Stories We Ruined Together Pt. 07

There's a little while to go before everything completely unravels, so you can relax. I'm telling you about one of the happiest periods of my life. Maybe it was the happiest, I don't know. It's hard to judge something like that. I went to bed that night full of melting happy tenderness. I could hardly have felt any better, could hardly have felt any more positivity for Ed, for the relationship growing up between us. I knew that I wanted him long term. And I would put the work into making that happen. Romeo hopped up onto the bed, something he does sometimes not to be with me as such, but just because he finds it comfortable there. He turned his back to me. Softly, I sang him a song, a lullaby, because I couldn't not sing. Even the large damp patch on the duvet, which I had caused in the throes of myself-pleasure, didn't bother me one bit. In fact it was a nice memento of what had gone on earlier, what I had done. With all those happy thoughts and many more, I fell asleep.

The next day, Friday, I dodged the girls at lunch so that I could call Brian. We had arranged to catch up, and I was bursting to tell him all about recent events, and as soon as we'd exchanged the briefest of pleasantries, I recounted the story. Or at least most of it. I played down my infatuation a little, so that he wouldn't scold me for getting carried away. And I didn't go into full detail on the intimate events which had taken place. But I gave him plenty to chew on.

"Wow, that's really something. So unlike you! Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm alright, why wouldn't I be alright?"

"It's just so... out of character. You're normally so, erm..."

"- boring?" I said, interrupting his attempts to find a non-insulting adjective for me.

"No, I wasn't going to say that. I was going to call you cautious. Careful."

"Okay, sure." I was out in the courtyard between our office and several very similar offices. Some days I felt like a clone working a clone job in a clone building. But not on that Friday. On that Friday I was safe from those depressing thoughts.

"It's normal to be a bit like that, after the luck you've had. Anyway, sorry, yes, I am happy for you, and he sounds bloody good. And I'm glad you're finally getting some, you've been out of it for ages. You need a good seeing to every now and then just like everyone else. And I know better than anyone how frustrating it is when you can't find anyone decent to do it with!"

"We haven't actually done 'it' yet, as such," I said, kicking a piece of gravel. "But I know we will soon. I want to. I just want it to be right."

"Cool, makes sense. When are you seeing each other next?"

"I'm over at his house tomorrow evening, dinner with his housemates."

"Scary."

"It is a bit. I don't know what to expect. But it should be nice, I think."

"You'll charm the hell out of them," said Brian with a confidence that inspired me. We chatted for a bit longer, about a new project at his job, and the various ways in which his sister was driving him mad with her various life crises, and then we said goodbye. He told me to be myself, to enjoy meeting Ed's friends, to be brave about the whole thing. And I said that I would be.

The rest of the day was easy. I did my thing on spreadsheets and systems and even some old-school paper files. Daisy came by my desk to check on some things and said that I was looking 'all rosy and chipper', clearly fishing for gossip pertaining to why on earth I was smiling so much, but I fended her off with my extremely vague responses, and she got bored and left me alone. At home I messaged Ed and he sent me the address, and time, for Saturday, along with some nice words about how much he was looking forward to me. I fed Romeo and fed myself, and hunkered down on the sofa beneath two blankets, and with hot water bottle, to watch a documentary about politics in the USA in the build up to the last presidential election. That's one of my secret pleasures. Although not truly a 'secret', more something that nobody would be curious enough to find out. I like the depth of it, the layers of intrigue. Something about the drama and division calls to me. Perhaps I should be worried about that. But it's not important, it's not relevant to this story that I'm telling you. I won't mention US politics again. Probably. I probably won't. What I'm saying is that the Friday evening was a chilled one, and I felt happy, and excited for the next day, feeling that I was about to take another step forward with Ed, and that meant a lot to me. A level of optimism that I hadn't reached for ages. And that night I slept beautifully.

