More laughter erupted from the kids.
“I give up, I’m going upstairs to read. You can deal with the rest of this.”
I was satisfied there was enough panic on Ben’s face as I left the room that I knew the poo conversation would be over now that he had to be an adult in this ‘house of boys’.
I lay down on my bed and picked up the book that had been lying on my bedside table for the guts of eight months. I used to devour books; now I was lucky to get through two a year. It wasn’t for all the time I was spending with kids it was more to do with just being bloody knackered at the end of every day and it was much easier to scroll through my phone that to read something that required actual brain cells. Before I even found the bookmark, my phone buzzed.
Elle: I've had a think about it and I've decided I don't want Keith to die of a heart attack that's too good for him. He brought himself home a takeaway without any for the rest of us because he felt like eating something ‘nice’. He’s such a moron.
Amy: That's a dead-skin-eating fish offence.
I smiled at my witty reply and hit send.
Elle: Too good for the turd, I’m going to train a bunch of Chihuahuas to gnaw off his gonads at my command. Now the house smells like glorious fried food and I’m dying for some fast food but I can’t or that means he’s won. Currently in the kitchen trying to chew down this bloody salmon and couscous.
We continued to trade tales of woe about our useless husbands and had a competition on who was worse off. I clinched the title by explaining that her girls would eventually grow up and come back after the horrible teenage years to love her like a cool best friend, whereas I would be replaced by whoever my sons chose to spend their life with and I would be left with Ben, by myself, in my twilight years, while she was clubbing in Ibiza with her cool daughters.
Despite that depressing realisation, I enjoyed the conversation with another female and it put me in a good enough mood to rejoin my family.
They were gathered in the living room playing together, I liked to watch them play together, Ben was definitely the fun parent, the boys adored him and he knew it. For those few minutes I loved them unconditionally. They had to ruin it by speaking to me.
“Mummy, can we get a dog?” asked Adam.
“No,” I said, curtly.
“But whyyyy?” my darling children wailed in unison.
How I hate the sound of whining children.
“Because kids, I would be the one looking after it, walking it, feeding it, cleaning up after it and when you get bored of it, I’m stuck with it. Just like the goldfish.”
“What goldfish?” asked Ben.
“Exactly!”
The goldfish had died two years ago but I still liked to bring it up as an example of how irresponsible we are as a family, when it comes to animals. The dog debate came up at least once a month. I blame that stupid cartoon about the rescue dogs. It gives kids an unrealistic view of dog ownership. They won’t go around rescuing people in cool vehicles. They’ll poo everywhere and chew the crotch off my underwear. I thought I’d put an end to the conversation but then my third ‘child’ decided to bring it up when the boys went to bed.
“Why don’t we get a dog, babe?”
“Firstly, we decided to never call each other ‘babe’ because it’s creepy, and secondly I don’t want a bloody dog.”
“But whyyyy?”
How I hate the sound of a whining husband.
“Are you doing this in order for the compromise to be: no dog, but I’ll give you sex?” I asked.
“I hadn’t thought of that, well can it be?”
“No.”
“Worth a try,” he conceded. “I'm serious about the dog though, it would be good for you to have a reason to properly exercise on a daily basis.”
“I’m chunky and you’re stuck with me.”
“This isn’t about weight, Amy. It’s about mental health. You know exercise is a great antidepressant.”
Ah, that old chestnut again.
“Yes, but so are antidepressants and they’re working fine,” I replied. “Can we just stare at the television now?”
“What about talking to someone again, you liked it after…”
“Stop, Ben. I’m asking you to stop and I’m asking nicely.”
“Ok. I’m sorry, you know I just like to make sure we've got all the bases covered. Don’t want anything slipping through the cracks like last time.”
“Last time, as you so elegantly put it, was a breakdown. I’m fine. We’re fine. I just don’t want to walk a dog to keep you happy.”
“Will you at least think about it?”
“Fine, I will think about it if puts an end to this conversation so I can watch the television for an hour without getting a lecture on my mental health.”
I had every intention of thinking about the possibility of a dog, a whole crowd of them, more specifically: trained Chihuahuas that could gnaw the gonads off an irritating man at my command.
Chapter 11
It was 7.55 p.m. the next evening and as I nervously checked my reflection in the mirror I had the overwhelming sense that someone was watching me. It was Ben, of course. He’d been following me around ‘casually’ all evening. I was nervous about what fresh hell awaited me but by the looks of things, not as nervous as my husband.
“You’re doing it again,” I said.
“What?”
“Stalking me like a Komodo dragon waiting for the poison to kick in so I’ll keel over.”
“No I’m not, I just want to meet this woman,” he replied, sulkily.
“Are you going to be weird?”
“No, are you?”
Touché.
“Probably; actually, it’s pretty much a given.”
The doorbell rang and we both looked at each other.
“Will you answer it while I get my handbag together? Please don’t say anything embarrassing.”
“Of course I won’t, that’s an impossibility. I can see you rolling your eyes, Amy.”
