It was near closing at the shop and Zoe was exhausted. She hadn’t showered and her armpits smelt goaty. She’d spent all morning trying not to be sick. Then the nausea lifted, but was replaced by something worse: a kind of depression that was becoming too familiar.
It was Monday and she had spent the day before in Litchfield Road. She haden’t wanted to be there: something was obviously going on between Eleanor and Richard. Whenever she emerged upstairs, they were polite and tense. She supposed they were still upset about Isobel’s accident. But Laura had cancelled on her and she had nowhere else to go.
By the afternoon, she could feel herself turning inwards. She knew she should go out, just for a walk, anywhere, but instead she reached for her phone. She was amazed that Adam picked up and even more so at how joyful he sounded to hear her voice.
When she went round to the warehouse, she felt a charge that she hadn’t felt for a long time. She hadn’t even missed it, until she felt it again. They had a drink together in his room and although she was almost certain they were going to have sex, there was always the possibility that they wouldn’t. They talked about how his art was going and the shop; their whole conversation lit up with the question of whether she would stay the night or not. Then, he took hold of her wrists and pushed her back on the bed. He was inside her, pulling at her top, and she made a half-hearted gesture towards propriety – ‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea’ – and he said, ‘Zoe, I think it’s a bit late for that now.’ It was exciting and abnormal. When she came, it was unfamiliar, as if the orgasm had its own character.
She stayed the night, but didn’t sleep; just lay awake next to him waiting for morning. He woke up early too and they had queasy, hungover sex and agreed it wouldn’t happen again. Knowing this was the last time she would be in his bed, she tried to put off getting out; she climbed on top of him and he pushed her off. She got up and got dressed, and told him she had to go to work. He pushed her back down on the bed, pinning her hands above her head, and she was surprised because she didn’t think he wanted more sex. But he just held her where she was. She used all her strength to push against him, but it was no good, she couldn’t move. Finally, he let her up and they said goodbye.
It was a chilly spring day and the shop was cold. She was hunched on a stool behind the counter; she hadn’t moved for hours and thought she could feel her bones stiffening. She thought of her old desk at the office – warm, busy, bathed in the sterile comfort of electric strip lights – and her old salary, which now seemed lavish. Her flat with Rob was cosy and filled, at least, with some kind of love, even if it wasn’t always full or proper. She could feel the allure of printers, staplers, cushions and cafetière. How could she have given all that up? She didn’t care about euphoria or intoxication any more – she just wanted something constant, neutral and bland.
With five minutes to go, she heard the door open. Zoe was hoping that it would be someone she could get rid of quickly or pass to Duncan, because she didn’t want to stay a minute later than she had to. She looked up. It took Zoe a split second to recognize Kathryn and then another to realize that this was not a coincidence: she was coming towards her and saying, ‘Zoe?’
Zoe nodded. Kathryn’s hair was loose today: it was wavy and shoulder-length and her fringe was too long. She was wearing a navy forties-style tea dress with a constellation of white dots on it. Zoe admired it, in spite of herself.
‘You’re Adam’s girlfriend, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘No,’ Zoe said, weakly.
‘OK, but you’ve been seeing him.’
Zoe said nothing.
‘Zoe, I’m not angry, I promise.’ She laughed and reached over the counter to touch Zoe’s arm. It took all of Zoe’s resources not to pull her arm away. ‘I just want to talk to you. Would you come for a drink with me?’
‘I have to close up, so . . .’
‘I don’t mind waiting,’ Kathryn said.
It wasn’t true anyway; Duncan closed up on Mondays. She went to the studio at the back to say goodbye to him and got her bag and coat from the stand in the kitchen. She washed up a mug in the sink, trying to put off leaving for as long as possible, her mind working wildly and unrealistically: could she just not go back out? Might Kathryn just leave? When she finally emerged, Kathryn was waiting patiently by the counter. She suggested a place to go and Zoe agreed, approving of her choice involuntarily. Kathryn was friendly as they walked there – she told Zoe she’d got in from Edinburgh that morning and chatted happily about the sleeper train. All Zoe could think about was whether Kathryn had seen Adam already and the hideous proximity of her saying goodbye to him and Kathryn arriving.
The bar that Kathryn had chosen was part of another warehouse, glass-fronted. Zoe wondered if she’d ever get warm. They stood awkwardly together at the bar and Zoe wasn’t sure who ought to buy the drinks – she didn’t get paid for another week and also it might seem as if she were trying to compensate somehow. In the end, Kathryn took charge and bought herself a pint of pale ale and Zoe a glass of white wine.
