‘Nothing? It’s just really boring, isn’t it? I mean, there isn’t—’
My stomach drops. ‘What did he say?’
‘He didn’t say anything exactly, it’s—’
‘Just read it.’
She takes a second to clear her throat and continues.
‘I’d like to say it was a complete waste of time but having spent the week imagining reconciling with my wife whom I haven’t spoken to for six months, she’s just asked me to dinner. Maybe there is something in this after all?’
There is a silence as I process her words.His words. I feel like I’ve been punched.
‘Nora, I’m sorry,’ Vic finally says. ‘Look, that doesn’t mean that—’
‘That I’m an idiot?’ I reply. ‘Of course, it does. I mean, I knew he wanted to get back with her. He never said otherwise. I just thought…’
‘What?’
I don’t reply. I just close my laptop and try to ignore the ever-growing lump in my throat.
‘Want me to come over?’ Vic asks.
‘Nah,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m OK. I’ll see you in the morning.’
We say goodnight and I climb into bed, the words ‘lonely middle-aged, last-chance salooners’ creeping around in my head. Is that how he saw me? Some pathetic desperado? I thought at the very least we were friends. Actually, that's a lie. I thought we were more. I thought that meeting me would have changed everything for him. I thought that maybe, for once in my stupid life, I might just be the one.
* * *
Victoria is already wiping down tables when I arrive at the café the following day. Before I can even say good morning, she drops her cloth and makes her way over to me.
‘Oh, Nora!’ she exclaims, coming in for a hug. ‘You look like you haven’t slept a wink.’
‘I got a few hours,’ I reply, hugging her back. ‘Couldn’t get that article out of my head. Not quite the happy ending I was hoping for.’
‘Yubi-hokay,’ she mumbles, her voice muffled by my hair.
‘I will be OK,’ I reply, trying to convince us both. ‘I just need to move on. I need something else to occupy my mind.’
‘Good. OK, any ideas?’
‘Yep.’ I sniff, wiping off my tear-stained glasses. ‘Not sleeping gave me a lot of time to think. I spent half the night chastising myself for behaving like a teenager and the other half thinking about something Brad from bootcamp said.’
‘Was it “Woah, dude”?’ she mocks in a Californian drawl.
‘Very funny, no, he said, “The universe has a plan for you, Nora Brown”.’
‘Oh… right.’
‘And I thought, does the universe have a plan for me? I don’t even have a plan for me!’
‘I thought you’d moved past all that stuff?’ Victoria says, her brow furrowing. ‘I mean, you don’t actually believe that—’
‘The way I see it – if the universe does have a plan for me, so far, that plan has been terrible: heartbreak, stagnation, loneliness, apathy. If the universe’s plan is just for me to exist like this until I die, I’m going to have to intervene.’
‘Ah! And?’
‘Well, first we’re rebranding this bloody café,’ I inform her, my eyes scanning the room. ‘New name, new décor, new floor, new everything. We should not settle for mediocre. We can do better. I can do better.’
