Match Me Perfect

by Jessica Ames

  Well, let’s start with introductions. My name is Callum. I live in a tiny fishing village and that’s my trade—fishing. You do marketing? At least that’s what your profile says. I have no idea about those kinds of things. I couldn't even market myself for this—as you can see by my terrible profile.

  I see you are from London. I’ve never been, but I’m sure you can tell me plenty about the place.

  I don’t know about you, but I find this whole online dating thing odd. I wasn’t sure I should even reach out after we were matched but I figured what the hell? The worst that can happen is you don’t reply. I mean, I’d probably never get over the stinging rejection of a total stranger refusing to even say hi, but I’d soldier on.

  Anyway, if you want to chat then message me back. If not, that’s cool. It was nice to have been matched with you.

  Cal

  I read it once. Then again. Then a final time. It seems innocuous enough, and he doesn’t seem like a crazy serial killer from that message. Then again, what does a serial killer seem like? I doubt they’re open about their maiming and murdering.

  He’s engaging and seems kind of sweet—well, as sweet as someone can seem in a couple of paragraphs of an email. I like that he’s comical though. Richard was such an uptight bastard.

  As nice as this guy might be, the distance would be an issue. A big issue. How can I possibly have a relationship with someone I’d have to travel half a day to see?

  I stop myself before I get started because this isn’t a relationship, nor is it going to be one. It’s just an introduction and I feel kind of bad if I don’t respond, given his rather tongue in cheek statement about being rejected. It’s hard to tell if he means that or if he’s just being playful, but I feel almost compelled to at least say hi and to see what the guy is about.

  I don’t let myself question my actions. I just hit reply. And then I start typing.

  When I’m finished, I read it through once, check it makes sense then I hit send. Then I can’t believe I did hit send. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t talk to this man. It is a waste of time. He lives forever and a day away and I’m definitely not ready for anything like this.

  I close the app down and try to forget about the fact I may have just done something kind of silly.

  15

  Callum

  “How’s your head?”

  Alex knocks against his temple on the side that wasn’t stitched. “Still as hard as ever.”

  I frown at him as I reach for the ice bags. “Are you up for going out today? It’s fine if you can’t. I’ll ask Kyle or Mike to come.”

  He snorts. “You’d trust those two on the boat? I love them, but, man, they’re such civilians.”

  He’s not wrong, but they have both been out on the boat with us before and know what needs doing—Mike, in particular. He did a whole summer on Scarlet Rose before he got a job on the mainland. I suspect he preferred the ferry ride and commute over the stink of fish.

  “If you need to have a day, I’ll ask.”

  He waves a hand. “I’m fine. Doc signed me off.”

  Doc being Kay. She’s older than dirt and retired from general practice about a decade ago, but will still see patients occasionally, usually if they can’t get to the mainland. Clearly, she considered my cousin’s head to be something she needed to look at if she came out of her retirement to do it.

  “Okay, but you start feeling weird or anything else, you let me know.”

  He scowls. “I’ll be fine.”

  I know he will because for as much of an idiot as Alex can be, he’s not totally stupid. He will stay home if he’s not up to it. Fishing is dangerous, and there’s no room for errors. Fucking up can result in catastrophic results, and neither of us want that on our consciences.

  “All right then. Help me load the ice.”

  We get out into Pebble’s Bay just after five am and head out into open waters, the coastline starting to fade away on the horizon behind us.

  I switch the acoustic echosounder on and steer the boat in the direction of the fish.

  By the time I get home I’m aching all over and I feel ready to climb into bed. I manage to take a shower and once again find myself on the sofa, a beer in hand, some old action flick on the television in the background.

  I reach for my phone, scrolling through the notifications I missed today. I was too busy to stop, although I did see an alert from Match Me Perfect. It’s probably a reminder of some sort. I’ve noticed this stupid app is constantly messaging me all sorts of crap.

  I don’t expect to see the message icon when I load the app and I definitely don’t expect to see it next to a small thumbnail of Sadie—the woman I matched to earlier in the week, the woman I had thrown caution to the wind to message.

  I skim my thumb over the icon and the message loads up.

  Hi Cal,

  I couldn’t possibly leave you feeling the awful sting of rejection so hi!

  I also find this whole matching thing odd. What happened to good, old-fashioned judging a book by its cover and going on appearance? I have no clue if science can match two complete strangers, but it seems to think it can, so we’ll see, I guess.

  What’s it like where you live? I didn’t even know there were any islands off the coast of Devon. Then again, I’ve never been to Devon. The furthest south I’ve been is London. As you can tell, I don’t get out much.

  I don’t think I’ve ever met a fisherman before. What’s it like? Do you get to sail to lots of places or is it mostly just around the coastline where you live? My job is very corporate and mostly boring.

  Sadie

  I smile. She seems charming, sweet even—although it’s hard to gauge that by one short message. Is the fact it’s short a bad thing? Should it be longer? Did I bore her? Should I have been less forthcoming, more forthcoming?

