The Reunion

in those few brief moments, in that hot half-light in Lilah and Andrew’s bedroom. In his more deluded moments, he imagined a secret life with her where they got to be lovers and somehow everyone still remained friends. He dreamed up romantic gestures, lavish gifts, stolen weekends away. He even made her a mix tape. It was pitiful. And when reality bit, he wrote to her and told her that he just wanted her to acknowledge that there had been something between them, but he never sent the letter. He couldn’t bear for it to be ignored. So he was back to square one, to sleeping with random girls whose names he wouldn’t remember, to drinking too much. He’d even bought a car, a dark red Alfa Romeo Spider. It was like a mid-life crisis twenty years early.
    It took him the best part of half an hour to walk back from the chubby girl’s flat to his own. It was a warm, close day and he could smell the alcohol in his sweat as he stripped off to get into the shower. It turned his stomach. He had to get himself back together. He had to get through the weekend. Then the others would be off to the French house for the summer, and he, having got an internship with a film production company in London, had the perfect excuse not to join them. And maybe by the time the summer was over he wouldn’t feel this way any longer, he wouldn’t ache for her so much. All he had to do was get through the weekend at Nat’s parents’ place.
    The weekend had turned from a pool party to a celebration for Andrew, who had landed a job with Fineman and Hicks, a firm of criminal justice and human rights lawyers. It was the dream job, the one he’d been working towards for years. It was a Very Big Deal. Dan couldn’t just call up and say he was busy, or that he wasn’t feeling well. There was a three-line whip on this one.
    He drove to London that afternoon, arriving at Andrew and Lilah’s flat around seven. He and Andrew sat outside in the garden feeling the smoggy London air start to cool. It was just the two of them – Lilah was out somewhere and Andrew didn’t seem to know where she was or when she’d be back.
    ‘She’ll turn up,’ he said with a little shrug.
    Dan was pathetically relieved that they were alone and that Andrew was quite happy to just sit and drink beer and talk about nothing of substance.
    ‘So, turns out Conor’s Mini’s finally given up the ghost,’ Andrew told him. ‘So I’m having to take my car – I assume you’re happy to take yours?’
    ‘Looking forward to it,’ Dan said, ‘although back seat space is a little tight, so…’
    ‘Yeah, I thought about that, but we don’t really have another option, other than going out to hire a car, which is a total pain in the arse. You can fit one in the back, can’t you?’
    ‘Oh, yeah. Course.’
    ‘Great. So, if Lilah and I pick up Nat, would you be all right getting Conor and Jen from Clapham?’
    ‘Um.’ He would mind. He really would mind. ‘Maybe I should get Nat? And then the four of you can go in your car, there’s more space in the back.’
    ‘Conor and Jen won’t mind about being a bit cramped,’ Andrew said, getting to his feet. ‘I think Conor’s looking forward to seeing the Alfa.’
    There was something about Andrew’s tone that told him that was the end of the conversation.
    Dan lay awake half the night trying to think of convincing reasons why he could no longer go away with them for the weekend. He failed.
    He parked outside Conor and Jen’s building at nine-thirty. He didn’t even have to go upstairs; they must have been watching out for him.
    ‘Now that is nice!’ Conor exclaimed as he bounced out of the front door. ‘That is a proper motor. Can I drive?’ He gave Dan a friendly shove on the shoulder as he walked up to inspect the car.
    ‘No, you can’t,’ Dan said. It came out harsher than he’d intended. ‘Sorry mate, you know, insurance.’
    ‘Yeah, I know. I was only joking,’ Conor said with a brittle laugh. Dan kept his eyes on the door, waiting for Jen to come out. She emerged a moment or two later, head down, a bag slung over her shoulder. She looked up at him for just a second and his heart stopped. She looked pale, tired, hair scraped back, shadows under her eyes.
    ‘Hi,’ she said softly. ‘How’s it going?’
    ‘Good, thanks,’ he said. ‘You?’
    ‘Yeah, good.’
    ‘Sure? You feeling better?’
    ‘Better?’ She gave him a sharp glance then looked away.
    ‘The other weekend. The