Normal People(70)

Is something up? she says.

I just got this email.

Oh? From who?

He looks dumbly at the laptop and then back at her. His eyes look red and sleepy. She’s doing the shirt buttons. He’s sitting with his knees propped up under the duvet, the laptop glowing into his face.

Connell, from who? she says.

From this university in New York. It looks like they’re offering me a place on the MFA. You know, the creative writing programme.

She stands there. Her hair is still wet, soaking slowly through the cloth of her blouse.

You didn’t tell me you applied for that, she says.

He just looks at her.

I mean, congratulations, she says. I’m not surprised they would accept you, I’m just surprised you didn’t mention it.

He nods, his face inexpressive, and then looks back at the laptop.

I don’t know, he says. I should have told you but I honestly thought it was such a long shot.

Well, that’s no reason not to tell me.

It doesn’t matter, he adds. It’s not like I’m going to go. I don’t even know why I applied.

Marianne lifts the towel off the wardrobe door and starts using it to massage the ends of her hair slowly. She sits down at the desk chair.

Did Sadie know you were applying? she says.

What? Why do you ask that?

Did she?

Well, yeah, he says. I don’t see the relevance, though.

Why did you tell her and not me?

He sighs, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, and then shrugs.

I don’t know, he says. She’s the one who told me to apply. I thought it was a stupid idea honestly, hence why I didn’t tell you.

Are you in love with her?

Connell stares across the room at Marianne, not moving or breaking eye contact for several seconds. It’s hard to tell what his face is expressing. Eventually she looks away to rearrange the towel.

Are you joking? he says.

Why don’t you answer the question?

You’re getting a lot of stuff messed up here, Marianne. I don’t even like Sadie as a friend, okay, frankly I find her annoying. I don’t know how many times I have to say that to you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the application thing but like, how does that make you jump to the conclusion that I’m in love with someone else?

Marianne keeps rubbing the towel into the ends of her hair.

I don’t know, she says eventually. Sometimes I feel like you want to be around people who understand you.

Yeah, which is you. If I had to make a list of people who severely don’t understand me, Sadie would be right up there.

Marianne goes quiet again. Connell has closed the laptop now.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay? he says. Sometimes I feel embarrassed telling you stuff like that because it just seems stupid. To be honest, I still look up to you a lot, I don’t want you to think of me as, I don’t know. Deluded.

She squeezes her hair through the towel, feeling the coarse, grainy texture of the individual strands.

You should go, she says. To New York, I mean. You should accept the offer, you should go.

He says nothing. She looks up. The wall behind him is yellow like a slab of butter.

No, he says.

I’m sure you could get funding.

Why are you saying this? I thought you wanted to stay here next year.

I can stay, and you can go, she says. It’s just a year. I think you should do it.

He makes a strange, confused noise, almost like a laugh. He touches his neck. She puts the towel down and starts brushing the knots out of her hair slowly.

That’s ridiculous, he says. I’m not going to New York without you. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.

It’s true, she thinks, he wouldn’t be. He would be somewhere else entirely, living a different kind of life. He would be different with women even, and his aspirations for love would be different. And Marianne herself, she would be another person completely. Would she ever have been happy? And what kind of happiness might it have been? All these years they’ve been like two little plants sharing the same plot of soil, growing around one another, contorting to make room, taking certain unlikely positions. But in the end she has done something for him, she’s made a new life possible, and she can always feel good about that.

I’d miss you too much, he says. I’d be sick, honestly.

At first. But it would get better.

They sit in silence now, Marianne moving the brush methodically through her hair, feeling for knots and slowly, patiently untangling them. There’s no point in being impatient anymore.

You know I love you, says Connell. I’m never going to feel the same way for someone else.

She nods, okay. He’s telling the truth.

To be honest, I don’t know what to do, he says. Say you want me to stay and I will.

She closes her eyes. He probably won’t come back, she thinks. Or he will, differently. What they have now they can never have back again. But for her the pain of loneliness will be nothing to the pain that she used to feel, of being unworthy. He brought her goodness like a gift and now it belongs to her. Meanwhile his life opens out before him in all directions at once. They’ve done a lot of good for each other. Really, she thinks, really. People can really change one another.

You should go, she says. I’ll always be here. You know that.