When we land in the UK, my relief at making it back safely combines with my newfound confidence, and even though I’m exhausted, I’ve never felt so determined. I’m going to sort things out with Elliot. I’m going to save up my money from my job at To Have and to Hold to pay for a flight back to New York. I don’t care about the stupid video and I don’t care about Megan and Ollie. I’ve shed my previous life like an old skin. I picture it drifting somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
We finally get home at just gone midnight. Everything looks different. Unfamiliar. The Christmas decorations look sad and dejected, and the house is freezing cold.
As Mum and Dad make some tea, I go straight up to my bedroom. I have to play Noah’s CD. I plonk down onto my bed and straightaway I hear a knocking sound. Elliot! I hold my breath as I wait to decipher the code. One knock, followed by four knocks, followed by three: I—love—you. My body fills with relief. Since Christmas Day we haven’t texted each other at all. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without having any contact with Elliot. Before I can respond he’s knocking again. Can I come over? I quickly do the code for Yes, come over right now.
I can play the CD later. I need to get things back on track with Elliot first. I hear his front door shutting and I lie back on my bed staring up at the ceiling. I hear Dad letting Elliot in, the gentle murmur of their voices. Elliot’s feet pounding up the stairs. My life is slotting back into its old patterns. I count the seconds till my bedroom door opens. One, two, three, four . . .
“Penny!” Elliot bursts in, breathless. “I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much. Are you—? Are we—OK?”
I sit up and smile. “Of course we are.”
“Oh, thank God!” Elliot sits down on the end of my bed. “I’m so sorry I got so moody. But you have no idea the pressure I was under. It’s been hell. Guess what my parents got me for Christmas?’
I shrug.
“A rugby season ticket. Rugby! They know I hate rugby. With a passion.” Elliot throws his hands up in despair. “Why would you give your only son a present that you know he actively hates with a passion? Why? And they actually thought it would be a good idea for us to have a cheese fondue for Christmas dinner. I mean, hello! The seventies called—they say they need their kitsch back.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Oh, Elliot.”
“I know. They’re beyond help. Or hope.” Elliot looks at me and sighs. “So go on then.”
“What?”
“Tell me all about Prince Charming.”
“Seriously?” I study Elliot’s face for any sign that he doesn’t really mean it.
Elliot smiles. “Yes, seriously.”
So I give Elliot a watered-down version of my week with Noah, leaving out anything too corny that I think might make him feel jealous. When I finish, I look at him nervously.
Elliot’s expression is unreadable. “But how do you feel now? Now you know you can’t see him again?”
“It’ll be OK—we’ll work something out.”
Elliot frowns. “But how? He’s in New York and you’re in Brighton.”
“Yes, I know that.” I fight hard to stay positive. “But we can visit each other.”
Elliot nods but there’s something about his gaze that looks really doubtful and it makes a chink in my armor of positivity.
We both fall silent and I start to really regret having said anything.
“So, do you have a picture of him?” Elliot asks, breaking the silence.
I nod and take my phone from my bag and scroll through to the picture of Noah in the park. “This was on Boxing Day morning, when he took me on the tour of his neighborhood.”
As Elliot studies the picture, I study his face for a sign of approval. I so badly want him to like Noah and to be supportive. He gives a curt nod. “Very nice,” he says, but I can detect a slight undercurrent of tension. “He looks kind of familiar. Must be those Johnny Depp cheekbones.” He hands the phone back to me. “So, listen, how do you fancy coming into town with me tomorrow? I’ve decided to buy a plaid shirt, to go with my new cowboy hat.”
And that’s it—conversation about Noah, over. As Elliot carries on talking about how it’s time to “Americanize his look,” I feel so disappointed. Surely your best friend should be happy for you when you meet someone? Surely they should want to hear all about them? I just don’t understand what Elliot’s problem is. Especially now that I’m home and thousands of miles away from Noah.
I’m thousands of miles away from Noah.
Just as I’m about to be engulfed in a wave of sadness, my text alert goes off. While Elliot is still talking, I dive for my phone and open the message.
Hope you’re home safe. But wish you were still here. I miss you, Inciting Incident
I grin with relief.
“Should I go?” Elliot says, looking pointedly at the phone.
“What?” I say, distracted as I start composing my reply to Noah in my head.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Oh. Well, I am pretty tired—from the flight.”
Elliot gets up. ‘“OK. See you tomorrow then.”
“Sure.”
As soon as Elliot has gone I send a reply to Noah.
Yes, home safe but miss you too and wish I was there too. Just about to play your CD xx
I light the orange-and-cinnamon candle that Sadie Lee gave me for Christmas and put on my fairy lights. My text alert goes off again.