She cried. Of course she did. It was only natural.
She spent the next few days in a spiral of weeping and grief at the sudden, stark end of the adventure. He was gone, and history with him. She neither felt regret nor consolation. The tears were an automated response, a necessary result of the swirl of emotions in her head. They were a chemical reaction, and she knew it. Wait till it burns out, she told herself. Ride out the storm – then you can think.
Buzz – a text. Julie.
Hi Sophe. Where r u? We r at the kings head, can’t drink all this vino ourselves. You ok?
How few words could she get away with in reply?
Fine. Bit ill. Enjoy your night :)
Six and a smiley – that would do.
The next morning she left the house at eight to avoid Julie. Her flatmate would probably be sleeping off a hangover until noon, but still. Play it safe. Avoid friends at all costs. Only speak to lecturers, tutors, computer analysis programs. Ride it out.
A few days later she got her exam timetable. She was sat at her desk revising – bedroom door firmly closed – when she glanced across at the depths of the periodic table. Suddenly, a whole scenario appeared in her head – Saint Petersburg in 1869, Mendeleev lecturing on his new table of elements, Alexander beside her in the stalls. Then they’d go to a restaurant, then a theatre, then for a night-time walk through the snows by the river – of course the snows, this was a Russian dream, there had to be snows – before retiring to a hotel suite with the lights dimmed and the bed warmed...
She cried again. She turned her music up so Julie wouldn’t hear. Ride it out.
She went out to the cinema with her friends a few days later, nearly a week after her last meeting with Alexander. Her isolation couldn’t last, but the storm could.
“And that afro!” said Roz in the restaurant afterwards. “Seriously, how did he wear that thing for the whole movie? The shoot must have been hilarious.”
“The things one does for art,” said Adam.
“You need to grow yourself one,” said Julie. “You could do it with your hair, if you left it long enough. Next play you’re in, insist that your character has an afro.”
“Totally going to be Macbeth,” said Adam, and everyone fell about laughing. Even Sophia did. She laughed when others did, she drank when others did, she didn’t listen to them, and she wished that they would all just be quiet. Her mind alternated between sighing and screaming. Just go away, she thought. Shut up. I don’t care.
Ride it out, Sophe. Ride it out.
*
It faded, as it had to. Of course the memory of him clawed at her mind – of him, not of their adventures, but of him – but it didn’t make her break down or hide away any more. She was numb to it. She continued her work, revised for her exams, prepared for her life, her career. It was hers to decide, whatever a visitor from the future might say.
I made the right choice, she thought. To abandon her family and friends for him, and for adventure – no. She remembered sitting in the pub at Christmas, nearly six months ago now, telling people she was unsure about her future. She’d wondered if normal life could ever seem fulfilling again, when she had the chance to dream forever, and to share the dream with a man she might love. It seemed strange now. Of course real life meant more to her than that.
Oh, but that could have been real life. The tastes, the sounds, the sights, the touch of the exotic clothes on her skin, of his hands on her skin, under a younger sun...
She smiled, and turned back to her revision on toxicology. This was the price of leaving him – that whenever she heard some bars of Mozart, or saw a Wilde play on stage, or flicked past Breakfast at Tiffany’s on the TV, her heart would swell with melancholy, the present would seem to turn grey, and she would wonder what might have been.
She was prepared to pay it. Perhaps she had no choice but to do so.
*
“Cheers!”
“Woo! No more exams!”
“Only 12,000 words of dissertation to go!”
A groan went around the pub table.
“Nice job Adam,” said Julie. “Way to put a downer on things.”
But she was grinning, as they all were, including Sophia. Truth be told, the exams hadn’t been nearly as arduous as they had been in her previous years, but still: another milestone reached. A job, a place to live, and a place in life was that little bit closer.
“Anyone got any plans for the summer?” said Roz. “Besides endless hours of essay typing.”
Sophia couldn’t think of anything, and neither could most of the others. A general shrug went around the table, excepting two people. Julie and Christian smiled at one another conspiratorially.
“Go on then,” said Adam.
“We’re going to Croatia,” said Julie.
“Ooh!” said the table.
“Smart move, Chris,” said Adam. “It’s like Italy, but cheaper.”
