The Room of Arches

by Alice J Black

  I saw another young woman who must have been Carly as she began to make her way around the room. She handed out small pieces of paper to eager women and had pencils snatched out of her grasp. She finally made it around to us. She handed me a strip of paper and a small pencil. “Thank you,” I mumbled as I glanced at the sheet. I grimaced as I saw the candidate numbers lined up against several boxes. You could score them on their appearance, their clothing and even their voice. Where was the acknowledgement that looks weren’t everything? The very idea of scoring someone based on five minutes wasn’t exactly thrilling, or respectful. I leaned into Olivia. “I kind of get the impression that speed dating is all about a one-night thing. I mean, scoring people? It seems a bit archaic if you ask me.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered as her eyes skittered over her own sheet. “But it’s nice that we get to do the grading.” She grinned and I felt my lips twitch. It was nice to see her getting into the spirit of things. Even if I was having doubts, it seemed like this was perfect for her. A little bit of fun and some wine to help it go down a little easier. Perhaps I was wrong about the whole thing. Maybe she would find the one tonight, or even just someone to take her out on a date.

  “Now that you all have your score cards, we’ll get started. Follow me, ladies.” Jana led the way through a door at the end of the room and into a big hallway that was set up with tables and chairs in a circle. I swallowed hard as the realisation sunk in. My fingers tingled with anticipation and now more than ever, I wished I had a drink in my hand. Each woman was seated at a table and as I slid onto the chair, tucking my knees beneath, the candle in the centre of the table caught my eye. They had really gone to some effort for this thing. The walls—which I knew would be drab brick—were either hidden in darkness or covered by some drapes that added to the atmosphere. I saw flowers on some of the tables and there was an air of thrill hovering in the air as if the women as a group were exuding some natural perfume. I glanced at Olivia at the next table along. She looked right at home. Her eyes shone and she wore a smile on her face.

  “So are we all clear how things are going to work?” Jana asked one last time, her eyes flitting around the room giving a few moments for anyone to speak up. Nobody did. “Each man has been given a table number to start at and once all men are seated, your initial five minutes begin. After the buzzer goes, the man must get up and leave giving you a few seconds to write down your score before the next appears. Afterwards, there will be a chance to mingle and make contact and as I said earlier, we can arrange any matches needed. Got it? Right, let’s do this!” She grinned and around the room a few whoops went up. My heart lurched.

  I watched as she strode back down to the double doors that led into the hall and pushed them open. A group of men filtered into the space. Some of them walked with a swagger of confidence, others hiding behind their mates. There were a range of different looks, shapes and sizes and I heard a few excited whispers from the women nearby. The woman on my left turned to me and grinned. As I turned to Olivia, I saw her eyes bulging and a smile that licked her lips. Clearly she had seen someone she liked. Maybe this would be worth it after all.

  The men moved forward, ushered by a man in a suit behind them. I felt like prey to a big cat. Some of the men prowled as they looked for their tables, all dark eyes and brooding auras. If anything, tonight was going to be interesting. Within a minute the men had all found their seats. Someone dropped onto the chair on the other side of my table and I sucked in a deep breath as I stared at the candle in front of me, unable to look up. A buzzer sounded and I knew this was it. The first date was underway. I lifted my head to see the first man sitting at my table.

  “Hi, I’m Matt,” he introduced himself with a smile. He was clean-shaven and wore glasses that perched at the top of his nose.

  “Peyton. Nice to meet you.”

  “So, do you do this often?” I watched as his nose scrunched up and frown lines appeared on his brow. “Sorry. That sounded bad. I’m here with my friends.”

  “You were railroaded into this?”

  “I guess so.” He shrugged with a smile. “That’s okay. It’s just a laugh. So tell me about yourself.”

  The unapologetically open question left me floundering. What did you tell a guy that asked to know about you? Clearly, he didn’t want to hear that you were a recovering alcoholic and three months sober. Or how your days consisted of going to meetings of the AA variety and working at a part-time job that your friend got for you but that you hated with a passion. Wow, my life sucks. I hadn’t thought this through at all.

  “Well, I’m kind of in-between work at the minute. I’m working part-time at a solicitors’ firm while I figure it out.”

  “Do you enjoy it?”

  “It’s okay.” I shrugged. “Means to an end. What do you do?”

  “I’m a librarian.”

  “Right. How do you find that?”

  “I love it.” He grinned and relaxed into his seat. “It’s quiet, means I work on my own a lot which I tend to prefer. Plus, who doesn’t love being surrounded by books?”

  “Um.” I glanced at my hands. “I have to admit that reading hasn’t been high on my agenda for a while now.”

  His jaw dropped and then he grinned but I knew that deep down, he was offended. After all, telling a librarian that you didn’t really read was like telling an alcoholic that they didn’t need another drink. “What was the last book you read?”

  I racked my brains. I seriously couldn’t remember. It would have been when I was still at school. Of course I sort of had an excuse for it—my life spiralling into darkness as the voices in my head butted in profusely— but I wasn’t telling him that. “I don’t remember. What about you?” I turned it around.