Right, what do people bring on a night out anyway? I’m pretty sure I won’t need a dummy or the nappies, but maybe the wipes – God knows where she’s bringing me. Should I bother bringing make-up? After two glasses of wine, I'm never that bothered with how I look, anyway. Maybe I should bring some, just in case we are in that horrible female-bonding situation at the bathroom and she wants to talk about something deep and meaningful. I can pretend to put on mascara so I won’t have to look her in the eye when she’s talking about emotions.
I heard the laughter from the two of them in the hallway and decided to check it out. When I peered over the bannister I could see Elle in a floaty ensemble with her hair clipped up with a large, exotic-looking flower pinned in it. She laughed heartily again and I realised that she must be being kind, Ben was definitely not that funny.
“There she is,” Elle called up with a wink. “Ready to paint the town red?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“Just get down the stairs. Is she always this uncertain?” she asked, Ben.
“Yes!” He agreed with too much enthusiasm. “I mean no. Well, maybe… just sometimes.”
Poor cover, Ben.
“Indecision runs in the family, eh?” she laughed.
She hooked her arm in mine and I instantly had to try to keep up with her stride out the door.
“Right, Benny, don’t wait up!” she called from over her shoulder.
I didn’t get to give him a kiss goodbye but he was too busy waving enthusiastically from the door to notice my panicked look as I was dragged out to her car.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to leave the car in town and we can get properly rat-arsed, ok?” she said.
“Well, I mean I have the kids tomorrow so not exactly rat-arsed. How about like… hamster-arsed?” I asked, in way of a compromise.
“Hamster-arsed? Alright, but before you decide on a night of sobriety I think you should find out what we’re doing first.
”
“Going to a bar?”
“Correct, but there’s an event at the place we’re going to and I thought it would be fun.”
“Like a pub quiz? I haven’t been to one in years and I’m pretty sure my specialist subject is kids’ cartoons, at this stage. I’ll give it a go though.”
“No, not a quiz. Before I tell you, I want you to just hear me out; before you inevitably flip out, that is.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“That’s not hard, let’s be honest. Anyway, I think you need a bit of a confidence boost. You’re in this little bubble of your family and you just seem so deflated. Like ‘what’s the point in even trying’ type aura around you.
“Look at you tonight, you look great. Why don’t you make that type of effort all the time? Now, before you get all indignant and start shouting at me, just remember what you thought when you looked at yourself in the mirror this evening compared to this morning. Did you get a little lift from taking the time on yourself? This isn’t about dressing up for Ben or anyone else, I mean do it just for you.
“Bitta lippy can go a long way to helping you face the day. My make-up is my war paint and I’m ready to kick arse in the day ahead. It’s a little thing, but confidence is key. You’re the least assertive person I’ve met and I think a little confidence boost could do you wonders.”
“What’s the point in putting on make-up? It takes up time I’d rather spend sleeping.”
“See? ‘What’s the point’? That defeatist attitude has got to go. You’re amazing and I’m going to shake you back to life even if it kills me.”
“So what? I should shove on some lipstick and sing a power ballad at some cheesy karaoke bar? I’d rather throw myself from the car now.”
“No! I can’t stand karaoke bars. They’re really depressing. There’s always some group of women singing I will survive or an ageing crooner, who thought he was a ‘star’ in his youth, massacring a Meatloaf song. My idea is much more sensible. All you’ve got to do is trust me and keep an open mind. We’re here.”
She had pulled up to a trendy bar on the other side of the town. I hadn’t been there before, but that wasn’t hard. Bars and bistros were always popping up and disappearing before I had a chance to even know they existed. I could see a group of women, younger than us, heading in the same direction and I outwardly groaned. Elle noted my reluctance and hooked my arm again, half dragging me through the door behind them. This was going to be a long night.
A very cheery-looking hostess greeted us at the door. Her teeth were unnaturally white and I felt unnerved when she smiled at us.
“Hiya, ladies!” she said. “If you want to pick up a wee form over there and pop on a wee name sticker we’ll be starting in a wee while. Any questions?”
“Yeah, can you stop smiling at us for a wee while, because it’s really freaking me out?” asked Elle, nervously.
The hostess immediately dropped her act and nodded her head towards the pens.
“There are the wee pens, move the fuck along. Thanks, ladies.”
I pulled Elle away from the now glowering hostess towards the group of women already filling in their ‘wee questionnaire’. I didn’t need to wonder any longer what the evening held; it was in bold print at the top of the page: Speed Dating.
“No. I’m out of here,” I said.
I spun on my heels and headed to the front door, past the confused looking hostess, when Elle managed to get in between me and the exit. She forcefully clotheslined me into a booth, where an unsuspecting couple were sitting. She then proceeded to wrestle me into an awkward lying position, taking over half of the booth. Eventually, she managed to pin my arms across my chest and sit on my legs.
“I told you to keep an open mind, Princess. This escaping business doesn’t seem like you’re being very receptive to this idea.”
“One: I’m married, two: I can’t imagine if I were single that I would remotely be interested in meeting people this way, three: I’m married and four —”
“Let me guess: you’re married?”
“Yes!”
