Page 32 of Only After We Met
“No. It’s silly. I should unpack my bags.”
“Ginger, look at me. Rhys isn’t just whatever. I know he’s not. I know you. He’s special to you, isn’t he? Nod if I’m right.”
Despite myself, I ended up moving my head up and down slightly.
“Good. Now, let’s get down to business. When can I see a photo of him?”
I laughed and got up, throwing my suitcase on the bed. “I don’t have any. I told you. And I wasn’t lying.”
“He must have an Instagram or something.”
“Nope. I already looked. But he’s…gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous!” My sister cracked up laughing.
“I’m serious! Don’t make fun of me.” I was laughing along with her. “The first time I saw him—which was the last time I saw him too—I thought he was like one of those rock stars that have seen and done it all and are tired of life, but at the same time, they’re ready to just go crazy at the drop of a hat. You know what I mean?”
“Not as well as you do, obviously.”
My sister moved on to other things, talking about her job while she helped me hang my more delicate dresses in the closet. She was waitressing at a pub on Carnaby Street in Soho. She ended up working there after telling her boss during the interview that she wasan artist, and they offered to exhibit her work there for customers and anyone who might help further her career.
She hadn’t had any luck. And obviously my parents were disappointed. What they really didn’t like was her sharing an apartment with six other young people. Mom had tried to get her to listen to reason and take a job as a receptionist at their company, but my sister refused. I admired that. She didn’t care if she didn’t make everyone happy. She always did what she wanted. I hugged her, and she got up to leave.
“Are you spending the night here?” I asked.
“No, I’ll leave after dinner.” She smiled.
I sat on my bed and opened my laptop.
I didn’t have any messages from Rhys.
I sighed, stretched out my hand, and grabbed his sweatshirt, which I had put aside when I was unpacking. I hadn’t put it on since that day at the airport. And of course I hadn’t washed it. There wasn’t a trace of him left when I smelled it (and I did, especially those first weeks apart), but I still liked the idea of having a piece of him with me. It reminded me that he was real, even if he was thousands and thousands of miles away, on the other side of the world.
15
Rhys
The wind was cool, and the waves were licking the shore. I took a deep breath. I could feel my lungs fill with air and everything around me spinning. I was lying on the sand in my bathing suit in the wee hours of the morning. Now and then, the cold water reached my toes. I concentrated on that. On breathing. On breathing. On breathing. I don’t know how much I’d drunk, just that I’d left the party, the crowd, that hot chick I didn’t feel like talking to. And now I was here, staring into a dark sky full of stars that seemed to tremble up high.
And the moon bright and round amid shadows.
The moon, it always reminded me of her.
16
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I’ll never make it!
I’ve been home for two days, and I’m already thinking of suicide. Seriously, Rhys, it’s awful. AWFUL. And I love my parents. But they just stress me out! They’re so ridiculously perfect, and that means I have to be ridiculously perfect, especially since Donna isn’t anymore. I have the feeling that all the family’s hopes are vested in me, and it’s just not fair. I’m going to take a deep breath.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I’ll never make it! (Part 2)