by MA Binfield
Dev shook his head, his eyes crinkling. “I wish that were true. That crazy chef of mine is unmanageable. And, yes, he is still here. No one else will put up with him.” He moved aside and opened the door. “Come, ladies. I have a nice table for you in the window. Your beauty will attract the customers.”
Dev held Iris in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. “You look good, my dear.” He whistled softly. Iris actually blushed, and Cam saw her properly for the first time since they’d left Hampstead. She did look good. She had changed out of her hoodie when they’d stopped at her flat and was now wearing a dark gray sweater over a black shirt with a very fine silver gray check. A fitted leather jacket hugged her figure. She looked handsome, very handsome. Cam refused to acknowledge the slight pulsing that this realization caused in her body.
Iris refused to be steered by Dev to cross the threshold into the restaurant. She leaned across and whispered in his ear, pointing to the restaurant opposite with a grin on her face. Cam saw the affection in his eyes as he patted Iris’s cheeks.
“If they offered you ten percent off, my dearest, I will give you the same. And free papadams, as many free papadams as you can both eat.” Dev pulled Iris into the restaurant and waited for Cam to follow, bowing gallantly as she entered.
The inside of the restaurant was not large. There were probably only twelve tables in total, with a scattering of diners occupying around half of them. The lighting was low, and soft music played. Cam loved that Iris loved this place and was happy that she thought enough of their friendship to bring Cam here. Cam followed her to the vacant table in the window and they sat.
Iris had a slightly faraway look in her eyes, and Cam wondered if being here was bringing back memories of being with Amanda. Every time they talked about her relationship with Ryan, every time someone commented on Iris’s concerted singledom, every time Jess made yet another snide remark about what an emotional car crash Iris was, Cam wanted to ask Iris what on earth had happened with Amanda, but so far she just hadn’t felt able to. Trouble was, the desire to know was getting greater in proportion to how much Cam found herself liking Iris. She knew that the comments and stories got under her skin, making Iris sound reckless and destructive, and while Cam couldn’t quite see Iris that way, she couldn’t help but notice all the times Iris herself had talked of being an idiot, of blame on both sides without really saying what had happened. As Iris’s friend, she had a right to ask but no real need to know. Trouble was Cam really needed to know. She didn’t know what that meant, but she did know that her feelings were confusing her mightily.
Dev interrupted Cam’s thoughts by handing them both a large menu and disappearing behind a curtain at the back of the room.
“The chef might well be crazy—I only met him once—but he’s also a genius because the food here is incredible. There’s nothing on the menu I wouldn’t recommend, and I feel like I’ve tried most of it.”
“Did you and Amanda…I mean, you must have come here often to have worked your way through the menu…though Dev didn’t know about the two of you breaking up so I guess you haven’t been back here since?” She couldn’t help herself asking but wished that she hadn’t. She started to apologize, but Iris surprised her by replying before she had time.
“Yeah, it was a favorite place of ours. We lived ten minutes away, over in Stepney Green, a little bit to the east of here.” Iris pointed out the direction through the window. “Dev always had a bit of a crush on Amanda I think. The welcome she always got from him…” Iris hesitated and seemed to blink away a memory. “And, no, I haven’t been back here since. She stayed in the area, stayed in the flat. I didn’t know if she still came here to eat after we…y’know…if she ever brought Gina here…but I guess not given Dev’s reaction.”
Cam wasn’t sure if Iris had anything more to say, but the moment was gone anyway as Dev approached the table with two beers, a basket of papadams, and a carousel containing four little jars of chutneys and sauces. He placed them on the table, arranged them carefully, and walked away whistling softly to himself. Cam was hungry. She brought her side plate onto the tablemat in front of her, spooned some mango chutney onto it, and broke off a large piece of papadam, all thoughts of murdered prostitutes a million miles away.
* * *
Iris looked across the table at Cam. Her eyes, had Cam looked up at her at that point, would have given her away. Iris was unsure exactly when the fondness she had started to feel for Cam had given way to these feelings of attraction, but she couldn’t deny, sitting here admiring the soft skin on Cam’s shapely arms and shoulders, that attraction was what she was feeling. She hated herself for it almost as much as she hated the idea that Hazel was right about her developing crush.
