An Impossible Thing Called Love

‘Emmy!’ That wild, cheeky grin that I fell for on Hogmanay spread across his face as I reached up, throwing my arms around him in a hug. With a laugh, he awkwardly hugged me back with just the one arm, before setting me before him.

‘Well, hello to you too, stranger. Of all the gin joints, hey?’ He fiddled with the last of his belongings.

I let out a breathy laugh. My body felt loose with relief, almost like I was floating. I couldn’t feel my legs. ‘What are you doing here?’

He held up the arm with the suit hanger wrapped around it. ‘Heading to France for a late family Christmas-slash-New-Year-slash-I’ve-been-a-terrible-workaholic-son-all-year type of party.’

His eyes narrowed on my clothes, and I suddenly felt self-conscious of the activewear leggings and I HEART SCOTLAND hoodie I’d chosen as my plane outfit, especially when he looked handsome as hell in a buttoned-up navy blue sweater and matching pea coat.

‘Is this it then?’ he asked.

I felt my heart tug a little at his words. Is this it? They stung, and the realisation that I was so close to leaving sat in my stomach like a pit of post-meal acid.

‘This is it.’ I nodded. ‘A thirty-hour flight in two metal tubes forty thousand feet in the air and I’ll be back in Sydney.’

‘God, and here I am internally moaning about my forty-minute flight across the channel.’ He stared at me with those piercing blue eyes. ‘Want to grab a coffee then? How long have you got?’

I angled for a view of the departures board nearby. ‘About an hour or so. You?’

‘A little more than an hour or so. I thought the tube would be busier, so I came early. Just as well.’ He gave me a wink as we slid into a couple of empty chairs facing the window. Outside, planes took off, while others bounced and skidded to a stop, ferrying people to and from all corners of the world. It seemed like, here in our own little bubble, time had stood still.

‘How goes work?’ It was so unfair to be this excited at the mere sight of someone.

‘Good!’ He nodded. ‘Great. Lots of impotence, not me, of course.’ A lanky finger pointed back at himself. ‘Thrush, colds, disease incubators.’

‘Still not you, right?’ I teased.

He crossed his fingers before taking a sip of coffee. ‘Promise.’

‘Busy?’

‘Just the way I like it, keeps me out of trouble.’

I laughed, enjoying the way we fall back into the banter of Hogmanay. He asked about the rest of my trip, quizzing me on favourite landmarks and dropping random factual titbits here and there. I asked about his work and training, and went back and forth as we outlined where we’d like to be in five years.

Slowly, without realising it, I noticed William’s hand on mine, closing his hand around my fingers. ‘Where do you want to go first?’

‘Hey?’ I smiled, distracted by the fact that he was actually here in front of me, holding my hand. This sort of thing did not happen in my life.

He grinned. ‘When we travel the world together – where are we going?’

‘Well.’ I huffed and relaxed back into my seat, almost leaning on him. ‘I thought maybe I’d just take you home first.’

‘Good. Great. I’ve always wanted to go to Sydney. Where’s the first place you’re taking me?’

If I had any doubt about him at all, the fact that he remembered so much detail told me everything I needed to know: that he felt the same.

‘Right. I guess the first place we’d go is the sandwich place near the train station. It’s about ten minutes’ walk from home, in this little huddle of shops, and they make the best roast pork rolls. And breakfast, they do a great breakfast, too.’

‘Brown sauce?’

‘As much as you want.’

‘Excellent.’ He squeezed my fingers gently. ‘I would take you … for a stroll through Soho. There are heaps of bookshops there. Cafés, obviously. We could drink coffee, read books, and duck into the small jazz bars that you don’t know are there until you’re ready for an espresso martini.’

‘Or…’ I poked at his chest. ‘A Fighter.’

‘No, no, no.’ He chuckled. ‘You need to not do that.’

‘After breakfast, we could head to Bondi Beach. We could fail miserably at surfing together.’

