Page 30 of The Edge of Always

‘It’s just that you’re so… different, from before.’

He smiles at that. I’ve always loved his smile, the way that two of his teeth at the side are slightly twisted. I’m glad he didn’t Invisalign away his special smile. ‘And what about you, aren’t you different from when we were teenagers?’

I laugh again. ‘That it was a long time ago.’ The truth is, I know that I’m different. The me that lived for those summers doesn’t exist anymore, and for so many reasons.

‘Not so long.’ I don’t know if he’s making me feel so off-balance on purpose or if it’s just an accident, but I feel like the whole restaurant is tilting. I’ll be furious if I end up on the floor. Surely then he’d know.

Except a waiter comes to let us know our table is ready, and Emmett is gesturing for me to move. I grab my wine off the bar’s edge and make my way to our table in the corner. I was right; it’s so dark here, but there are candles everywhere. A literal fire hazard.

I sit and try to clear my head. To ground myself.

Except I can’t think of anything to say to Emmett, which is insane. I’ve practised this meeting, many iterations of this meeting, a tragic number of times.

But it’s like my brain is made of candyfloss. It can’t seem to recall any of the things that I wanted, no needed, to say. Oh, but Emmett’s teeth, we have them committed to memory just fine.

It’s strangely intimate sitting here at a little two-person table in the corner with a candle.

I should apologise. For what I did then. That’s what I should do. Except, to bring it up would take us straight back there, to that cliff edge and I’m just not sure that I can.

For want of something to do, I study the menu. No prices are never a good sign. It’s code for ‘this will cost you a fortune’ and I do my best to decipher the French. I skip straight over the ‘escargots’ and towards ‘poulet’ with something I think might be mushrooms. It strikes me as the sort of place that would escort me off the premises if I loaded up Google Translate.

‘So, do you come here often?’ I ask Emmett because I can’t think of anything to say, and the silence is thick and stifling.

‘Whenever I’m in Paris. The headquarters of the organisation I work for are based here.’

‘Oh,’ I say, thinking that this meal will be a real test of my mental agility. Now is not the time for candyfloss brain since I refuse to let on that I’ve been stalking his social media for twenty years. That’s insanity of the highest order. So I can’t let on that I know he works for Médecins Sans Frontières. ‘How interesting,’ I say instead, still reading the menu.

I have my phone on the table in front of us. It’s really annoying that I can’t turn it off; it lights up constantly.

‘One second,’ I tell him. ‘It’s Mae.’

I send a quick message to her to tell her that I’m fine and I’ll call her after dinner. I feel the eyes of everyone in the restaurant on me as I type, pushing my thumbs to move quicker even though my hands are stupidly stiff.

‘Mae,’ Emmett laughs. ‘Her message was…’ He pauses, possibly sensing that taking the piss out of my sister would not be the best move right now. ‘Long,’ he finishes.

‘I’d never have agreed to come, if she’d told me.’

‘And why is that?’

I shrug. Have a drink. ‘I think the past is just better left in the past.’

‘You say that like it’s an easy thing to do.’

‘Ahem.’

We’re forced to pause while we give our order to a waiter wearing a tuxedo. The process is painful, since I have to point and jab at the menu to order, while Emmett speaks perfect French. The waiter bows to him and leaves.

We don’t go back to talking about why I came, which is good, since it’s difficult to put into words. Instead, Emmett seems determined to be polite. He’s pouring me water from a carafe, and telling me that he likes my rings (I’m wearing several). He’s asking about Mae’s work and the cottage. He wonders if we’re still in touch with Zadie and Ahmed.

‘Yes, Mae is a baker. She loves it.’ I say. And then, ‘Yes, we see Zadie a lot, Ahmed less so since he moved down South. But I’ve read his books, they’re brilliant.’

‘Yes, me and Mae still have the cottage. We live there the whole time, actually,’ I answer in response to a question of whether we still visit in the summer.

It’s the first time I’ve looked Emmett properly in the eyes, and wow, big mistake. Fucking eyelashes.

‘Not much has changed since you left. Well, aside from the fact that they got rid of The Edge. Coastal erosion risk.’

‘I heard about that.’