‘Jess?’ he asked softly, taking a step towards me.
‘Yes?’ I mimicked his tone, taking a step closer in return.
‘Guess what?’ He gazed down at me, taking off his sunglasses to reveal a sparkle in his eye.
‘What?’ I looked up at him, hope filling my own. We were just friends. Just friends. Sam took another step closer, placing a strong hand to my side, steadying me.
‘I think you’ll be pleased to know…’ His voice hushed to a whisper. Pleased to know what? I couldn’t take any more surprises and yet there was one I knew part of me wanted to hear.
‘We’re here!’ he said, stepping back again and putting the same hand out to indicate the dubious-looking café we were about to enter. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I followed him inside. Just friends, we were just friends.
‘This is the best brunch spot in Sydney,’ Sam boasted as he thrust a menu in my face.
‘But it’s not brunch time,’ I objected, checking my watch. I had an hour for my lunch break, but putting on a lick of mascara had bizarrely bought me an extra five minutes.
‘Oh, J.’ Sam smiled, shaking his head and ordering us two banana smoothies. ‘You have so much to learn.’ He leaned further across the table. ‘Here in Sydney, it’s always brunch time.’
I laughed. Okay, I could make my peace with that. I studied his features, open and warm. I hated that I could never hate him – believe me, I had tried. All his looks, his touches; were they all just the actions of a friend missing a friend?
‘So, what’s good?’ I asked, telling myself again that I was happy to be here with him in his very special brunch spot. The yellow walls needed a lick of paint, the tiled floor could do with replacing, but something about the laidback staff and acoustic music playing made it feel like home.
‘Well, Jamie always gets the Big V,’ Sam explained whilst I tried not to spray my first sip of smoothie in his face. ‘V stands for vegan, Jess, vegan.’ He smiled and shook his head at me again. Of course Jamie would be a vegan. Typical.
‘And what do you get?’ I asked, moving swiftly on, eyes staring at the menu without taking in any of the words.
‘I get The Best,’ he said. It felt like a dig. Then Sam pointed his finger to indicate the item on my own menu. Oh, ‘The Best Breakfast’.
‘Two of The Best it is.’ I looked at Sam, flashing him my best smile and fluttering my eyelashes just a little more than usual (thank you, Tim). Even though I couldn’t have him, I still wanted him to want me. It confused me how much I thought he already did.
Five minutes later our plates arrived – in fact, I thought they did, but I couldn’t actually see my plate for the sheer amount of food piled on it. Sam smiled, raising an eyebrow as if to say: I bet you can’t eat it all. I raised my own: game on, Sam, game on.
Together we devoured the food and devoured each other – conversationally at least. He wanted to know everything. How I’d been over the past few years, how I found my job at Art Today. How did CreateSpace compare? (Well, one’s a magazine and one’s a gallery, Sam, but allow me to humour you.) How long did I plan to stay in Sydney? Was I sure I didn’t leave a special someone behind? I answered him honestly – for the most part – leaving aside anything about housemates, tequila and the fact that I wasn’t really an editor.
‘It’s crazy that you’re here.’ Sam looked at me and forced a laugh as the waiter cleared our plates. I finished mine, Sam struggled; not half the man he used to be. ‘I remember…’ he began, but stopped himself. ‘Do you need to get back to the gallery?’ he asked instead. Well, I did. But not until he had finished what he had started to say.
‘You remember what?’ I asked. Sam shook his head at me for the trillionth time. He knew I wasn’t the type to let things go.
‘I remember sitting here and writing you a postcard once,’ he explained, playing with the cuffs of his crisp white shirt.
‘A postcard?’ I asked. ‘I never received a postcard.’
‘That’s because I never sent it,’ Sam said with a weak smile, shuffling a little in his seat. I wasn’t used to seeing him this uncomfortable.
‘It was when I first arrived in Sydney. I was sitting here, thinking about you and how we ended, and how I had never told you I was leaving the UK, and I wanted you to know that I was okay, and I wanted to know that you were okay and, well…’ He looked down into his empty smoothie jar, all of a sudden at a loss for words.
‘Why didn’t you send it?’ I asked, laying a hand on top of his. To anyone else we would have looked like a couple; I guess we didn’t know how not to. But he has a fiancée.
‘I just thought, what’s the point? I was here and you were in London.’ He shrugged and raised his eyebrows, locking his eyes back on mine. A petite waitress returned to our table to ask whether we had finished. Sam asked for the bill, a shyness coming over him, as I wondered whether he preferred coming here with Jamie or me. For all the excruciating moments I had shared with them both since blundering into their box room, I hadn’t seen him laugh much, not really. Sure, her Sydney-Sam was more relaxed about work, but somehow he seemed more on guard about almost everything else. My Sam had a silly side, a flirtatious, frivolous side, a side somehow finding itself sitting right across from me, all over again.
‘I think I would have liked to have got it,’ I admitted, lowering my voice just enough for him to have to lean into me a little further.
‘I met Jamie the very next week,’ he said. ‘Funny how these things happen, eh?’
‘Yeah, hilarious,’ I muttered.
‘Well it’s nice to tell you all about it now,’ he said. Three years too late.
‘Yeah, now that you’re engaged.’ Bitterness escaped my clipped response, before I salvaged the sentence with an upward inflection. ‘I can’t believe you’re getting married!’
‘Yeah.’ Sam’s smile looked a little forced. ‘Me neither. And I can’t believe you’re here now,’ he continued. Something told me he could say it a thousand times and it still wouldn’t make sense to him, to either of us. ‘Great timing, Jess.’ His face softened, eyes still weary. Sadness filled my stomach. ‘We’re late.’ Sam resumed his chipper tone, taking in the time from his expensively hedged wrist. It was all a little too late.
Sam paid for lunch and wouldn’t let me argue. I mean, it was probably for his benefit; the sooner I could save my wages and get out of his and Jamie’s place, the better. Not that it would be his problem after this week.
Retracing our steps, we walked a little closer together. It was strange to walk side by side without holding hands, our lunch making it feel stranger still.
‘Oh, before I forget,’ Sam began, turning to face me. ‘Jamie and I are having some of our friends round from church tonight.’ Oh. We hadn’t even talked about the whole church thing. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you like.’ Happy families and the live-in riffraff. I’d rather go for that run.
‘Oh thanks, I actually…’ I scrambled for another lie, scared by how easily they were surfacing. ‘I actually have plans with the people from work tonight. I’ll just let myself in later. If that’s okay with you?’ Sam looked satisfied and discontented all at the same time; something told me I wasn’t the only one caught in the push and pull of our past and present.