Page 12

Adam

Sophie is here in Bristol! She makes mathematically interesting quilts! We’re a few metres apart!

Every thought entering my throbbing head is punctuated with a giant exclamation mark.

I’m glad Bernard can’t see the shock etched across my face.

My heart beats uncomfortably fast and sweat beads at the back of my neck as he fetches her.

I’ve often fantasised about meeting Sophie again, but it usually involves a chance encounter on a south Devon beach.

I’ve wondered what I’d say and whether her eyes would light up when she spotted me.

But whenever I’ve imagined our reunion, it’s never involved me being horribly hung-over in a dry cleaners, clutching an overpriced furry panda, and a patchwork quilt. ..

Bernard limps back alone . I realise I’ve been holding my breath and exhale slowly.

‘Sophie’s been unexpectedly called away on urgent business. She didn’t hear me call from the back door. Would you care to leave a message?’

He’s not hiding his bafflement well. My disappointment swells and bubbles over into exasperation.

Un-bloody-believable! Sophie was hiding!

And now she’s fled out of an emergency exit!

I’m using far too many exclamation marks in my head!

I glance down at the panda. Its eyes are large and pitying.

Even this furry inanimate object is looking at me as if I’m a total loser.

‘Hmmm. I should probably go.’ I wedge the toy’s large head beneath my armpit.

‘You could leave a note?’ Bernard tears off a piece of paper from a pad and slaps it on the counter along with a Biro.

I stare at the blank page. What should I say?

I’m sorry.

I repeated those words a million times back then, but she refused to take my calls or see me.

Nothing has changed over the last decade.

Her heart hasn’t softened. She blames me for everything.

I’m wavering as the bell above the door rings.

A guy walks in and places shirts and a small white box on the counter.

He has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.

‘I need to drop these off. Is Sophie here? I’ve brought carrot cake.’

I bite the inside of my cheek. This was Sophie’s favourite treat. Still is, apparently. We both used to close our eyes whenever we took our first mouthfuls, savouring the taste before awarding marks out of ten.

‘She had to leave early, sorry,’ Bernard says, examining the shirts. ‘Haven’t we just cleaned these for you? The tags are on.’

‘Yeah, but I need them doing again. Can you tell her the cake’s from Maz? I’ll swing by tomorrow.’ Shirt Guy walks to the door and looks back.

‘Nice panda.’

‘Thanks.’

He flashes a smile before stepping out on to the street. He’s a good-looking guy who knows the way to Sophie’s heart. It might explain why she doesn’t want to see me. No one wants a blast from the past turning up uninvited when they’re dating someone else.

‘Shall I give you a moment?’ Bernard asks.

‘Hmmm.’

I return to staring at the page, my pen hovering.

Should I make a light-hearted quip about funny coincidences?

But I don’t want to make it sound like she’s a passing acquaintance.

I could be more direct and admit that the mention of her name has left me in pieces.

No one else sees me the way she used to, my barriers completely broken down.

I’ve never loved anyone as much or fallen as hard.

But how would I explain Wren and Carley?

Mum’s shock when I told her she was the grandma of a six-year-old?

Me leaving Stanford before completing my PhD?

Being haunted by my dad’s final words on his deathbed, and the promise I broke?

How I need to do more with my life... Be more...

How much I’ve missed Sophie over the years.

There’s not enough space or time to express everything.

Should I even try? We’ve both moved on. My life has changed unexpectedly.

I have a daughter, a new career and no time for serious relationships.

Sophie has started her own quilting business and is probably one slice of carrot cake away from getting serious with Shirt Guy.

Perhaps I should be politely formal and distant so she doesn’t realise how much she wounded me.

I shove the panda’s head back under my armpit as it makes another bid for freedom, scooping up the cuff of my shirt.

Staring at the tattoo on my wrist, I realise there’s only one possible message I can leave.

I replicate the symbol, fold the paper and pass it to Bernard, who places it in an envelope, writing her name on the front in shaky, looped letters.

‘I’ll make sure she gets this,’ he says, as I walk to the door. ‘Good luck with your lesson. I hope to see you soon, Adam. Bye, Panda!’

I wave one of the toy’s furry paws before stepping on to the pavement.

Thankfully, none of my pupils are lurking, ready to capture this moment on their phones for TikTok.

I pass an overgrown alleyway and my mortification plunges to new depths.

Sophie hurdled over abandoned tyres to escape from me, before I used a panda’s limb to say goodbye!

At the pedestrian crossing, I remember to look both ways, but a kamikaze cyclist shoots through the red traffic light, just missing me.

Aagh! Someone must have taken out a contract on my life.

.. possibly the prophetically named Mr Cross because I bailed last minute on covering his detention class.

Back in my car, I realise I’m clutching Sophie’s flyer with her details. I hesitate, wondering whether to email her. What’s the point? She’s made her feelings crystal clear. She has a new life and I’ll never be a part of it, not even on the periphery.

I chuck the piece of paper into the passenger seat footwell. It lands among the rest of the rubbish I need to dump in the recycling bin.

Despite the mathematical symbol I drew for Sophie, she belongs firmly in my past.