She’d mentioned that scene from You’ve Got Mail only in passing, right before he’d even asked her name. And he’d remembered? Intellectually, Nadia knew this made him what Emma and Gaby would call A Good Guy. He’d made her bed after making her come, and sent a variation of flowers the next day to boot.
So why didn’t that make her instantly swoon?
Nadia thought of her second favourite part of that movie, after the pencil line, when Meg Ryan is asked by the man who just broke up with her if she has anyone else. They’d both known the relationship was over, and he has already moved on.
‘No, no …’ Meg Ryan tells him, dreamily ‘… but there’s the dream of someone else.’
Nadia hadn’t thought about Train Guy all day, really – aside from being furious at him, and cursing him with a lifetime of singledom for having dared to stand her up. But standing on her doorstep with a gesture of kindness from one man, it was the other one who flooded her mind.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Emma down the phone five minutes later. ‘No way. Train Guy bolted! He’s done! He’s finished. He blew it!’
Nadia was lying on her bed, on her stomach, the right side of her face pressed against the bedsheets. She’d found an old pack of Milk Tray in the drawer of her desk she kept emergency cards and stuff for re-gifting in: Sanctuary Spa body lotions and candles not made of soy wax. She’d been thrilled to find a selection box in there that was only a month out of date. She hadn’t even ordered her Mac ’n’ Cheese yet. The Milk Tray was her starter.
‘Listen to me very carefully, friend,’ Emma pressed on. ‘The one good thing to come out of him not showing up is that it put you in the path of the man you actually needed to meet. He’s ginger and proud! He made you come! He gave a romantic gesture which I don’t totally understand but proves he’d paid attention to you! If you don’t let yourself be open to this man, you’re stupid.’
‘I’m hungover,’ complained Nadia. ‘Be nice to me.’ She slid in a Salted Caramel Charm, chewing noisily.
‘Oh, this is me being nice to you. Trust me.’
‘How much weight can we give to the fact that, now I think about it, the barman said it was his mother who called?’ Nadia eyed up a Hazelnut Whirl. ‘And that’s why he left so suddenly?’
‘Zero. Less than zero,’ Emma said.
‘Less than zero?’
‘Less than zero! It could have been the Queen of Sheba on the line, and he still could have waited for you to walk through that door so he could explain why he was leaving face to face.’
Nadia pouted down the phone.
‘Don’t pout at me.’
‘How did you know I was pouting!’
‘I can read you like a book, even when I can’t see you,’ Emma said. ‘And stop bloody chewing so loudly. It’s like being on the phone to a washing machine.’
Nadia laughed.
‘There could have been a family emergency …’ Nadia said. ‘A terrible accident that meant he couldn’t wait.’
‘Doubtful,’ said Emma. ‘Question though – and bear in mind the answer to this doesn’t get him out of this at all – but just to sate my own curiosity: were you on time?’
‘I am proud to say that I was literally a minute past the hour. That’s as on time as it gets for me.’
‘It is. I’m impressed.’
‘I was really excited! If I hadn’t stopped to talk to Gaby in the lobby I’d have been a minute early!’
‘Well. He might still have already gone by then. We’ll never know, will we?’
‘I could write to him in the paper and ask him …’ Nadia said. She was down to the Strawberry Temptations in her chocolate selection. She decided no hangover was worth that, and pushed the box away from her, causing a lone crumb of Perfect Praline to smear across her bedsheets, leaving a brown mark. I should change these anyway, she thought. I’ll bet they’re covered in—
‘Guess what I’m going to say to that?’ Emma replied.
‘Absolutely no way?’
‘Absolutely no way! Correct!’
‘Stop. Shouting.’
Emma took a breath. ‘Listen. Train Guy is over. Ov-er. But Eddie is not! See him again, just once. In daylight. Over coffee, so your judgement isn’t impaired. Give him a chance to win you over. You deserve that.’
Nadia couldn’t articulate why she didn’t feel able to do that, so settled on: ‘Fine. I hereby suspend judgement. I’m going to have a bath and watch Sleepless in Seattle now. You’re too bossy for my headache.’