"How do I look?" I opened my arms to Romeo, showing him my final choice of green corduroy dress, down to the knees, black tights, brown brogues. Black cardigan over the dress, that I hoped to be able to shed if the house was less perilously icy than my flat. Romeo just stared back at me, from his bed by the radiator in the corner. "Okay, well I think I look nice. I think I look very presentable." I picked up my handbag and slung it over my shoulder, then took a long last look in the mirror. I'd put my hair into a bit more order than usually, I'd straightened it and it hung down to the small of my back. I liked it like that, and liked the dark brown against the dark green of the dress. I made a mental note to do my hair like that more often, and then put my bag down again and went back to the loo because I needed to wee again. Nerves, probably. A minute later I was out of the door, stepping out into the dull cold afternoon, but grey skies could not get me down, no sir.

I got the bus to his side of town. It's not really in the town, although it's got the postcode. I was curious to see somewhere I knew by name only, but of course it was essentially just like the town except a little bit quieter. The same terraced streets of red-brick houses built for millworkers around a hundred and fifty years ago. I checked my phone for the location, and walked there slowly because I was early. I'm almost always early, and I've been like that forever. I hate the idea of keeping someone waiting, or having to rush. I don't like the stress of it. I'll happily arrive early and have a little saunter round, and take it easy. I'm well aware that it's impolite to arrive more than five minutes early as well, so don't worry, I never do that either. And so it was that I ended up ringing the bell dead on six pm, just as I'd been asked to. It was answered by a skinny man with a baseball cap and a faint moustache. He looked me up and down.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

I felt like this was a little joke he was doing, I knew I had the right address. "Hopefully you can."

"We don't want to buy anything, sorry." He shook his head but his acting was sub-par, I didn't buy the annoyance he'd tried to slap onto it.

"Oh, that's a shame. Anyway, I'm Lizzie."

He grinned widely, almost manically, but somehow it was charming. "I know, I was only joking. Gareth. Nice to meet you." He offered his hand and I took it and received a firm and wet shake. "Oh, that's a very clean wet, don't worry. I washed my hands to come to the door. I was chopping onions when you knocked. Come on in."

"Thanks very much. How's your day going?"

"Oh, fairly well thank you. I've been slaving all day at the coalface of the desktop --I'm a programmer. I work from home, it's not a bad deal. Just a bit tiring sometimes. Not that I get an ounce of sympathy. And then Mary came back from her bike ride and told me off for not feeding our snake -- we have a snake. And then I remembered I was supposed to get started prepping the soup, so that when Ed got back we could get onto the pasta bake, and I've been rushing around making a mess of everything."

"Maybe I can help with something?" Normally I would feel guilty if anyone had been put to any trouble for me, but I got the sense that Gareth was jus tenjoying playing to a new audience.

"Oh no, no no no. No. No no no. You come through to the lounge, sit down on the sofa, righ there. I'll call for Mary. Mary!! Mary!!" I wanted to put my hands over my ears as he yelled in the general direction of the stairs, but to do so seemed rude, so I endured it. "Mary!! Lizzie is here!"

Some kind of unclear response was yelled down, and Gareth did a weird little bow and slipped off back to the kitchen. I looked around. This was a big lounge. And nice windows overlooking a significant garden, slightly overgrown but not in a bad way, with thick grass and flowers and a few noticeable weeds. A big stone birdbath in the middle of it, with a feeder alongside. A few little creatures were using it at that moment -- sparrows? Maybe. I now nothing about birds. The room itself had three long grey sofas covering most of the perimeter, and then an expanse of sky-blue carpet. White walls, the shade sometimes referred to as Magnolia. Adorned with framed posters of old films and classic rock albums. One corner held a tall bookcase, the other a small TV. I headed over to the bookcase to investigate. There was quite a lot of what looked to be science-fiction, none of which I recognised but then it's not my area. History books, about the English civil war, the Spanish civil war, the American civil war. Someone here was very interested in internal conflict. I wondered if all the books were Ed's or not. A lot of cookbooks. And a whole row of Victorian fiction, which I was pleased to see. Hoping for sometime later to question Ed on his favourites, I scanned the other spines, and saw an eclectic mix, all kinds of genres. Then creaking stairs announced Mary's arrival, and I turned around and put on a big friendly smile to meet her as she came through the doorway.

"Liz? Nice to meet you, I'm Mary.