“Sorry, we’re trying to have a romantic meal here can you girls please just take your domestic somewhere else?” asked the male half of the disturbed couple.
“Shut up, mate; she would be so lucky to have me as her woman.”
Turning to me she continued: “Now if I let you up will you promise to hear me out?”
“Like I have a choice, you drove me here and assaulted me when I tried to leave.”
“Great!” She turned her attention to the couple once again and said: “Sorry about the ‘arsehole’ comment. Can you two, shove up? I need to give this one a pep talk.”
They stared dumbfounded and eventually shuffled up allowing us both to sit in the booth with them. This did not make things less awkward between us.
“Now, as I was saying in the car, I think you have a self-esteem issue and I want to help. The make-up is all superficial nonsense, I grant you, but I thought if you could see yourself through someone else’s eyes – particularly someone who wasn’t looking at you as their wife or mother – you’d be able to see you’re not dead yet.”
Was I spending too much time with this woman or did this make sense?
“You deserve to feel desired and attractive and from what I gather by your put-upon demeanour you’re not exactly feeling that within yourself. This isn’t about the men you talk to it’s about the feedback after. Personally, I could live without men – no joke – but I couldn’t find an all-female empowerment conference for this evening in this town so I’m improvising. I just want you to see yourself from another perspective. If you take nothing from this experience, so be it; at least there’s wine.”
I don’t know how long I stared at her saying nothing.
“What have you got to lose?” said the female half of our booth companions.
“See? She agrees with me and she knows what she’s talking about – I just know by the look of you. You’re totally in the know.”
Female booth companion seemed pleased by this ridiculous compliment and blushed while her partner stifled a laugh.
“You are buying all the wine,” I said in a defeated tone. “And we don’t say a word to Ben about this.”
“No problem, I agree to both those conditions, you’re not going to regret this.”
“I already do.”
Chapter 12
Despite going along with her plan, I fell at the first hurdle: the questionnaire.
“What the hell am I meant to write in this?” I said.
“Just make it up, I mean we’re never going to see these people again so, who cares? Just say you’re looking for friendship but open to more and go from there.”
“I shouldn’t put my real name then?”
“No! Not unless you want them looking you up on Facebook to ‘connect’. How would you even explain that to Ben?”
“How do I explain any of this to Ben?”
Cheery Hostess shot me a look similar to that of a pissed off librarian for talking too loudly.
“It's not that hard, have a look at mine.” She proudly showed off her handiwork and to my horror, she was already finished her one.
“You’re an astrophysicist named Lulla?”
“Yeah, don’t you think I look like a Lulla?”
“What if they pair you with an actual scientist and you’ve nothing to say to them.”
“That's a very ignorant viewpoint, Amy. I mean how do you know I don't have the basic knowledge that I could pass as this persona for the three minutes I'll be speaking to them? I could know stuff. I've watched movies about space and stuff.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, that’s exactly the same as being an actual astrophysicist.”
The sarcasm wasn’t lost on her and she gave me a playful dig in the ribs.
“Right, well I’m Eleanor and I’m an air hostess.”
“Nah, that’s too unbelievable,” she replied.
“What? How is me being an air hostess more unbelievable that you being an astrophysicist?”
She took the paper out of hands and started to fill it out for me.
“I dunno, it’s just this air you have,” she mused. “Oh, I know – be a travel agent. That’s pretty much the same and you don’t look like an Eleanor. Why don’t you try like ‘Aimee’.”
“That’s my bloody name,” I hissed, through gritted teeth.
“No, I spelt it differently, see?”
“Get me some wine and stop talking to me for three minutes. Consider this our speed date.”
“Righteo, wine it is.”
Elle didn't know what she was talking about. I could be an air hostess, I could be happy and helpful and wear those nice uniforms and brush my hair. For all these people knew I was the best goddamn air hostess in the world.
‘Lulla’ came back with red wine without offering any further explanation about what kind it was. Not that it mattered at this stage, I decided needs must and gulped down half the glass.
“It's that type of night, is it? Awesome, I'll catch up,” said the over-enthusiastic astrophysicist.
“Yes, Lulla, it’s that type of night saying as I’ve been taken speed dating for some reason that kind of made sense a half hour ago but now I’m beginning to think I’ve Stockholm Syndrome.”
I knew she wasn’t listening.
“What was that?” she asked. “Never mind, I’m sure it was something unnecessarily aggressive. Oh, look! We’re heading in, give me your questionnaire and I’ll leave it in with the not-so-happy hostess. She’s going to send all the weirdoes our way anyway, because of that crack I made about the smiling. You’re sticking with Eleanor the air hostess I see?”
“Yes, I’m a bloody air hostess. I’m a bloody brilliant air hostess.”
“Alright, alright; keep your knickers on Eleanor.”
She disappeared into the crowd of women vying to get their questionnaires in while I hung back and took another big gulp of wine. I prayed to the universe that I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew, or worse, Adam’s teacher. How would I explain that one?
Amy Cole has lost her mind: The perfect laugh out loud, feel-good comedy (The Amy Cole series Book 1) Page 10
