Since You've Been Gone by Mary Jennifer Payne

Author:Mary Jennifer Payne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2014-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

By the time we emerge from Cutty Sark Station, the rain has stopped and the sun is desperately trying to push its way through the grey meringue of clouds. The sun coming out might be a sign that something positive is going to happen. At least that’s what I tell myself.

There’s a Subway restaurant directly across from the tube station, a reminder of life back in Canada. My stomach aches with longing.

“Hungry?” Jermaine asks.

“Famished,” I reply. And, for the first time in a while, I really do have an appetite.

Once inside, we practically throw ourselves at the spotty girl standing behind the counter as the smell of roasted meat and baked bread overwhelms us.

“All right?” she asks, her voice thick with boredom. She twists a lock of ginger hair that is crisp with styling products around her index finger as she watches us scan the plastic menu boards above her head.

“Roast chicken sub on white with pickles, tomato, and mayo,” I say. “Loads of pickles. And a coffee,” I add, glancing sideways at Jermaine, who is still trying to decide.

“Meatball with loads of hot peppers and pickles,” he says. “And extra cheese if you have it.”

“Drink?” the girl with the ginger hair asks. She blows a pink gum bubble toward us, then crushes it between her thickly glossed lips with a loud pop.

“A full-fat Coke, yeah?” Jermaine answers. He turns to me and smiles playfully. “Coffee? You going to get all hyper on me?”

My face flushes warmly. “I’m just a bit cold. That’s all.”

Great. He jokes with me and my response is as wooden as Pinocchio. I wish I could think of something funny or interesting to say. Instead, I stare at my shoes, mortified.

“Ready?” the girl asks. She snaps her gum and holds out her hand. Another bored-looking employee finishes making our sandwiches.

I reach into my knapsack, unzip the inside pocket, and feel around for some of the charity money.

“How much?”

“Eight-pound thirty,” she answers, blowing another bubble in my direction.

I hand her the money reluctantly. It’s going to run out at some point and that reality is beginning to hit me.

“It’s kind of nice to be getting Subway,” I say. “There’s so many unfamiliar things here. My best friend, Rume, and I used to get it at lunch whenever we had extra money.”

“You have a computer and Internet at your flat?” Jermaine asks as he takes the tray from the girl.

I shake my head. “Are you kidding? We don’t even have a home phone yet.”

“Well, there’s an Internet café upstairs here,” he says, and, as though reading my mind, is already heading toward the stairs.

The café turns out to be no more than ten or twelve computers that are dinosaur-age old. They’re separated from the main part of the restaurant by a cheap-looking plastic partition.

We sit down at one of the tables and Jermaine unwraps his sub. Even though I’m starving, I find it hard to think about eating.

Glancing at my watch, I do a quick mental calculation of the time difference between London and Toronto.

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