‘Do you have plans on Friday night?’ Daniel asks me as we pull up outside my flat later that day. We decided that as we’d told Bob we had a dinner booking, we should really eat together too. We went to a tiny bistro and ordered huge steaming shanks of lamb and crisp roast potatoes. We talked about our families, our childhood homes, wading through the past in that detached way you do when you meet someone new. It’s late now we’ve reached my flat, the sunset casting the streets in a pale glow. I pause before answering, trying in vain to stretch out the day.
‘I do. Although I feel like I’m going to want to change them,’ I say.
‘Damn. Someone got to you first. What are you up to?’
‘I’m meeting up with someone called Nina. I don’t know her that well, but she’s about to go and do some travelling. I want to quiz her about it. She wants someone to go with,’ I say, the idea of joining Nina suddenly at odds with the comfort and easy happiness of the day I’ve spent with Daniel. ‘I might go with her.’ Might? I think to myself. I was so definite that travelling was what I wanted, and after a day out with Daniel I’m changing my mind?
I study Daniel’s face for a clue to tell me how he feels, wait for him to look crestfallen or perhaps beg me not to go, but his features don’t change. ‘Oh?’ he says evenly, ‘where’s she thinking of going?’
‘Thailand. You know, I’m building something new,’ I say, referring to Daniel’s pep talk when we met at the party.
‘Who told you to do that? Must have been an idiot if he’s the one making you go.’
I smile at him. ‘Nah. He wasn’t all bad. Terrible taste in magnets, though.’
‘Well, then you’re best moving far away from him.’
‘You think?’
‘Yep.’
‘I can see Nina another time. What were you thinking of doing on Friday?’
‘There’s fireworks on the promenade. But honestly, I just thought that if you had nothing on, we could go. I don’t expect you to change your plans.’
‘I know you don’t. But I want to. Nina won’t be bothered. She said she could see me on Saturday morning so I’ll just do that instead.’ I glance across at him. ‘It really makes no difference,’ I say, more to myself than him, but I don’t believe it for a second because already I can feel the chasm between myself and the other Erica, another thousand Ericas, shift minutely with my change of plan.
Daniel taps his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Excellent. If you’re sure. I’d like to do something that doesn’t involve me trying to hide the fact that I have a horrible phobia.’
‘Not scared of loud bangs, are you?’ I joke.
He laughs. ‘Nope. All my secrets are out now. Nothing else you need to know.’
We are quiet for a moment, and Daniel takes my hand. ‘I did honestly mean what I said at the party,’ he says. ‘You really have to do what you want to. Don’t stop for anyone.’
I smile. I want to do the exact opposite of what he is telling me to do: to invite him in, to be with him for longer, to never see Nina again, to stop everything except him. But I can’t do that because that would obviously be some kind of cliched rebound if I changed everything for someone so soon after what’s just happened with Mike. I look at Daniel’s face, his even features and his black hair that’s slightly curly from the rain and his high cheekbones, his pale, smooth skin.
‘I’ll see you on Friday then,’ I say to him as I peel myself from the car and wonder if ‘rebound’ is even a real thing.
***
‘So what got you interested in going travelling?’ asks Daniel on Friday night. We’re wandering along the promenade before the fireworks start. The air is chilled and I pull my black wool jacket tighter around myself even though I spent over half an hour choosing what to wear. In the end, I went for a black dress and black tights with my chunky boots.
‘Well, it was Mike who started it. We looked at places like Thailand together a lot. He wanted to go more than me. I’ve always been a bit scared of going away.’
‘So you’ve never travelled before?’ asks Daniel.
‘No. Have you?’
‘I’ve been to Europe a few times with friends. Nothing major. It was a while ago now though. My fear of heights kind of affects how I feel about flying so I haven’t been to many different places.’
‘Well, you’ve been more adventurous than me,’ I admit. ‘I even did my degree locally. I’ve barely been out of Blackpool since I moved here.’
‘You like it here though, don’t you? The history of the town?’
I nod, and stare out at the black waves that glitter with the lights from the pier. ‘Yeah. I do, and that’s why the museum is my perfect job. I was so excited when it came up, but I got the feeling Mike didn’t even want me to apply for it. I think he knew it’d make me put off travelling yet again.’
‘I thought you said the job is only a three-month contract?’
‘It is.’
‘Oh. So Mike’s pretty spoilt.’ Daniel glances at me from the corner of his eye, wondering if he’s gone too far.
I laugh. ‘He was a bit. I suppose it’s not his fault, though. He really wanted to get away, and I’m starting to see that it was fair in a way. We wanted different things. Like you said, if you really want to do something, you shouldn’t stop for anyone.’
‘I suppose it depends who it is.’
I turn to look at Daniel just as he looks over at me. As our eyes meet, I see a glint in his that makes me feel as though a tiny firework has just erupted in my chest.
