Page 44 of The Mismatch

Magnus scratched his head, looking away. He always looked away when they talked about his writing. She reached up to his face, pulling it towards her so he’d be forced to look at her.

‘I mean it,’ she said, more softly this time.

‘I appreciate the sentiment,’ he said slowly. ‘But it’s not something someone like me can seriously consider.’

She expected him to expand. But he didn’t.

‘Someone like you?’

She resisted the urge to point out that as a white man, a career in writing was very much within his grasp.

‘You know, my dad’s a plumber and my mum works in Matalan. It’s just not what we do where I’m from.’ He let out a long breath. ‘There’s no job security in writing. God, I don’t even know if I’m any good.’

‘You are,’ she reassured him.

‘Even if I was, I wouldn’t know where to begin. It feels wrong even to dream about it … God, I sound sappy, don’t I?’

She smiled. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘And anyway, why don’t you take your drawing seriously?’ he shot back at her.

‘That’s different—’

‘How? You’re talented, Soraya, but you’re scared. And you don’t need to be.’

‘Like you?’

He sighed in frustration.

‘I just feel like a bit of a loser lately,’ she confessed.

He looked at her and frowned. ‘You’re not a loser.’

‘I keep getting rejected from jobs,’ she said. ‘Office jobs, retail jobs, everything.’ She still had some savings left, buying herself extra time, but there was only so long this could go on for.

‘They aren’t meant to be then. Things happen for a reason, you know. Something good will happen for you soon, I know it.’

They stopped walking to observe the architecture of one particularly stunning mausoleum. It was large and looked Victorian, reminding her of something other-worldly.

‘Why did you want to come here?’ she asked.

‘I think there’s something really beautiful about old cemeteries. I sometimes come here to think. Or get inspiration. I thought you might like it.’ He looked down self-consciously.

She did. Though she found it odd to enjoy being in a cemetery, the reminder of the fragility of life surrounding them. How short it was, really, in the grand scheme of things. And how we’d all end up in the same place, no matter who we were. No matter where we were from, what religion we were.

His hand found hers and he began stroking her palm slowly, absent-mindedly. He was making this so hard for her.

‘Have you brought other girls here?’ she asked, unable to stop the words coming out of her mouth. She wished she could swallow them back, not wanting to hear the answer.

‘No,’ he said quickly.

‘Why not?’

‘It never felt right. I come here for quiet, for stillness. I don’t think I could bring just anyone here.’

He didn’t say more on the matter, and she didn’t press him, despite desperately wanting clarity on what that even meant.

She thought back to the party, when she was told Magnus had been dating a girl for four months before dumping her.She couldn’t imagine him doing that, but then the girl probably couldn’t either.