“Spill the beans,” I say to Emerson.
It’s Monday night and we are at Willow’s soccer. It’s dark and cold. Huge lights light up the fields. Sammy is kicking a ball with some little kids on the fields next to us. Emerson has come with me so we can catch up and
talk about Mark, the guy who picked her up from the airport. She worked for an art dealer back in Australia and had to email Mark's company about some art that had to be shipped over. They got talking and started a friendship. She was convinced he was the one. He ended up getting her a job so that we could do this working holiday thing. I'm not sure we would be here if it wasn't for his hounding.
“God, I don’t know.” She sighs. “There just seems to be no spark.”
“What do you mean?
“He doesn’t have ‘the thing’, you know. He’s short
