by Jenna Cox
He didn’t. And the closer it got to Saturday night without either of us bringing it up, the harder it seemed to do.
And there was always the money thing hanging over our heads. The parties cost money — entry, drinks. Dinner cost money. Even a bunch of shitty flowers cost money. And it made me realise that perhaps we weren’t totally as honest and forthright as I liked to think — because apart from admitting that Brendan needed it, we didn’t say any more. Neither of us had mentioned the earring again either, and I had no idea what he’d done with it. It was like an unspoken agreement that I was not to offer him anything, and that we’d just assume he was fine until he said otherwise. But I wondered if he would actually say anything if he wasn’t.
I’d let it go at first. It didn’t seem to be an issue — until I remembered that normal life required money. That eventually we might want to do things together in locations other than my bed, and we’d have to come to some understanding about how that was going to work. Especially since I was clearly the one who could afford to pay for more, but he steadfastly refused to let me.
My parents hadn’t carried through with their threat yet, and I was relaxing back into the probability that they never would — even as I mentally braced for whatever else they might try. They’d have some other tactic up their sleeve, some way to bully, berate or embarrass me into submission. But I didn’t really care. Nothing they could threaten me with would make me cave.
I’d even kept my broken phone the way it was. Every time I looked at it, the glaring crack reminded me of what I’d stood up to. That if money was the way my parents thought they could force me to still need them, then I’d prove them wrong. And it made me think of what I’d chosen instead — Brendan. Every time he came to mind — which was about a thousand times a day — little trills of excitement would run up the backs of my legs and my stomach would flip.
So on Saturday morning, when we still hadn’t talked, I decided to be proactive and come up with a plan. I tried Googling free date ideas, but most of them required weather that wasn’t below freezing — laying on the roof and searching for constellations? Who wrote these? Firstly, what roof? Mine was eight stories off the ground and pitched at an angle that meant certain death. And secondly, what stars? This was Leeds, a brightly lit city, in England, a nation of constantly overcast skies. And hypothermia anyone? To do any of the suggestions I found, we’d need to fly at least as far as Spain first. Unless we wanted to visit a museum, but I doubted Brendan was a museum kind of guy. The rest of the suggestions were all bedroom related, and we didn’t exactly need any prompting in that department.
I sighed and shut my laptop, and flopped back on the bed, staring at my ceiling high above me. The living space in our student flat had a little mezzanine loft, so the ceilings in the whole place were raised, a crazily cavernous space that probably made heating cost double. A couple of the bedrooms did have loft spaces, cut in above the beds. Not mine, but Izzy’s did, and I sat up then when a sudden idea occurred to me. I swung my legs off the bed, and jumped up, almost running to knock on her door.
She opened it quickly, wide eyed. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing.” I’d probably knocked a little too enthusiastically — already I was doubting myself. This was probably a dumb idea, but I just shook my head and said it anyway.
“Can we swap rooms for tonight?”
Izzy screwed up her face. “What for — and are you coming tonight? I think we’ve decided on hitting up the Love Shack party at—”
“I don’t think I’m going to go.” She pouted, but I shook my head. “We just don’t have the money for that right now.”
“We? You mean he doesn’t.”
“Okay, so he doesn’t. But I don’t want to push it. So I’ve been trying to think of other date ideas that won’t cost us anything.”
“So what do you want my room for?”
I told her my idea, and Izzy pulled at her bottom lip as she considered it. “Alright, so I do kinda like that. It’s cute.”
“Too cute?”
“Nah, just the right amount,” she said. “I’m jealous. I think I’m giving Tom the boot.”
“Salsa guy? Your doing it on Valentine’s?”
“It’s not like we have some love thing going on, not like you and Boxer Shorts Boy.”
I made some awkward mumbling response, feeling my cheeks get hot.
“So…bedroom?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘course.” She waved her hand, like it was a given. “So long as you don’t mind me bringing someone back to your room?”
“Would I ever stand in your way? Got your eye on any replacements for Tom?”
Izzy shook her head, her fringe getting in her eyes. “Nah. Just see what the night brings my way.” But she didn’t look at me directly, and my forehead creased a little. It wasn’t like Izzy not to tell me who she had a thing for, even a small thing. Normally she told me everything that went through her brain in way more detail than I cared to know. But if she wasn’t telling me, maybe it was something special, someone she liked for more than just a hook up. If that was the case, she probably hadn’t even admitted her feelings to herself yet. So I let it go.
“Want to come shopping with me, then? I need a few supplies.”
“Brendan can’t even afford his own condoms?”
I rolled my eyes at her impish grin. “Not those kinds of supplies.”
*-*-*
I hadn’t really thought the shopping trip through fully. One, I wasn’t sure exactly where to find what I wanted, and two, I’d under estimated the madness that descends over people because of a made up holiday. Even Izzy morphed into a morose ball of self-pity, and I regretted bringing her with me. Not that I didn’t have compassion for her. I cared that she was feeling lonely, and her reaction to the gaudy love that was shoved in our faces in every store was justifiable, even if I didn’t completely understand it; since when did Izzy care so much? I’d never seen her like this.