The restaurant was warm, and Cam had cast off not just her coat but the wraparound cardigan that she had been wearing, leaving her arms exposed in a green sleeveless top that brought out the color of her eyes beautifully. Iris couldn’t help appreciating the bitter irony of the situation. Old Iris, the one who went off the rails after her split from Amanda, would have loved the challenge of Cam. Not caring who she hurt, she’d had some success seducing seemingly unavailable women. It had become almost a sport to her in the weeks after Amanda, but she had quickly come to hate the person she had turned into, and almost overnight, closed down whatever receiver it was that she had been relying on to identify women she knew were bored and interested in trying something a little new.
What remained of those instincts told her that Cam had been nothing but friendly toward her, and Iris needed to manage her feelings away as quickly as possible. She knew she could do that, she’d had crushes before. She watched with a slight flutter in her belly as Cam broke her papadam into small pieces, spooned chutney onto a sliver, and brought it to her mouth. Iris was captivated by the sight of Cam’s mouth when she was eating, and that was definitely not a good thing. Iris wondered if maybe this crush would be a little more difficult to manage away. She groaned inwardly; having Amanda around would certainly help, just the sight of her reminding Iris why getting stuck on Cam would be so wrong and just why she had chosen to stay single for so long.
Iris tried to concentrate on the menu, but her thoughts kept drifting. She wanted to tell Cam about Amanda. Jess and the others had talked of the old days so many times, and Cam had asked around the topic several times, but Iris couldn’t decide if it was a good idea or not. She hated the version that she assumed Cam had pieced together from Jess’s comments over the previous weeks, but telling her the truth would probably be worse.
She made herself study the menu. A voice inside her head telling her to face up to the fact that they were building a friendship, not a relationship, and it shouldn’t matter to either of them what had happened in the past. The trouble was that Iris still felt so ashamed of it, that she felt sure that Cam—even sweet Cam—would judge her harshly, and it made her feel sad to think it might affect what Cam thought about her.
“I’ll have the chicken achari I think. I’ve never tried it, but it sounds wonderful. I love ginger and I love pickle.” Cam’s words cut through Iris’s drifting thoughts. “What do you think? Is there anything else you’d recommend?” She looked at Iris, her eyes open and inviting, and Iris felt a flush rise from her neck to her face.
Willing herself to get a grip, Iris composed herself. “I always want the same thing when I come here, the lamb pasanda. It’s wonderful, probably about nine thousand calories, but definitely worth it.”
Cam laughed, delighting Iris as she did so. “You don’t exactly need to worry about your weight. You’re in great shape.”
The compliment pleased Iris, but the matter-of-fact tone made it clear that Cam wasn’t flirting. As ridiculous as it was, she couldn’t help but be disappointed. Iris needed to get her mind off Cam’s bare arms, her lips, her eyes, and start acting more like a friend.
“Whenever I’ve visited the States, I’ve found good Indian restaurants really hard to come by.” Iris tried small t
alk, feeling like it was safer.
“Yeah,” Cam said. “One more thing in favor of staying in London. Though Ryan needs some convincing that London has anything that puts it ahead of Seattle. I sometimes think he’s done his list of pros and cons without me and already made his mind up that we’re going back.”
Iris felt a tightness in her chest at the idea of Cam following her fiancé back to the States, and she was pleased when Dev came over to take their order, breaking the tension she was feeling at the idea of losing her before they’d really gotten started.
Chapter Ten
As they sat back and waited for their coffee, Iris continued the conversation they’d been having about performing.
“I just don’t think I’m bold enough to do it, to stand up there and believe that people would want to listen to something I’d written. The only person I’ve ever shown a poem to was my dad when I was a teenager and a lot braver than I am today. It’s okay for you. You’re just much bolder than me.”
“I might seem bold, but I’m not. Not when it matters. I mean, I haven’t been in my life up to now. I accept less for myself than I should.”
