couldnât put his finger on it. It wasnât that Dan ever got in the way. He was rarely around, so why was his presence, or rather his absence, so unnerving?
âMaybe youâre just jealous because heâs out having fun while youâre stuck at home with me and Lil,â Hannah had teased him the night before.
Josh had made a joke of it, pressing his nose up against the front window as if desperate to escape, much to the delight of Lily, who insisted on climbing onto a chair to push her own plump cheeks up against the cold glass. Now, though, he was starting to wonder, uncomfortably, if Hannah might not have hit upon something. Not that he was jealous of Dan. Josh didnât envy his friend the late nights in crowded bars, or wherever it was he was hanging out when he wasnât in their flat. No, it was more than thatâsomething to do with the sight of that suitcase in the corner, so compact and portable, and the way Dan breezed in and out without having to give account of himself. The whiff of fresh starts that clung to him. It was that sense of the future opening up. Josh felt, by comparison, washed-up and overburdened.
In private, Hannah griped about Danâs presence. She hated not being able to wander into the living room if she woke up during the night to work at the dining room table or scroll through Twitter, and she resented the clumsily folded pile of blankets on the end of the sofa whenever they sat down to watch TV. But as Josh waited at the traffic lights, gently revving the accelerator and hoping against hope that this wouldnât be the day the Golfâs dodgy clutch gave up the ghost altogether, he found himself trying to view Dan through Hannahâs eyes. Yes, his presence might be inconvenient, but might not his newfound singledom also give him a new kind of cache, a sense of danger and alpha-maleness that had been better concealed when he was a safely married man? Josh could see how a man like Dan, clearly desired by other women, successful at work and suddenly back on the market, might be very attractive, particularly when he and Hannah were so bogged down in debt themselves. More chokingly, might not this clear evidence of Danâs healthy sex life throw the recent deficiencies of their own into sharp relief?
This jealousy that had crept up from nowhere was like a slow-acting virus youâre not even conscious of until your throat closes up and, wham , you find itâs overtaken your entire system. Itâs not as if Hannah had ever expressed the slightest interest in Dan. In fact, it tended to be Josh who leaped to his friendâs defense in the face of Hannahâs disapproval. Sheâd once said, âDan is like cheap paint. Looks great to begin with but give him a rub with a damp cloth and heâll come off in your hand.â Josh had argued on Danâs behalf, but inside heâd glowed with pleasure at the unspoken inference (or so he liked to imagine) that he, by contrast, was a man of substance.
Turning onto their street with its mishmash of Victorian and 1920s houses, many of them converted (badly) into flats, Joshâs heart sank when he noted the lack of parking spots. Cruising past his house, he felt a twinge of anger when he saw Sashaâs SUV parked right outside in prime position. Couldnât they have just one evening to themselves, free of drama? While Dan was the model houseguest, hardly ever around but entertaining and largely discreet when he was, Sasha was the nonhouseguest from hell. Over the past week, Josh had become used to coming home to find Sasha either curled up on the sofa sobbing into whichever of Danâs crumpled T-shirts sheâd fished out of his suitcase, or else pacing the room on those tiny little legs that always looked to Josh as if they shouldnât be capable of supporting an adult human body, ranting repeatedly about midlife crises and responsibilities (or lack thereof) while Hannah brought her
âMaybe youâre just jealous because heâs out having fun while youâre stuck at home with me and Lil,â Hannah had teased him the night before.
Josh had made a joke of it, pressing his nose up against the front window as if desperate to escape, much to the delight of Lily, who insisted on climbing onto a chair to push her own plump cheeks up against the cold glass. Now, though, he was starting to wonder, uncomfortably, if Hannah might not have hit upon something. Not that he was jealous of Dan. Josh didnât envy his friend the late nights in crowded bars, or wherever it was he was hanging out when he wasnât in their flat. No, it was more than thatâsomething to do with the sight of that suitcase in the corner, so compact and portable, and the way Dan breezed in and out without having to give account of himself. The whiff of fresh starts that clung to him. It was that sense of the future opening up. Josh felt, by comparison, washed-up and overburdened.
In private, Hannah griped about Danâs presence. She hated not being able to wander into the living room if she woke up during the night to work at the dining room table or scroll through Twitter, and she resented the clumsily folded pile of blankets on the end of the sofa whenever they sat down to watch TV. But as Josh waited at the traffic lights, gently revving the accelerator and hoping against hope that this wouldnât be the day the Golfâs dodgy clutch gave up the ghost altogether, he found himself trying to view Dan through Hannahâs eyes. Yes, his presence might be inconvenient, but might not his newfound singledom also give him a new kind of cache, a sense of danger and alpha-maleness that had been better concealed when he was a safely married man? Josh could see how a man like Dan, clearly desired by other women, successful at work and suddenly back on the market, might be very attractive, particularly when he and Hannah were so bogged down in debt themselves. More chokingly, might not this clear evidence of Danâs healthy sex life throw the recent deficiencies of their own into sharp relief?
This jealousy that had crept up from nowhere was like a slow-acting virus youâre not even conscious of until your throat closes up and, wham , you find itâs overtaken your entire system. Itâs not as if Hannah had ever expressed the slightest interest in Dan. In fact, it tended to be Josh who leaped to his friendâs defense in the face of Hannahâs disapproval. Sheâd once said, âDan is like cheap paint. Looks great to begin with but give him a rub with a damp cloth and heâll come off in your hand.â Josh had argued on Danâs behalf, but inside heâd glowed with pleasure at the unspoken inference (or so he liked to imagine) that he, by contrast, was a man of substance.
Turning onto their street with its mishmash of Victorian and 1920s houses, many of them converted (badly) into flats, Joshâs heart sank when he noted the lack of parking spots. Cruising past his house, he felt a twinge of anger when he saw Sashaâs SUV parked right outside in prime position. Couldnât they have just one evening to themselves, free of drama? While Dan was the model houseguest, hardly ever around but entertaining and largely discreet when he was, Sasha was the nonhouseguest from hell. Over the past week, Josh had become used to coming home to find Sasha either curled up on the sofa sobbing into whichever of Danâs crumpled T-shirts sheâd fished out of his suitcase, or else pacing the room on those tiny little legs that always looked to Josh as if they shouldnât be capable of supporting an adult human body, ranting repeatedly about midlife crises and responsibilities (or lack thereof) while Hannah brought her
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