Page 6 of Fallen Thorns
“See you then, Arlo.”
I hadn’t thought muchabout dating. The notion was always tucked away in the back of my mind, a concept I felt was inevitable if you wished to lead an average life, but something I asserted would be too far in the future for my current self to consider. Everyone around me had been getting into relationships, only ever discussing feelings and crushes and breakups, but my brain never wandered there. I had far more important things to stay focused on and I was perfectly content with that. But I had briefly considered that if Iwereto find someone I liked, I would — as society had so violently drilled into us — have to be the one who initiated the relationship. Yet when my mind attempted to venture towardsthatavenue, I felt sick.
But there I was, standing mouth agape, holding a prewritten phone number as Lucy confidently strode away, her coat and scarf billowing behind her. I had just accepted an invitation to adatewithout even pausing to consider it. I just blinked and agreed. And then, it finally hit me. It was so unlike me to do such a thing. I was never spontaneous. I always had to have things planned out and organised in advance, after having taken all factors into consideration.
She’d left me in a state of bewilderment, cemented in place on the bridge as an icy wind pierced the tips of my ears.
All previous thoughts of the morning completely evaded my brain.
* * *
Pacingmy small dorm room was becoming a weekly, sometimes daily, thing. I would just start doing it without even processing it. You often observe people pacing during phone calls in public, and I always considered it rather dramatic, like ‘hey, look at me, I’m important’; only then as I did the same thing in private, did I see the hypocrisy in it.I should cancel. Tell Lucy something cropped up. An assignment. An illness? Gosh, what am I doing? The instant she left, I had regrets.I can’t do this.
The clock hand ticked around the face. I froze until the very last minute, fearing if I were to leave any later, I wouldn’t make it on time. I did not want to be that type of person. I had to at least look like I cared.
I texted Rani to tell her I was going out for the night, but I wouldn’t be back late. I deliberately worded it to avoid an interrogation, especially as I was going on a date with a stranger. I didn’t want anyone to make a fuss over it, I just wanted to get it over with. Rani’s reply was a short, ‘Ok! Enjoy!’ which somewhat calmed me. I would try to enjoy it; and it only had to last as long as I wanted it to.Treat it like you are meeting with a friend you haven’t seen in a while, I forced myself to think.
I showered, shaved my non-existent facial hair, and picked the most generic outfit I could to draw as little attention to myself as possible: a plain white shirt and black trousers. And I needed a jacket — multiple even, as it was forecast to snow soon.
My fingers fiddled with the stupid silver ring on my right middle finger; I had not taken it off in years. I’m not sure why I always insisted on wearing it but it held great significance. My mother gave it to me when I turned fourteen. Maybe it had become a safety blanket, of sorts, without me even realising.
My pulse pounded in my temples and ears and chest as I picked up the pace getting ready. I hated that sensation. I managed to go about my life mostly detached from my physical body, rarely looking in mirrors, or viewing myself as a vulnerable, living thing. But that periodicwoomf woomfof my heartbeat was an intimate reminder of my fragility. How embarrassing that my body would betray me like this.
I tried to calm myself through deep breaths, reminding myself that this date did not have to be serious at all. But my mind circled back to what this evening could entail, teeth chewing away at my gums.What if she kisses me? No, that would be too soon. People don’t do that on first dates.But they do. Nowadays, people do so muchmorewith those they are not even officially with. Sometimes with people they have barely even spoken to at all. How could anyone do that? I was unable to wrap my head around how someone could possess the confidence to do such a thing.
What if she wants to get close to me, though? What if this evening goes so incredibly well that she wants to take me back to her apartment or house or whatever? People do that at university, having sex so freely and without worry. Should I bring... precautions?Gosh, Arlo. Stop this. You don’t want that to happen, so it won’t. Why can’t you see that?
I never even asked her age. I had initially assumed she was my age but looking back, she had this presence of someone who had travelled and experienced the world, someone who may have already left university and owned an apartment or a house.
I didn’t know her job, her surname, her passions. All I could picture was those bright green plaits and her freckled dimples.
But what if she did touch me? Even an arm tap like before, or a hug? She might not have meant anything by it, though. People do just touch for the sake of touching.
I put a jumper on in case, and the extra layer rendered me at ease.
Physical contact had always been difficult for me, but it felt as though it got worse as I grew older — though I believe that was only because I learned the language to express myself. Oddly, the more I knew a person, the less I wanted them to get close.
I was never a physical person anyway; nor one to give out hugs unless it was a social necessity, not one to deal a handshake or seek out close comfort. Unexpected contact caused my limbs to tense, unable to relax beneath a touch.
I never thought I needed fixing or that this would infringe on my life – it was other people who made it a big deal. ‘How can you get close to someone if you can’t even hug them without curling inwards?’ Someone had once asked me at school.
But now, I had to adjust and prepare for the inevitable... I was going on a date and some sort of contact was highly likely.
You will be fine.I encouraged myself, shaking my hair in the mirror and splashing my face with water one final time.
You will be fine.
ChapterThree
Lucy took me to a bar by the riverside, only moments away from our meeting place. I’d passed it many times on my walks but never had the courage to go in alone, but there I was: on a date. The concept of dating terrified me, but the experience was a necessary one; after all, this was what life was all about, right? Get a good education, meet someone, start a family, and live happily ever after, working a nine to five job until retiring with just enough pension funds to live a comfortable yet dull life of watering flowers and going to bed at six thirty. Those were my exact thoughts as we entered, not ‘I wonder if these people notice I’m on a date with a pretty young woman?’, which was something I presumed normal people thought when spotted dating someone out of their league.
I was a few minutes late. Lucy already stood with her arms wrapped around herself, wearing the same red coat from earlier, yet she had curled her hair and paired the outfit with a studded cross-body bag. I was, for lack of a better word, underdressed.
Once inside, we sat at a two-seater table by the window, overlooking the river. The evening sky was an inky black, and a handful of people sat outside on benches under orange heat lamps, cigarettes in hand. I wondered if any of them were on a date.Were they happy?
“How long have you been here then?” she asked me, sipping her drink through a cocktail straw. “You don’t exactly sound local.” She sat back with confidence, one leg crossed over the other so that her dress rode up her thighs. A giant snake tattoo circled her skin, partly concealed by the fishnet tights. I averted my gaze.
“I moved here just last month for university.” I turned to take a drink but felt Lucy’s stare. She wanted me to elaborate. I had intended to, but stopped myself prematurely for fear I might overshare — something I did a lot. “I’m from the Lake District, Northwest.”