‘Okay, good. I love you. I say all this because I love you.’
‘Are you around this weekend? Sunday brunch?’
Emma faltered. ‘Um, I’m not sure. Can I text you?’
‘Sure,’ said Nadia. ‘But also, before you go: are you okay? How are you feeling?’
‘I’m good. I’m okay.’
‘That’s it? Just tell me what happened last weekend.’
‘Nads, I love you. I promise I’m fine.’
‘I don’t believe you. But. You know. I’ll be here when you’re ready.’
As she hung up and pulled up Deliveroo on her phone to finally order some proper food, she reasoned that Emma was, indeed, correct. Surely it would be self-sabotage to block Eddie’s number in the hope that he took the hint (and also forgot her address). That’s what she had thought about doing. She was better than that, though: if she blocked the number of a man she’d slept with with no explanation – a man who had sent her a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils! – that would make her a total cow. And the romantic karma would surely come back around to hurt her. No. She had to act according to her value system despite how awkward that felt, because that’s how she’d been raised. That’s the treatment she’d want. Kindness first.
As she ate her dinner on the couch later, she surprised herself at how, even as she mopped up cheese sauce with half a focaccia, she continued to pine for the imaginary man on the train. Anyone could have been sending those notes. She kept thinking about a man who she had never met, who she had never seen or heard speak, when an actual real-life man had been in her bed last night. She should at least be polite and text Eddie a thank you, she reasoned. It was a cute gesture, and he hadn’t done anything wrong except emphatically not being Train Guy. He couldn’t help that.
Thank you, Nadia sent to him. It bothered her that she had to use iMessage because he didn’t have WhatsApp. What an inconsequential thing to be bothered about, and true all the same, she thought. Before she could type anything else he replied, I’m doing it. I am undertaking my homework.
??? she typed back.
The movie! The Nora Ephron back catalogue! That’s a very important fact about me: I follow instruction very well. He followed it with a photo of a beer held up to a TV that was, indeed, playing her favourite film. There was a familiarity to sending a photo, an intimacy. Nadia figured that having sex was about as intimate as it got, but she didn’t actually believe that. Sex was one thing, but this guy was making himself emotionally available to her. She could see a few framed photographs at the side of the TV, and using two fingers to zoom in assumed them to be of his mum and dad, and maybe a dog.
Nadia smiled to herself and sent back: I rather gathered that last night, Eddie. She was being sexually provocative to hold him at emotional arm’s length, a tried-and-tested tactic she’d used many times before.
Eddie sent back the purple devil emoji and then, frustratingly refusing to be led down the provocative path typed: This is actually really well written. Like, you think the characters are these stock characters performing to type, but just when you think the rich bookstore guy doesn’t have a heart, you realize how kind he is in spite of his family. And you think she’s all romantic and hopeful and then she says something spikey and cutting but true. Everyone surprises me, in every scene.
Nadia wrote back: Firstly, don’t be that guy.
It was Eddie’s turn to type back a string of question marks.
The guy who is surprised by a
woman’s recommendation and uses the word ‘actually’ as if it is remarkable that a female recommendation of a female-led movie would be right.
Noted, Eddie typed back. I only meant I didn’t think I’d be into a rom-com, but I accept your point.
It’s so much more than a rom-com! Nadia wrote back.
THAT IS WHAT I AM SAYING WITH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!! Eddie replied. WE ARE SAYING THE SAME THING!!!!
Okay!!!!!!!! said Nadia in reply.
Jesus!!!
Nadia sat up straight from her vegetative state on the sofa. Eddie was … smart. And saying insightful things, and also not letting her be an asshole to him. Like, he was sticking up for himself whilst also telling her that he heard her. In spite of herself, Nadia was impressed.
She changed tactic. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.
I am, he said. She reminds me of you.
Who does?
Kathleen.
Meg Ryan reminds you of me?!
Yes, Eddie typed back. Maybe it’s the hair.
Maybe, Nadia replied, trying on the character of Kathleen for size. She liked the comparison.
Or maybe it’s the defensive attitude masking deep romanticism, he typed, adding in a winky emoji.