‘Ooh.’ William winced. ‘In the summer? Might end up a bit lobster-fied.’ He reached across and pinched at my face with pincer hands.

I angled my face away from his grip, laughing hysterically. ‘Sunscreen is a thing.’

‘All the sunscreen in the world can’t protect this pale English skin, baby. Look at it, it’s…’

‘… alabaster?’ I tried.

‘Well, I was going to say porcelain, but alabaster sounds less like a toilet, doesn’t it?’

I looked away, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand. ‘You are not a toilet.’

He tipped the empty coffee cup in the bin next to us and looked at me. ‘You hungry?’

‘I could eat something.’

Still in a comedic mood, William began prattling on randomly again. I just knew I was about to turn into the human equivalent of a beetroot. My comment might have been a slip of the tongue, but my mind went wandering and my body ached in all the right places.

We wandered the terminal until we snared the last table left in a Lebanese restaurant. No wonder it was full, with the smells wafting from the kitchen. It was brightly decorated with lots of reds, yellows, and mosaic tiles. We ordered a sharing plate of tapas and very responsible pre-flight sodas.

‘You sure you don’t want your own meal? I’m happy to pay.’ William dropped a tattered backpack by his feet.

‘No, it’s fine,’ I said through a yawn. ‘We’re about to be overstuffed with bad aeroplane food anyway.’

‘Speaking of “we”, where is everyone? You were travelling with friends, weren’t you?’

I pointed to some spot in the distance, in the same way a supermarket employee would tell you sugar was in aisle three, while waving in that general direction. ‘They’re back at the pub..’

‘You didn’t want to join them? I don’t want to keep you from them, you know, if you’re all travelling together.’

‘We’re about to spend the next thirty hours together. I’m good.’

‘Okay. Good.’

We spent our remaining time nibbling at tapas and chatting about books, arguing over what we believed was the perfect plane read. He argued thrillers, as long as they weren’t medical in nature, and I was keen on beach romance. When those options were exhausted, we launched into a discussion about what films might be showing on the plane. It was a beautifully easy, rolling conversation. My phone buzzed a few times – Heather, wondering if I’d walked off with their cider. I whipped out a quick response saying I’d meet her at the gate.

Just as a discussion about the universe and godly beings was getting underway, the departures board clicked over to Boarding beside my flight number. It was accompanied with the familiar ding and the professional voiceover of a flight attendant inviting all first-class and frequent flyers to board first.

Reluctantly, and with a shared look of disgust, we gathered our belongings, William slipping my backpack across one shoulder. When he reached out, I gladly took his hand. So comfortable was it that I didn’t let go until we reached the gate, where everyone was waiting, as wide-eyed as they had been that night almost a week ago. I introduced William again, and asked Heather to take a photo. A Polaroid was the one piece of him that I could take home with me. Then William asked for one. Behind us, a stewardess announced our rows were ready for boarding.

‘This is me, I guess.’ I reached for my backpack, our hands grazing at the switchover.

‘Go on and leave me, then,’ he joked. ‘Go.’

‘Do you think we’ll meet again?’ I asked, wondering if this would be it. How often could you say you met the same person three different times? How often does lightning strike the same spot? ‘We will, won’t we?’

‘I should hope so,’ he enthused, his forehead wrinkled as he nodded.

‘Me, too.’ There was a mad rush for tickets and passports and, as I pulled mine from my bag, William took my hand again. He rolled a knuckle between his thumb and forefinger. I would have paid good money to know what he was thinking.

One last time, I checked my ticket and passport; in my hand and ready to go. I looked up to William, ready to impart some final words, but he yanked me into a hug.

‘Em, come on.’ Behind me, Heather was growing impatient.

