Belinda Missen - An Impossible Thing Called Love

‘Oh, you know … wasn’t sure, that’s all. I haven’t met your friends before, so, you know.’

After winding the car around the beach roads, admiring white foamy waves, scorching white sand, and everyone who wasn’t us out in the surf, Craig had insisted on a drive-by past his place to change into something more ‘party appropriate’. The trendy salmon shorts were replaced with light pants and a thin sports coat.

‘Are you kidding? You look great?’

‘I do?’ He smiled with relief. ‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure.’

‘You’ve met my friends before,’ I said. ‘Surely?’

‘I promise I haven’t.’

Heather was floating about in a sea of guests, under trees dripping with twinkle lights, and around tables adorned with more food than any of us would ever eat. From a young age, it was easy to tell she’d be a master networker and, even now, was treating the crowd like an industry event, making sure to leave no one behind as she made her way around the yard and thanked everyone for coming.

When I introduced Craig, Heather embraced him like an old friend. Questions spilled out like a pop-up video, before he was drawn off to meet Josh and absorbed by the crowd. I went in the opposite direction, catching up with her family, many of whom I hadn’t seen for a while. I caught sight of him again when the party made its way across to the beach.

A large driftwood fire licked the sky, the larger logs saved for seating a handful of us around it. Heather did the sandshoe wobble across the beach and sat herself next to me. Josh had taken it upon himself to, ‘hook Craig up with some contacts’, so we watched in wonder as a group of business buddies slapped backs and regaled each other with stories of last-minute economic heroism.

Heather shouldered me. ‘He’s lovely.’

I took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘He is.’

‘Josh wants to adopt him.’

‘I like him,’ I said.

‘What are you worried about?’ she asked. ‘That he won’t live up to the Great Edinburgh Hype? You know why they’re called holiday flings, right?’

I turned to her. ‘Why? I mean, of course I do, but remind me.’

‘Because they’re just that: flings. We get so caught up in the unrealistic expectation of what could be that we build it up in our heads as something that would never exist in the realm of normal, day-to-day stuff. This? Him? He’s the real deal.’

I scratched my forehead. ‘Yeah, yeah, yes, of course.’

‘You can’t put him in a holding pattern because of someone else.’ She circled her finger above her head.

We were interrupted by Craig, who approached with Josh.

‘You okay, Ems?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘I’m just asking Heather if she’s all ready to leave.’

‘Visas, man, who needs them?’ She wiggled sand through her toes and took a sip of her drink. ‘You know, if anyone should be packing up and leaving, it’s you.’

‘Me?’ I scoffed. ‘No.’

‘Why not? You’ve got the British passport. We all do, thanks Dad, but you could walk into a job. Look at what you’ve done at the hospital.’

From my intrepid beginnings as a volunteer, I’d quickly found a place in the administration team. It started with getting to know the staff as we circled the kettle in the staff room. Soon, I was taking mail to them as I skipped past reception each afternoon. When one of the team left, I was first in line to be offered the job. It was perfect chemistry. While not technical, it gave me a wonderful companion to the night schooling I’d been doing in the hope of furthering my chances of getting into the medical field.

‘You know, I would.’ Craig said with a loose shrug.

I lifted my eyes to him. ‘You would?’

‘Absolutely. What have you got to lose?’ he asked. ‘Why not give it a year, finish school, and go?’

‘I could.’

‘You really should.’ Heather bounced up. ‘And, while you ponder that, I have to go check out these people who’ve just arrived. Think about it, then tell me yes. It’s the only answer, really.’

We watched my friends disappear into silhouettes as they skipped across the road to meet their newest guests. The log wobbled under the weight of another body on it: Craig.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ He tugged on the skirt of my floral dress, dark blue with shimmering reds and silvers. ‘You’ve been a bit down all afternoon.’

‘I am.’ I rested my elbows on my knees. ‘This is good.’

‘You can go visit them,’ he said. ‘This is not goodbye, just see you soon.’

I grinned. ‘You’re not the first man to use that line on me.’

‘I’ll bet the other guy wasn’t as much fun as me, though. I mean, accounting, phwoar.’

‘Did you mean what you said?’ I asked. ‘About going?’

‘Absolutely. It’s a great opportunity, and you’d have plenty of scope within health to do something.’

‘If I asked, would you come with me?’

A slow smile spread across his face. ‘I would, yeah.’

‘Let’s do it, then.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely.’ I shrugged as if this was the easiest decision ever. ‘Once we’ve finished our degrees, we’ll get the worst cheap flights ever …’

‘… eat amazing airline food…’ he added.

I pointed at him. ‘… And you’ll get caught at customs…’

‘I’d love to come with you,’ he said.

With quick breaths and the slow lean of hesitation, Craig leaned in and kissed me. It was gentle and sleepy, his fingers curling through my hair. His lips were warm and red wine wet but, for a moment, all my what ifs, buts, and worries slipped away into the ocean before us. My heart didn’t skip or murmur its disagreement. Instead, it kept a steady, happy rhythm, and urged me to pull him closer.

January 2014

I took the stairs at St James’ station two at a time, up into the open air, and past the throngs of school holiday tourists vying for a perfect photo near the Archibald fountain. I shook my wrist to check my watch again. The pedometer part of my New Year, New Emmy project had about another week of half-life left.

The summer air was thick and smelled of sunscreen and sausage sizzles. Almost all the shade around the park had been swallowed up by families and children playing with their Christmas-gifted water pistols. Across Park Street and near the Pool of Reflection was Craig, waiting with a light blanket and wicker basket.

‘I’m so sorry.’ I puffed. ‘I was late out of work.’

He peered up with a gentle smile, eyes shielded from the dappled sun stabbing through the trees. ‘That’s okay.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not, is it? I’ve kept you waiting again.’ I dropped to my knees and crossed my ankles beneath me. ‘This is gorgeous, thank you.’

Craig stilled me with a finger as I leant across and kissed him. ‘You haven’t seen the food on offer yet.’

It was a hearty spread of crackers, fresh shop-bought dips, and some smelly cheese which broke every plastic knife we tried cutting it with. In the end, nibbling at the block was the only way.

‘Alright, so, I have a question for you.’ Craig settled himself opposite me and poured soft drink into plastic wine glasses. This was the state of our student lunches – cheap and cheerful, but still very lovely and fun experiences.

‘Sounds serious.’

Craig narrowed his eyes. ‘A little?’

‘Shoot.’

‘London. How serious are you about going?’ he asked.

‘I’d like to go,’ I said slowly. ‘I love listening to Heather talk about it. How about you?’

Honestly, it had been all I’d thought about for weeks. Heather and Josh had settled in with ease. Facebook accounts full of smiling faces and location shots were testament to that. Weekends at country clubs in Bath, towering white cliffs of Dover, or the Titanic trail of Southampton were coupled with freshly painted bedrooms and new furniture, exotic takeaway dinners, and the excited exploration that comes with discovering your new city through fresh eyes.