"Nice to meet you too. Normally people call me Lizzie. Not that I actually care either way." We didn't shake hands, instead did that awkward little wave, which I really don't like. But she was holding two glasses so there wasn't much choice anyway. My first impression of her was that she was beautiful. Stood there in a short white dress adorned with colourful flours, her legs were long and tanned, climbing up to shapely hips and a waist that went right in, just like I wished mine did. I quickly brought my gaze back to her face. Lovely delicate features, and her hair in a blonde bob, it really suited her.

"Lizzie, okay, I'll remember that. People call me all kinds of things, but that's mainly at work."

"Yeah, Ed told me you work in a bar?"

"Yep. It's okay sometimes. I don't mind it. And Gareth works from home so even with my weird shifts, we get to spend a decent amount of time together. And Ed's great, he really is. He's a great person to live with, we like him a lot. Hey, sit down, let's chill out. The boys can make dinner. Maybe we'll help set the table or something."

She sat at the edge sofa furthest from the door, and I took a place on the one beside it, so that where they almost met in the corner we were half-facing. She really was a looker. But I chased away the instinctive envy. Forget it. Mary passed me one of the drinks, and told me it was port, said that she and Gareth had developed a small obsession with it, and she hoped I didn't mind it but if I did there was some beer in the fridge that she could get me. I said it would be absolutely fine, and had a good sip and complimented it, and she smiled. Wow, immaculate teeth. We talked a bit about my job, and then about the area they lived in, and where they had been before, and other general, safe topics. There was something intense about the way she looked at me. But she was nice -- really nice in fact, and easy to talk to, and calmer than Gareth. I wondered how they had ended up together, and what the arguments that Ed had mentioned revolved around.

We heard the door open, and Ed and Gareth exchange greetings, loudly and with sounds of slapping and bumping.

"They have a ridiculous secret handshake," Mary explained. "It shouldn't even be called a handshake, it's a whole routine. And they even do it if we meet up out in public, it's a bit embarrassing. But it's cute as well."

"Hi, sorry I'm late." Ed entered the lounge and beamed at us, hands on hips. "Who's ready to eat some food?"

"You've got to cook it first," said Mary.

"A fair point well made." He approached the sofa and I stood up, we hugged and he kissed my cheek. "I think there's some cooking tasks waiting for you ladies, so don't worry, you won't be bored. We've got vegetables to chop and mince to fry, so come on, let's get this going. Oh, you're onto the port already are you?"

"This is my second," Mary said, as we walked through to the kitchen. "I had it open the moment I got back from my ride. It's the recommended post-workout nutrition, probably."

The kitchen was big, open with one of those fancy islands in the middle. Ideal for people who like to cook, and the three of them began to move around each other with food and chopping boards, knives and pans, in the way that people who have lived together for a while and are in sync are able to do. Efficiently and with quiet enjoyment. I waited until my task was explained -- dice these peppers please. We went on like that for a while, working together, no need for small talk because we knew there would be a lot of time for that, just getting on with things. It was fun, it was satisfying. It was a reminder of a small thing that I missed, living alone.

The meal was excellent, I was impressed by what we had made. And I wasn't used to having a starter at home -- Ed said that they weren't either, that it was for a special occasion, and Gareth asked if that meant someone was going to announce a pregnancy, and laughed loudly. Mary gave me a look that said don't even humour him. Talk circled topics of sport, work, food, films people had seen recently. And then centred in, almost inevitably, on how Ed and I had met.

"I love these stories," Mary said, eyes sparkling, and I wasn't sure if she was being playful or completely sincere.

"Me too," said Gareth. "And Ed was so vague about it -- he really is a slippery one sometimes. Like an eel. Ed the eel."

"Thanks pal."

"Ed the handsome eel."

"That's more like it. I wasn't vague, I said we met at the supermarket."

"Yes, that's vague. Vague means unspecific, lacking in detail. Was she working there, was she shopping, was she a government inspector, did she rob the place with a shotgun and leave several of you colleagues face-down in pools of their own blood? Come on man, we want a story here."

"He's right Ed," Mary put in, nodding as she raised a forkful of pasta bake to her mouth. Melted cheese dripped from it to the plate. She chewed, and with her mouth full, said "You're a bit secretive when it comes down to the details. Maybe Liz should tell it."

