I’m probably thinking about all this now because I saw Aidan randomly on the street the other day and immediately had a heart attack and died. Every subsequent hour since I saw him has been worse than the last. Or is it just that the pain I feel right now is so intense that it transcends my ability to reconstruct the pain I felt at the time?
Presumably, remembered suffering never feels as bad as present suffering, even if it was really a lot worse – we can’t remember how much worse it was, because remembering is weaker than experiencing. Maybe that’s why middle-aged people always think their thoughts and feelings are more important than those of young people, because they can only weakly remember the feelings of their youth while allowing their present experiences to dominate their life outlook. Still, my intuition is that I actually feel worse now, two days after seeing Aidan, than I felt in the moment of seeing him. I know that what happened between us was just an event and not a symbol – just something that happened, or something he did, and not an inevitable manifestation of my failure in life generally. But when I saw him, it was like going through it all over again. And Alice, I do feel like a failure, and in a way my life really is nothing, and very few people care what happens in it. It’s so hard to see the point sometimes, when the things in life I think are meaningful turn out to mean nothing, and the people who are supposed to love me don’t. I have tears in my eyes even typing this stupid email, and I’ve had nearly six months to get over it. I’m starting to wonder if I just never will. Maybe certain kinds of pain, at certain formative stages in life, just impress themselves into a person’s sense of
self permanently. Like the way I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty and it was so painful and awkward and bad, and since then I’ve always felt like exactly the kind of person that would happen to, even though before then I didn’t. And now I just feel like the kind of person whose life partner would fall out of love with them after several years, and I can’t find a way not to be that kind of person anymore.
Are you working on anything new out there in the middle of nowhere? Or just taking recalcitrant local boys out on dates? I miss you! All my love. E.
5
In the chilled section of a convenience shop, Felix was browsing a selection of ready meals with a slightly unfocused look on his face. It was three o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday and white light fixtures hummed overhead. The doors at the front of the shop parted but he didn’t turn around. He replaced a ready meal on a shelf and took out his phone. There were no new notifications. Inexpressively he put the device back in his pocket, lifted a plastic box off the shelf as if at random, walked over to the till, and paid.
On his way out of the shop, in front of the fresh fruit display, he paused. Alice was standing there looking at apples, lifting the apples one after another and examining them for defects. Recognising her, he began to stand a little differently, straighter. It was not clear at first whether he would greet her or just exit without saying hello – he himself didn’t seem to know. Holding the ready meal in one hand, he tapped it on the side of his leg absent-mindedly. At that, maybe hearing him or just becoming aware of his presence in her peripheral vision, she did turn, and noticed him, and immediately tucked her hair behind her ears.
Hello there, she said.
Hey. How are you getting on?
I’m good, thanks.
Make any friends yet? he asked.
Absolutely not.
He smiled, tapped the ready meal on his leg again, and looked around at the exit. Ah here, he said. What are we going to do with you? You’ll go mad up there on your own.
Oh, I already am, she said. But then maybe I already was before I arrived.
Mad, were you? You seemed pretty normal to me.
Not a word I often hear in connection with myself, but thank you.
They stood there looking at one another until she lowered her eyes and touched her hair again. He glanced over his shoulder once more at the exit, and then back at her. It was difficult to tell if he was enjoying her discomfort or simply taking pity on her. For her part, she seemed to feel obliged to continue standing there as long as he wanted to talk.
Have you given up on the old dating app, then? he said.
With a smile, looking directly at him, she replied: Yes, the last attempt didn’t exactly inspire confidence, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Did I put you off men entirely?
Oh, not just men. People of all genders.
He laughed and said: I didn’t think I was that bad.
No, you weren’t. But I was.
Ah, you were alright.
He frowned in the direction of the fresh vegetables before speaking again. She looked more relaxed now and watched him neutrally.
You could come around the house tonight if you want to meet people, he said. Some of the gang from work will be there.
Are you having a party?
He made a face. I don’t know, he said. I mean, there will be people there, so. A party or whatever you would call it, yeah. Nothing big, though.
She nodded, moving her mouth around without showing her teeth. That sounds nice, she said. You’ll have to remind me where you live.
I’ll throw it into Google Maps for you if you have it, he said.
She took her phone from her pocket and opened the app. Handing him the device, she said: Are you off work today?
He typed his address into the search bar without looking up. Yeah, he said. They have me on really random shifts this week. He handed her back the phone to show her the address: 16 Ocean Rise. The screen displayed a network of white streets on a background of grey, beside a blue area representing the sea. Sometimes they hardly need you in there at all, he added. And then some weeks you’re in every day. Drives me mad. He looked around again at the till, seemingly in a different mood now. I’ll see you this evening, will I? he said.
If you’re sure you’d like me to come, she answered.
Up to yourself. I would go off my bean if I was out there on my own all day. But maybe you like it.
No, I don’t really. I’d like to come, thank you for asking me.