I wanted to stay, tucked safely inside his jacket, the light scrub of five o’clock shadow against my temple. His aftershave clung to his jacket, and I wanted that scent to hang around, to breathe it in every day, to have it so ingrained in me that I carried it everywhere I went. While I was busy overthinking, he kissed me. What began on my forehead soon travelled to my cheek, and then my mouth. It was warm and solid and turned my poor unforgiving brain to mush as he brushed his fingers against my neck, heavy enough to feel but light enough to tickle like a spring breeze.

One last boarding call rattled from the tannoy.

‘You’d better go.’ William pulled back. I started to turn, but he pulled me back one last time, my heart giddy. Between his lips – lips that had just kissed me – was a pen, and he pulled up the sleeve of my hoodie before writing an email address on the curve of my wrist. The way his fingers grazed that soft spot sent shivers down my spine. I bit down on my bottom lip.

‘Let me know that you get home safe?’ His forehead wrinkled again.

I nodded, grabbing the pen and scribbling my own email on the top of his hand. ‘In case you get bored in France.’ I looked up, giving him one last smile. ‘See you soon?’

‘Speaking of the universe, when you get home, I want you to look up the invisible thread theory. I’m a firm believer, especially after today. Keep in touch.’

‘You, too.’ I pointed at him, voice shaking.

He kissed me again, once more for good luck, before I walked away. He waited until I disappeared down the gantry, my last glimpse of him a lanky ginger with arms waving above his head.

I gave the flight attendant a tight smile as she inspected my ticket, pointing me in the direction of my seat at the rear of the plane. My backpack only just squeezed into the small space beside Heather’s, who was talking to Josh. He’d lucked out with the seat in front of us. I shuffled awkwardly into my seat, fiddling with the straps and unwrapping the small blanket before arranging it around my legs.

It wasn’t until we pushed off the gate, the captain welcoming us on the PA system, that the first uncertain tear fell down my cheek. Next to me, Heather passed over a packet of tissues and squeezed my hand.

I’d been so unsure of myself since I received my rejection letter to study medicine. I hadn’t known what I wanted, past the experience of university, of travelling.

Now I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t possible.

I wanted to stay.

Chapter 4

8th January 2011

Hi Emmy,

I’m bored.

William.

9th January 2011

Hello Bored,

I’m so glad to hear from you! How are you? And how can you possibly be bored in Paris? Please, go eat some pastries for me.

A very jealous Emmy xo

12th January 2011

Hey yourself,

It goes a little like this, Ems. There’s only so much firewood I can chop before I’m a little sore and achy. I could really go for a massage right now, so I’ve been sitting in front of the fire, reading up on some medical journals, getting some naps in and – when it stops snowing – looking out for pastry. How’s it been settling back into real life? Are you okay?

I have a wee confession to make, if I may, in the way that English people apparently don’t talk about their feelings. So, New Year’s Day? I woke up with the awful realisation that I hadn’t got your details. I pulled my pants up and raced over to the hostel, only to be told your bus had already left. Needless to say, I’m glad you found me at the airport. Really glad.

How was the flight home? What did you say – thirty hours? How the hell do you cope? And what do you do for thirty hours of sitting still? That would drive me spare (though I would absolutely not hesitate to visit).

William.

P.S. Let’s switch to good, old-fashioned letters? My address is below.

2nd February 2011

Lovely William,

Oh, you have no idea how thrilled I was to see you, too. Did you know I ran after you on New Year’s Eve? You’d disappeared around the corner and I thought, ‘Oh, shit!’. So, I tried to follow, like Alice down the rabbit hole, but you’d disappeared. I walked into the first hotel I saw to ask if they’d seen you and was told trying to find a red-head in a Scottish city was a long shot, but good luck with that.

As for the flight home, there were a lot of films on the inflight entertainment. The cabin crew kept us all well fed on starchy foods (sleep inducers that they are), and I read a book that Josh had packed with him. So lucky for that book – it filled Dubai to Sydney nicely.

Do come and visit, you’ll love it. I’m thinking sometime around October when I may or may not have a birthday? The weather will be just nice, and we can hire a car to explore some.

