‘And yet they don’t want kids of their own,’ Luis says. ‘It makes no sense to me.’
CJ shrugs. ‘I get it,’ she says. ‘They have this nice life with Querido, and their trips, and I think it’s possible to love children and be good with them but still know being an uncle is enough. It’s admirable, really. All the people in this world who become parents as a sort of insurance policy, because they’re scared they’ll regret not having them? Criminal, really. And we don’t go around asking people who do have kidswhythey’ve done it, do we? We only ask it of the ones who don’t.’
Luis nods his head, left and right, considering her point. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I suppose I worry for myself. You know this, this is not news to you – because I want so desperately to be a father. It’s hard to understand those who don’t wish this for themselves.’
CJ digests this. ‘What makes you so sure on fatherhood?’
‘What made you so sure on motherhood?’ he counters.
‘Fair,’ CJ nods. ‘I just … knew. No big drama, no big question, I just knew.’
‘Do you think I could do it alone?’ Luis asks. ‘Like you? All the women seem to be doing it these days, but you never see a man become a parent on his own, do you? It somehow seems unnatural.’
‘Ricky Martin did it alone, I think,’ CJ says. ‘And Ronaldo, before Georgina. He had three before she came along.’
‘This is true,’ Luis agrees, musing on his sporting hero.‘Although I always imagined a wife. I turn forty next month, CJ, and what do I have to show for it?’
‘You have plenty to show for it!’ CJ tells him, reaching out a hand to his across the table. ‘You’re the heartbeat of this place, and that’s no small thing. Lives are transformed here, whether that disgusts me to say or not. People come to Lisbon and get shown her magic and beauty byyou. You don’t get enough credit for that and I’m not bullshitting you, I swear. You’re loved by your grandparents, your family. Everyone in Bairro Alto knows your name. And you’re part of my family, in a way. Uncle Luis. Jorge adores you.’
Luis looks at her, and CJ can’t tell if he’s sad or if what she has said has made him happy.
‘Hmmm,’ is all he says. And then, ‘I adore him too. You really are doing a fantastic job. I see you with him and I know he will grow up happy, and good.’
‘I hope so.’ The conversation is more serious than she anticipated twenty minutes (and one mention of her thong bikini) ago, but that’s no bad thing. It’s hard not to objectify Luis sometimes, with the way he looks and moves, and the party-boy behaviour he perpetuates, but CJ knows better than anyone that still waters run deep, and Luis’s heart belies a strong current. Other people could be at risk of taking Luis more seriously if only he took himself more seriously, but he so seldom does. CJ meant what she said about him being the heartbeat of CoLab. But he needs to stop shagging every new arrival and go to bed before midnight, then, if that’s not the life he wants any more. CJ can’t say this to him, though, because she did, once, and hescreamed – actually lost his temper and screamed – ‘AND SO WHAT DO I DO TO KEEP MY MIND FROM TURNING ON ME AND GOING INSANE, CJ? IT IS TORTURE!’ As his friend, all CJ can do is walk beside him as he works this out.
Maybe she needs to be more generous with him vis-à-vis a genuine desire to live differently, but then any thoughts of this nature are quickly eradicated with the arrival of Ash in the mess. A reminder that literally, only just last night, Luis was shagging a random who won’t even be here by high summer – like, my dude, come on, make the actions and the words align. Make it make sense.
Praia da Adraga is one of CJ’s favourite places in Portugal, but to explain why would be to try and unpick the exact reasons why nobody can take their eyes off Paul Mescal in any given movie, or explain what Milky Way bars taste like. It’s a feeling, a calmness and a comfort and a thrill, all at once. For CJ the feeling of Praia da Adraga is one of breathing deep. The yellow sandy beach is soft underfoot, the waves crashing and intense, unapologetic in their drama. There’s a power to them, a rawness, and CJ finds it entertainment enough to simply sit and watch them in admiration, their raw energy speaking to some part of her deepest being, like she gets it, raging out in nature that way is a vibe.
CJ is the manager of CoLab, that is true. What CJ is not, however, is an entertainment director of any sort, so whilst she is here to oversee everyone being OK, safe, to hand out directions or advice on where to explore, she is categoricallynothere to see who wants to play beach volleyball or frisbee, or scoop up any of the less socially able ones of the group with a side chat or introduction to the others. That is all Luis, and so CJ happily drags her beach chair off towards the water and gets stuck in to a bit of eyes-open meditation in the form of simply looking, thoughts turning to dust and floating away in pieces, just a moment or two to herself, to be.
‘It’s so beautiful here.’
It’s Ash, a picture of good health in mid-thigh linen shorts and bare feet, her hair whipping around her make-up-free face from the wind. ‘I definitely wouldn’t have made it out here on my own. Wouldn’t have thought to.’
CJ remembers how she’s supposed to make an effort with her, to disprove any theories about, what was it? Oh yes. Her ‘energy’ being ‘shitty’. Barf. But … a truce is a truce.
‘Yeah,’ says CJ. ‘I find it very peaceful. Soothing, or whatever.’
‘You come often?’
CJ shrugs. ‘Not really. I like it when I do, though. My kid prefers the busier beaches, likes the shops that sell the cheap buckets and spades, plenty of other kids to play with.’ CJ hopes her tone betrays the end of the conversation. She doesn’t want tochat.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you were a mother,’ Ash says, not taking the hint.
‘Why would you?’
It slips out before CJ can self-monitor her attitude. Surprise, surprise.
‘True,’ replies Ash, and if she’s wounded she doesn’t show it. ‘Anyway,’ she says, ‘enjoy.’
She’s gone before CJ can pull the conversation back, which is going to have to be OK. Not every interaction can be all-singing and all-dancing, right? If somebody wants to be left alone, that should be OK. Urgh. Ash’s overthinking is contagious. It’s one thing to be civil to her, but CJ doesn’t want to be herfriendor anything.
CJ picks up her phone from her bag, idly scrolls through her news app. She prides herself on being off social media. When it first came about, when everyone started getting Facebook and then Twitter, she sniffed around for a few weeks before her accounts died out. She just didn’t have a lot she wanted to say. And then these past ten years, since being in Lisbon, she has had no desire to connect with the people of her past, to create a brand for herself to sell them. Her life is pretty perfect, but she’s always had the sense that it feels that way because it’s hers, it’s not for public consumption. That’s why she has such an allergic reaction to the people chronicling every last thing at CoLab, on their travels: why not just be present? Who are the photos really for? And over her dead body will she put Jorge online – she read about a woman whose kid had his whole identity stolen, found this whole account of his fictional life but using all the real photos she’d uploaded herself.
All this to say CJ doesn’t have social media apps, but she does spend a lot of time on the news app, and not always to read the broadsheets. Her guilty habit, guilty secret, is thatshe ends up finding out about online discourse through silly websites that share viral content – but since she’s not on the website itself she can pretend she’s not really dumbing herself down. She’s been known to spend a while on cat videos and dog videos and donkey rescue videos, and somehow, in this moment, she ends up on an article called ‘The Twenty Most Romantic Proposals That Will Restore Your Faith in Love’. It’s mostly a collection of men doing surprise flash mobs to surprised women, and a couple ofLove Actually-coded sign-holding proposals too. She’s hate-scrolling, really, which means it serves her right when one of the featured videos is of her ex.
‘What …?’ she says, when the penny drops that it is him. She blinks a couple of times, squints, as if that will help.
