He smiled too and said, “You don’t dare believe it, and maybe that’s a good thing too, but you are beautiful.” Her smile almost broke into a laugh but she blushed slightly too. “And now I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry.”
“No, you haven’t,” she said, reassuring him. She hesitated then, her mouth poised like she wanted to say something else, the thought unformed though, as if she couldn’t put the words together in the right order. He thought of saying something but waited silently instead, eager to know where she was heading, and then the phone rang next to her bed. Jem ignored it at first, looking visibly frustrated as she finally leaned over and picked it up.
“Hello?” Her tone shifted as she added, “Hey.” Whatever she’d been thinking about those few seconds before had slipped back into the depths, JJ left tantalized by the thought of where the conversation might have gone. Perhaps it was best that it was lost though, and that she was smiling now to the sound of the voice at the other end of the phone, a voice he guessed was Freddie’s.
He put the photo back on top of the other in the box and stood; Jem looked troubled in response. “Hold on,” she said into the phone and looked up at him. “You don’t have to leave. I mean, I don’t mind if you stay.” She looked frustrated again that the phone call had interrupted them.
He smiled apologetically and said, “No, I should make a move. Thanks though. I’ve enjoyed today.”
“Me too.” He made his way out, Jem continuing into the phone, “Oh, JJ, you know. I was like, showing him old photos and stuff.” It seemed strange that it had meant only that to her, looking at old photos, a sentiment on her part that was painful to think about, because it meant that all of what he thought had developed between them in the previous hours was corrupted, all the sense of connection, of belonging, of finding someone important.
He doubted anyway that his company had meant as much to her as hers had to him. Because he was left wired by it, a feeling he’d left behind long ago, back in those old photos he’d looked at with Jools, maybe even before. It was as if being with her had reminded him temporarily of who he’d once been, reminded, not as he had been with Jools, by memories, but by finding it still within him.
For a while there, sitting with Jem on her bed, already familiar, it had been like the previous ten years had never happened. That was the remarkable thing about her, that in her company his own history seemed erased, of no importance, and yet it was a history in which she herself was inextricably linked, part of the fabric in a way she’d never know.
14
Susan knocked on his door a little later. JJ offered her a seat but Susan preferred to stand, saying she wouldn’t keep him. There was a slight awkwardness like JJ was already falling somewhere between being a guest and being a friend.
The feeling was reinforced as she said, “I don’t want to press you and, really, you might be tired of us already, I’d quite understand. Only, I’ve invited a few friends over for dinner this evening, partly, well, mainly because Ed was here. And now he’s torn off down to Washington. But if you’d like to come, you’d be more than welcome. I mean, if you don’t mind making up the numbers?”
“Not at all, and on the contrary, I’m surprised you’re not tired of me. I feel like a gate-crasher.”
She smiled as if he’d suggested something ridiculous. “Good,” she said, mentally checking it off. “By the way, Jem mentioned that you’d walked with her this morning, to David’s grave and everything. I just wanted to ... well, to thank you I suppose. I mean, sometimes I worry; I don’t think she connects with many people, so it’s nice when she does. It’s nice that you made the effort.”
“It was no effort,” said JJ, smiling then, “and maybe it’s good that she’s choosy about who she mixes with.”
Susan smiled too, slightly scornful, and said, “That’s exactly what Ed says. You people, you all think alike, all paranoid.” Not as paranoid as some, he thought, not as paranoid as Berg for example. But then for the moment, with Holden in Washington sorting things out, Berg seemed to matter less than ever.
Dinner passed the evening. Susan’s friends were curious about him, about Switzerland, one couple eager to know how Tom Furst was doing in London. Susan looked pleased to have him there too, falling just short of showing him off in front of them.