I didn't correct her regarding my name. How to tell this story... I'd had some practice, over the phone the day before with Brian, but this was a different audience. If I told it like I did to Brian everyone would been embarrassed, it would be too much. How intimate was Ed's relationship with this couple? In the end I recounted the events as factually as possible, how we talked when I was doing my shopping, how I gave him my number and we went out, and that Ed was helping me with a book I was writing. I didn't talk about him encouraging me to make out with a stranger, or the trip to the sex shop, or any other sexual event. They probably presumed we had already had sex anyway, no one expects you to actually talk about it.

Mary latched on to the book element when I finished. "What sort of book? Our Ed does love reading, it's hard to get him to put it away and watch a film or an episode of something. He's glued to those things. They're his best friends." She winked at him and he smiled. "Is it an exciting book or a boring one? I know he likes both."

I took a drink from my second glass of port, to stall for time. "It's sort of... romantic, I suppose."

"Nice. A romantic comedy?"

"No, not really. It's not very funny. I don't really do funny."

"That's okay, neither does Mary," Gareth cut in, and then raised his hand across the table for a high-five with Ed, who shook his head but obliged.

"Don't listen to him. I can be funny. When I'm not being a bitch. I can be hilarious. I truly can be. So what happens in the book then?"

How vague could I getaway with being here. Hopefully very. I had no desire to confess just how many steamy scenes my work contained. "So there's this girl who is trying to decide between an immature guy she's been seeing, and a sensitive but troubled professor at her university, while also trying to fix a very difficult relationship with her parents."

Mary frowned. "Okay, so the professor is a bit of a dodgy pervert then?"

"No, not really. I mean..."

"Because he's going after one of his students. Which is quite bad."

"Well, everyone in the story is an adult, so it's all fine."

"What happens in the end?" Gareth asked me, picking up the bottle to pour more port for everyone. I felt put on the spot, and a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't know yet, to be honest. I'm quite bad at thinking up endings. There'll probably be a big fight, some sort of dilemma... I'm not sure."

"Do you publish them yourself? Online? Can I have a read of something now?" Mary had her phone out, and Ed looked at me from the corner of his eye, as if asking what the heck I was going to do now. So I lied and said that I hadn't published anything before, and she put her phone away and crisis was averted. I didn't want people I knew to know my pen name, to read my stories and think wow, she really does have a dirty mind, I never would have guessed. Ed knowing was different. I trusted him big time, even at that very early stage.

My shift of the conversation, asking about Gareth's programming work, and then about Mary's bar job, got me out of the difficult spot. They were happy to chat on about that, as most people are, and I relaxed again. Mary made the bar sound like a bit of a madhouse, and I got the impression that she enjoyed the chaos of it, revelled in the unpredictable clientele. I'd never heard of the place before -- but at the time I thought nothing of that, not being someone who went out drinking too often. I'd managed to get over her impressive, intimidating good looks, and I found I quite liked her. Gareth too, although it was harder to get a true idea of his real personality, muddled as it was in all of his jokes and general silliness. I wondered if it ever got weird for Ed, living with a couple, if he ever felt like a third wheel, or ever heard or saw them getting up to things together.

Dessert was a chocolate cake Ed had brought back from the supermarket, and we demolished it along with more port, and my head felt a little bit spinny. I'd forgotten how much stronger it is than normal wine. They started to gripe about their landlord, something about a repair he had been putting off, and I found myself drifting in and out of focus, missing big parts of the conversation. I smiled politely, and sipped a glass of water, and tried not to look at the chocolate cake. I told myself do not be sick. Do not throw up here. And luckily I didn't. I wanted to put my head down on the table and sleep for a bit, sleep off all that rich food and the drink, and eventually I couldn't stop myself.

I awoke and it was quiet. I lifted my head, cleared my vision of the strands of hair which had become plastered across my face, and looked across the table. Gareth was there, sat very still, staring at the screen of his phone, but Ed and Mary were gone.

"Oh, you're up."

"Sorry. I had a bit too much of... everything."

"Not a problem! We didn't want to wake you, so peaceful, not a care in the world."

I got up, slowly. "I'd better be going, I've got to get up early tomorrow." Gareth just nodded. I ordered a taxi on my phone, and the app told me five minutes. "I should say goodbye, do you know where they are?"