I’m off to the beach this afternoon, after bypassing the bookshop and picking up some textbooks. How’s work going? When does it start? School starts for me in exactly one month. Kind of looking forward to getting it over and done with.

Ready when you are,

Emmy x

28th February 2011

Emsy,

How are you feeling about school today? I know what you mean about getting it done. I’m in this GP office for eighteen months before I move on to the very last stage of my training. They’re a nice bunch. If it keeps going like this, I wouldn’t be offended by returning to this practice as a legit GP. You know, one of those people with a thousand letters after their name that sound all so important? It feels like it’s so close, but so very far. I mean, I can look at how far I’ve come of course, but … well, I’m sure you know what I mean.

I Googled Sydney today. Can we get a ferry ride? I love that you’re so close to the beach. The trusty Thames just doesn’t cut it in terms of bikinis and sun-drenched umbrellas – although, we do try.

I bought a couch over the weekend. To most people that’s not terribly exciting but, for me, it means I no longer have to sit on the floor and watch telly. It’s a comfy little second-hand number from a vintage shop not far from here. I had a friend help carry it home. If you’re ever feeling a little stressed, just imagine two lads walking down the Harrow Road, ancient couch sagging between them, and they happen to prop it up against the wall for a drink at the local – good times!

You’ll be well chuffed to know I delivered a baby today. Well, not technically mine. I didn’t birth it, nor did it come out of me, but I happened to be in the right place at the right time and, if I didn’t know what I was doing beforehand, I do now. The poor woman was in the clinic and, well, there I was. Hats off to any woman that ever wants to put their body through that because I am completely okay with being a boy right now. If I kept a gratitude journal, it might read something like this:

Today I am grateful for: my penis.

W

19th March 2011

Dear William,

I don’t even know where to begin with that statement. Good? I’m glad? Did they not teach you what happens in school? Seriously, congrats on the first birth – in the practice, that is. Your first time is always special, and a time to be cherished, don’t you think? Mine was at the tennis – birth, that is. Get your head out of the gutter. It was spectacularly beautiful, if a little messy.

I’ve just been pulled up in class for laughing at your penis comment. My classmate Craig covered for me – said it was his fault, so I live to see another day of Introduction to Australian Literature. Well done to you for that. The lecturer even asked if we’d both like to leave – whether I wanted to or not, I didn’t want to in front of 200 other people. No thanks. Instead of leave, I figure I’d just sit here and write you a letter.

Do you remember my friends Heather and Josh? Josh of the New Year’s Eve face punch spectacular? About thirty seconds after he’d knocked me to the ground, and Heather found out he’d been hitting on another girl, she realised she was jealous. They’re now dating – and I’m thrilled. How could I not be? The three of us have been friends for years but, now, they’re just … a bit more. I am seriously excited for them. What kind of a shit friend would I be if I wasn’t?

Fun fact: we’re currently reading My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin. What’s your idea of a brilliant career?

E x

1st April 2011

Hey Fighter,

It’s 11 p.m. – I’ve just opened my mail after a long day, having had a microwave meal and a shower. Not at the same time, of course – chicken cordon bleu (or what bares a slight resemblance to it) doesn’t play well with water.

Thank you for making me laugh – I needed it today. Right now, my idea of a brilliant career is to get out of this GP placement unscathed. I’m exhausted. Off to bed.

First Aid Extraordinaire

14th April 2011

My Favourite First Aid-er,

Get some rest. Lots if you need it.

Come back when you’re feeling up to it.

Emmy xo

P.S. I wasn’t fighting.

3rd May 2011

My Emmy,

You’re officially mine now. I have claimed you, and I’m keeping you. Okay? Okay. Good.

Why do we begin a letter with ‘Dear’? All my bills begin with, ‘Dear William’, and I could swear they don’t actually mean it as a term of endearment.

Thank you so, so much for sending the box of treats. Biscuits, tea bags, a kitschy coffee cup and an ugly tourist magnet – I love it.

