is that Robert out there?” I say in a shaky voice, pointing to the window. He’s giving Liz a hug now and getting into his car.
“Oh, yes, Liz did mention something about the prodigal son returning.” Mum gives a cynical laugh. “Apparently he’s taking a career break so he can go back to school and get a degree. He’s been distant with her the past few years, but they had a heart-to-heart and decided to put past differences aside.”
Mum raises an eyebrow, communicating her feelings on the matter. She’s never liked Robert, nor does she trust him to be a good son to his mother. I have the sudden urge to defend him, but I resist.
So it was Robert I saw yesterday in that group of students. I’d felt someone watching me. Does that mean it had been him?
“Can’t he get a degree in London?” I mutter, thinking out loud.
“He could, but it’s less expensive to study here,” Mum answers.
Ha, that’s a load of crap. It may be less expensive, but I know for a fact that Robert’s hardly strapped for cash. My chest constricts with suspicion while my belly simultaneously fills with butterflies. Robert’s here. My Robert. The man I’ve missed like crazy.
In too much turmoil over the prospect of bumping into him, I decide to spend the day doing research at home. I don’t have all the books I need, though, and the Internet only goes so far, so the following day I have to go in.
I practically bite half my nails off on the train journey into the city, wondering about Robert. What is he studying? Is he staying at his mum’s house or somewhere else? Has he made friends yet? Well, given the fact I saw him on campus with other people, I presume he has.
I squirrel myself away in the library under a pile of books, scribbling copious amounts of notes and trying to focus on my thesis subject instead of how my heart flutters knowing Robert is somewhere close by.