“Hey, I’m paying my share too!” said Julie.
“What? That’s not how to play the game. You’re supposed to be taking him for a ride, bleeding his wallet.”
“Bloody hell, mate, don’t give her ideas,” said Christian.
For a moment Sophia feared that Julie would lose her temper with Adam, but she didn’t. She laughed, sipped her chardonnay and laid her head on Christian’s shoulder. In fact, everyone at the table looked entirely at ease. Even when the talk turned to the future, to impending job hunts and all the challenges of real life, everyone seemed so happy.
She was happy. She really was.
*
That summer was soaking and boiling in equal measure. Whenever Sophia wanted to go out, down came the showers; whenever she wanted to work, out came the sun. Typical. One time, when the sky was that bit bluer and the grass that much more green than normal, a memory came unbidden to mind – Hawai’i, 1778, as she swam in the Pacific under the warmest sun she had ever known. A quick rush of longing came over her, but then she laughed. Hawai’i and the north of England – what a strange comparison.
She wished she could be there, even so.
The dissertation came along apace. Every so often she managed a job application. Time ticked over, day upon day, life creeping on. Friends slipped in and out of her world, off home for a fortnight, on holiday for a week, the social merry-go-round turning its course. Nothing seemed stable, everything was in flux. In a month’s time, when she handed in her last piece of work, the rug would be pulled from under her feet. There would be no firm ground. It excited and frightened her.
At some points, it made her sad. She couldn’t quite work out why. It was a lingering feeling in the back of her head, like a spot in her vision; try to focus on it, and it moves. Yet it was always there. Was it sadness at all? Why was it sadness?
In mid-August, Julie and Christian came back from Croatia. Sophia’s housemate bustled through the door with her sunglasses still on, and swept upstairs with her luggage.
“Hey Sophe!” she trilled. She looked so excited that she was practically levitating.
Something’s up, thought Sophia. She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sure enough, Julie came wafting into the kitchen a moment later.
“How was Croatia, then?”
“So good! So good! Loved every second!”
Sophia grinned. “Kettle’s on.”
“Yes please!”
“Earl Grey or chai?”
“Sorry, can’t take it any longer.”
With that, Julie sailed to the table, and laid her left hand on it, fingers outstretched. Sophia looked at the sapphire engagement ring, then at Julie’s beaming face, then back at the ring.
“Er...”
“I know!”
“He’s...”
“Sophe, be a girly-girl for once and squeal.” Julie waggled the ring finger in front of Sophia’s eyes.
It worked. Sophia squealed. “You’re getting married. Oh my God, you’re getting married! That’s amazing!”
“I know!”
“That’s just...”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Fine, she thought, I’ll just have to squeal again.
They went through every aspect of the story – the night in Dubrovnik, the proposal, Christian nearly falling into the Adriatic on their way back to the hotel – and then they went through them again for good measure.
“So soon as well,” said Sophia. “Aren’t you a bit scared?”
Julie’s joy faded, but only into something deeper; thoughtful happiness. “Yeah. I am. It’s only been six months. But it’s just right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh god no!” Julie hid behind her tea. “I know how sudden it is. I know that it’s risky. A can see my Mum now telling me to wait a few more years, take things slowly, do it right. Oh god, she’s so going to tell me I should wait! But I...”
Sophia waited with bated breath. She hoped her friend would say the right thing next.
“I love him,” said Julie quietly. “Sod fancying him. I love him. I want to say it to everyone.”
“You don’t have to marry him for that, Jules.”
Julie smiled. “No. But I’m going to. And I really want to.”
They paused, and hugged.
*
Sophia lay up in bed that night, thinking about her best friend. Engagements. Weddings. Marriages. How many more proposal stories like Julie’s would she hear in the years to come? We’re growing up, she thought. We’re moving on.
It was all so normal, but all so beautiful.
There and then, she realised that Alexander had been wrong.
*
A lot of time passed in this chapter. Do you think Sophia coped well in the months since she left Alexander? Maybe too well? What might happen now? Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter.
I've gone back to Madeleine Peyroux for the music to this chapter, and the song I'm All Right. It fits Sophia's mood in the chapter (afterthe first section) quite nicely. I'll let you listen to the lyrics and decide just how nicely :)