Adam strolled onto the beach and by the time I reached him, he’d shrugged off the shirt that had hung open over a T-shirt. He spread it over the sand before gesturing for me to sit. I slipped off my sandals and dug my toes into the damp sand. For a while we sat, listening to the crash of the waves rolling inland until we had caught our breath.
‘That was amazing,’ I said when the burning in my chest had subsided.
‘Maybe not,’ Adam said. ‘The bird is used to being given food and water. Being chained up. There’s a chance he might not survive in the wild but I reckon he’d prefer to take his chances than spend the rest of his days in that small filthy cage. Besides, he can always come back if he wants. If you love someone, set them free and all that.’
I found it impossible to let things go; I was still checking my ex’s Facebook umpteen times a day. Once, when I was younger, I had a cat named Pugwash. He grew old. Sick. When I was sixteen, my mum told me that the kindest thing to do would be to put him to sleep but I shouted and I cried and I wouldn’t agree to it. For days afterwards I watched with shame as Pugwash limped around the house he’d once raced around with ease. My guilty ears listened to his sad mewing as he failed to make the jump onto the windowsill where he liked to watch the traffic. I knew it was best for him. I knew. And yet I still couldn’t envisage life without him. At the end of that week I came home from school and found Mum had made the decision for me. Letting him go when she knew I wouldn’t. Knew I couldn’t.
‘So you’re a regular hero,’ I said. ‘Saving women from drowning. Rescuing birds.’
‘Oh, I’m far from perfect,’ Adam said. ‘I leave the toilet seat up. Toast crumbs all over the worktop. I dip the butter knife into the Marmite.’
‘Urrgh, Marmite. You’re right. You’re not perfect.’
Our laughter died away and there was a change in the atmosphere as Adam asked, ‘So, Anna Adlington, who has made me laugh more tonight than I have in months, who are you, really?’
I didn’t know how to answer that. Who was I?
‘I… I don’t know anymore.’ As a wife I would have been someone. But now self-doubt and self-loathing had filled the space where my confidence used to be. I felt the constriction in my throat as my words thinned to nothing. Adam gave me a moment to compose myself before he quietly said, ‘I didn’t meant to upset you.’
‘You didn’t.’ I gave a hollow laugh. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, but the sting of being jilted was too sharp. Too raw. And there was a part of me, a bigger part, that still felt it was all my fault and I was scared to admit that to him. Afraid that if he saw the unlovable part of me that I was trying to keep hidden – the part that made it easy to cast me adrift – he would run away too.
‘He’s a fool. Whoever let you go.’ He read my silence.
‘If by “let me go” you mean dumped me two weeks before my wedding, so I had to come on my honeymoon with my best friend, who pretended to be my wife to save me the embarrassment of explaining it all to the hotel… Anyway, you said if you loved someone—’
‘Did he love you?’
‘No.’ I wrapped my arms around myself, forming a physical barrier to keep all my emotions inside.
I was unlovable.
‘Did you love him?’ Adam’s probing questions were soft and rounded rather than pointed and sharp. It didn’t take long to consider my answer.
‘He was there during a difficult time. My dad… his heart…’
Adam gently placed his hand on my arm. He didn’t tell me I didn’t have to talk about my dad the way most people did, hoping I’d change the subject, uncomfortable with my raw emotion, avoiding eye contact and shifting away.
‘I felt I needed him after that and… I think… partly… I wanted to be married. To have the security my parents had, to have someone look at me the way my dad looked at my mum. I think I knew on some level when he proposed that he didn’t love me, but I figured I’d never love anyone as much as I loved my dad anyway so… I was still grieving… am still grieving. It’s been nearly two years now.’ I hadn’t wanted to talk about it but now I couldn’t shut up.
‘And how’s your mum?’ he asked with genuine concern.
‘She’s… okay-ish. It’s been tough but she’s filling her time. This is the first time I’ve been away from her since we lost him. I’m ringing home every day. She misses me. She misses him.’
‘They’re lucky, those who find it. That eternal love.’
‘Can love ever be eternal?’ Despite the example my parents had set, I was doubtful I would ever find that.
‘I think so. Yes. Why shouldn’t you have absolute faith that you can achieve your dreams? Reach for the stars.’
‘Is that another Eighties song reference?’ I nudged him to show I was done talking about the sad things.
‘Nineties.’ He flashed a grin, teeth white under moonlight. ‘Speaking of the Eighties, I nicknamed you Star when I first saw you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you look like Star from The Lost Boys.’
‘Not because I sparkled so bright.’ I placed my hands against my cheeks and flashed a Marilyn Monroe smile.
‘That too.’
The atmosphere turned from heavy to light and back again. I was dizzy with it all. Confused with my conflicting emotions. My rational self was telling me that it was the beauty of our surroundings, the lack of everyday stress, and a multitude of other things that weren’t Adam causing this tornado of longing. My heart whispering that this was it. This was the way I should have felt when I agreed to marry someone, only I hadn’t felt it. Not then.
A breeze lifted strands of my hair and Adam tucked them behind my ear.
‘Star.’ The word melodic on his lips.
This is not a date.
I could have moved away, but I didn’t. Adam leaned forward and hesitated. Waiting for me to tell him to stop. To slow down. To speed up. But my objections, my desire, my logic and my desperate need to be touched were stuck in my throat.
His mouth feathered across mine and the world fell away. He tasted of sangria and kindness, and long after our kiss had ended, I kept my eyes closed to savour it. For one perfect moment I released my thoughts that whispered this was only temporary. That soon I’d have to let him go. That one day this would be packed away tightly in the memory box labelled ‘holiday romance’ – transient and meaningless.
Already, I didn’t want to be without him.
Chapter Six
Adam
Our time together had been a whirlwind. Since that first night on the beach when I’d kissed Anna, we had been inseparable. Josh and Nell were happy for us, they’d formed a friendship of their own so I was living out my very own romcom. We’d done all the touristy things: visited the volcano, the lava tunnel, the underground lake. We’d strolled hand in hand around the markets. We’d watched the sun rise and set. We’d talked about anything and everything, everything except the future. But more important than any of that, we’d laughed. Proper belly laughs that made my stomach muscles ache.
Every evening we’d eat together before retreating to the cove where we would lie on the sand, always touching. I loved that she was so tactile. Now, her leg was slung across mine, her fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt, her head on my shoulder. I told her about Roxanne. About the itch to travel the way my parents always had. Stories of when Josh and I were growing up and we’d made a hole in the fence between our gardens so we could slip through day or night, sharing comics and sweets. Later, cans of Strongbow and porn. She had laughed at that.