  So much uncertainty, so much unknown. It’s hard to know from one message—a message that doesn’t say a whole lot, but says enough to get us started.

  I hate typing on my phone, but I’m too tired to get up and get my laptop so I make do with what I have. I read her message again and start to type my response.

  I try to answer all her questions, hoping I don’t sound boring. I delete my response three times before I finally settle on a reply I think sounds okay. Then I hit send. I sip my beer as I stare unseeing at the television.

  It probably won’t come to anything, but we’ll see what happens. For now, I’m not going to worry about it and just go with the flow. This is my last chance saloon though. If things go wrong with this girl I’m deleting the app and going back to worrying about fishing. If things go wrong this time, I’m taking it as a sign from the universe I’m not meant to move on.

  And maybe I’m not.

  I glance to the side, rolling my head across the back of the sofa and not for the first time I’m hit with a wave of intense guilt as my eyes lock onto the photograph of me and Mara on our wedding day. Christ. I still remember that day as if it was yesterday.

  We got married on the beach right here in Kildirk. We had to do the paperwork a few days after that at the town hall on the mainland, but the ceremony was held here. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Her red hair sat in thick curls around her shoulders and she wore a knee length gown that floated around her, giving her an ethereal feel. The flowers in her hair made her look like a beautiful fairy.

  I can’t help but wonder what she would make of all this. At times, I know I need to move on, that she would want that, but at others I feel this weird hollow in the pit of my stomach when I even consider it. I guess she’ll always be a part of me and a part of my life but she can’t continue to consume my life either. Is it possible to love two people in one lifetime? I don’t know. Mara and me… what we had was good, but can it be good again with someone else?

  I lean my head back against the sofa and I try to clear my brain because thinking like this is a one-way ticket to doom and gloomsville. And right now I don’t want to feel
anything but the warm fuzz of the beer and the excitement of knowing somewhere out there Sadie is reading my message.

  16

  Sadie

  Dinner at my sister’s house is what can only be described as a life lesson in survival. Lil is not a good cook, although she tries and I can’t fault her for that. The problem is her fiancé Garrett isn’t much better either. Thankfully, tonight they have ordered takeaway so I don’t have to worry about my stomach lining being stripped.

  While my sister is not a good cook, she does have a great eye for interior design, meaning her apartment looks like something out of a catalogue. I suspect Garrett indulges her excessive throw pillow obsession because he thinks my sister walks on water.

  “So, how’s work?” Garrett asks as he spoons an overzealous helping of special fried rice onto his plate.

  “Busy,” I admit. “This gala is consuming my life—and my department’s, in fact. I’ll be glad when it’s over with.”

  Lilliana scoffs at me as she reaches for the prawn toast. “Honey, you say this every year and every year this thing goes off without a hitch.”

  She’s not wrong; I do say this every year and every year the event runs perfectly. I have no idea why I’m even remotely worried; I shouldn’t be.

  “Yeah, well, there’s still room for shit to hit the fan right up until the moment it’s over and done with. Will you and Garrett be joining us?”

  Lilliana has nothing to do with the family business but she does support what we do by coming to events like this one.

  “I’m not sure,” she admits, and I have to say her words take me back so much I almost don’t register them at first.

  “What do you mean you’re not sure? You come every year.”

  Lil bites her bottom lip, her eyes skittering towards Garrett who is calmly and unwaveringly still chomping down food.

  “Well, this year is a little different.” She folds her hands on the dining table and a smile crosses her face. It’s a private smile, one that I feel I shouldn’t be privy to.

  I put my fork down on the edge of my plate, my gaze darting between my sister and brother-in-law.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m pregnant, Sades.”

  For a moment my brain doesn’t register the words then it hits me like a wrecking ball. Pregnant. My little sister is pregnant. And actually, now that I look at her there is something different about her. She looks tired but beneath the tired she looks… happy. And not just the kind of happy you get from watching your favourite movie or eating something you enjoy but the kind of happy that sits soul deep. I stumble to my feet and throw my arms around her neck. It’s an awkward hug, since she’s still sitting down but I don’t care because I’m going to be an aunt!

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe you are having a baby!”

  She laughs, patting my arm and I loosen my grip on her neck. “Me neither. You’re the only one who knows though, so keep quiet about it. I want to tell Mum and Dad after we’ve had the twelve-week check-up.”

  I beam at her. “My lips are sealed. But seriously, congratulations you guys.”

  We finish eating, talking about baby things and work and everything in between. I’m so excited for my sister and Garrett but there is a small part of me that feels a little envious because I could have had that with Richard. Christ, I wanted that with him, as crazy as that is now. Don’t get me wrong, given how things turned out I’m glad I dodged that bullet, but at the time I was all in. I was ready for marriage and babies and all of that. Part of me still is.

  I take a taxi home at Garrett’s insistence. He gives me the money for it, even though I don’t need it. My brother-in-law is old school when it comes to that kind of thing, which is part of the reason I love him for my sister; I know he’ll always take care of her because he tries to take care of everyone around him.