Touché, said Nadia. And then, in spite of herself, because she had Emma’s voice ringing in her head and he was being sweet and she didn’t, actually, have anything to lose: So, this weekend, right?
Are you asking me out? said Eddie, ignoring the fact he’d suggested to her this morning that his whole weekend was free. She deserved that. She deserved being made to put herself out there a little when she was riding him so hard. She admired that – that he was making her declare her interest as clearly as he had declared his. It felt full of self-respect.
I am, she said. Sunday. Let’s do something nice on Sunday. She had a twinge in her heart that betrayed her excitement. Enjoy the movie! x
32
Daniel
‘Mate,’ Daniel said, swilling the last dregs of his beer at the bottom of the glass. ‘I don’t have words for the extent to which I am not interested in tonight. Really and truly – I’m pretty sure you don’t need me.’
Lorenzo raised his eyebrows and shook his head. ‘I need you, dude.’ He finished his drink and signalled to the barman for two more.
‘No,’ Daniel said, firmly. ‘I’ve got to pace myself.’ He waved Lorenzo’s hand away and held up one finger to the barman. The barman nodded, message received.
‘It’s not as if I’m asking you to set your hair on fire and put it out with the back of a shovel just for a laugh. This is a group of hot girls! You could even get laid if you wanted!’
‘But that’s the point, isn’t it?’ said Daniel. ‘I don’t want to.’
Lorenzo, as predicted, hadn’t been hugely sympathetic about Daniel’s failed date and lost romance as he’d relayed it all as they’d eaten toast and jam in the kitchen together that morning.
‘Bollocks to her, mate,’ was how he’d summarized it. ‘Come out with me tonight. You could get any of the girls from the RAINFOREST party on their knees for you, and they’ll all be there. Becky said so.’ Becky was the girl Lorenzo had brought home after the work event the other week.
In lieu of any sort of emotional intelligence, Lorenzo got weirdly sexual, but Daniel knew he meant well. It was just, well … Lorenzo’s version of ‘meaning well’ was exhausting.
The barman put down another pint in front of Lorenzo, and he picked it up, emptying half of it in two huge gulps.
‘It’s Saturday night! Come on! We’re young, we’re single, we’re a pair of good-looking dudes. What’s wrong with letting our hair down?’
Daniel raised his eyebrows at him, and regretted ever being dragged out in the first place. He’d had a rush of understanding that he couldn’t just stay in front of the TV all Saturday night, and that a few drinks with Lorenzo wouldn’t be the end of the world, but now he was out and the bar was busy and Lorenzo was being particularly loud and louty, he regretted it. He wasn’t in the mood to manage Lorenzo’s outgoingness.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Lorenzo continued, noting Daniel’s sour expression. ‘Just … at least pretend to have a good time? Becky wanted to go out with her mates, and I wanted to see Becky – I mean, she’s super fit, so duh – and I can’t be some weird guy in a group of girls waiting for them to stop talking so he can get his dick sucked, so … this is you doing me a favour. Although how my invitation for peeling you away from the sofa is somehow you helping me out I’ll never know. Anyway,’ he paused as he finished off his pint in another two long gulps, ‘I said eight and it’s eight, so let’s go.’
The guys walked quickly under the arches of Hoxton station and rounded the corner to see four women standing in a tight circle, all on their phones. Daniel recognized the woman who’d tried to kiss him, as well as Becky, whose face lit up at Lorenzo’s. Daniel thought the other two women must have been at the party too, but he didn’t recognize them. They kind of all looked the same, with honey-coloured hair just below their shoulders, all of them in high-waisted jeans and leather sandals, with lots of gold jewellery layered around their necks and wrists.
‘Ladies,’ said Lorenzo, shouting as they approached. ‘What a sight for sore eyes!’
Becky said something Daniel couldn’t hear to the group as they all looked up, making everyone giggle. He felt self-conscious, but he didn’t know why. The girl who had hit on him at the party made eye contact and smiled sweetly.
‘We meet again,’ she said, as the two men made their way around the group, kissing the cheeks of each woman.
