“Look, I don’t think this is a ‘Laura’s being too fussy’ situation.”
“What about that blind date guy?” Dee goes on. “Vanya’s friend, who you discounted because he didn’t drink hot drinks?”
“OK, that was bizarre, though. Who doesn’t drink hot drinks?”
Dee’s tone softens. “You know, sometimes, when people are sad, they don’t think they deserve happiness.”
“I’m not sad, Dee,” I say sharply. “Well, I might be sad about some stuff, but it doesn’t mean I’m intrinsically sad—I’m not broken.”
“I’m not saying you’re broken, I just— This quest for the perfect guy, maybe it’s always been about the quest, never the destination. Maybe you don’t really want anyone to fill that space in your life.” Dee pauses. “And that’s fine too, Laura. You are allowed to be enough for yourself. You can be on your own if that’s what you want. But at least consider that you kibosh guys before giving them a proper chance.”
Anger spikes in my chest. I’ve had this lecture from Dee before. She just wants everything to be simple, clear-cut, like life has been for her. She’s never been on a bad date, never felt lonely or left behind, because she’s marrying her first boyfriend. Just because I’ve been dating for years, waiting for the right person, it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me, does it?
“I don’t think that’s fair, Dee. Just because I didn’t settle for the first guy . . .” I let the sentence trail, instantly regretting my choice of words. “Look, maybe you’re right. All the stuff with Mum has got me—”
“You think I settled for Neil?” Dee asks sharply.
“No, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Because I didn’t. I love Neil, he’s amazing.”
“I know, of course he is.”
“Just because you’ve never had anything last more than six months—”
“Well, that’s not true.” I pause. “Aaron was seven.”
“Look, I’m going to go before I say something I regret. Just, look after yourself, OK? We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I close my eyes as Dee hangs up on me.
Sitting at the little oak desk in the cottage, I try to focus my mind on work, replying to the backlog of emails and uploading all the photos I have taken so far. I post online the “Then and Now” pictures of Mum and me at the Écréhous. Then I look at the photo of Jasper and me on the boat, his kind, uncomplicated face smiling back at me. Dee is right. I should steer myself back to Jasper—he is great, and I am acting illogically.
I send the photo of me and Jasper on the boat to Vanya, replying to her question about whether I’d found Hot Suitcase Guy yet. Then I text Jasper, thanking him again for this morning, telling him I’d love to drop in on Maude’s party a bit later, but that I can make my own way there. He replies immediately with a big smiley face emoji and I get a GIF back from Vanya of Bugs Bunny with hearts for eyes.
Kissing Ted on the beach was a moment of madness; I was caught up in a flurry of emotions. I need to focus on sensible things—like how I’m going to make this coin story work now. Even if I can flesh out my great-grandparents story, how can I frame my parents’ relationship as this perfect love story now? I need a new angle. If I just had a little more time, if I could only extend this trip for another few days . . .
Before I lose my nerve, I tap out a text to Suki.
Laura: Keen to stay in Jersey for a few more days, so much great content to collect! Is it OK if I work remotely, come back on Wednesday?
I’ve barely pressed send, when the screen lights up with her name. I close my eyes as I answer the call. Suki doesn’t like people working remotely. She feels they are more productive in a “competitive environment.”
“What? Why? Why is it taking so long?” she snaps. Zero preamble.
“Well, no, it’s not, I just—” I stutter, unprepared.
“Because honestly, Laura, we can’t afford for you to spend four days of your time on one little article about your parents.”
“Well, technically, it’s not four working days, since this is still the weekend, and I am working on other content while I’m—”
“Send me what you have. I want to see a draft today.”
“The thing is, Suki, um, I’m just trying to rework the angle slightly. New information has come to light—”
“What new information?” she asks, her voice steely.
“Um, well. It’s actually quite interesting, because it turns out my parents didn’t stay together that long. They never got married, in fact.” Why am I telling her this? This is not going to help. “And I was thinking, maybe this is an article about love stories that get passed down to the next generation and how they get twisted and embellished into a kind of family mythology. All my romantic expectation may have been built on this story, it’s what sparked my interest in other people’s love stories—”
As I’m talking, I grow more confident. This is all off the top of my head, but as I’m saying it, I realize it is an interesting idea.
There’s a grunting sound on the line, then Suki says, “No.”
“No?”
“No. You’re not Malcolm Gladwell, Laura, I don’t want a revisionist history of your family. I want the coin meet-cute, the romantic proposal, the love story to end all love stories that you pitched to me. From what you’re telling me now, this whole trip has been a complete waste of time.” She sighs heavily. “I want you back in the office on Monday. I think we need to have a serious conversation. I’ve allowed you a lot of autonomy, and you’ve shown a real lack of judgment these last few days.”
My skin breaks out in beads of sweat, and my stomach starts to cramp. I’m going to get fired. I can’t even fathom what shape my life would have without my job. Could I even make the rent if I had to go freelance again? I wouldn’t see Vanya every day, she wouldn’t be my flatmate or my colleague.
“I-I-I can’t leave Jersey yet!”
Suki breathes in, preparing to bark at my insolence.
“I’ve met someone.” I squeeze my eyes closed, not sure where I’m going with this.
“You’ve met someone?” comes an angry echo down the phone.
“Yes—and it’s a great story.”
The idea takes shape as I’m talking. I could use my own meet-cute as a story for the site. I tell Suki about Jasper, about the mix-up at the airport, the things I found in his suitcase, and my search around the island to track him down. As she listens, she mellows, her bark becomes an excited yap and by the end of the call, she is cooing with delight.