  “I have a few books on the go.” He shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But it’s pretty awesome working in a library. I get my pick of the whole world of books over. I read everything from horror to sci-fi and even a bit of romance.”

  I gave him a tight-lipped smile. Did he think that just because I was a woman, I automatically liked romance? “So what do you do for fun?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Mostly I spend time reading or watching films. I go out now and then with my friends. That’s about it. How about you?”

  Another difficult question to answer. “I’m just trying to figure that out right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went through a bit of a rough time for a while and I guess I’m getting back to being me,” I told him, hoping it would be enough.

  “What happened?” he asked, digging, leaning forward, arms resting on the table.

  I swallowed and looked at my hands. My fingers were entwined with each other and I knew I was stalling but it wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. Not now. Not to someone I barely knew. And it was in that moment that I realised that I was in control of my information. I didn’t have to tell him anything. I was taking the control back and I was going to keep it.

  I opened my mouth to answer when around the room, the buzzer went off and echoed slightly.

  “Well if was nice to meet you, Peyton,” Matt told me, standing up and shuffling off to the next desk. I sat back watching him leave. Just like that—a whole five minutes up and the conversation just starting. I didn’t know whether to be glad I’d managed to avoid the question or to be annoyed that he was more eager to move on to the next woman rather than find out why things had been a bit rough. Plus, I realised that my whole night was going to be about stalling questions and avoiding information. Not at all like I’d imagined.

  When I turned back to the front of my table, I saw another man was sitting there. I quickly scored Matt, giving him a five. He had been pretty good looking in a pretty-boy sort of way. Not really my thing but then it was clear that our personalities weren’t a match. Five was a safe number and gave me something to measure the rest up against. I turned my attention to the man at my table.

  “Hey, I’m
Peyton,” I introduced myself.

  “Gary.” He nodded once. “So how long have you been single?”

  “Um. A while. I haven’t been counting.” I flashed a smile. “You?”

  “Not long. Broke up with my girlfriend last month. But I hate being single, so here I am.” He shrugged and I took the moment to check out his appearance. He was clean-cut, his hair cropped close and the scent of his aftershave was nice if not overpowering. He wore a shirt, the button open at the throat and tucked into his dress pants. Another fairly decent-looking guy who obviously took pride in his appearance but my concern would be why he was so desperate to be in a relationship.

  “What do you do?” I asked him.

  “I run an IT company. Big business, lots of money.” He leaned heavily on the table and raised his brow. “I am worth a fortune.”

  “Wow, that sounds interesting.” I glanced at my hands. Boy was this guy over the top. And all too ready to brag about his finances.

  “It is.” He nodded and the way he stuck out his chin reminded me of a particular jock-type cartoon character. I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep from laughing. “I spend my days in meetings. I run everything. If someone wants something, they come to me. My girlfriend didn’t work. It’s the way I wanted it and I wouldn’t want you to work either. You could stay at home, have the place nice for me, you know.”

  Alarm bells were ringing in my head. This guy was living in the past and even if I was attracted to him, there’s no way I would shack up with him. I couldn’t imagine being a housewife any more than I could imagine myself wearing a floral dress.

  “So would you say you’re quite traditional then?” I asked, fishing to find out what he really thought.

  “Oh, yes. My father raised me right. I’m a gentleman through and through.”

  “That’s nice.” I genuinely hoped he was, but then again, if someone had to toot their own horn the way this guy was, I seriously doubted it.

  “So, what about you? Did your mother raise you right?” He struck a raw nerve. I dropped my head and felt my cheeks heat. Not only had he brought up my parents, the worst possible subject that could have been mentioned for me right now, but he asked if she had raised me right. Raised me right! I took a deep breath and as I exhaled my breath trembled. I wanted this guy out of my face.

  I was just about ready to give him a berating for being such an insensitive idiot when the bell rang.

  He leaned in close and despite the fact that I wouldn’t meet his eyes, he whispered, “Top marks for you, Peyton.” Then he was gone.

  I was still in a tizzy trying to control my anger when the third man dropped down into the seat in front of me. I was all ready to get up and walk out. I was not having fun. So far the two men I’d spoken to thought it was okay to delve into the deepest parts of my life and one of them thought it was acceptable to condemn me to a life of sitting in the house waiting for him and I was just about done. A quick glance at Olivia told me she was enjoying herself. I could just wait for her outside.

  Decision made, I looked up to apologise to the man who sat at my table when I froze. Something about him, about his face, was so familiar.

  “Peyton?” he asked.

  It all came flooding back to me.

  I groaned inwardly as a flash of movement rushed through my mind. We were drinking, a lot. I was beyond drunk and everything was blurry and slow. I remember falling through my front door, him right behind me. Before we made it to the bedroom we were on the carpet, completely naked, going at it. I felt my face heat as I came back to the moment and looked at him.

  “Hey, John.” I gave him a sheepish smile.

  “You never called.” He tilted his head to the side. Oh God, how I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Hell, I’d be happy if I could be whisked away by the Devil himself right now.

  “I . . . I’m sorry.” I dropped my head, toying with the idea of telling him the truth and getting up and walking out.

