The hotel bar is on the second floor, with a view of the central city square below, overlooking the war memorial and the municipal headquarters, which were once a royal palace. They sit on a pair of armchairs facing the large window, a waiter quickly appears and places a bowl of olives on the table between them. Would you like something to drink? he asks in English.
Bryan orders a whisky sour, she likes the sound of that and orders one too. Then for a moment they sit eating olives and watching the city as it moves silently, at cinema speed, as cities do when viewed through glass at night.
So you’re living here now? he asks.
Sort of.
What is it, like a work thing?
She shakes her head and is about to tell the story, but is distracted watching him delicately bite away half an olive.
I’ve just realised what’s different about you, she says, pointing to her own mouth.
Oh the teeth?
The teeth!
Aha, yeah. Birthday present from Suzy and her parents, year before last.
They look really good! God, they make you look rich.
He gives a little laugh and rubs his eye. Yeah, I mean I’d always meant to get them sorted at some point. I was dead self-conscious about them as a kid.
Their drinks arrive on a pair of little black coasters. Water?
She nods and smiles. Please.
Bryan sips his drink and runs his tongue around his mouth. I think actually they’re a shade whiter than I’d like, he says. They came out looking a bit American. They were supposed to get more natural-looking over time but I still think they’re quite white — he presses the tip of his thumb against the neat straight line of his incisors and looks at her —I know it probably looks dead vain, doesn’t it?
I mean. You do look a bit American now, she says. It’s the tan as well.
He laughs. Shit.
Don’t worry, you’re doing better than me. I’m aging like ham on a radiator. Late thirties going on early fifties.
He laughs again. Ham on a radiator?
Yeah.
Ah stop it. He looks into his drink. You look the same as the last time I saw you.
If you say so. She sips her cocktail and watches the red brakelights of a car slowing down to turn left. Empty tram coasting through the junction and out of view. The waiter puts a bottle of water on the table with two glasses.
Thank you.
She fills both glasses and takes a long drink.
I’ll tell you who’s aged, he says, leaning to take his phone out. I’ll tell you who’s looking properly old. This little headcase. He shows her a photo of his daughter.
Oh my god, she says, taking the phone, pinching outwards on the screen to zoom in. This isn’t the baby from your Instagram stories, it can’t be. She only started walking the other week, I remember you posting it.
Yep, that’s the same kid somehow.
She studies the image under a hairline crack in his phoneglass: a beautiful child with long arms and legs, sandy, shoulder-length hair, wearing a Blink 182 hoodie. Standing in a kitchen, presumably theirs, pointing to the logo and giving a thumbs-up.
Blink 182, she says.
Yeah she loves them. She told me the other day she wants a Blink 182 tattoo.
And I suppose you were a buzzkill and said no.
Yeah I told her she has to be eighteen and she was devastated. She said she wants tattoos like me and Suzy and it’s weird because I actually hope she never gets one.
How old is she now?
Nine.
Nine! I still picture her as a toddler.
Me too, sometimes. It goes by quick.
He scrolls to another photo, the three of them in winter clothing on a hillside, landscape behind them rolling away into the distance. Suzy hoisting the child by the armpits and grinning. She made this poor dogwalker retake this one three times, he says.
How is Suzy these days?
Ah she’s good. Work’s picking up a lot for both us since covid, y’know. She’s doing freelance commissions after the office a lot of days now. She’s the assistant coach for the girl’s football as well.
She’s busy.
Yeah. To be honest I think she’d like me around more.
She’s not thrilled about you being away?
He knocks back a good amount of his drink and grimaces. She’s not exactly thrilled, no. To be fair I can see where she’s coming from, it’s gone from virtually nothing to quite a lot in a short space of time.
She shrugs. What can you do?
Ah, I think she’d like me to quit to be honest. And sometimes I think I should. I think if you’d asked me in my late twenties, I would have expected to be doing something else by now. I think I pictured myself either giving up or growing out of it all.
Growing out of it?
Something like that. But I just don’t seem to be getting tired of it. The travel and everything is hectic at times, but I’d still rather do this than anything else.
I think they call that a passion.
He takes a deep breath and nods, letting air out of his nose. Yeah. But y’know, life is life. I miss them both when I’m away and Suzy’s parents are a bit on the older side now, so. It’s a lot.
Are they struggling?
He pulls a face. We’re all getting to about that age now, I suppose. With the parents.
She finishes her cocktail and says nothing.
Anyway hows your Dad? he asks. He lives here now does he?
Yeah, he’s good. He’s really good actually. Remarried. He’s got a nine-year old too.
Ah, really? Wow, that’s - That’s fantastic, isn’t it?
It is.
Yeah. Good on him. Girl or boy?
Girl.
Girl! he says. Girl. As if taking time to process this miracle.
The waiter collects their glasses and they order another round. They’re the last customers left. I really will have to go up to bed after this one, he says. I’m absolutely shattered, I’ll probably sleep half of tomorrow away. She’s tired too, but then their drinks come and they talk more and she begins to feel more floaty than sleepy.
So did you want to tell me what you’re up to out here? You moved to be with your Dad?
Sort of. I came out for his birthday in November and ended up staying for Christmas. And now I’m still here. Things have been weird for a while, I suppose I’m out here getting my head together.
He nods. Weird with Gary?
No. Just weird with me.
His eyes rest on her face for a moment. He does look quite tired. Ah, mate, he says. I’m sorry to hear that.
It’s okay. I’ve just been taking some time. Flat-sitting for a friend of Dad’s wife. Teaching some piano lessons. Trying to get back in control.
And is that going well?
It’s going okay, yeah. It’s been quiet. And I love being around the family. It wasn’t the same way for me growing up, but it’s nice to feel like a halfway normal family now.
And Gary’s still back at your place in London?
Yeah. He’s been very supportive.
Bryan nods and watches the ice move around in his glass. That’s good. He’s a decent guy.
He is the best. He’s kind. He’s always been really kind to me. Always, without fail.
Then from nowhere she is aware that she is about to cry. A quick, prickly heat in her cheeks and eyes. Wooh, she says, rubbing her face. Sorry.
You okay?
Yeah, she says draining her drink and standing up. Do you know where the toilets are in here?
The ladies bathroom smells of synthetic sandalwood and faintly of shit. She stands under one of the spotlights and washes her hands, looking in the mirror. Don’t, she says. Don’t. She dries her hands and returns her breathing to normal using the counting exercise.
He stands when he sees her returning. I’ve asked them to order you a taxi, he says. I can charge it.
Oh no, Bri, it’s literally ten minutes walk.
Are you mad? It’s nearly three am and two degrees out there. You’re not even wearing a proper coat.
Behind him she can see the waiter wiping their table. Did you get the bill?
Yeah I took care of that, don’t worry.
She makes a little gesture of despair. Ugh, she says. Thank you. I didn’t mean for you to pay for everything.
Then he actually waits in the lobby with her and walks her to the taxi. Are you chaperoning me? she says, aware that she is slurring slightly. Do I seem that drunk to you?
You’re no drunker than me, he says, opening the rear door, seeming very sober. Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?
Sure.
Okay. I’ll message you. Night. Text me when you get in.
Night.
She puts her seatbelt on, he closes the door and ducks slightly to wave a hand at her through the window. For some reason she gives him a little salute. The driver pulls away without a word.