Page 105 of This Time Next Year


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‘I’ve only ever kept people at arm’s length before. With you, as soon as we talked, you refused to be arm’s length, you were right here.’ He put a palm over his chest. ‘Look, I don’t know what I’m asking. I guess I’m saying I might screw up, but I want to give it a chance. I think I love you, if that doesn’t sound too nuts.’

He looked up at Minnie – his eyes meeting hers, willing for her to say something.

Minnie felt her stomach tense. This was everything she’d wanted to hear – two months ago. He was saying he was ready to take a leap off a high board with her, but for some reason, she no longer felt prepared to jump. She squeezed her hands into balls. Hadn’t she expected this? Didn’t she know from the letter that he’d changed his mind? But when she heard him say it out loud, her first instinct was to step back, not leap in.

‘I’m glad you’ve worked through some things, Quinn, and it doesn’t sound nuts – I felt the same about you.’

‘Felt?’ Quinn said, the fire in his eyes already dampened by disappointment.

‘I’m sorry, but things have changed for me since I last saw you.’

‘Oh.’ Quinn hung his head.

Minnie wrapped an arm through his and pulled him into stride next to her. It was easier to talk while walking.

‘Not like that. I’ve just been doing a lot of soul-searching too I guess. What you said about being the cardboard girl … ’

‘I’m not the cardboard girl, I don’t want to be the cardboard girl.’

‘Maybe not, but I think I’ve always been that penguin, always looking beyond the penguin enclosure for someone else to make me happy.’

They walked a few steps in silence. Minnie loved the feeling of his arm in hers. Physically it felt so right to be here next to him, but she had to fight that feeling – she needed to thinkwith her head. It was something Fleur once said to her, which stuck in her mind: ‘You need to be a “me” before you can be a “we”.’ It sounded twee, but Minnie felt it to be true. This last month she’d felt more ‘me’ than she’d felt in her whole life: more contained, more comfortable in her own skin. She had a new confidence, an inner fire, and she didn’t want it to go out. It was that quote on the back of her print: ‘Be a good companion to yourself and you will never be lonely’–that had to be the aspiration. She wanted to fuel her own fire. If you got your fuel from men, they could leave, and you’d be left alone in the cold.

‘I’ve been getting on with my parents,’ she said. ‘I have you to thank for that. My mum is a different person since she’s been spending time with yours.’

‘The vegetable project,’ Quinn said with a nod.

‘“Gardening their way through anxiety”,’ said Minnie, making air quotes with her free hand.

‘Yes, she told me about their blog project, it’s all she can talk about,’ Quinn smiled.

‘I can’t describe how much she’s changed, Quinn – it’s like she’s put down this sack of resentment she’s been carrying around for decades. And when she put it down, for some reason it made me feel so much lighter.’ Minnie shook her head. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous.’

‘It doesn’t,’ said Quinn.

‘I pitched this new business idea to Lucy Donohue last week, a way to get my pies funded again. She loved it; Lexon are going to sponsor the whole thing. We’ll cater for their staff canteens, and they’ll subsidise pies for people in the community.’

‘Lucy? Wow.’ Quinn gave a perplexed smile, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. Then he nodded, ‘Minnie, that’s great, I’m so impressed. Lucy’s got a great eye for business.’

‘I know you didn’t end things on the best terms with her,’ said Minnie.

‘I owe that woman a lot – I’ll always be grateful to her for dragging me to therapy in the first place.’

‘This year, turning thirty, I don’t know – I feel like I’ve finally been given the keys to my own car and I just want to drive. I’m happy to be me, and I’ve never felt like that before.’

Quinn took a loud, slow inhale. ‘And you’re not ready to take any passengers in this new car of yours. Especially not messed-up weirdoes who’d scuff the interior and play all the wrong music on the radio.’

Minnie looked over at him, biting her lip. ‘I don’t think so, I’m sorry.’

Quinn let his head fall backwards and looked up at the sky.

‘Not the weirdo bit, just the passenger part,’ she said.

They’d walked right to the bottom of the hill now. Barney’s van had been moved for the winter. A large square of dead grass was all that remained, like the chalk outline showing where a body had been.

‘We’ll still be friends?’ Minnie asked, her voice breaking slightly. ‘I would like you in my life, Quinn, and with our mothers hanging out so much now … ’

‘Sure,’ he said softly, though something in his voice made her think they would not.

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