The Reunion by Amy Silver Page A
Authors: Amy Silver
glumly out into the bright sunlight. It was hard to admit, but he’d always preferred bad weather. There was something boring about sunshine. Still, it would be gone soon; the wind was picking up, clouds gathering, matching his mood. He tried to persuade himself that this sense of unease and unhappiness was all about Claudia. He took a deep breath and shook out his arms, rolled his shoulders, tried to relax. He should go back inside and have a drink. It was almost Christmas, getting drunk in the morning was a perfectly acceptable thing to do. But he didn’t want to go back inside because this unease… it wasn’t all about Claudia. That little bite of anguish he’d felt when Jen talked about her husband, he knew exactly what that was about.
Nineteen ninety-six. He was twenty-three years old. He met her in Richmond, at the train station. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he could remember, even now, sixteen years later, the feeling of excitement, the swarm of butterflies in his gut. They walked down to the river and turned left, passing under the bridge and skirting around a field full of caramel-coloured cows, Jerseys with huge, liquid brown eyes. It was early spring, chilly, the weather just about to turn. The sky, though blue, still had that wintry touch of pale. They talked about the others for a little while, and then, all of a sudden, Jen took his arm and stepped out in front of him, stopped him right there on the path and said:
‘It can’t happen, you know it can’t. I’ve only ever been in love with one person. I only ever will be. I know it seems silly, but we really are that rarest of things, two people who are meant for each other, only for each other. That’s how we are, Conor and I. I’m never going to love anyone else.’
He’d handled it beautifully. He’d cocked his head to one side and smiled and given her a hug, picked her up, twirled her round, held her as tight as he could. He didn’t let her see that he was hurt. He didn’t give her a hard time, he didn’t make her feel bad. He wasn’t angry, not in the slightest, because he believed her. He
really
believed her, he did then and he’d continued to believe her, for all this time it had made it easier not to think about her. And now he finds out it wasn’t true after all.
She had fallen in love. She’d been married. She’d made a whole other life for herself and now she was going to have a baby. And so what? What had he thought was going to happen? That she’d never move on? That one day, somewhere down the line, he’d get his chance? That one day he would finally be good enough? He felt a laugh rising in his throat. This was ridiculous. What on earth did it matter? It was a million years ago. It was just he would have liked the chance. That was all. He felt like he was always missing chances, as though his shot at real happiness was always obscured in some way. As though he was being unfairly disadvantaged.
But he thought he’d made his peace with that. By choosing Claudia, he’d acknowledged that there would be no family, not with her. She alone would be enough. He just needed to talk to Claudia, to hear her voice, to know that they were on track and that in a couple of days’ time their life together would start, for real. That would be enough.
He rang her again (just the one more time), and let the phone ring and ring and, finally, she answered.
‘What is it?’ she asked him in a whisper. ‘It’s not a good time now.’
‘He’s there?’
‘Yes, he’s here, obviously. We are at home.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Have you spoken to him?’
‘Not yet, I’m waiting for the right time.’
‘I miss you.’
Silence.
‘Claudia? Are you there?’
‘I’m here, yes.’
Dan didn’t want to know, but for some reason he couldn’t help himself, and he asked her: ‘Have you slept with him?’
‘Dan!’
‘Well, have you?’
‘I’m his wife, and I’ve been away from him for five weeks.
Nineteen ninety-six. He was twenty-three years old. He met her in Richmond, at the train station. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he could remember, even now, sixteen years later, the feeling of excitement, the swarm of butterflies in his gut. They walked down to the river and turned left, passing under the bridge and skirting around a field full of caramel-coloured cows, Jerseys with huge, liquid brown eyes. It was early spring, chilly, the weather just about to turn. The sky, though blue, still had that wintry touch of pale. They talked about the others for a little while, and then, all of a sudden, Jen took his arm and stepped out in front of him, stopped him right there on the path and said:
‘It can’t happen, you know it can’t. I’ve only ever been in love with one person. I only ever will be. I know it seems silly, but we really are that rarest of things, two people who are meant for each other, only for each other. That’s how we are, Conor and I. I’m never going to love anyone else.’
He’d handled it beautifully. He’d cocked his head to one side and smiled and given her a hug, picked her up, twirled her round, held her as tight as he could. He didn’t let her see that he was hurt. He didn’t give her a hard time, he didn’t make her feel bad. He wasn’t angry, not in the slightest, because he believed her. He
really
believed her, he did then and he’d continued to believe her, for all this time it had made it easier not to think about her. And now he finds out it wasn’t true after all.
She had fallen in love. She’d been married. She’d made a whole other life for herself and now she was going to have a baby. And so what? What had he thought was going to happen? That she’d never move on? That one day, somewhere down the line, he’d get his chance? That one day he would finally be good enough? He felt a laugh rising in his throat. This was ridiculous. What on earth did it matter? It was a million years ago. It was just he would have liked the chance. That was all. He felt like he was always missing chances, as though his shot at real happiness was always obscured in some way. As though he was being unfairly disadvantaged.
But he thought he’d made his peace with that. By choosing Claudia, he’d acknowledged that there would be no family, not with her. She alone would be enough. He just needed to talk to Claudia, to hear her voice, to know that they were on track and that in a couple of days’ time their life together would start, for real. That would be enough.
He rang her again (just the one more time), and let the phone ring and ring and, finally, she answered.
‘What is it?’ she asked him in a whisper. ‘It’s not a good time now.’
‘He’s there?’
‘Yes, he’s here, obviously. We are at home.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Have you spoken to him?’
‘Not yet, I’m waiting for the right time.’
‘I miss you.’
Silence.
‘Claudia? Are you there?’
‘I’m here, yes.’
Dan didn’t want to know, but for some reason he couldn’t help himself, and he asked her: ‘Have you slept with him?’
‘Dan!’
‘Well, have you?’
‘I’m his wife, and I’ve been away from him for five weeks.