We eventually stopped adding things to Our Lore, but that was okay, because we were at the point where we were living it instead of having to come up with it retrospectively. Sure, ours lacked the emotional milestones other relationships might have had, but I still had plenty of anecdotes for Chloe and Morgan when they asked, and it was nice to take away the pressure of making up what were essentially lies.
I also started checking Phil’s horoscope along with mine and sending it to him each morning, and I made a hobby out of analysing how ours might be referencing or playing off one another. One day mine said that all the pieces were falling into place for me whilst his said to trust that everything was as it should be, and I actually giggled aloud in the kitchen at the symmetry, making Mum glare at me as she boiled the kettle.
That was when she’d put her foot down and insisted that both Phil and Ethel start joining us for family dinners on Sundays, which he’d been avoiding for the entire time we’d been “dating”. So the next Sunday, they came over mid-afternoon so Phil could help Mum cook– she’d messaged him directly to demand his help, apparently– and I walked with Ethel over to Uncle John’s farm to see the cows. She stood at the fence mooing for a solid five minutes to make them come to her, and I got a delightful video on my phone of them all congregating in front of her like she was their messiah. Then we came back for dinner, all seven of us including Morgan crowded around Mum and Dad’s dining table, Morgan’s dog Pablo sniffing for any dinner casualties at our feet. I’d expected things to feel different now that Mum and Dad thought we were dating, but like film nights and pub quizzes and everything else so far, it all felt delightfully normal.
I was slowly realising two things.
First, that people who did get together with someone they’d known their whole life were incredibly lucky. It was so natural, bringing our families together like we had so many times, and like Chloe had said, we did have so much shared history to fall back on. Silences were rarely awkward, because we knew each other almost as well as we knew ourselves. It was funny; Phil and I had never been all that emotionally intimate growing up, but it was like that intimacy had been achieved through osmosis anyway. Like spending time in close proximity had given each of us all the context we needed for how the other thought and behaved.
There was an ease to that, but it was also infuriating. Because if we knew each other so well, why had it always been so hard to understand what he was thinking when it came to me? Why had things blown up so spectacularly before? I could only assume it was because we weren’t actually together that things were this easy, and all the angst and hurt feelings had resulted from trying to force our relationship to be something it wasn’t.
And that was the second thing I was realising: that our relationship was, despite all the antagonism and rivalry over the years, a friendship. I’d never considered Phil to bemyfriend, but it was so obvious to me now that that was exactly what he was to me.
I now knew why people were so risk-averse with those friendships. At the worst of times, I felt certain that this fake relationship was even riskier than a real one, and that when it ended, everything that currently felt so natural and right would be compromised. Permanently changed, and not necessarily for the better.
* * *
Three weeksbefore the fantasy festival, Jack and Morgan took off for another camping trip. Fatima was away visiting her sister, so I was looking after Pablo, and I decided to stay out at Jack’s cabin. It was easier to get work done there, and my trial for Dad was proving that he desperately needed me full-time. He’d basically abandoned all the admin now that I was on board, and no matter how well I came across to him and to clients, I was still learning the construction industry, so everything took me twice as long as it probably should have. And there was even more work to do on the operational side of things than I’d initially realised. How he’d lasted this long without someone in my role was beyond me.
I’d pretty much completely stopped my virtual assistant work to focus on the work for Dad, trusting that the extra time now would make him see how dedicated I was, and how important the work was, and that he’d bring me on full-time at the end of my trial as a result. As long as I worked hard, he’d hire me. I’d make sure of it, and I’d sic Mum on him if he didn’t.
Now that I had the quotes in from our suppliers, I tried to focus on building the timeline for the Kenchester job, knowing we had just a few weeks until the final meeting. But my mind kept wandering to Phil, wondering what he was doing, even though I’d seen him less than twenty-four hours ago, and I’d see him again in less than twenty-four hours, too, and we’d texted just a few minutes ago about him being in crunch mode for the festival costumes. It was so cliché, thinking about my stupid crush all the stupid time, and I felt like teenage Amy all over again, obsessed about the same fucking boy. Except that boy was now a sexy bearded man, and it was harder than ever to stop thinking about him.
