“Muffin?” says Luke.
Encouraged, I take a step toward him. “They were in Starbucks. You know they go every Saturday afternoon as a treat for a latte and half a muffin each?”
“I didn’t know. That’s cute.”
“It’s weird hearing you talk without being able to see your face. You look like those protected witnesses on the news. One who’s in hiding from his evil girlfriend.” Luke’s silhouette-head moves very slightly and I think (hope) he is smiling. “So what’s the verdict: do you still hate me?” I say.
“No, I suppose I don’t totally hate you,” he says, and his silhouette-arm rises up, and his silhouette-fingers beckon me under.
—
We lie pressed together like sardines on the sofa, watching the still-muted TV and playing Guess What the Advert Is For.
“Car! Honda! Ford! Mazda! Nissan! Peugeot! Yes!” shouts Luke.
“That’s not how it works!” I object. “You can’t list every single brand of a thing to cover all the bases. I can’t hear myself think!”
“Uh, the game is the first person to say the right answer. I didn’t hear you saying the right answer, so I make it one-zero to me.”
“It should be your first answer,” I say, then shout at the screen, “Stella Artois! No, Nastro Azzurro! I meant Nastro Azzurro!”
“Nastro Azzurro,” says Luke, quick as a flash just after me. “Oh, bad luck. Now it’s two-zero to the Duuuuuuke!” His arms are up, victorious antlers.
“I said it first!”
“No, you said Stella Artois first. Don’t come crying to me: it was your idea to do first answers.”
“We hadn’t started that new rule yet,” I say. “I didn’t think you even heard me. You didn’t formally agree to the change. There have to be rules about rule changes. We need to have a vote. Otherwise this whole thing’s a farce.”
If I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.
—
Luke flicks the channel to a program where a man and a woman are watching TV, a wildlife program. A zebra is being busily savaged by a pride of lions.
“Did you know,” I say, “that the reason so many people on TV watch wildlife shows on their TV is because it’s stock footage and there’s no copyright fee?”
“Oh. That’s disappointing,” says Luke. “I always assumed it was meant to be some commentary on what’s going on with the characters. I thought I was quite clever for getting that.”
I reach up and cup his chin with my palm. “You’re too clever for all of them. Turns out they’re just a bunch of cheapskates.”
“Where do you find all this information?” he murmurs in wonder.
“I honestly think it finds me.”
Piqued
First thing in the morning, I turn on the radio.
“And finally, there’s no reason on earth,” a chipper fellow is concluding, “why it can’t play you a tune, for example, or give you directions, or tell you the weather. It is, I would hasten to add, egg-shaped and very approachable.”
“What is?” I ask aloud, but it’s too late, and now I’ll never know.
Inconsistency
This American gent who only moments ago showed such concern that he accidentally cut in front of me waiting for coffee displays none of the same as he barges past now to swipe the last free table.
Luke
The way everything curls as he sleeps: fists, spine, eyelashes.
Last-chance saloon
In a wine bar, waiting for Rachel, whose lateness has just migrated from acceptable to rude, I tune in to a neighboring date for diversion. A furtive look puts the woman at mid-to-late thirties, while her companion’s back, other than being impressively broad, gives away nothing, including his apparently monosyllabic replies.
“Do you like classical music?” she asks.
“…”
“Do you like music?”
“…”
“Fair enough. What…films are you into?”
“…”
“Really? Well, do you like to read?”
“…”
She scours the ceiling for inspiration. “What do you like, then?”
“…”
“Oh. Right…Who do you support?”
“…”
She’s shaking her head. “Never heard of them.” Her lips have disappeared. They leave, exchanging grimace-like smiles of resignation, just as Rachel finally appears.
—
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” says Rachel. There’s a deep stress-line between her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and she bursts into tears. The human rights lawyer she’s been sporadically texting (and even more sporadically sleeping with) has finally put an end to things.
“He said, ‘I don’t think this is right for me anymore. I need some time to myself.’ As if seeing me once every three weeks was too demanding.”
I teeter perilously on my bar stool to embrace her. “I know it feels really shitty at the moment, but I think this is ultimately a good thing. It’s so much better to have a clean break than to be embroiled for another six months or a year. Now you can focus on meeting someone worth your time and emotional energy.”
“I really thought he was, though.”
Coming from such an intelligent person, this strikes me as beyond ridiculous, but I proceed with caution.
“You just said you saw him once every three weeks.”
“I know I always complained about him, but he could be so sweet: he cooked me shepherd’s pie after I told him it was my favorite. And the last time I saw him, he said he thought I’d get on really well with his sister.”
I try to look impressed by this gallantry.
“I honestly thought it was going somewhere. What if he was the One and now I’ve pushed him away and I’ll be alone forever?”
I tell her there’s no such thing as the One. I tell her it’s a conspiracy, a myth peddled by the Big Three: Hollywood, the government and the free market.
“How do you explain you and Luke, then?”
“Look, let me put it this way,” I say, “that was nothing more than pure luck and good timing. Luke’s great, obviously, but believe me he is far from perfect — and I don’t have to tell you I’m no picnic. There are a million little compromises involved every single day. Doesn’t it seem too unlikely that there’s only one person out of seven billion who’s right for you? And if that were even true, what are the chances that I, of all people, have found mine?”
“Okay,” says Rachel, “but you know I could say the same to you about a job.”
“Well, that’s a bit different—”
“How? You’re always talking about finding the right thing. But who’s to say there aren’t five or twenty or fifty jobs you could love if you were just a bit more open-minded? Doesn’t it seem equally unlikely that there’s only one thing that’s right for you and all the rest of us have found ours?”