An Impossible Thing Called Love

What are your plans this weekend? Can’t wait to hear from you.

Will x

27th August 2011

My Emmy,

It’s your birthday soon, right? I thought I might try and fly out for it. I’d love to see you again, and I’ve often wondered if our meeting was pure chance, or if there was something more to it. Anyway, I’m going to stop rambling – we can talk about all that when I arrive. I’ve found a hotel, and flights are currently cheap enough. If you have any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace…

W x

5th September 2011

My Favourite William,

YES, PLEASE VERY MUCH THANK YOU OKAY

Now that I’ve breathed into a paper bag and calmed the hell down – yes! I would absolutely love to see you this side of the equator. And for my 21 st birthday of all things. That would be an incredibly sweet gesture. I’ll blow off life for a little while and we’ll go exploring.

Oh, and I’ve picked up some work at the local hospital. It’s admin work, but it’s great fun. I think I’ll do a short course on medical terminology. Currently investigating options. It seems more fun than my BA at the moment.

E x

29th September 2011

Lovely Emmy,

So, don’t I feel like an idiot right now. Leave declined. Couldn’t even wrangle a few weeks later in the year. I am so sorry. I’ll just sit in the corner and lick my wounds.

William.

16th October 2011

William,

Please don’t feel the need to apologise. It’s out of your control. We will catch up again, somewhere on this earth. It’s just a matter of things aligning. Hey, maybe if I get punched in the nose again, you’ll appear. I can’t say I’m keen to repeat that experience though.

Off to a party tonight, wish me luck!

E x

12th November 2011

My Emmy,

It feels a little strange to say it’s been so long since we’ve talked. One thing I did notice? I’ve missed it – and I know that it’s my fault. I’ve been working and socialising, got a bit of late autumn camping in, and have been studying until it feels like my eyes are about to drop out of my head.

The end of first year is fast approaching for you – how do you think you’ve fared? And are you enjoying it? I know we talked about moving sideways into medicine (despite how tired I am, I do love it – please don’t let that put you off). Have you had any leads on night school? I’m keen to hear about that – please keep me updated. I’ll send you a book if you like. I’m going to send it to you anyway. It was a great help to me, so I’m sure you’ll find it useful.

Recently, someone’s asked to rent one of my spare rooms. They’ll be working in London soon and will need a place to stay. Problem is, I don’t mind the peace and quiet when I get home. Upside is I can charge rent, I suppose, and that’ll help with the mortgage. What do you think?

I found this great little eatery nearby that I’m going to take you to one day. Best pho ever. It’s just off the Harrow Road, near home. Have you been to your favourite sandwich shop lately? I look forward to the day I can (finally) get there and shout you lunch.

I’m off to bed for the night, but look out for the postcard I sent you from our camping trip.

Yours,

William x

1st December 2011

My William,

Corn-wall. It’s been ten minutes and I haven’t stopped laughing. My mum snatched the postcard from me and wanted to know who sends postcards like that. Ha!

So, what would you say if I came to visit instead? I have a job now (because that doesn’t make me sound like a bum at all), so I could grab a cheap ticket, stay in a hostel. Maybe we could meet in Edinburgh for New Year’s? Or, maybe after New Year’s? I think it’s a bit late to organise a New Year’s trip now.

Let me know,

E x

10th January 2012

Ems,

Yes, to all the above except the hostel. I have plenty of room here. It’s staggering how big this place is for just me. Now, I did buy it with the future in mind, and I do have a lodger now, but there is still plenty of room here. I’ll make up one of the spare rooms, and we can work out what happens from there. Just buy the ticket and let me know when you’ve booked for. I’ll meet you at Heathrow.

Gotta run, but wanted to let you know that it’s a very big yes from me.

Will x

27th February 2012

William!

I am laughing so much right now. I squealed so loudly at your email that Craig and I got kicked out of a lecture. For real, this time. In front of everyone, and I laughed all the way out the door and into the halls. Don’t care, too busy being excited. Let’s make this happen! I’m going to put together my London Bucket List. I know, I know, bucket list makes it sound morbid, but it’s a list of places I want to see and things I want to eat.

So, shoot me some recommendations.

Much love,

Emmy.

15th March 2012

My lovely Emmy,

I love the idea of the bucket list. If you get it through to me early enough, I’ll work out a rough itinerary. How long are you thinking of staying for? A week? Two? A month? Let me know all of that and I’ll work around it. I’ll show you all my favourite ‘outside London’ spots, too.

