settee, my tile-and-teak coffee table, my record player. She listened to David Bowie on vinyl, sometimes Fleetwood Mac. She’d picked up a Supremes LP from a charity shop for three quid. I found it adorable that Zara had started to call a pound a quid. It had only taken her a couple of weeks to settle in, just as I was doing in Dubai.
‘It’s my urban art haven.’ She’d smiled at me across the screen, bringing her shoulders up to her ears as she snuggled into a giant woolly jumper, once belonging to me. ‘Minus a bunch of pretentious hipsters and artisan coffee.’
‘If I hear Wong’s has become vegan, I’ll come after you,’ I’d told her, winking.
‘No you won’t, Jim. You already did that once.’
I feel a shiver beneath the heaviness of my suit, despite today’s warmth. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about that particular conversation. The last time Zara and I spoke. It was the day I’d been offered the package; visa, healthcare, the lot. And all because of that one article.
‘You have to take it,’ she’d said; no hesitation, no plea.
I knew I’d have to take it. And we knew she wasn’t leaving Liverpool either. As always, the screen froze mid-conversation and we only picked it back up in pieces, to break free from the disjointed cyber cords of a long-distance twenty-first century relationship.
I take a step towards the cathedral.
I start waving.
And Zara stops dancing.
The sun slides behind a light cloud giving me an opportunity to take off my sunnies.
She could be the girl on the side of the road again, not far from the tunnel, in shock at the car crash. Her mouth drops open, her eyes pop out. Walking towards me, her cheeks rosy, her scar almost faded away, she’s as bright as the sun, a bounce in her stride.
We arrive face to face.
And I don’t know what to say.
Neither does Zara, so it seems.
A silent hello ensues, a wordless how are you?
A puzzled look washes over Zara and she stutters as she speaks.
‘So, are you …?’ she asks. ‘Here for …?’
‘No,’ I confirm. ‘Not this.’
‘Oh?’
‘Me ma. She …’
Zara takes in my black suit. ‘I’m so sorry, Jim.’
‘Me too.’
We stand in silence again, looking into one another’s eyes.
My hand brushes hers, our fingers interlacing slightly, naturally. Just for a moment.
It’s the night in the Travelodge once more.
‘Well, are you good? Happy?’ I ask.
Zara releases a laugh and sighs, throwing her head back, but her mortar board slips off. As she twists, stumbles and tries to stop it falling to the ground, I catch it. She covers her face with her hands and laughs again. I laugh, too.
‘Soz, bit of a shit question,’ I cringe, then mock myself with a squeaky voice. ‘Are you happy?’
She accepts the hat back, twirling it back and forth in her hands.
‘Remember the meerkat in the jacuzzi?’ she asks.
‘How could I forget?’
‘He’s about to take the app world by storm, I hope.’
‘Really? How?’
‘I’ve been working with an animation studio, here in Liverpool. I’m joining the team full time next week. There’s a new game being launched soon, so keep your eyes peeled. And that’s all I’m saying.’ She grins.
‘You’re not spilling the beans?’
She puts her hat back on, and holding onto the top, she pouts, shaking her head.
‘Bloody hell, Zara, it’s not like you to keep quiet.’
‘And it’s not like you to pry.’
And just like that, the emptiness between us starts to fill. Not having to rely on the strength of the local Wi-Fi really does make a difference. Zara had been right to end it. Not that I hadn’t understood her reasons. Her scar was a glaring reminder. Still, it hadn’t been easy to accept, to switch her off. Literally.
‘I’ve read your stuff online,’ Zara says. ‘I follow the mag.’
So, she’ll know I’ve been kept on as editor. I’m pleased. I don’t like to brag.
‘I told you, didn’t I?’ Zara smiles, knowingly. ‘The pace in Dubai is fast. You either run with it or get left behind. It’s so great that you ran.’
‘You mean that?’
Zara pauses, inhales her surroundings.
‘Of course I do,’ she says. ‘How long are you back for?’
‘Just a week.’
‘Your first time back?’
A dormant ache squeezes my chest, my face flushing hot. I’d meant to come back sooner. I’d meant to go to Florida. She’d been doing really well in the sunshine, my ma, and kept telling me to focus on my job, to make a life for myself just as she was doing. She sewed sequins