After a long, sweaty bus journey home, I almost cry with relief when I let myself into the house. At least I don’t have to put on an act anymore. Roo was only getting up this morning when I was running out the door so I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about any of this yet. I find her lying on a sunlounger in our tiny back garden, reading a romance novel. She pulls down her sunglasses, takes one look at me and says, ‘Jesus, what’s wrong?’
I tell her everything.
‘I feel so stupid for feeling sad,’ I say. ‘Like I’ve let myself down or something.’
‘You haven’t,’ says Roo. ‘And I know he’s not a bad person, but maybe he’s not worthy of you.’
I sigh. ‘No, I think he is.’ I tell her about yesterday’s encounter with Lizzie.
‘Shit,’ says Roo. ‘I think I might be into him now.’
‘I’m pretty sure Lizzie was really into him back in the day,’ I say.
‘Oh God, I hope she was,’ says Roo.
‘I think she might still fancy him,’ I say.
A grin starts creeping across Roo’s face and despite my miserable mood I find myself grinning back.
‘I would pay actual money,’ says Roo, ‘to have seen her face when Art walked off with you.’
‘It was pretty good,’ I admit. ‘It was so weird seeing her again. Seeing how … small she is to me now.’
‘I always thought she was small,’ says Roo.
‘Yeah.’ I smile at her fondly. ‘You always did.’
Later, Roo says, ‘Do you want me to pull a card for you? You could do with a fresh perspective on the you-and-Art situation.’
‘Oh, go on then,’ I say. ‘Can’t hurt.’
Roo shuffles her deck and draws a card. It shows two people exchanging goblets on a beach, while a winged lion head floats above their heads for some reason.
‘So, as I hope you remember,’ says Roo, ‘the Two of Cups is all about close connections.’
‘Huh,’ I say. ‘Me and Art’s close connection isn’t working so well right now.’
‘The card doesn’t necessarily mean a romantic connection,’ says Roo. ‘And I guess it’s a reminder that you and Art have a proper friendship now. I mean, it sounds like you’ve both really opened up to each other recently.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘We have.’
‘Well,’ says Roo, ‘maybe this card is telling you it hasn’t been awaste. You and Art really do have a bond, and it’ll transcend any current awkwardness.’
Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is just some weird phase in our relationship that I’ll look back and laugh at in a few years. That has to be possible, right? It’s not like I fell for him the moment we met. I didn’t even like him a few weeks ago. And now we really are friends. I think about how right Art was when he said we make a good team. How close we’ve got over the last few weeks.
But the next day I go to work and find out we’re clearly not as close as I thought.
Chapter Twenty-Four
INT:NORTHSIDEOFFICES
This is bigger than your stupid hurt feelings, Annie.
That’s what I keep telling myself all through Tuesday morning, as Art and I continue to work on the top-secret script. And my self-talk must be working because, as the day goes on and I lose myself in Ma Cusack’s voice, I stop thinking of Art as the man I’ve caught feelings for and just think of him as my writing partner. The work is intense and sometimes frustrating but we’re getting it done. We’re actually getting it done! The initially messy monologues have become more polished. They’re funny and moving and exactly what I would love to get from Ma Cusack’s return as aNorthsideviewer. Even if these six scenes never get broadcast, I’m so glad I got to write them.
And I have to admit, they wouldn’t have been as good if I hadn’t been writing them with Art.
By the afternoon I start to believe we might actually giveNorthsidean episode worthy of its anniversary. I feel a real thrill at the thought of the viewers watching Ma Cusack’s classic soap return to the street – the close-up of a zebra-print heel emerging from a taxi, the camera panning up to that sky-high blonde bouffant. We end up working through lunch and around three o’clock Art’s phone beeps with a text. He picks it up and groans.