You are something else, you know that? I am so sorry I’ve been shit at the letters this month. You’ll be pleased to know you’re at the top of my list with a red star for URGENT.

I was thrilled to get your parcel – both because it kicked me in the backside and reminded me of what I think of about five minutes after leaving work each day, and for the fact that it is amazing and thoughtful. Clippy Koala has found a home above my desk at work – along with one of your photos. I’ll leave you to guess which one.

Mum, Dad, and Jen came to stay last weekend, which was lovely and meant that Mum did all my washing and cooked way more food than I’ll need for the next month (spoilt, I know). Dad helped with a bit of painting, and Jen stole my Wi-Fi and watched telly – so all’s right with the world.

I’m so glad I met you. Have I told you that today?

William. xo

28th May 2011

Lovely William,

Hello! This letter is brought to you by my university library which, sadly, is nothing like Hogwarts. I’m here with Craig working on an essay for Political History. I’m quite sure neither of us know what we’re doing, but we’re going to give it a go anyway.

I’m glad you enjoyed your parcel. They were just some little things I collected along the way.

Last weekend, I did my first volunteer stint since I got home. It was a rock concert, and not a band that I love, but it was nice to get out and about. It made me think of you – have you done any volunteering since Edinburgh? It felt good to get back into it, if I’m honest, so I’ve put my hand up for some more.

Emmy xo

27th June 2011

My Emmy,

Quick catch up – I’m off the grid for a week or so now. Heading up to the Peak District for some camping (drinking), unwinding (not reading textbooks), and doing nothing (true). I hope you’re keeping warm. Enjoy this box of goodies. The teapot reminded me of you. I’m not sure why, but it did, so I thought you should have it. I was shopping with my mum at the time, and she did question why I’d bought it.

Never fear, I’ll be on the lookout for cheap and tacky souvenirs while I camp. Enjoy your care package.

W.

P.S. It’s a negative on the volunteering – too tired/busy/circle appropriate answer.

24th July 2011

You beautiful man,

Thank you – a thousand times, thank you. It’s not every day a girl is spoilt with a Fortnum & Mason tea set. (did you take out a second mortgage for this? It’s so delicate!) You’re way too thoughtful and beautiful and now I need to think of something to send you in return.

It was my last exam today, so this has come at the perfect moment. I have tea steeping as I write this.

And I’ll use the voucher to take my sister out this weekend. Frankie is twelve years older than me, though it sometimes feels like there’s one hundred years between us. She doesn’t live at home, but she’s just broken up with another boyfriend (and I say ‘another’ in the nicest possible way). So, a night out for the both of us will be great, I think. I hope. Maybe I’ll see if Ezra wants to join us, too. He’s the lucky middle child – nine years older than me, but I think he might be busy with his girlfriend and her daughter.

Have the best time while you’re away. I’ll wait for your next mail to arrive – oh, and I’ll send you one, too.

Love,

Emmy x

16th August 2011

Em,

I thought I’d wait until I posted this stuff to send you a letter. Recently, I’ve found I quite enjoy getting things in the mail that aren’t bills. I hope you feel the same.

Great weekend away – brain feels a little recharged, and I got a decent amount of sleep. If I’m honest, all I did on the first day was sleep. Everyone else went hiking and climbing. I stayed back at camp and slept – it was glorious. I ate lots of baked potatoes, drank too much beer, and pondered a few things that are a story for another day.

One of the best parts of our trips is the people we meet. What started as four friends getting away for the weekend has become somewhat of a choose your own adventure. It started when Hamish invited another friend along. Now it’s friends, girlfriends, people I’ve never met before and others who float in and out as occasion needs – and it’s fun. For example, there were fifteen of us this time. The only people I hadn’t met before were Owen, Claire, Angela, and Pip. Pip is a boy, mind you.

Slipped into Sheffield on the way through to pick up a small gift for you. Enjoy.