  When I step into my flat, it’s dark and I fumble for the lights. Even though it’s been months I still hate coming home alone. I never realised how lonely it could be. And while I’m ecstatic for my sister and Garrett I am also more than a little jealous.

  I toss my handbag on the armchair in the living area and move the few feet into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

  As I do, my phone pings and when I retrieve it from my handbag, I find it’s a notification from Match Me Perfect. And yeah, my lips curve up a little at that.

  I haven’t really had much chance to think about Callum and the message I fired back to him just over twenty-four hours ago, but I’m glad to see I didn’t scare him off with my reply.

  A little tingle of excitement goes through me as I hit open on the message.

  Hey Sadie,

  I guess I should start by thanking you for not leaving me swinging there. I wasn’t sure you would reply, but I’m glad you did.

  Fishing is all I know. It’s in my blood: my father was a fisherman, his father before him. It’s the only real trade on the island, unless you own the pub, join the church or sell at the only store we have.

  Kildirk is too small to be of note. Truthfully, I think we were stripped off any tourist information because most of the locals are nuts. Still, it’s worth putting up with their craziness for the beaches here. It’s so quiet. You don’t have the same foot traffic there is on the mainland. Then again, you also don’t have Doris putting out an announcement every time you so much as sneeze. I’m surprised my joining a dating site hasn’t made the Kildirk Chronicle.

  Your job sounds enthralling. You sold me at corporate and boring.

  Cal

  I grin as I read it. I can’t help it. I want to know more about the island, about his life, about everything to do with him but I also don’t want to push too much. So I send back an email telling him about my sister’s news, about the gala, and about the overtime I’m working to keep everything moving along.

  And as I’m lying in bed, I realise for the first time in a long time I have something to look forward to.

  17

  Callum

  I wake early. This is not unusual; my entire life I’ve been conditioned to get up with the sun so my body naturally comes to around four-thirty am, even without an alarm. This morning is no different. Even though it’s still dark, I’m wide awake.

  I get up, have a shower, grab a bagel from the cupboard and seize my coat. I’m halfway up the path towards the port when I see Tanner emerging from his house. He falls in by my side as I chomp on my breakfast.

  “It’s too fucking early this morning,” he mutters and I grin.

  “It’s the same early as every morning.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, his breath steaming in front of him. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  He says this even though he’s barely six months older than I am and he’s as fit as a fiddle, but I also know what he means. This work is hard. It’s early mornings, manual labour all day and late nights. And it’s non-stop. Through the summer we can go for weeks without breaks. Stopping means we don’t make money and all of us need to make money. It’s a little calmer in the winter, but that’s mainly because the weather has a bigger impact on our ability to be out there all the time, although the cod fishing is bigger business in the colder months, as the fish migrate back into the waters around that time.

  “You’re not thinking of retiring, are you?” I’m half-joking, but only half. It’s not easy to find deckhands and losing Tanner would be a calamity. I need his calm to offset Mace and Alex’s fiery tempers.

  “I wish. I still have bills to pay.”

  And that is also true—not to mention something of a relief. Tanner hasn’t settled down yet, so he doesn’t have the expense of taking care of a family, but costs on the island are not low. It’s expensive to get stuff shipped over here. It’s expensive for almost everything over here.

  “Can’t say I’m sorry about that, pal.” I clap him on the shoulder. “I like having you on my crew.”

  “Yeah, yeah; it’s all about you.”

  I laugh and
dig my hands deeper into my coat pockets.

  Alex and Mason are already at the dock when we get down there and are loading the boat. The ferry boat sits a little further down. We load the Scarlet Rose and by five-thirty we’re ready to head out.

  As usual, the day is busy and it’s mid-afternoon before we stop for something to eat. We’ve caught a big enough load we could head home already, but the lads are happy to carry on for another few hours and so am I. More fish equals more profits.

  I listen to them ribbing each other as I scroll through the notifications on my phone and my hope becomes excitement as I see a response from Sadie to my message.

  My sandwich forgotten, I open the message.

  Hi Cal,

  Corporate and boring pretty much describes 90% of most jobs. Mine is just more corporate and more boring than most.

  I’ve never fished. I’m not sure I could. Don’t get me wrong, I love a burger or a bacon buttie as much as the next girl, but I don’t think I could catch my food before I eat it. I like that it comes in nice little cellophane-wrapped packages from the supermarket not looking anything like it was in its past life. What kind of fish do you catch? Is it dangerous? Fishing sounds like it could be one of those things that is dangerous.

  Your home sounds like an island paradise but I’m going to need to judge that for myself. I quite like the sound of disappearing off the grid to live off the land where there are no CEOs or CFOs or reports to write or employees to sort out. Especially this week. Work is like a zoo. In fact, that’s insulting to zoos, but it’s been non-stop. I’m ready to just crash and sleep.