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There’s a long pause. I feel as if she’s slid a dagger between my ribs and twisted it.
“Right,” I say eventually.
“Two years isn’t that long. You never know, when I get back…” She bites her lip.
For the first time, anger rears up inside me. How can she feed me little pieces of hope like that?
“You might meet someone else over there,” I say, knowing it’s very possible. “Or I might meet someone else here. What then?”
There’s another long pause.
“I don’t want you to meet someone else,” she says.
“That’s not fair,” I tell her resentfully.
“I know.”
“It’s dog in the manger.”
“I know.”
“You can’t just disappear for two years and expect me to wait for you.”
“I know, Hux. I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m just saying how I feel—the first thing that comes into my mind.” She swallows hard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She’s gone pale.
“I know your career is important to you,” I say. “So’s mine to me. But in the end, they’re just jobs.”
“No,” she says. “It’s more than that to me.” She sighs. “My sister’s had a miscarriage.”
My breath leaves me in a rush. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“She’s devastated. And Paul’s told her he doesn’t want to go through it again.”
“Ah, that sucks.”
“I get it,” she says, “of course. The stress that couples—and single people—have to go through is horrific. She said it’s taken a terrible toll on their marriage. And Hux, I have the chance to help people like that. To make a difference.”
I understand then. She’s never going to be able to turn down this opportunity. Beneath her ambition and her drive to achieve are even bigger abstract nouns—responsibility and duty. She has the opportunity to help people, to help her own sister. And I know her well enough to understand that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she turned her back on that.
But it still doesn’t explain one thing. “Can’t Titus go, and you oversee things from here?”
She hesitates, then says, “He thinks they’re hoping for me.” There’s a strange emotion flickering behind her eyes, and it’s not guilt or disappointment. I think it’s resentment.
And then it all becomes clear. The work is important to her, and I can’t blame her for being bound by duty and responsibility, because that’s a curse I’ll always be plagued with. But that’s not the whole story. She does have feelings for me. But she’s not going to give in to them. Not just because she doesn’t want to be hurt again, although I’m sure that’s part of it. But because she wants to punish me for hurting her.
I finish off my whisky and leave the glass on the table. Then I pick up my jacket and walk out of the bar.
Even though it’s a Wednesday, the streets are busy-ish, the bars mostly full. I walk fast, not caring if I bump into people, half hoping someone will stop me so I can get into a fight and knock someone’s lights out. But people part for me and let me pass, maybe hesitant to engage the guy who looks as if he’s lost something precious to him.
Life is so fucking unfair. I did the honorable thing, and it cost me the girl I wanted. If only I could turn back time and have another chance.
Would I do it differently?
I think about Joanna, and my pace slows. She’s my daughter, and she’s played such a big part in my life. I wouldn’t be without her. No, I wouldn’t do anything different.
I understand why Elizabeth’s hurt. But it was ten years ago. We were nineteen—still kids really. She needs to build a bridge and fucking get over it. I’m done with hanging around waiting for her. If she gets pregnant, I’ll just treat it as if I was a donor. She can go to England, meet someone else, and play happy families for all I care. I don’t give a fuck.
I ignore the way my heart feels as if someone’s grabbed it in their fist and is squeezing it hard. I’m done moping over Elizabeth Tremblay. It’s time to move on.