‘Well, I’m glad now that Mike didn’t wait for me,’ I tell Daniel, and my words are fast, falling over one another. Take a breath, Erica, I think, smiling to myself. ‘That night when we first met, there’s no way I would have believed I would think like this so soon. But I’m in a different place to where I was. I’m seeing things so differently to how I have done for years.’
‘I know what you mean. I think I felt the same when it ended with Sarah.’
‘Sarah of the magazine aisle?’
Daniel laughs. ‘Yep. Her. I think when I was with her, I couldn’t see anything properly. Then I had to change places I suppose, and it was horrible and difficult because moving and change always is. But now my view is better, somehow.’
‘Yes!’ I say. ‘You make it sound so simple.’
We walk for a little longer before Daniel speaks again. ‘So anyway, you were saying about the travelling. Even though it was Mike’s idea to start with, has it turned out to be something you want to do after all?’
I sigh. ‘I don’t even really know,’ I admit. ‘I think I’ve just been feeling a bit lost since Mike ended things. Even now I can see it was probably for the best, I do still feel like I should have a new focus once the museum job is over. I’ve spent so long wanting to just stay here. I’m not that adventurous really, and I always had a bit of a problem with being on my own. But now …’
Even in a crowd of people, with the beat of music thumping from speakers above us, Daniel hears me more than Mike ever did. I watch him as he thinks about my words, turns them over in his mind. ‘What about now? Do you like being on your own more?’
The first firework explodes and I watch the sky burst into a hundred different shades of green and pink. I think of the danger that has flooded back to me since I started disappearing again last week at the party, the dread of being alone and falling into another time, the raw fear of clawing at the present to try and stay and having nothing to hold on. When Zoe gave me Nina’s number, and I decided that I should go travelling, I was still hoping that the disappearance and seeing the other Erica was a dream. But now, it’s clear that it wasn’t. Terror grips me and I swallow it down and stride forward. ‘Not really. But I’ve decided that I should do it anyway. I want to show myself that I can be adventurous and do all the big, amazing things that other people do. But I don’t know about my reasons, really. I don’t know if it’s just a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to Mike telling me I’m boring.’
Daniel shakes his head and grimaces. ‘You know, I sometimes wish we could re-live that party. I could have beaten him up when you first arrived instead of giving him a drink.’
I burst out laughing. ‘That would have been quite a welcome. I kind of preferred the Champagne. I had a toast to make, remember? The start of my new life.’ My words are lost in the score of a bright blue rocket above us, and I lean into Daniel as I watch. We huddle together for a few minutes and watch the fireworks, until there is a pause in the ripples of colour and sound.
‘What about you?’ I ask him. ‘Were you like this when you broke up with Sarah? Did you suddenly want to make plans?’
He thinks for a minute. ‘Not really. My plans stayed the same. Well, other than that I thought I’d end up marrying her. We were never engaged,’ he adds hurriedly. ‘But you just assume when you’re with someone for a while, don’t you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I never thought I’d marry Mike. We always said we’d avoid it,’ I tell him as the show restarts and another firework blooms above us.
‘Oh, a non-believer,’ Daniel says, smirking.
I jab him gently in the side, feel the warmth of his body from beneath his jacket. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe in it. I just don’t really like big weddings. And I know this is a bit negative, but I just don’t think marriage tends to end well.’
‘Nothing ends well!’ he exclaims as we start to walk again, picking our way through all the people who are still watching the sky, waiting for more. ‘All endings are horrible. If you only ever thought of the end of something, you’d never start anything, would you?’
I consider this as we weave through the children waving cheap plastic wands, the friends huddled together gazing up at the splitting sky, the hamburger sellers with their sizzling carts. We’re the only ones in the crowd who are walking. He’s moving faster than I am again, and I reach out and pull him back until he slows down.
‘So do you want to get married?’
‘Tonight?’ He looks at his watch. ‘Bit late. We probably wouldn’t be able to get it all organised in time. Nice idea though. I’m flattered.’
I roll my eyes and try to smother my laugh.
‘What are you laughing at? You’d marry me.’
‘Would I?’
‘Course you would. If you weren’t going off to see the world with Nina, then you’d fall head over heels for me, and I’d have to remind you, one day, that you weren’t even going to get married. But you wouldn’t even be listening because you’d be too busy trying on veils and big white dresses and tiaras—’
‘I would not wear a tiara,’ I say. ‘I don’t like the idea of people looking at me. Plus, I always wear black, never ever white. I am definitely not a bride type of girl.’
‘Yes, you’d definitely wear a tiara. And a huge dress. Not necessarily white. But not black either.’ We have stopped walking now, and he is grinning at me, facing me as he talks, his words in and out of focus with the squeals and bangs of the fireworks above us. ‘And I’d think of this night, the one when you swore you wouldn’t ever get married because of how it might end.’