William.

31st March 2012

Dear Mr Tour Guide,

I’ve attached a mini-list of everywhere I think I should go. I want all the kitschy, flag-waving tourist experiences. I want high teas and night-time cocktails, fancy theatres and bus tours. Buckingham Palace is open in the summer, right? Let’s go there, too. Have you been?

What do you think of my list?

Emmy.

20th April 2012

Hey there,

Just checking in to see if you got my last email? I’m guessing you’re run off your feet now, so that’s why you’ve been quiet. It’s okay. I’ve been dealing with some stuff here, too.

Dad’s not well. The idiot went and had a heart attack, so we’re all sitting in the hospital waiting room at the moment. The doctors think he’ll be okay, so that’s a good thing, right?

Can I ask you something? I know we’ve always emailed or posted, but can I call you? I need someone to talk to about this, and I think you’re the only one who’d make sense. You know, being a doctor and all.

Looking forward to hearing your voice.

E xo

15th May 2012

William,

Okay. I’m getting worried now. I have no other way of contacting you. Heather checked Facebook and can’t find you. Are you okay?

Emmy.

21st June 2012

William,

I’m not sure what’s going on. I hope it’s that you’re busy and you’re kicking ass at your job. Saving lives and taking names, right?

I have some news. Heather and Josh are moving to London in January. They’ve both picked up work, and they’re flying high. I’m a little jealous, and a whole lot of sad but, more than anything, I’m excited for them. Her career is kicking along nicely, and I’m so proud of her. I’ll miss them both terribly, but it’s a good excuse to visit, right?

Are you okay?

Emmy.

3rd August 2012

William,

Where are you?

Emmy.

I tried one last time to send an email.

This message was created automatically by mail delivery software.

A message that you sent could not be delivered to one or more of its recipients. This is a permanent error. The following address(es) failed:

[e-mail]

No Such User Here

***

When Dad was sick, William was the one person I would have trusted over anecdotal websites, misinformed family, or sanitised for the public doctors. Talking to him, though we hadn’t physically spoken to each other in almost eighteen months at the time, would have put my mind at ease and pointed me in the right direction. And when my two best friends decided to pack up and move to London, he was the one person I thought I could count on for … something. What I hadn’t counted on was this. This was cold, and it hurt.

I tried to email from another address, but that one bounced back, too. Good to know it wasn’t just me, then. I went so far as to check the local phone directory. The results page was blank. Facebook offered me a whole heap of blonds and brunettes, but no flame-haired Londoners. I was shit out of luck.

Thinking about it constantly only turned sadness to anger, and when I finally got past that point, I wanted to be done with the reminders of that holiday and the months afterward that were tacked to walls of my bedroom. I removed the photos, postcards, and notes, and placed them in a box along with all the trinkets, toys, mugs, and books he’d sent. William had been relegated to a box underneath my bed.

Chapter 5

New Year’s Eve 2012

The post office smelt of sunscreen and agitation. A fly buzzed about my head, and I could feel sweat making a beeline from my neck right down to, well, where the sun didn’t shine. My backpack was laden with books, photos postcards, dog-eared envelopes, and a tea set. They were all memories I needed to give back.

I stepped forward, said all the right things, signed the customs declaration, and forced the last few years of my life into the nondescript brown cardboard box. Behind the counter, a woman with a weathered face tapped her artificial nails and suggested maybe I needed a bigger box.

Forcing a smile, I bent the lid over the contents and taped it shut. ‘My box is perfectly big enough, thanks.’

Behind me, someone sniggered.

I tossed the roll of packing tape back at her, along with my parcel, and hoped for the best.

‘I really don’t care if it breaks.’

As far as I knew, William hadn’t moved, he’d simply vanished. I’d never found a ‘Return to Sender’ in the letterbox, and his emails or letters never indicated that I’d done or said something untoward. He’d obviously lost interest, moved on to a girl closer to home, maybe. Probably. I couldn’t imagine he’d be single for long, as much as that thought irked me, irrationally, a little.

Stepping outside, away from the confines of a barely-there air-conditioner, I slipped my sunglasses on and, feeling a little lighter, made my way out into the street. The sunny glint of an old steel bumper and front wheel caught my eye.

‘Hey, you.’ I smiled.

‘Hey yourself.’ Craig waved an arm at his car in a flourish. ‘You like?’