Kathryn chose a table and they sat on chairs upholstered in a seventies floral print. There was a silence, which felt horrific. Kathryn groaned loudly, flung her head back and put her hands over her face. Then she looked at Zoe directly. ‘I know. I know how weird this is. I’m sorry. I really appreciate you meeting me. And Adam doesn’t know, I swear – he’d kill me if he knew I was doing this. He didn’t want to tell me anything about you – he wouldn’t even tell me your name! But I got it out of him eventually and he told me how you met, and then I looked you up on Facebook, so . . .’
‘Adam told you that we were . . . ?’
She nodded. ‘A few weeks ago, yeah. I didn’t know if you knew I knew, if you see what I mean.’
Zoe shook her head.
Kathryn leant forward, pressing her arms flat on the table. ‘Oh, Zoe. I don’t really know what I’m doing. The thing is, Adam and I are going through a really tough time – as you know, I guess – and I thought if I met you face to face and could talk to you about this, this whole thing, what was going on with you guys . . . I don’t know, it might make things clearer. Adam won’t tell me anything, just said it was over between you, but . . .’
Zoe drew back in discomfort. ‘There isn’t much to say, really, I—’
‘Oh, I’m not angry! You know what the deal is with me and Adam, right? He told you about us? It’s been going on since forever, but it’s hardly been, like, love’s young dream the entire time. It’s just that we can’t seem to let go . . . I mean, you know we met at boarding school, right?’
‘He said you met at school . . .’
‘Oh, what, did he tell you he went to the local comp? I swear, Adam has so much middle-class guilt – he’s still going on about his music scholarship. It was like twenty-five per cent of the fees or something. But anyway, yeah, that was where we met. We got together when we were sixteen and it was, like, bam, you know, totally intense. We just had this connection. It was so special, I can’t really explain it. We thought we were going to get married.’ She said it as though it was the most radical idea anyone had ever had.
‘So we did our foundation together in London and that was just the best, like, maybe the happiest I’ve ever been. But then I got into Edinburgh and he didn’t, and he wanted me to stay in London, but I was like no way. And so we were long-distance for four years, which wasn’t great at that age, plus I found it literally impossible not to have sex with other people. So sometimes Adam would find out about these other guys or sometimes I’d tell him – and God, there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about – and he couldn’t take it. Which I understand a bit more now, but at the time, I was like, come on, we’re young, we’re artists, we’re not fifty. But he’d break up with me and then I couldn’t live without him, so we’d get back together and I’d promise I’d try to be faithful this time, but I just physically couldn’t do it. And one time, I broke up with him because I was watching him chop an onion and I just got so irritated by the way he was doing it that it scared me: I thought, is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Getting annoyed at the way someone chops onions? And you get to a stage with someone, you know, where you love them, you definitely, really love them, but you think, “Is this really the only person I’m going to have sex with for the rest of my life?” And then you think, “Is this how frequently I’m going to have sex for the rest of my life?” And maybe you do have to accept that eventually it isn’t going to be as exciting as it was at the beginning. You know what I mean?’
‘I think so,’ Zoe said. She was still recoiling, dizzied. But she wanted Kathryn to keep talking, to put off the moment she had to say anything herself. ‘So, what . . . then you went away for your Master’s?’
‘Yeah! We were doing OK, I thought, until then – of course, I get onto the MA course and it’s the exact moment that Adam’s got this whole quarter-life crisis thing going on and he wants to settle down and says I’m not trying hard enough, but you know, this is so obviously the best thing for my career right now, like, do you know how many people apply for that thing? I can’t give that up just cos he’s gone all broody. And I’m trying, I’m coming back weekends, I let him come and visit me, but every time I see him, he’s getting at me in some way and I’m a bit like, OK, so I just spent ninety quid on a train journey for you to tell me how shit a girlfriend I am? But then he tells me he’s met you and I’m like, whoa, OK, I didn’t know you were going to do that.’
Zoe started an apology. Kathryn waved her hand dismissively.
‘You know, in one way I was pleased! Because it felt more equal. It was, like, the first time he cheated on me and I’ve cheated on him – God, I don’t even want to think about how many times. And yeah, I was furious – I mean, I cried half the night and I hit him, really hard, but also, like, suddenly I really wanted him. So I came to London for his show, which I wasn’t going to do, and we had the most amazing weekend, totally intense, it was like we were sixteen again. And I go back to Edinburgh all loved up, and he tells me he’s stopped seeing you! And yeah, I was glad – I mean, I feel physically sick when I think about the two of you together and a lot of the time I just wanted to stab you in the face – no offence – but it was kind of a turn-off too, because then he was all like, let’s get married and go and live in the country and I was like, oh God, not this again.’
Zoe started involuntarily. Kathryn paused.