The fireworks finish in a dramatic finale, and everybody is suddenly moving around us impatiently, wanting to carry on with their lives now that there is no spectacle for them, but we stand still, frozen in our own time and moment. Daniel steps towards me, and his lips press against mine until we are jostled apart. My hair whips in front of my face and Daniel pushes it away with his hand, his fingers brushing my cheek and leaving behind a pleasant flush of heat.
You could make me stay, I think.
I know, he seems to say as we stand and stare at each other, giddy with the euphoria of the night. We’re on the edge of something and we can feel it – the safe soft ground behind us; the sharp, steep drop in front that would take our breath away.
***
We move from the promenade to a sticky, busy bar where we drink warm white wine from glasses with remnants of old lipstick pressed onto the rims. Daniel pulls a face and wipes them with his sleeve, critiques the temperature of the wine, its acidity. But I don’t care about the wine or travelling or being boring or brave. I don’t care about anything other than drinking in every single moment of tonight: the warm, subtle buzz from spending time with Daniel, the thump of the music that vibrates in my body, the kisses and the blurred taxi ride and the press of Daniel’s weight against mine, the taste of him as we fall through the door to my flat, melting into one.
***
Daniel sleeps as soon as it’s over, throwing himself back onto the pillows and sighing, taking my hand and lacing my fingers through his, his eyes closed and his breathing even and deep. I drift in and out of sleep. I think fleetingly of Mike, his hard abdomen that he proudly sculpted at the gym every night, the glistening blonde hairs springing up from his stomach and thighs that always looked so angelic and childlike that they unsettled me slightly. Daniel’s body hair is a stark black against his pale skin. He sleeps silently, smoothly. I curve my body up against his, the warmth of his skin spreading into mine, pleasure curling inside me.
***
I get up early on Saturday to go and meet Nina, trying to ignore my pounding head and my stomach full of cheap wine and the unexpected feelings of desire for this man who I barely know that slip over and under one another like eels.
I’ve arranged to meet Nina in the coffee shop where she works at nine-thirty, which now seems horribly regrettable. But I’ve already cancelled her once. I shouldn’t do it again. Plus, I remind myself as I drag myself from Daniel’s warmth, regardless of how I started to doubt my reasons for wanting to go with Nina last night, it is something I’ve decided that I want to do. I would almost be cancelling myself, the very concept of which reminds me of the other Erica and makes me nauseous, so I shower and get dressed quickly and with as little thought given to the day as possible.
I whisper to Daniel that I’m going, and he nods vaguely but doesn’t wake. I have a hazy but definite memory of him telling me last night that he had a meeting at eleven today in town, and that we could maybe meet for lunch if I was still around when he was done. As I walk from the bus stop to the coffee shop, I take out my phone. He’ll be up now, maybe back at his place. So why hasn’t he messaged me? I imagine him doing all the things I haven’t seen him do, and if I go travelling might never see him do, like stretching in bed before getting up, shaking a can of deodorant and wincing at the cold as he sprays it, eating toast (or cereal? Both? Nothing?), taking short sips of hot coffee, glancing every now and again at morning television as he buttons up his shirt.
Stop it, I try to tell myself. Focus on meeting Nina. Last night was just one night. Daniel seems wonderful, but I barely know him.
Still.
It’s already different to what I had with Mike – sweeter and more intense, a delicious ice cream so cold that it hurts my brain and stops me from thinking straight. I have to be careful, because even if it’s not a rebound, I need to be brave enough to go and have the adventures I have promised myself. I wanted to do it, and my disappearances starting again have made me feel too cautious.
Falling for Daniel, I tell Nina, even considering staying here for him, would just be giving myself an excuse not to be brave and go away.
‘Would it?’ Nina asks, although from the bored look on her face I can tell she doesn’t really care either way.
I look down at my napkin. ‘I don’t know. I thought I knew everything about myself. But now I’m second guessing every decision. Which could all be completely irrelevant anyway, because he still hasn’t messaged me.’
She frowns. She’s having second thoughts about travelling with me because she thinks from this short burst of time with me that I’m the kind of person who vomits up all sorts of feelings every time I’m with a stranger. But I’m not that person. I wasn’t, anyway. I hate people knowing too much about me. How has Daniel, with his surprisingly broad shoulders and black chest hairs and warm skin changed that so suddenly?
‘He’ll message you, I’m sure. Sounds like he’s pretty into you. But the thing for me is, are you coming with me? To Thailand?’
Thailand.
‘It suddenly seems so far away,’ I admit to Nina and she rolls her eyes, snaps a sugar sachet back and forth before tearing it open and dumping it into her half-drunk coffee.
‘Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point. Look, either come or have your fling. You can’t do both. Which would you rather do?’
The question, a simple one in principle, has only the effect of the word fling sending a surge of warm pleasure through me as I am reminded of last night. I’m so busy reliving his warmth and his lips on mine and his hands in my hair, so busy itching to check my phone, relenting, pulling it out from the clutter of my handbag and seeing a glorious double green flash that signals a new message, that I barely even hear my own words.
‘I don’t know.’