The same Craig who’d saved my skin in class – when I’d been caught more than once laughing at a letter – was slumped against the pillar of a car that was probably older than both of us combined. After that very first class, we began searching for each other before lectures. Our buddy system soon extended to study blocks in the school library and coordinating subjects, because what’s better than having someone to pinch notes from? It was especially helpful when one of us didn’t feel up to going to class or needed an extra shift at work. It helped that we were both considered mature-aged students; two old souls looking out for each other. He became one of my closest friends.

Now, he stood in the street looking like a retiree floating the wave of a mid-life crisis. All he needed was a set of golf clubs to go with his wide-brimmed hat, popped-collar polo, and salmon-pink shorts.

‘I’m not diametrically opposed,’ I said through a chuckle. ‘Not sure about the outfit though.’

‘Funny.’ Craig threw his head back in a mocking laugh. ‘Picked her up this morning. Want to go for a ride?’

‘Got air-con?’

‘It’s got windows.’

‘No!’ I gawped, bending down to peer through the window. ‘And eye-bleedingly beige seats.’

‘I know. It’s great, isn’t it?’ Craig’s hand hung limp over the top of the steering wheel. ‘Used to belong to my cousin’s mate.’

A reliable purchase, if ever there’d been one. I peeled the tin can door open and took my place on the blistering hot, third-degree burns vinyl that we all know and love in the Australian summer. ‘I’m surprised by the lack of pink, going by your very fancy shorts.’

‘They’re for the party tonight.’ He pouted. ‘There’ll be a pool, right?’

‘Definitely a pool,’ I said.

‘Good.’ Gears crunched underneath us. ‘All I need now are my lambswool seat covers and I’ll be set.’

‘Oh, please don’t.’ I laughed. ‘Please.’

‘What? You don’t like a little wool in winter?’

‘Only if my clothes are made of it.’

Craig grinned to himself as he pulled the car into the street. I reached across and turned the radio dial on and up. While the road shimmered and my hair stuck to the back of my neck, at least the windows blew a bit of air around, even if it did feel like being caught in a low speed hair dryer.

‘What’s happening in the post office? Anything exciting?’ he asked, throwing a quick glance my way.

I shook my head. ‘Just bills. Nothing fancy.’

‘Are you okay?’ His voice was almost drowned out by the rhythmic thwap of air coming from both windows.

I nodded and looked at him. ‘I am.’

‘Really? Because you’re doing that thing.’

‘What thing?’ I looked at him curiously.

He reached across and pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched me, but it was the first time I’d noticed the wobble of energy – one I’d perhaps been keeping at arm’s length.

‘Dimpled chin. It’s your go-to when you’re worried or upset.’

‘Really? You noticed that?’ I angled myself towards him a little more. What the hell else had he noticed? I suddenly found myself recounting things, non-specific things, but still wondering what they said about me.

‘It tends to come out.’ He unwound the sunroof by hand. ‘The night before essays are due, and about an hour before exams. Afterwards, of course, you bound out of the room like you’ve had the weight of the world removed.’

‘I’ll be okay.’ I thrust my hands through the sunroof and felt the wind wrapping itself around my fingers and tugging on my hair. ‘How about you? Are you ready to party?’

When Heather first told me she and Josh were packing up and moving to London, I was like a spinning top of emotions. I rode the wave of their success, celebrating Josh’s internal and international promotion at the marketing company he worked for. I popped streamers for Heather who, after winning Young Real Estate Agent of the Year had been poached to head up the new London branch for Coglin Real Estate.

Then, I cried. A lot.

As excited as I was that my two best friends were in love and starting a new life together, because how absolutely thrilling for them, I was also a teensy bit devastated that I would be without them. It was fitting that their farewell party was a New Year’s celebration, too. New year, new life, new beginnings.

Heather’s parents still lived in the same beachfront property they’d bought when they married. A pebble-mix footpath reflected nightlights, and candles glinted and threw tall reflections across tables. A catering team dithered about in the far corner, and the vibration of late sixties music filled the air.

I looked out across their tightly manicured backyard, the scene of countless afternoons during high school. Part of me wondered how often I’d see it in the future, if at all. The palm trees that waved wildly during storms, the tennis court we used despite having no idea what we were doing, or the pool we’d throw ourselves into at the first breath of summer each year. Would Heather be back often, or would it mean I’d finally get off my backside and get back to London, albeit to visit her? I hoped so, on both counts.

‘Do I look okay?’ Craig leant in.

Hand on front door, I turned to look at him. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’

‘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.

Chapter 6

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.’