Jane Sigaloff - Lost and Found

‘It’d be better for you. You’re the one writing an article on the gym refurbishment. I might come along tomorrow, or I’ll go for a run in the park later. I need more sleep.’

‘Whatever.’

‘One of the advantages of being single is autonomy. Or at least that was the idea…’

‘Julia wasn’t bossy.’

Ben smiled to himself. In some respects she and Ali had been way too similar. They always say girls pick men like their fathers, but did brothers pick women like their sisters? Right now, he hoped not. ‘Besides I hate gyms. Too many mirrors. I want the before and after, not during. I mean, who looks good while they’re exercising?’

‘You’ll have to look yourself in the eye eventually, and she’s bound to have pulled herself back together by now—she’s a tough cookie…’

He just wished she didn’t have to hate him in the process.

‘Far better that you were honest. The longer you’d left it, the harder it would have become—and if you’d strung her along I’d have disowned you. Plus, just for the record, there are far more single women of your age out there than men. Read any of the magazines on my bedside table if you don’t believe me.’

‘Hey, I’m not desperate.’

‘I know.’

‘Even if I said the “d” word out loud, which might mean that you think I am because I’ve said I’m not.’

‘You are such an amateur shrink sometimes.’

‘I’m just a little disheartened. She wasn’t who I’d thought she was.’

‘We’ve all done it.’ Ali shuddered at the memories of dating pre-David. The drip-feeding of information at appropriate moments in an attempt to generate common ground before coming out with the more contentious, potentially deal-breaking stuff farther down the line. At seventeen she’d even reinvented herself sartorially in pursuit of Johnny’s affections. But he had been very cute. Everyone in her year had wanted to date him.

Ben smiled. ‘Are we talking ten-hole Doc Martens?’

Ali nodded sheepishly. Hormones had a lot to answer for.

‘And the rockabilly quiff…?’ He was enjoying this moment. She’d looked like a cross between Morrissey and the B52s.

She laughed nervously, willing the conversation to move on. ‘It was an important experimental phase…’

‘Turn-ups on your vintage 501s…bright red lipstick… Mum thought you were about to come out.’

‘Yeah, yeah… All photographic evidence has been systematically destroyed. And I don’t think I need to take this from the boy who wore eyeliner.’

‘Once. I was twelve and I wanted to be a New Romantic.’ Ben sighed, allowing his head to sink back into the pillow and making his next point to the ceiling. ‘It would just be much easier if single people were required by law to carry a card stating their genuine age, profession, aspiration for children, preference for Coke over Pepsi, cats over dogs, Friends over Frasier, you know…’

‘You need to get a real job. You’ve got far too much time to think.’

‘A real job like yours, eh? O freelance journalist.’

‘Just remember, it’s your choice that you’re on your own.’

Ben shrugged. Silence. Ali decided to ease off a little.

‘…so you’re not prepared to compromise. That’s a positive not a negative.’

Ben nodded sagely. Even at the time there’d been a sense of relief. Julia had become a habit rather than a choice. And he’d been very fond of her. Fond. That said it all. Great-aunts were fond of their great-nieces; the British nation had been very fond of the Queen Mother. But the bottom line was he wanted it all. The whole mutual love and respect thing. The Paul and Linda. The Brad and Jen. Someone to grow old with. To have children with. Or nothing.

‘But…’ there was always a bloody but ‘…maybe I was just being male. Wanting the thing I didn’t have just because… She was a great girl in lots of ways. Spent a bit too much time at the office…’

‘She was ambitious.’

‘So am I. I just don’t feel the need to talk about my career trajectory incessantly. And at least I have an office to go to.’

‘As do I.’

Ben scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘I think you’ll find yours is the spare room.’

‘At least I have a spare room.’

Why did she always have to have a comeback? ‘Anyway, people need television.’

Ali snorted. ‘Only in the way I need four pairs of black boots. Anyway, it’s not like you have a biological clock that’s ticking—and you’ve still got all your hair. Relax, unwind, have a bit of fun…’

Ben nodded. Right now the random shag option was far more alluring than playing the relationship game. He didn’t have the energy for false starts, thoughtful gifts and the whole wooing process if there wasn’t long term potential. Lazy? Tired? Uninspired.

‘She’s out there somewhere, Benj. Maybe even at the gym.’

‘Nice try, Al.’

Resting on his elbows, Ben eyed her suspiciously as she contorted herself through a number of stretches at the side of the bed. Women were definitely more supple than men, and Ali was always hyper when they were back in New York.

‘OK, I’m ready. Are you coming or what?’

‘Nope.’

‘Fine.’

Ben knew from her tone that it absolutely wasn’t, but he also knew she was his sister and by the time she’d sweated away over three hundred calories he’d be forgiven.

‘I’ll be about an hour. Why don’t you get some breakfast sent up?’

‘We can just grab coffee and a bagel.’ Ben wasn’t in the mood to spend forty dollars on tea and toast.

‘Order whatever you like. I’ll claim it.’

She knew him quite well.

‘I don’t want you whingeing about hunger pangs in a couple of hours—we’ve got a big shopping day ahead of us.’ Ben wished that he could get a little more excited at the prospect. ‘Now, shape up. This weekend is not all about you. Work aside, I need new clothes—and, having unpacked your bag, I know you do. Not least because we’ve barely made an impact on the walk-in wardrobe. I think this suite is bigger than your apartment in London.’

‘Not difficult.’

‘Stop being so antsy.’

‘I’m tired. Blame it on sleep deprivation. You’re the one who felt the need to set an alarm.’

Ali performed her most serious stretch while whistling ‘New York, New York’. It was like watching some freaks’ talent show.

‘And no one asked you to unpack for me.’ Maybe she was rechargeable. A couple of hours plugged into the mains and good as new. Now she was practically bouncing on the spot.

‘It was a pleasure. Love you too.’

The door closed—and opened again almost immediately. What now?

‘Hey, Daddy Warbucks, the Times and the Journal. I want you fully up to speed by the time I get back.’

The thud of broadsheet on carpet preceded the click of the room door and, relieved to finally be alone, Ben exhaled as he closed his eyes and fleetingly imagined himself on the treadmill. He could always go down and surprise her. Just a couple more seconds.

One of the things he loved most about living in England was the fact that everyone he knew talked about going to the gym whilst in the pub and, with the exception of January, they didn’t quite get there. As long as you paid your membership and could theoretically go and work out instead of hitting a bar, you actually felt fitter. And anyway, he always walked up escalators. Well, if he wasn’t carrying heavy bags…

Suddenly dimly aware that he was on the verge of his deepest sleep yet, Ben jerked awake. Sitting up far too fast, a wave of numbing pins and needles swept up his body as he stared at the alarm clock. It had only been a few minutes. Reaching for the remote he allowed himself a quick pre-shower television moment while his body came to terms with the fact that sleeping opportunities were over for the day.