‘Adam said you were fine with all this. I mean, with him being in a relationship. He said you’d broken up with someone long-term and you wanted something really casual.’
‘I did,’ Zoe said, ‘but this doesn’t feel very casual.’
‘No, I guess not,’ Kathryn said and she was quiet for a moment.
Rob had told Zoe that she liked to pick at things, to seek out drama where there wasn’t any, to live life at too high an intensity. She wished there was some way she could introduce him to Kathryn.
‘So I guess what I really wanted to know was: was it serious with you two?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘No. It wasn’t at all.’
‘Because Adam said something once, when we were fighting, about you being the kind of person he should end up with. He said he didn’t mean it and he took it back, but it really hurt me. I’ve had doubts about our relationship, sure, all the time, but I never seriously thought we wouldn’t end up together. I thought it would always be us.’
She looked genuinely sad. ‘We’ve just been through so much and he’s still my favourite person in the world. I used to think that the fact we’d stayed together through all this proved something – you’re know, that we’re strong, it’s meant to be. And now I’m wondering if all it means is that we should have broken up ages ago.’
She looked Zoe in the eye. It was unsettling; Zoe thought she meant it to be. She felt a surge of envy – for Kathryn’s confidence, her dynamism, her frankness – and she wondered if she could try and take her place, insert herself between the two of them. Then Kathryn slumped back in her chair and the feeling subsided.
She thought about the early days, when Adam would kiss her goodbye and it felt like an explosion of stars in her brain. That hadn’t happened for a while now. She thought about lying in bed next to Adam, watching him, slightly curious, as he got worked up about the way Kathryn didn’t call enough or hadn’t taken his advice about her course or left her shoes in the middle of the room. She remembered the last months of her relationship with Rob: how depleted she’d felt, how soporific it had been.
Without thinking about it, she reached her hand across the table. ‘Look, there’s nothing between Adam and me. Really. It was only ever about the two of you, for him. I think if you still have some energy – you should go for it. If you don’t and you’re tired all the time and you’ve got nothing left for each other, then maybe you should break up. But if you think you can see a way to make it better – you should try?’
Kathryn looked at her hand, but didn’t take it. For a second, Zoe thought Kathryn might cry. Instead she moved the conversation on, to how Adam really wanted a family and she wasn’t sure. Zoe asked her what she thought about having children and she gave a long complicated answer, which was essentially how she thought their lives were too interesting for them to become parents.
‘I mean, I’m an artist! I don’t want to end up just some stay-at-home mum going to pottery classes. And that’s what I would be, you know, in Adam’s fantasy. He always wants to pack it all in and move to the seaside. I’m like, you’re insane – this is where our careers are, what, you think you’re going to be happy showing in some little gallery in Whitstable with a load of old lady watercolourists? Like, why don’t you just start painting cheese and bottles of wine and sell your stuff outside Green Park tube? But there’s this part of him that just craves normality: he wants, like, a three-bedroom house, with, I don’t know, a dog or something . . . What? You’re smiling?’
‘Nothing – I just didn’t know that about him. I mean, he said stuff like that to me sometimes, but I . . . didn’t see it.’
‘Adam’s basically pretty conservative,’ Kathryn said. ‘He likes to pretend he’s more complicated than he is.’ She spoke with the mixture of affection and irritation that came with really knowing someone and Zoe decided that she’d had enough. She had no reason to stay. She told Kathryn she had to get going and as they were standing up, Kathryn grabbed her arm.
‘Wait, I know you!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought I recognized you! I mean, I knew what you looked like obviously, because: Facebook, but there’s something else too! I’ve been trying to work it out the whole time we’ve been talking! It’s the dance class, isn’t it? You go to Triangle.’
Zoe had no idea whether to lie or not. ‘I’ve been a couple of times.’
‘Oh my God, this is the weirdest thing! I love that place. I remembered you from that class because I was so relieved there was someone there who wasn’t totally professional – oh my God, I don’t mean, like, you’re really crap or anything! Don’t you think Sofia is the most amazing teacher? It’s one of the things that makes me really regret leaving London – I just can’t find anything that good in Edinburgh.’
‘It is really good,’ Zoe said unconvincingly.
Kathryn hugged her and Zoe hated it. ‘I’m so pleased you’re so great! I knew you would be. I knew Adam would have chosen someone special. Hey, maybe we could go to a class together some time? When I’m back in London?’
‘Yeah, maybe!’ Zoe said, knowing she would never go near the dance studio again. She was suddenly tired of all this: working in someone else’s shop, living in someone else’s house, fucking someone else’s boyfriend. She went home and deleted Adam’s number from her phone. It was time for something of her own.