And when she looked like she was ready to punch a balloon-seller in the gonads for trying to sell her a foil, helium-filled heart, I wondered if it was time to send her home.
“Valentine’s day wasn’t his idea, Iz. He’s just doing his job.” I led her away, and I mouthed sorry over my shoulder to the guy. He just glowered at us and I considered setting Izzy on him again. But we walked away, and I finally spotted Poundstretcher. That seemed like my kind of store for this almost-free date I was trying to plan.
“I’m going to look in there. If you want to go home, you can—”
“No, I’ll come,” she said, and I hoped I hid my disappointment well enough behind a smile. We continued towards the shop as I wracked my brain for a kind way to tell her that she was killing my buzz, when I felt an actual buzz in my handbag. It was Brendan.
Where r u? Need to talk.
A flicker of a frown passed over my face at that, and I stopped walking to type a reply. Izzy overshot, then glanced back, spinning on her heel to come back to me.
“What’s up?”
Just doing some shopping. Need to talk before tonight? To Izzy I said, “It’s Brendan. He says he needs to talk. What does that mean? That’s never good, is it?”
Izzy raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know,” she said in a tone that conveyed that she did know, she just didn’t want to say.
What’s tonight?
“What’s tonight?” I read out loud. “Does he seriously not know what day it is?”
“He’s a boy. Boys are dumb.” The weird look I’d been seeing all day crossed Izzy’s face again; whoever this guy was she was pining over had really done a number on her. I’d never thought Salsa guy, Tom, had meant much to her, but maybe I’d misread it. Maybe something more had gone on after all.
I was staring at my phone trying to formulate a reply, when the screen flashed with Brendan’s name. I pressed my lips together and answered.
“Hey, you were taking a long time to reply. You know I was joking?”
I rolled my eyes. At myself or him, I wasn’t sure. “Funny.”
“As if I could miss that it’s Valentine’s day. No less than five hundred people just tried to give me fliers for parties when I walked through the uni.”
“Why were you walking through the uni on a Saturday?”
“I had work. And then I was coming to see you. But you’re not here, obviously.”
“Oh, you’re at my place?”
“I’m going through your underwear drawer right now.”
I snorted. “Right.”
“You really should lock your door, you know.”
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“Not about the drawer. Not yet anyway. But Justin let me in and I am in your room. I don’t think he knew you weren’t home.”
Izzy was staring at me questioningly. “It was a joke,” I mouthed, and rolled my eyes. She copied the gesture, like, boys, right? Then pulled out her own phone. I watched her check it hopefully, then frown and lean back against the shop wall behind her and swipe at it sullenly.
“Uh, yeah, sorry — I’m just out getting some stuff. For tonight, actually.”
There was a slightly too-long pause. “What sort of stuff?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
I pouted, even though he couldn’t see me. “It’s not a bad one. I thought you might like it better than going to one of the parties tonight, if we just stayed in.”
“Stay in? On a Saturday night? What will everyone think?” I thought it was sarcasm, but I was feeling off kilter. My pulse seemed to flutter weirdly.
“You are joking, aren’t you?”
“‘Course. Geez, you’re not getting any of my jokes today.”
“Maybe if they were funny,” I retorted, but I was smiling. Then my grin faltered. “Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”
The pause was too long again, and my stomach twisted nervously. “Uh, yeah. But not over the phone. You be home soon?”
“I’ve still got a few things to do. And my dad wants me to stop by his office this afternoon, so I was going to have lunch here and then go see him, since I’m nearby anyway.” I’d been trying to delay thinking about that for as long as possible. “You could meet me?”
“For lunch?” He hesitated, and I was sure he was going to refuse. Did we even know how to exist together outside of a bed? But he surprised me. “Okay. Where?”
I told him the address of a cafe down the street from my dad’s office building, and then we hung up. Izzy was already looking at me when I glanced over, and she held up her hands as if in surrender.
“I know when I’m not wanted.”
“I’d ask you to come to lunch too, but he sounded kinda serious—“
“It’s okay. I should go home anyway. Get a nap in before tonight. Clean up my room for you,” she said, and smiled.
“You don’t have to go yet.”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll go.” She hugged and air kissed me with a grin. “Text me or call me if you need, alright? But I’m sure it’s nothing bad. Maybe he’s going to propose. Lucky girl.” She waggled her eyebrows at me dramatically, and I swiped at her.
“Get out of here.”
“Going. Going.”
I didn’t for a second think that she might be right, but her joke unsettled me anyway. In the absence of any clues to what the real reason for Brendan meeting me might be, my brain did its usual thing of stewing on every fantastical scenario it could come up with.
But I went into Poundstretcher and distracted myself with cheap, plastic things made in China as I rummaged for the items on my list for that night. Assuming that the night was still going to happen. I had a talk with Brendan and my dad to get through first. There was no guarantee of survival.
*-*-*
I realised my mistake when I saw Brendan appear in the doorway of the cafe wearing a hoodie, with the hood up. He seemed to realise it too, pulling it down and ruffling his unruly hair, like that would make it better. I glanced down at my own Converse trainers, comparing myself to the well-heeled brunching ladies around me, and tucked them under my chair. I was considering getting up, getting to Brendan before he came in, and going somewhere else. But he’d already seen me and was crossing the sparkly polished concrete floor towards me, so I stayed where I was. Tried to smile brightly.
