Page 35 of The Notecard
I take a drag on my cigarette.
‘And how do you define fine?’
‘Well, the girl I’m sort of seeing…’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Oh, Molly.’
‘First name Oh, second name Molly?’ I say, and Nick laughs. He has a good laugh.
‘That’s right. So Oh Molly is intense, and I think she wants us to be more serious, but she just isn’t very nice, and I think she might be crazy.’
‘Are we talking potential bunny boiler?’
‘Perhaps,’ says Nick. ‘She’s certainly selfish and not very kind. It might be a deal breaker.’
‘I think so,’ I say, and we both look at each other, smile, then look away.
We take puffs on our cigarettes. I look across at him quickly. I’ve seen him a few times since he saved my life. He hasn’t mentioned the notecard. I wonder why, but I’m not going to ask. There is definitely a spark between us. I have felt it from the moment I met him. It’s just there, sitting quietly between us, not doing anything but existing. Like an extra character in our relationship. It’s an important character though. It binds us together. It creates light and shade. It gives us texture.
‘What about you?’ says Nick after a moment. ‘Are you fine?’
‘I suppose it depends on how you define fine. If it means I’m throwing a birthday party for my dad, which my mum turned up for uninvited, they’re separated by the way, and they’re comparing terrible dates they’ve been on, and my sister is shouting at her fiancée because she’s crazy, and I’m just having a shit day, then yeah, I suppose I’m fine.’
‘Why are you having a shit day?’
We smoke.
‘You don’t want to know,’ I say, and I feel the weight of talking about James begin to push me down. I look at Nick, and he smiles at me. Such a nice smile. Warm, kind, endearing. I bet he has a wonderful bedside manner.
‘Maybe I do want to hear about it.’
‘I saw my ex-boyfriend last night,’ I say, feeling self-conscious talking about it with Nick. ‘He looked so happy and moved on, and it reminded me that I haven’t moved on. Not really. I’m trying to move on. I’m going travelling for six months later this year, but in terms of romance, of love, I haven’t moved on. Plus, my sister is getting married in August and I’m dreading it.’
Nick looks across at me. When he looks at me, I feel a sense of calm. I feel as if we’re the only two people in the world. I remember when I met James all of those years ago, he looked at me, and I felt something similar. It was different then. I was younger. I hadn’t had my heart broken. But I remember when he looked at me across that pub and caught my eye, I felt like it was just us. I don’t even know what it is. Chemistry? James and I had it and now Nick and I have it. It’s just there. As I said, like an extra character. As a side note, when I was fifteen, I was convinced Mr Johnson (English teacher) was in love with me and when he looked at me, he felt the same. Sometimes looks can be deceiving because looking back now, Mr Johnson was nearly forty, married with two children, and I was a spotty fifteen-year-old girl with a flat chest and large teeth. I’m sure he didn’t fancy me, especially as I was in the same class as Gail Clifford (previously mentioned perfect girl with mountainous breasts and captain of the netball team). You can’t always trust looks. I especially can’t trust anything to do with men at the moment. I trusted James and look how that turned out.
‘I’ve never been really, truly in love,’ says Nick. ‘I’ve never been with someone I thought I might marry. I don’t think you should look at your relationship with your ex as a failure. I think all relationships are just practice attempts until you get it right.’
‘And how do you know when that is?’
‘I don’t know. I think when you meet the right person you just know. I know that’s cliched and a bit shit, but I think it might be true,’ says Nick.
‘Why do you have so much faith in something that hasn’t happened to you yet?’
‘Because after this I have to go back inside and break up with the same girl I broke up with four months ago again. Because my mum’s dating Michael, the man upstairs, and it’s the first man she’s dated since Dad died ten years ago, but they seem genuinely happy. Because my best friend and his wife are trying so hard for a baby that they only have sex when an app tells them. Because what other choice is there?’
I look at Nick and I smile, but not one of those smiles you do because you feel like you need to do something with your face, but because I genuinely smile. It starts inside of me and works its way out.
‘I’m sorry your dad died,’ I say after a moment. A moment when the air around us seems to change completely.
‘Me too.’
‘Do you still miss him?’
‘Every day. But I’m okay with it now. I’ve accepted it. It was horrible, and now it’s less horrible. It’s also how I feel about Muesli. I used to hate it, and now… now it’s not so bad.’
I giggle.