“Like what?”
“If I’m being honest, all of it. I’ve always done what’s expected of me, done what people like my mom approve of. Not done things they disapproved of. It’s meant I don’t have things, things I want. I let journalism go when I shouldn’t have. I…I let somebody go that meant a lot to me, before Ryan I mean. I wouldn’t stand up for them, for us, when it got tough.” She let out a sigh. “And I let Ryan decide how we live our life, where we live our life even. I’m not bold at all. Not really. I mean, I won’t even go to a poetry evening on my own for fuck’s sake. And I’ve started to realize that the reason I accept second best for myself far too much is because I often don’t know what it is that I actually want.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so personal. You…you kind of have that effect on me. You make me want to face up to things.” Cam spoke softly.
Iris hated hearing Cam sounding so sad. She leaned forward. “It’s definitely not too late to be bolder, to have more of what you want.” Iris wanted to help Cam be happier. Cam nodded.
“And it’s not too late for you to stop hiding from whatever it was that happened with Amanda. Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself move on?
“I…I guess so.” Iris was surprised by Cam’s question. She seemed so serious.
“I know you mean well when you say things like that, Cam. And trust me, I’ve heard it enough times from Hazel, Casey, my dad, but you don’t know what happened. If you did, you’d maybe see things a little differently, be glad I’m hiding and not out there having my heart broken and hurting people for the hell of it.”
“I just don’t believe you would do that. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I know you, Iris. You’re kind and careful and sweet. And I’ve hated sitting by while you let Jess say the things she says about you.” She paused. “And you’re far too much of a catch to stay single.”
Hearing Cam’s words, Iris felt a shiver run down her spine. She had let Cam in, let Cam get under her defenses, gone out of her way to get close to her when she should have known better. Cam thought Iris was “careful and sweet,” but Iris had been anything but and, even now, she was finding it hard to be friends with Cam and not feel attracted to her. She had kept herself single for a very good reason.
“Relationships go wrong all the time, Iris. There’s no reason why you should still be the one suffering while Amanda moves on. It’s too much.”
There wasn’t really a question there for Iris to answer, and she could have avoided responding, changed the subject, told a lie even. But she knew, sitting there with Cam, in the soft light of the restaurant and after a lovely evening together, that she should tell Cam what happened. Cam would either understand and it would be a relief, or she would figure out what an emotional fuck up she was and give her a wide berth in the future and, as much as that would hurt, maybe it would be for the best. Iris believed she could fight her attraction to Cam, but if Cam walked away it might be safer for both of them.
Iris had hold of the almost empty beer glass in front of her. They had football tomorrow, so she’d only had a small beer. She couldn’t even rely on alcohol to give her the courage to get through this.
“I was very much in love with Amanda. At the time of our relationship and for a long time afterward. I don’t know why I need you to know that, but I do. In some respects it makes it worse, but maybe it also partly explains things.”
Iris picked up her beer and drained what was left in the glass. Rather than put it down, she cradled it in her hands and tried to find a way to tell this story truthfully—Cam deserved that—but also in a way that wouldn’t actually make her run a mile in the opposite direction. Despite everything, she really didn’t want that.
“We’d been together nearly two years, and Amanda had her thirtieth birthday coming up. As a present, because I knew she’d always wanted to do it, I booked places for us to run the New York marathon. We’d never visited and Amanda had running a marathon on her bucket list. It seemed like a good idea, and she was so happy when she opened the gift. It felt good to be the cause of that happiness. It wasn’t that we weren’t getting on—we were—but I had this feeling that we weren’t having as much fun, that we were drifting…though sometimes I think I only see that with hindsight.” Iris sighed deeply.
“Within days, she’d developed this training routine to make sure we were in marathon running shape in time for the race. Some friends of ours—Gina and her girlfriend, Anna—were also racing so we were all in it together. Trying to eat well, cutting down on our drinking, lots and lots of running. Too much actually. It seemed to completely take over everything, but, well, Amanda was excited and happy and that was enough for me.” Iris flinched slightly at the words she had unconsciously chosen. “Well, I thought it was enough for me. Guess I was kind of wrong about that.”
