Page 48 of What It's Like in Words
Sorry for being a dick tonight. Wish you were here. xx
CHAPTER 14
Today, spring smelled like summer. I was crouched in the break room next to a box of disinfectant and the trainers of someone who cycled to work, with my laptop on my thighs.
I paused typing and leaned against the wall.
What should I wear tonight? It was Amy’s book launch, and he had agreed to come with me. Because he was at the bar in the evening and I was at the café in the day, we didn’t see each other as much. But he was making more of an effort to text, and I was making more of an effort not to care when he didn’t. We had talked about Steph, and he explained that he hadn’t said anything because his ex, Jessica, had been irrationally jealous. But he told me that he knew I wasn’t like her, and so I told him that I understood, partly because I did and partly to prove that he was right.
Perhaps my black dress and brown boots?
I noticed the time, put my laptop away, and headed back out. Ruth’s replacement, Stefan, left a half-made coffee on the machine and timed an exhale as we crossed paths to indicate that my break had overrun.
At the counter, a man was waiting. Gap between his front teeth, brown eyes, dark hair with flecks of caramel, muscles visible through a sleek white shirt. He was neat and clean, and his clothes were not only ironed, but they looked pressed.
I think that’s my latte? he said, gesturing to the coffee with a long, slim finger.
Sorry, I’ll make you a new one if you can wait.
Sure, it’s just work, he replied with a fake huff.
I refilled the grounds, and he asked my name. Enola, I said, placing a clean cup beneath the nozzle. He told me that his name was Virinder. The machine whirred as espresso dripped. I was used to men talking to me at work. There were two types. The first liked to demonstrate that they were the sort of person who spoke to the barista. The second flirted. I wasn’t sure which this man was.
I poured the milk into a flower shape, and Virinder asked if I had worked here long. I asked what he was insinuating by that. It was a joke, but he answered genuinely: I haven’t seen you here before. I told him that I was referring to my coffee art, and he laughed. The two suits in the queue shuffled their brogues.
If you have to explain it, then it’s a great joke, I said, and he laughed again, louder. He asked if this was my full-time job. Normally, that question made me bristle, but Virinder asked questions like he simply wanted to know the answers, and so I replied with confidence that I was writing a book.
Virinder stepped back: Wow, that’s exciting!
I dismissed Virinder with a noise, but, as I did, I realized how frequently I minimized my writing so as not to antagonizehim. He didn’t want to write together anymore. He didn’t even want to talk about writing. I had stopped asking how his book was going, hoping he would volunteer the information when he was ready. But so far, he hadn’t, and the list of things that we didn’t talk about was growing longer.
Virinder said that he had thought about a writing a book. An exposé of the life of a city lawyer. I smiled to be polite, and he lifted his coffee as if to demonstrate that he had it. Better jet, Enola. But I’m here on secondment, so you’ll see me again. I watched him walk away with a skip in his step, like he was enjoying walking.
Sorry, I said to the impatient brogues. What can I get you?
IARRIVED FIVE MINUTESearly so that I didn’t keep him waiting. I had told him that the dress code was smart, but he was wearing his denim jacket and Converse. He greeted me in a tone that signaled his discomfort. I reassured him that we didn’t have to stay long. Thank fuck. He popped gum into his mouth.
Don’t I get a kiss? I tried to sound flippant but it came out the opposite because although he kissed me, his mouth remained closed.
Inside, books provided color against otherwise white walls. Servers circulated trays to women with colorful scarves and men with visible socks. He stepped through the door and said that he was getting a drink. I asked if he could get me a sparkling water, and he flicked his hand over his shoulder. Amy appeared in a flurry of cashmere and lime-and-basil hair mist.
Congratulations, I said. I’m so happy for—
But she hushed me and said that her agent’s assistant, Diana, was here.
My stomach dropped. But I’ve not got anything ready, I—
I sent her your first three chapters and she loved them.
You sent them? But they aren’t ready!
Enola, if things were left to you they would never happen.
He returned with drinks, and, on seeing Amy, his face dropped. He mustered a congratulations and apologized that he wasn’t going to make it to her wedding. Then he handed me my drink and said he was going for a cigarette. I whispered that we had only just arrived, and he whispered that he hated these things. Amy pretended not to hear, but when he left, she told me about David’s friend Noah, who worked in television.
Enola, he has just broken up with his girlfriend of five years and he’s utterly miserable. I told him about you, and he was super interested.
He sounds like a catch, Ames.
