‘I roped myself into it by volunteering to be your plus one,’ I say. ‘I’m in too deep now.’
Our salads arrive, carried by a handsome waiter that both Will and I check out as he walks away. We exchange a glance, and then dig into our greens. On the chair next to us lounges a short-haired black and white cat who hasn’t opened its eyes once. Every now and then I look at its chest to make sure it’s still breathing, which it is.
‘I should try more food that isn’t salad,’ Will says, crunching leaves. ‘But this is too good.’
People stroll by us on the street, residents and tourists alike. There are more stray cats eyeing the restaurant, looking for what they can scrounge. I imagine our black and white cat here has this restaurant as its domain.
‘Are you happy here?’
Will’s question is like burning my hand on the coffee machine. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just asking,’ Will says. ‘To me, I’d love a life like this. Blue skies, trendy restaurants.’
‘Isn’t Cardiff like that?’
‘It can be, but mostly it’s grey. And don’t get me started on when big events come to town and you’d rather be anywhere else. When Oasis came it was a nightmare.’
‘I don’t mind Oasis.’
Will blinks. ‘Are you sure you’re not straight?’
I laugh, thinking about his original question. ‘I like my job, but do you ever ask if there’s something more?’
‘All the goddamn time,’ Will says.
I extend my hand. ‘There you go, then.’
‘But that can’t be it?’
‘Why can’t it?’
‘I don’t know, it just can’t,’ Will says. ‘Up there you said you thought about leaving. Why don’t you?’
‘Complacency. Life passing me by.’
‘You’re thirty, not eighty.’
‘I feel eighty.’ And I feign an injury as I stretch.
Will nudges me, shaking his head. ‘Do your dreams lie in being a barista?’
I chuckle. ‘Not particularly.’
‘Then what?’
I bristle. ‘I never went beyond secondary school, and even there I felt like a bit of a dunce.’ I fork tomato, seeing the juice pop out. ‘Later in life I’ve made it my mission to learn more and read more, but yeah, it wasn’t the best.’
‘What? So you feel like you can’t go and do something else?’
I can feel my neck heating, and allow my hair to cover it. ‘Like I say, I’ve got complacent.’
‘What would you do instead?’
‘I’d like to travel,’ I say, no hesitation. ‘And paint.’
‘That’s something. You should do it, Sam. Where would you go?’
‘Skopelos,’ I say, picking the name at random.