But after what he’d said about my D&D character, and how even years ago, seeing something about the stars made him think of me … was he thinking about me now? Working onmycostume since I wasn’t there? Was my face permanently lodged in his mind, like his was in mine?
Get a fucking grip, Amy!
I was so fed up with being distracted that I tromped all the way back to the main house, Pablo in tow, to grab my tarot deck and take it back to the cabin with me. I’d avoided doing readings about our arrangement since that first week, because I knew on some level that no reading could be specific enough to quell my anxiety. But I had been free-floating in this relationship for long enough now that I needed a bit of reorientation. So I sat on Jack’s back deck overlooking the pond, and I closed my eyes and felt the summer evening breeze on my skin. Then I started shuffling, channelling all my uncertainty and anxiety and desire for answers– and sure, maybe for other things, too– into the deck.
I’d never actually used this particular six-card spread, but I’d seen it online, and it felt like just what I needed. It involved identifying the intentions and energy of both parties– first me, then Phil– and then our shared energy and the fated outcome. So I focused on the key moments of our arrangement so far– showing him the invitation, walking into the pub hand in hand, kissing him outside the bar…
Okay, maybe that last one should be omitted, I decided. It was a bittooevocative.
The first card I drew, representing my conscious choices, was an upright Seven of Swords. Trickery, deception, strategy– this made sense, given the nature of our arrangement.
The second card was equally unsurprising: an upright Hermit, indicating that the energy I brought to the arrangement was one of searching for truth and enlightenment. It felt a bit obvious– why else would I have been doing a reading if not for answers?– but I supposed it probably applied more existentially too.
As far as Phil’s conscious choices went, I was surprised to see an upright Two of Cups, signifying unity and partnership. Didn’t that go against the entire premise of what we were doing? Maybe he was so good at faking it that even the cards were confused. Or maybe I was the one confused, and that was finding its way into the reading.
My hand trembled slightly as I shuffled and drew the next card, which would tell me Phil’s energy towards our relationship. His unconscious drive. It was what most eluded me when I thought about what we were doing.
But when I pulled my hand and saw an upright Page of Wands on the deck in front of me, I couldn’t help but smile. The card symbolised excitement and exploration. Freedom, even. And given everything that had happened in Phil’s life, the hard reality he dealt with every day caring for Ethel, if our fake little relationship was bringing him any sense of freedom and joy, that was a win. Even if it made things more complicated for me.
Another upright card came up next: the Wheel of Fortune to symbolise our shared energy. How I interpreted this card changed a lot from reading to reading; sometimes it felt more explicitly related to change and evolution, whilst sometimes the cyclical nature of the Wheel felt more relevant. Either would have worked; our relationship had definitely changed, and yet there was a cyclical element to it if I thought about five years ago. But as I looked down at it now, the orange of the Wheel drawn out by the warmth of the wooden deck, I couldn’t help but think of the inevitability the card sometimes represented. I’d certainly felt that with Phil before. But then again, I’d been disappointed before, too.
The fact that every card had been upright so far was like a slap in the face. Usually that meant the situation was straightforward, but it didn’t feel that way to me. It was like the cards were telling me, “You’re hurting your own feelings, sweetie.” And I didn’t appreciate that very much, actually.
The sixth and final card, representing the outcome, was naturally the one I was most nervous about. Were my fears right, and I was heading straight for more hurt? Would we blow up our lives and the relationships we held most dear because we hadn’t thought things through? Or would we be able to just step back when the time was right like we’d so optimistically assumed when we’d agreed to it to begin with? Either way, the inevitability implied by the Wheel made a lump form in my throat, and I held my breath as I drew the last card.
When I saw The Lovers appear upright, I nearly chucked my whole deck in the pond.
* * *
Jack came backfrom his camping trip the next day in a new car. In this context, new meant a slightly less ancient and slightly longer, but otherwise identical, Land Rover Defender, even down to the paint colour.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically as he got out, standing on his front stoop holding Pablo. “What an upgrade.”
“It’s longer in the back,” he said. “Morgan and I wanna do more car camping so we can take this little guy.” He came towards me in a crouch, waving his fingers and making cooing noises at Pablo, who was wagging his tail so hard his whole body was wriggling. I handed him over reluctantly.