  “Not that bad, was I?” he laughed and reached across the table.

  I laughed too, but it was a sort of nervous bray and I felt Olivia’s head snap toward me. “Listen. I honestly don’t remember much about that night. I was very, very drunk.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to look up.

  “Well let me tell you, it was good.” His grin widened and I balked inside. How had I ever thought this creep was anything close to good looking let alone want to get naked with him? His hair was beginning to recede and the tiny capillary veins in his nose and cheeks had popped leaving a constant red smear. He was a drinker too, still was by the looks of it. The sudden stink of stale beer on his breath rode toward me as he tried to lean in closer. “How about we blow this joint and head to yours?” He leered over me, the grin stretched on one side of his mouth telling me everything I needed to know about him in that moment.

  Shit. The guy was a creep and he didn’t have a clue. These poor women who had already talked to him must have been beside themselves. I wondered what his highest score was. I caught Olivia looking at me out the corner of her eye and I knew it was out of sympathy. She had been there that morning, the morning that everything changed and she had railroaded him right out of my bed and into the street with nothing but his boxers on. She knew nothing about this guy, yet.

  “I’m sorry I can’t.” I shook my head. “I’m here with my friend.”

  “I’m sure she won’t mind.” He pulled himself impossibly close, his head almost halfway across the table. His lips were puckered as if he expected me to lean right into him and let him sweep me off my feet in the only way he was capable of—plying me with alcohol.

  “I’m sorry, but no.” I dropped my hands to my lap and watched as his expression went from mild excitement to a brief shot of sadness to anger. The rest of his face heated up in a red blush and for a minute it was hard to tell he was a drinker after all.

  “You women are all the same,” he snarled. “Fucking tease.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I do think,” he roared, inviting the attention of those closest around us, and Jana too. I saw her frown and take a step toward the table. “Fucking cow!” He slammed the table with his fist and the candle tipped over. Acting quickly, I damped the tiny flame down with my palm but nothing could be done now. The whole hall had gone quiet and all eyes were on us. Now more than ever I wanted to bolt.

  “Excuse me.” Jana rushed across to us on her heels, the clacking echoing around the room. “Is everything okay?”

  John’s eyes flew to the woman. “You call this fucking speed dating? What’s the point when not one of them has agreed to go home with me?”

  Jana cleared her throat and pasted on a false smile meant to placate the situation. “Speed dating is supposed to be light and fun. It’s not about anything more.”

  “Well I’m sick of it.” He pushed himself up, the chair flying backward and landing on the floor with a dull clatter. “I’m off.” He stormed from the room, all eyes on him. Then silence descended. I had never felt so ashamed in all my life. My face was so red I knew I looked like a beetroot and my eyes stung.

  “Excuse me,” a voice beside me spoke up. “I must apologise but we have to leave.” I heard a chair scrape then Olivia grasped me by the arm, lifting me up gently. I let her lead me from the hall as I stared at the floor, ignoring the gazes of the others in the room. I had spoiled their night; their fun was over and it was all because of me.

  We pushed through the hall doors and out into the corridor and the dam broke. The tears rolled down my cheeks and my shoulders heaved. I struggled to keep it in but it was out there. Olivia’s arm went over my shoulder as we kept walking, right out the front door and into the night. She set me against the wall there as she took out her phone and called a taxi. It wasn’t until she finished that call that I met her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice broken.

  She shook her head. “You did nothing wrong, Peyton. That guy was an ass.”
>
  Now it was my turn to shake my head. “I can’t believe he turned up here. Tonight.”

  “I thought he looked familiar. Was he the guy . . .”

  “That you threw out of my house the morning I decided to get sober? Yes.” More tears. “I’m horrified. I didn’t even recognise him at first. I mean, what sort of person am I just to open my legs to whoever will jump in the middle?”

  “You were the sort of woman who was lost. Nothing more.”

  I laughed at that. I wish it were the case. I was the woman that drank because she couldn’t face her own demons. The spirits, the darkness. Then my parents. They were gone and I could never speak to them again. And what did I do? Got pissed. I was a bad person through and through. Nobody would want to date me anyway. All I was good for was a quick fuck.

  “Come on, the taxi is here.” Olivia bundled me into the backseat and climbed in beside me. She held my hand the whole way home.

  When I woke up the next morning it felt as though I hadn’t slept. The previous night came rushing back in a blur of shame and regret. I tried to shove it away, but now that it had entered my mind it was fixed there. I knew I would be feeling it for days. I pushed myself up and flicked my hair back away from my face and scrubbed my eyes with the heel of my hands. I felt like I’d aged decades overnight. My eyes were sore and swollen and my chest was sore. I hadn’t felt this bad since I last had a drink and that was almost four months ago now. Was it possible to have an emotional hangover?

  I had to do something, to get my mind straight and focus, otherwise I would spend my day sulking and I knew it would just result in me feeling worse. Then it hit me. I had planned to visit Christine that morning. I glanced at my phone. It was a little after seven. That gave me plenty of time, but lying there in bed and wallowing in my well of self-pity was going to do nothing but make me feel worse. Besides, I’m sure I had a friend to thank.