Kartography

I think there’s a better me inside your head than there is out here in the world. Is that why I make you so angry, Karim? Because I fail to live up to the person you thought I’d turn out to be?’

But it was the kind of love that existed because it had always existed, because it didn’t know how not to exist.

In my head, always. And you were right.’

Something you want to ask me?’ he said.
‘When did it stop being awful, your parents’ divorce?’
Never letting go of my hand, he pivoted round on his backside and lay down in the grass, resting his head on my knee. ‘Never.’ He held my hand against his chest, and I could feel his heart beat. ‘But you kept telling me I needed to allow my mother to be happy.’
‘When did I say that?’

‘Maybe you need practice, that’s all. Say something to me that’s a blatant lie. Go on.’
‘I haven’t missed you at all.’
‘Ah, but that’s no good.’ He crossed his legs, and we sat kneecap to kneecap. ‘I would have to believe that’s a lie, no matter how much conviction you put into saying it.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I’ve missed you too much to be able to bear the thought that it was all one-sided.’

We were all beginning to surprise ourselves with our reactions to the world in those days, anger flaring up for no reason and solitude becoming a sought-after state in which we’d find ourselves thinking about things that formerly would have made us clump together in groups to giggle.

‘You know, if I wasn’t me, you wouldn’t be you.’