“You don’t have to do this, not if it’s going to upset you. I don’t want that,” Cam said.
“No, I want to. It’s okay and you should know this about me…from me.” Iris took in a breath. She really didn’t want to cry. This story made her seem pathetic enough already.
“We were still playing football alongside all the marathon training. It was pretty hard going. If we had a game that coincided with one of our heavy training weeks, I found it hard to keep up. Often Megan would take me off at half time. Amanda struggled too, but it was easier for her, playing in goal.” Iris paused. “I resented it getting in the way of football and I should have said something. I didn’t. I let the resentment eat at me.”
Cam nodded.
“Gina was really into it. She and Amanda were the ones who put the training routines together, researched the route, and planned the things we’d all do in New York after the race. I was busy at work and, honestly, just not as enthusiastic about it. I always felt like I was a bit of a passenger actually.” Iris stopped, losing her train of thought slightly.
“Anyway, to cut a long story short, a couple of months before the race Amanda asked me to stop playing football for a while, worrying it was interfering with the marathon training and even more worried that I might get injured. She was just being sensible, but I wouldn’t accept that. I felt the race was taking over our lives. I was fed up we’d stopped doing other things and annoyed that I had to share Amanda with Gina, who was a third wheel at home. I refused to stop playing. I loved it of course, but it was also stubbornness on my part—wanting to retain something for me. Drinks after footie became the high point of an otherwise barren social calendar, and I took a perverse delight in watching Amanda watch me drink more wine than was allowed in our ‘dietary schedule.’” Iris emphasized the words.
“I was behaving just like a rebellious teenager. To this day I don’t understand why I didn’t just talk to Amanda about how I was feeling about it all. We’d never really had any proble
ms up to then, but I figured we were grownups, that we’d handle things like grownups. I know I should have said something but, afterward, when I was hating myself for not saying something, I realized that she didn’t try to talk to me about any of it either. This gap had opened up between us and neither of us tried to bridge it.” Iris looked at Cam. She was finding the words from somewhere and Cam was listening to them.
“About this time, Gina split up with her girlfriend. It was one more pressure, one more problem. Gina was ever-present. If I was too busy at work to go and run, Gina wasn’t. If I was bad at sticking to the diet, Gina wasn’t. I’m sorry if I sound self-pitying, but I was struggling. I felt this race had exposed some failing in my relationship with Amanda, some failing in me. Gina had had to give up her place in the race as her girlfriend was taking someone else, and this created extra pressure thanks to Gina’s constant comments. ‘If I was running, I wouldn’t eat that’ or ‘If I was running, I’d be worried about playing football.’ The two of them were beating a drum, and try as I might, I couldn’t find their rhythm.”
Iris stopped as Dev placed their coffees on the table. She picked up the cup, put it to her lips, and put it down again without taking a sip.
“I thought we had this perfect relationship so when all this was happening I didn’t know where to go, what to do. It didn’t have to become a problem, but in not acting, in not telling Amanda how resentful I was, how left out I felt, I made sure it became one.” Iris spoke softly. “And please know that there’s no part of this story that reflects well on me.”
“I don’t believe that.” Cam leaned across the table and took hold of her hand. Iris withdrew it, surprised at her own reaction. Cam looked hurt, but Iris couldn’t afford to care if she was going to get the rest of the story told.
“So, what happened next—you can probably guess—is I got injured. A bad tackle that, at first, didn’t seem too bad, but then turned out to have damaged my Achilles. It was one of those moments that happen in football all too often. I should have been upset that it meant I couldn’t run the race, but I wasn’t, not at first. I was more bothered that it might mean the end of my season. Amanda took me to hospital, and she acted all concerned, but underneath all the caring words, I could feel how disappointed she was in me, how much she wanted to scream at me that she’d told me this might happen. It was horrible.” Iris was twisting the napkin in her lap, her heart beating loudly in her chest.