Page 63 of The Notecard
‘Hi,’ says Nick again.
He’s nervous too.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hi,’ says Nick.
I’m still standing in the doorway.
‘Hiii?’ I say, wondering if we’re ever going to stop saying hi.
‘Oh, sorry, I got a bit lost in the hi’s,’ says Nick. ‘Come on in.’
I walk in. I have my bottle of wine with the funky yellow label. I offer it to him.
‘I brought wine.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I don’t know anything about wine. I literally always buy the same bottle and I only buy it because it has a cool label.’
Nick laughs.
‘Don’t worry, I’m no wine expert either. If it’s red and at room temperature, I’ll drink it.’
I stand in his living room, and there’s an awkwardness between us that hasn’t been there before. I don’t know where it’s come from, but it’s definitely there and I don’t like it. There’s a pause that lasts for an awkward amount of time. It threatens to derail the evening before it’s even started.
‘I should have worn a coat, and then you could have said, I’ll take your coat,’ I say.
Nick laughs. I’m such an idiot. Great small talk, Meg. Coats. Inspired. I think we could both use some of that wine. Perhaps the entire bottle.
‘Right, so I wasn’t sure what you liked, so we’re making pizza,’ says Nick.
‘Oh, sorry. I have a huge dairy allergy and I don’t like pizza.’
I’m joking, but his face falls and he looks distraught. Perhaps not the time for witty banter.
‘I’m joking. I love pizza. Who doesn’t love pizza?’ I say, and Nick laughs with relief. ‘I’m sorry that was really mean.’
‘No, it’s fine, honestly.’
Tense. As. Fuck.
I suggest we open the wine and Nick agrees. He already has one open and we start on that. It has a blue label. It’s nice. Fruity. We’re making our own pizzas. I love it. I was worried he was going to try something fancy like fish and I’m not really a big fan of fish other than fish and chips. Pizza is perfect. Plus, he’s going to show me how to toss it, and that might be fun.
With the help of the wine, we both relax a little. Nick’s flat is so strange because he hasn’t personalised it at all. I suppose now that he’s moving to Nottingham, it’s a good thing he didn’t spend long making it his own. He literally hasn’t nothing on the walls, just a lava lamp and a photo on the mantelpiece. I asked him once why his flat is so empty, and he said it’s a doctor’s flat. He’s constantly at work. He doesn’t have much time off and the time he has he doesn’t want to be decorating. It’s like the exact opposite of my flat. I’ve spent hours and hours making it beautiful, or at least as beautiful as I can. After I moved in with Keri, I spent time on Pinterest, and Instagram, and money on making it the perfect space. I love a warm, relaxing home. It’s my sanctuary. A haven in pastel shades and funky decor. Nick’s flat is like a really shit Airbnb.
There’s definitely a practicality to Nick that I love. I admire his dedication to his work. His passion for saving lives is incredible. It makes me think about my own life, and how intrinsically selfish it is. My job doesn’t really help anybody and going travelling is just for me. Everything I’m doing is for me, and yet Nick wakes up every day prepared to save lives. It’s inspirational. It’s also quite sexy and definitely makes up for the shit pay-by-the-hour hotel vibe in his flat.
Nick wants to show me how to make the pizza. I’m impressed that he’s made his own dough and has everything else ready to go. He’s turned his kitchen into a little pizzeria.
‘It’s simple,’ says Nick.
‘Says the doctor. Go on, say it isn’t brain surgery.’
‘I wouldn’t know, I’m not a Neurosurgeon.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ I say, and we both laugh.
