We Own the Sky(36)

“What?”

“She hugged me. She hugged me right in the middle of Costa Coffee.”

“Oh my God.”

“Quite. Well, you know how freakish I am about such things, even with you.

It was awful. I didn’t think she’d ever let go.”

I started to giggle, the thought of Anna in Costa Coffee, stiff-bodied, not hugging back.

“It was one of those situations where afterward I was kicking myself, because I really wished I had told her just how rude, how insensitive she was being, but I couldn’t because Jack was there, and anyway, what would have been the point?”

“That’s awful,” I said. “Some people are just assholes.”

I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine and joined Anna on the sofa. “It’s silly to get so pissed off at this stuff,” I said, “especially with everything that’s happening, but I got so angry the other day over this fucking Facebook post.”

“Who was it?”

“Just this girl from school. It was this long, long post about how she had had some growth on her neck, and she was worried that it was cancer, and she thought she was going to die. So they cut it off, and of course it turned out not to be cancer. Then she went on and on about this doctor who looked her in the eyes and said, ‘Now you should stop worrying and go and live the rest of your life.’

And then all these hashtags. Hashtag positive. Hashtag cancer. Hashtag fuck off.”

Anna laughed, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen her smile.

This was what we used to do. Our wine-fueled rants about friends and

colleagues. Happy conspirators, sitting up late into the night.

“I’m going to talk to my boss tomorrow,” Anna said, “about taking a leave of absence around the time of the operation.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I just think I should be with Jack when he’s recovering.”

“Do you think they’ll go for it?”

“I don’t know. They do offer compassionate leave in some situations, but

that’s for, well, you know... I know some people have taken unpaid sabbaticals, so I was thinking I might be able to do something like that.”

“Right, that could work, I suppose.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “So you don’t agree?”

“No, I do, yes... I haven’t really thought about it to be honest. But are you sure it’s necessary? I’m going to be here every day, when he’s off school after the operation. And there’s the money, as well. Would we manage without it?”

Anna looked at me sharply, her cheeks flushed with the wine. “I don’t know, Rob. I hope so. And if you’re so worried about the money, maybe you should speak to Scott. Because if he sells, that’s half our income gone.”

I didn’t say anything, choosing my words carefully. I knew what she thought.

That I was being lazy and irresponsible, that I wasn’t doing enough to convince Scott not to sell the company to the Chinese. She had always worried about money, even with us both earning. London was expensive, she said, and we were living beyond our means. We weren’t saving, and now Jack’s school fees were mounting up.

“So have you spoken to him about it?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I have, but I’m not sure there’s much I can do. I don’t have the energy to argue with him anymore.”

“Great,” Anna said, looking away. “You don’t have the energy.” She shook her head. “You’re amazing sometimes, Rob. You don’t work and I do, and all I want to do is to take some time off so I can spend more time with Jack, and then you make me feel guilty about it.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

Anna stood up and took a pair of Jack’s trousers off the radiator. “Anyway, maybe you’re right, maybe we can’t afford it.”

“I’m not giving up on Scott yet, though,” I said.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not the best time to talk to him about it, but I’ve made a real breakthrough on the drones thing. In fact, I think that this Chinese company might be able to help.”

Anna sighed and picked up the pile of clothes.

“What?”

She rubbed her forehead as if she had a migraine coming on. “Please don’t start on about the drones thing again. You know I support you, but it’s been more than five years now, and you still don’t have anything to show for all the work you’ve put in.”

“I get that,” I said, her words stinging a little. She was like this about the maps, overly cautious, convinced it was a fool’s errand. “These things take time.

And do you remember how it was with the maps? Nothing for ages, and then

suddenly I got money. So I’m not going to throw in the towel with the drones yet.”

Anna shook her head and sat down next to me on the sofa. “You always think

that everything’s going to be okay,” she said, half smiling, shuffling closer to me.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s the alternative? Thinking that everything is going to be shit?”

“True,” she said, putting her feet up on the sofa and then resting her head in my lap.