Page 32 of The Love of My Afterlife
I side-eye Cooper.
“Did you look in the pharmacy bag?”
“Of course I didn’t look in your pharmacy bag.”
“Did you read the note?”
“Delphie, your medical concerns couldn’t be of less interest to me.” He glances down at the serious black leather watch strapped onto his wrist. “We ought to go or we’ll be late.”
I lean back and narrow my eyes, examining his face for some indication that he’s lying. Finding none, I nod slowly.
“Okay, good. Let’s get this over with.”
17
Cooper’s car is messier than one would expect for someone with such a stick up his bottom. There are piles of papers and books in the back seat, empty Bic biros and water bottles scattered in the footwell. Cooper is so massive that I’m kind of squished to the side of the car, my face almost sticking out of the open window like a dog.
Cooper’s parents live in North London, and as we set off, it becomes clear that neither one of us is keen to initiate a chat. Instead, I lean forward and press the dial for the radio. It’s pre-programmed to a station called Jazz Noir because of course it is.
Cooper immediately flicks it off.
I flick it back on.
He flicks it back off.
We both reach for the button at the same time, our fingers brushing. I tut and snatch my hand back like I’ve been burned. He clears his throat.
When his hands are safely back on the steering wheel and out of the way of my hands, I press play on the old CD deck,snorting when I realise that the song that was just playing on the radio is also playing on the CD.
“Not much of an eclectic taste in music then?” I say breezily.
“Eclectic music taste is what people who don’t understand music describe themselves as having.”
“Oh, sorry,Rolling Stonemagazine.”
I start rifling through a stack of CDs on a little shelf above the stereo, but Cooper blocks me with his arm.
“We have to establish some exposition.”
Jesus. Who on earth talks like that?
“My parents are Amy and Malcolm. They are very nice and very nosy. I…well, I told them that we met three weeks ago at a…” He murmurs the end of the sentence, and I don’t quite catch it.
“What was that?”
“A Charlie Parker tribute concert.”
“Sorry, say again, I couldn’t hear.”
“You heard perfectly well.”
I feel a little flicker of delight at his discomfort but remain innocent of face.
“They won’t expect us to know everything about each other because we’ve only been…dating…for a few weeks. But let’s get the basics established so that there are no major errors.”
“You go first.”
Cooper turns onto the North Circular and immediately pulls into the fast lane. I wind my window up so I can hear him properly.