‘We do,’ said Daniel. ‘You look nice. I like your –’ he struggled to identify something that stood out from the rest of the group ‘– nail varnish.’
The girl laughed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I just got a manicure this morning. Self-care Saturday and all that.’
Daniel smiled and nodded politely, not knowing what self-care Saturday was, but not feeling invested enough in polite conversation to follow up. At least he was out, breathing fresh air and wearing cologne. He’d moped enough last night, ordering in truffle Mac ’n’ Cheese from halfway across London, and throwing in a cheesecake to boot. When he’d woken up this morning he’d put a wash on and changed his sheets, gone for a run, had breakfast with Lorenzo and then headed out to the Wellcome Collection for a bit of culture. It was a slow, quiet day, but void of much human interaction, and so here he was, engaging with people.
‘Shall we go then?’ Lorenzo asked the group, rounding everyone up. ‘I saved us a table at Lilo and Brookes. No big deal, but yeah, I know a guy.’
Daniel turned to the nameless girl beside him.
‘What have you been up to today?’ he said, forcing himself to be friendly and sociable, and struggling to listen to her answer.
At the bar, the group assembled and in a fit of generosity Daniel said, ‘Right then – what’s everyone having? First round is on me.’
He handed over his credit card to pay, having realized at Wetherspoons the night before that he’d left his debit card at the bar when he was supposed to meet Nadia. He couldn’t face going back for it, so he’d cancelled it and ordered another to be delivered in the post. In the meantime, the £115 total for six drinks – six drinks! Over one hundred pounds! – went on his Amex. Daniel delivered the tray to the table and thought about what Romeo would say about the cost. They should have all gone to Wetherspoons.
A few hours into the evening, Daniel suddenly stepped out of himself to acknowledge that actually, it was almost as if he was having fun. The woman who’d hit on him at the party last time had made friends with a guy from another group, and so that guy’s friends had joined their table and they’d held court, telling stories and laughing with the other girls and him. It took the pressure off the ‘performance’ – he just got to chat and not worry about flirting or being flirted with. Daniel ended up talking about Arsenal with one of the guys, passionately defending their startin
g line-up in the Premier League final match – still a sore point for many a fan. The guy had said some clever and funny things, and then, out of nowhere, said, ‘I’m going to the bathroom, mate. Do you want any?’ He put a finger against one nostril and snorted up through the other. Daniel looked around the group. Ah. They were all high.
‘Nah mate, I’m all right for a minute,’ Daniel said, hating knowing he was the only one not disappearing to the loo for cocaine. It wouldn’t be long before everyone got shouty and self-obsessed and sweaty and horny too. Lorenzo and Becky had made out occasionally all night, but Daniel noticed now that the spaces between their kisses had lessened and lessened, and just like that Daniel stopped having fun and made his excuses to leave.
‘Daniel!’ he heard from behind, as he checked his phone to see that his Uber was only two minutes away. ‘Daniel!’
It was Lorenzo, with a very out-of-it Becky on his arm. She staggered and swayed, and had the fixed, airless smile of a woman who had no idea where she was. She didn’t look high – she looked very, very drunk.
‘Give us a ride, buddy,’ Lorenzo said cheerily.
‘Two minutes,’ said Daniel, glancing at his phone. ‘Oh. One.’
Becky could hardly support her own head. She mumbled something and pushed her hair from her face. ‘You okay, Becky?’ Daniel asked.
‘Nkdhrhf-drunk, isall,’ she said, which Daniel took to mean ‘I’m drunk’.
‘Can I get you something? Where are the others?’
Lorenzo looked annoyed at the question. ‘Chill out. She’s with me. She’s okay.’
Daniel stepped towards him and lowered his voice. ‘I don’t think she really knows where she is, mate,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t take her home like this. Let’s get her back to the girls.’
Lorenzo looked up, meeting Daniel’s eye, puffing out his chest. ‘Mind your own business, mate.’ He said ‘mate’ as if it meant exactly the opposite, aggressive and mean.
‘No, dude, I didn’t mean … just. Look at her! She should go home.’
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