Page 75 of The Truth About You and Me
‘Is that a good thing?’ she asks, self-conscious.
‘Of course.’
‘And this must be Bruce?’ I bend down and peer into the fish tank. Bruce lets out a bubble as though saying hello.
‘He likes you.’ Maggie smiles. ‘I’ll be back in a sec. I need to…’ She pulls at her tights. ‘The kitchen is through there… Can you stick the kettle on?’ She turns and rushes towards the bedroom.
The kitchen is small. Baby-blue cupboards, more plants, scented candles, spotlessly clean. I fill the kettle and look for the teabags. I open the cupboards. They’re empty but for a few essentials: a bag of oats, pasta, tinned cans without pictures but stripes and words. I look for teabags, finding different sized and shaped canisters, one pink, one white, the other a dark green with gold writing on. I reach out, fingering the first symbol, hearing an echo of Bob Dylan.
Maggie moves around at the back of the flat, the floorboards creaking quickly. I prise open the container; there are a few grains of instant coffee. I think to my own, and to my parents’ house, where the cupboards are packed with oils and herbs, with condiments of every variety. Behind the pasta is a plastic tub, filled with packets of instant noodles.
‘Sorry!’ She rushes in. ‘I haven’t had chance to go shopping,’ she says briskly, opening the fridge and grabbing a handful of mini milk cartons like the ones at my shop and places them on the counter. She opens a cupboard door, takes out a ziplock bag with sachets of coffee inside and holds them in her teeth while grabbing two mismatched mugs and landing them beside the kettle. I step aside. ‘Are you hungry?’ she asks, brow furrowing. ‘I can heat up a tin of soup?’
‘How about a takeaway?’ I ask. ‘My treat?’ Her shoulders drop and she leans her back against the fridge.
‘I…’
‘I was going to take you out for dinner and despite my mother’s suggestion that I should always allow a woman to go Dutch, I’m afraid I have too much of my father in me.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’ Her voice is quiet.
‘I know. But seriously, I could kill for a pizza right now.’ I tilt my head, examining her response.
‘Deal, but I’m not letting you pay.’
I open my mouth to protest but she turns her back and opens a drawer, passing me a coupon.
‘Sorry… I can’t…’ I squint at the paper in front of me.
‘Sorry.’ She points to the words with lilac-varnished nails. ‘Two for one. You buy your pizza and I’ll have the free one?’
‘Deal.’
I go to put out my hands to shake hers but she looks down and we both begin to laugh.
‘Jesus, what a couple!’ I say. Her laughter falls away as she looks at me.
I’m about to step closer. The word ‘couple’ is hanging in the air.
But the power cuts out, the room suddenly in darkness.
‘Oh shit. Just… wait there. Don’t. Move.’ There is an edge of panic to her voice. I stand still, wanting to help, but I think this is one of the times I need to give Maggie space.
I hear the sound of drawers being opened, the scratch of a match. Maggie’s face lights up above the glow of a candle, her expression tight. She places it down on the kitchen side, doesn’t meet my eyes, but the soft light casting shadows around the room makes everything feel that much more precarious. Maggie retreats to the lounge. After a few minutes, she shouts that I can come through.
The room is now lit up, candles casting a soft light from a motley collection in various places around the room. ‘Take a seat.’ She gestures to the sofa. ‘I’ll make the drinks before the water goes cold.’
The room is small, only the sofa to sit on. I perch on one end, my body sinking into the fabric. ‘Oh!’ She stops still. ‘Be careful – there’s a rogue spring that might bite you in the bum. That’s a better spot.’ She indicates to the right. I shift as she places the cup on the floor and folds herself onto the rug, legs crossed, blowing over the rim. ‘It’s decaf, sorry.’
‘It seems we’re destined to spend our time together during power cuts.’ She doesn’t say anything, just takes a sip, eyes on mine. ‘It’s a good job you have so many candles.’
‘Yeah. It’s… it’s a regular occurrence here.’
‘Really?’
She nods, shifts her body and stretches out her legs. ‘I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s good to have quiet, you know?’
‘I do. That’s what I miss the most about reading. The quiet. The way you can shut off your own world, your own thoughts, how you can travel the world, take yourself to somewhere new, with people who are interesting with their own stories to tell. Far, far away from your own life, your own troubles.’