But I was also considering that a sandwich here cost more than a month’s worth of baked beans. I should have thought of this.
Brendan smiled at me as he slouched into the chair opposite. But when the waiter appeared to drop menus in front of us with a flourish, I saw him glance up and retract his elbows from the table. He shifted in his seat. It was only little things, little movements that gave it away. To most people he probably looked unfazed, like he was too rough for this place and proud of it. But I could tell by the way his jaw ticked a couple of times as he glanced at the menu that he was concerned, for all the reasons I’d feared.
Until that moment, I’d never thought of this place as anything but casual dining, somewhere I’d often met my parents for lunches. To them, this was practically slumming it. My face felt hot then. For a moment I could see clearly how my whole life I’d been seeing everything through their eyes. Until that point, my frustrations with them had been just like any parental annoyances for an almost twenty-year old learning to break out on her own. But I hadn’t realised just quite how much I’d have to break through to truly see life for myself, instead of coloured by them.
I felt a wash of rage and despair momentarily. Only a moment. A split second where everything seemed broken and ripped apart. And then the sensation was gone. Brendan was still perusing the menu, straight-faced like he was simply deciding which of the many options he most felt like. I knew he was probably calculating the cost to reward ratio of the cheapest thing on the menu. He hadn’t noticed my moment of breakdown. It was over now. Maybe nobody had.
But I felt different somehow. As I picked up my water glass, my hand was shaking. Brendan glanced at me then, and found me staring at him.
“Alright?”
“Uh, yeah. Is it hot in here?” I murmured. Brendan, still watching me, shrugged.
“Stuffy, yeah.” He glanced around us.
“Can we go somewhere else. I…I feel a bit sick.” It was the truth, as much as it was an excuse. I really couldn’t stand to be there any longer, for my own sake as well as his. I was already getting up, grabbing my handbag and the bag of shopping from under the table. Brendan watched me for a second, his mouth quirked, then he got up and followed me out.
We broke out onto the footpath outside just as fat drops of rain began plonking down in dark grey circles on the concrete.
“You still want to eat? Or you don’t want anything now?” Brendan asked, and I shivered slightly with pleasure as I felt his arm circle around my back protectively. He was facing me, at my side, looking down, and I turned my face up to him. Then looped my arm around his neck, turning into him and kissing him. Right in front of the large glass windows of the cafe we’d just exited, in full view of all its stuffy patrons. And I loved that Brendan just held me tighter and crushed me into him, instead of pulling away.
“Or you want to go back to your place?” he murmured, grinning.
I laughed. “No, I am hungry. And I do still have to meet my dad soon,” I added with a grimace. Then I nodded over his shoulder. “There’s an Ainsley’s. I could murder a sausage roll.”
And so we huddled inside the entry to the chain bakery brushing flakey pastry off our chests as we ate, and it was better than any cafe. Even though the wind had turned icy outside, I felt warmed to my toes every time I looked at Brendan. I was falling for him, harder and harder every day and it made my skin tingle. And more than that, I felt like being with him was opening my eyes, or like I was shedding an old skin I’d been living in too long.
I wasn’t sure what caused it. In reality, we still didn’t know each other that well. A
nd we hadn’t even done that much together yet. But when he was there, I felt electrified, like anything was possible, if he’d just come with me.
I pressed my lips together, pausing over my sausage roll and watched him, remembering that the reason he was meeting me was because he’d said we needed to talk. I felt a claw of anxiety in my gut.
“What?” he said around a mouthful of food, glancing at me. I swallowed.
“Uh…what did you want to talk about?”
“Oh. Right. Not much — just, uh, I’ve got a new job.” I nearly laughed with relief.
“Yeah? That’s great.”
“Yeah, it’s nights though, at a club. All I was going to ask was if some days I could come and crash in your bed for a couple of hours before I have to go to class.” He was looking at me like this was some huge favour that I was likely to decline.
“Yeah, of course,” I said. He nodded briefly, but his face didn’t clear. “Was there more?”
“Uh, not really. Just about what you wanted to do tonight.” I didn’t realise I’d been holding my breath until I let it out with a smile. “But have you already got a plan?”
“Well, I’m making plans,” I said, and lifted my arm where the shopping bag hung.
Brendan squinted at it dubiously. “I didn’t know we were doing presents.”
“What, you didn’t get me anything?”
“No—” He noticed my smirk and rolled his eyes.
“You’d better get me something to the same value then,” I continued. “I think it was, uh, four quid? No, 4.25. Don’t skimp.”
“You can get a least a few of blocks of chocolate for that.”
“More than a few if you shop where I did,” I said, turning the plastic shopping bag around to show the logo. “They might be out of date though.”
“Poundstretcher? Going all out, then.”
“Of course. Our first Valentine’s day deserves nothing less,” I said, but my smile faltered as something flickered across his expression, like a blip on a roll of film. But it was gone as fast as it came.
