I shrugged. “Just an idea.”
“Okay, well, you’re giving memorework to do,” Simone said, waving me away. “Now get out, and keep an eye on your email.”
* * *
The decision should have beeneasy now; Simone had teed it up for me, and all I had to do was close the deal. I knew I could, too. For once in my life, confidence wasn’t the problem.
But when I thought about turning down the York job, staying at the Rescue, I couldn’t help but picture myself crawling back to Jack. I’d still be here, in his hometown. We’d still see each other every Monday night. And I’d still be madly in love with him.
And I was in love with him. I hadn’t said it back, because in the middle of our breakup had felt like the worst possible time to roll out that sentiment. But of course I loved him back. I’d been in love with him for months; since long before he had come to love me. Which is what made all of this so horrible.
As I sat on my window seat on Saturday morning sorting books into keep and donate piles – I was trying to get ahead of the monumental task I knew was ahead of me whenever the sale eventually went through – I thought about the concept of the fork in the road, and how many different places this decision could lead to. If I stayed, maybe Jack and I would get back together. Or maybe it would be too hard to be around each other, and we’d have another fall-out, this time in front of our friends. Or maybe he’d find someone else, and I’d be forced to watch their love unfold in front of me.
Or, if I moved to York, maybe I’d find someone else. Maybe I’d watch from afar or hear through friends when Jack eventually moved on. Or maybe I’d spend the rest of my life regretting leaving the one person I’d ever truly loved.
And that was just Jack. There were multiverses of possibilities, all of them laid out in front of me like the books I was combing through. I wondered in how many of them I was the one sending the postcards, and in how many I was still receiving them. I wondered in how many I was truly happy.
I picked up my phone, and it took me until my finger was over her name that I realised I was about to text Cara. She had always been the one I talked to about things like this. About everything, actually. But I hadn’t heard from her in months now. And I realised, as I put my phone down again, that I didn’t actually care anymore what she thought. She didn’t know Jack, and she didn’t know me. Not this version of me; the version who was taking things into her own hands for once.
No, I was the only one who could figure this out. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.
The next book I picked up was the copy ofThe HobbitJack had bought me, because of course it was. The book that, more than any other for me, symbolised both my yearning for adventure and my ache for the man I loved.
The clouds shifted, and sunlight poured in over my face; the bad weather had broken, and it felt like we were going to get a bit of proper autumn for the next week or so. Not that I’d get outside at all to enjoy it; realistically, I’d be working, preparing for the move, packing for the Ren Faire, or just generally moping. Plus, I didn’t have Jack to drive me to whatever little adventures I wanted to have; he’d really been the catalyst for all the exploration I’d done over the summer.
But I realised, putting the book down, that that was bullshit. The whole reason I’d broken things off with Jack was because he was keeping me from getting to go on the adventure I wanted, right? So why was I letting his absence keep me from anything at all? Anything we’d done together, I should have been able to do by myself. And not just able, but willing.
I started by making myself my favourite chicken and blue cheese sandwich, eating it in the back courtyard that Jack had helped me clear. As I ate, I pulled out my phone and started making a list of everything we’d done together, seeing how hard it would be to do it myself. There was kayaking on the Wye … but the kayak rental place in town had shut for the season a couple of weeks ago. We’d been wild swimming … but I couldn’t actually figure out where we’d gone. We’d gone quad biking … but that had been his quad bike, and all the hire sites I found had a minimum party size. Then there was the hike…
Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to figure out where we’d gone hiking, I had an idea. I opened up my photo gallery and found the picture I’d taken from the top; my phone had recorded the location. I pulled open my maps app and found the spot the photo was pinned, then used satellite and street views to find the car park.
But it was nearly forty minutes away, and in the middle of nowhere. There was no bus route that would get me within even a thirty-minute walk of the base of the trail.
I spent a short moment annoyed with myself for not knowing how to drive, but I was determined to do something – anything – for myself, so I picked the phone back up and rang the local taxi company. It took me five minutes to get the guy who answered to take me seriously.
“Fifty quid,” he said finally. “Each way.”
I was almost certain he was trying to talk me out of going, but I was nothing if not stubborn, so I booked the cab for ten minutes later and rushed upstairs to change. I had a point to prove.
* * *
An hour later,I was at the base of the hike Jack and I had taken all those months ago, forking over even more money to the taxi driver so he would wait for me. If I went out and back instead of doing the loop, I figured I’d be okay with the cash I had taken out for the Ren Faire.
As soon as I left the car park, I knew I’d be saying goodbye to my trainers after I was done; the entrance to the trail was basically a mud pit. But I kept my eyes fixed on the ridgeline, and over the next hour, I made it to the rock pile at the summit. My legs were on fire, and I could feel my face going pink in the sun, making me even more nostalgic for those summer adventures. I sat on the edge of the rock, overlooking two separate countries, and let myself feel the way I’d felt the first time I’d been here: invincible.
I’d wanted to hike this hill by myself, and I’d made it happen, at no small cost, literal and physical.Thiswas what I wanted.Thiswas the feeling I was chasing. This pride? I’d felt it secondhand in games, or in books. But I’d only felt it a few times in my real life, all within the last few months, and I wanted as much of it as I could get.
There was the first time we’d climbed this hill. The first time I’d gone swimming with Jack. The moment I’d sent Greg the Game On! logo. The night that I’d finally got over my own fear of how he’d react and kissed Jack. That was what I wanted.
And I realised, sitting there with my feet dangling off the edge of the world, that neither job, neither path in the fork, would get me any closer to that. No single decision would make or break the ability I’d found to chase what I wanted. To lean into the euphoria of living life on my own terms. I felt sure, for the first time ever, that I could find this feeling no matter where I was; no matter where I lived; no matter what I did for a living.
Like Jack had said on that rock by the river, and when he was pleading with me to stay, it wasn’t about some big quest. It was about approaching life with a spirit of adventure. And somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d acquired that spirit. I didn’t need anyone or anything else to help me find it: not work, not Cara, and not even Jack. For the first time, maybe ever, I understood what independence actually meant. And what itdidn’tmean.
I pulled my phone out and snapped a selfie, and then a panorama; I knew I’d want to draw this moment later. Because as soon as I realised that I already had everything I needed inside me, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
Chapter44
Captain Morgana Silversword
