Page 123 of Oleander

“I know, Luke,” I said. “I appreciate that. And you don’t have to worry about me; I’m doing okay. I’m better, I promise.”

He reached out his hand and settled it on my shoulder, squeezing it a few times.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. But if you aren’t, that’s something you know you can talk to me about, right? No matter what, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I said again. “Thanks.”

We sat in silence, sipping our beer and watching the sun set behind the lake.

“I’m starting to think it was a bit like Ellie and me,” I said after a long time. “With Cas, I mean. I cared about him more than he did about me. And that hurt.” I knew it was reductive, but it wasn’t untrue.

“I think maybe Cas still has a lot of growing up to do,” said Luke sagely. “He’s smart about a lot of things, knows more about a lot more than some people twice his age.” Here,he pointed at himself. “I reckon when he’s made a few more mistakes, he’ll realise what he had in you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think he’ll come crawling back?”

“Christ, no, he wouldn’t crawl for anyone,” Luke said, and we both laughed. “But he’ll walk in that weird upright way he has, right back to you.”

I hated the tiny flare of hope that lit in my chest at that. Though, of course, Luke had no bloody clue what he was talking about. Cas wasn’t coming back to me. Because Cas had never been mine to begin with.

“He does have a weird walk,” I said.

Luke nodded in assent. We were both silent for a long time after that, the weight of our losses heavy between us. I folded the letter and put it inside the copy ofIbsen’s GhostsI was reading.

“So, you know Elspeth has a massive thing for you, right?” I said, desperate to change the subject to something lighter.

Luke blinked at me in complete shock. “What? No, she doesn’t, shut up.”

“Oh, but she does. She make you lunch every day or just Mondays?”

I left him spluttering embarrassed denials as I stood to go get us another couple of beers.

Six

I’d been deemed capable enough to return to Oxford and started Michaelmas term as a second year with the kind of confidence and buoyancy I could only have dreamt of the previous year.

My passing grade for my first year was 72.8%, which, across four papers, was better than even I thought I’d done. I’d been advised via an email (the day after receiving my result) that my second-year accommodation was in Longwall Quad. It was closer to many of the buildings where my classes were, and as second and third years were guaranteed single rooms, it was an all-around improvement. I was appointedacosy,low-ceilinged roomsetinto the eaves on the third floor, far away from anything resembling an industrial bin. The space reminded me a little of my bedroom at home. It was smaller than my dorm last year at Ellis, but a large arch window madeitfeelbigger.

Bast was first to text me. He’d gotten a single, too, but was in St. Swithun’s with Nikita. Irish Conn was in New Buildings, which, as the name suggested, was a new build development a five-minute walk from campus, which everyone had wanted. Personally, I preferred the older buildings, bin lorries and single-glazing aside.

After unpacking, I lay on my bed and stared at the old wooden rafters above. I was glad to be back. Though this summer had been healing in ways I hadn’t expected, I could feel myselfstarting to feel penned in. The last few weeks, Beth and Luke had stopped bickering in hushed voices in other rooms and started doing it out in the open, in front of me, forcing me upstairs or out for a drive. I’d driven to every beach on the island and sat in every coffee shop at least once.

After his return from Italy, I’d gone to see Gideon where he’d pretended that my little outburst the day before he left hadn’t happened. He’d brought me back a bottle of Limoncello in an extravagant frosted glass bottle. He hadn’t mentioned Cas once. Despite what I’d said to him the day of my explosion, I’d wanted to know.How was he? What did he say? Did he ask about me? What was he wearing? Did he seem happy? In love?All these questions burned on my tongue as I asked him instead how Florence was and whether he went to see Michelangelo’s David. (“Oh, Perseus with the head of Medusa is far superior, Jude! And the Abduction of a Sabine Woman. Glorious and ghastly!”) He even offered to take me there himself to show me. I tried to imagine it. Gideon and I, in Florence together, drinking in little cafés and eating dinner in fancy restaurants. Would he expect me to carry his bags for him? His water and fan? Would people think I was his son or his lover? Either way, it seemed like something he’d said off the cuff and had no real intention of ever doing. So, I’d just nodded and said, “Tell me when, and I’m there.”

He told me he was going to be staying at his house in London for a while to allow for the renovation work to take place – he couldn’t abide the dust. Asthma! he’d said, dramatically, like it was the name of a new broadway musical – and told me I was welcome to visit him there whenever I wanted.

I’d only been to London once as a child. It had been Christmas time, and my parents had taken me to see the lights at CoventGarden and then to a performance of the Nutcracker. So I said maybe I’d come visit him around Christmas.

It would beat going home to Jersey to listen to Beth and Luke fight.

Finn texted me a few days after term started. It was late Friday night, and I’d just gotten home from my first shift back at P&P. I saw his text when I came out of the shower.

Finlay:

Your friends are here. Where are you?

Me:

Where’s here?