Then I Met You

by Dunn, Matt

  ‘Fine,’ he said, wearily, then he hoisted himself up from the bench, and shimmied along a yard or so. ‘Far enough?’ he asked, half sitting, half standing, as if reluctant to sit down again without her approval.

  ‘Actually . . .’ Lisa stopped short of saying ‘no’. A group of rowdy girls – probably on a hen weekend given the matching bright pink T-shirts with Final Fling Before the Ring printed on the front – had just sat down at the far end, and to ask him to move any further would mean he’d be joining them. Given how raucously they were all laughing (and how drunk they already appeared to be), Lisa didn’t think he’d fancy that. Or perhaps even get out alive. ‘Sure,’ she said.

  The man lowered himself back down on to the bench. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and Lisa shrugged.

  ‘It’s a free country.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, in a tone that suggested he doubted that. Then he leaned across the table towards her. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Like I said, it’s a free country.’

  ‘Are you always this . . . confrontational?’

  ‘I’m not confrontational.’

  ‘I thought you were going to grab me by the lapels and haul me out through my car window earlier.’

  Lisa almost smiled. It was exactly how she’d felt. Though perhaps not quite in line with her new Zen approach to everything. ‘You nearly ran me over!’

  ‘Well, the way I see it, you virtually threw yourself in front of my car. You should thank me for stopping in time.’

  ‘Thank you?’

  ‘You’re welcome!’

  ‘No, that wasn’t . . .’ Lisa stopped talking. The man was smiling, and not in a ‘gotcha!’ way, but almost apologetically, as if acknowledging how poor his attempt at humour had been, and she couldn’t help but soften her expression a little.

  He blushed, almost like he was embarrassed by the success of his own joke, then peered around the room, and she took the opportunity to check him out. Not bad-looking, she supposed, as hit-and-run drivers went, perhaps in need of a haircut; in decent shape, tall and well proportioned, built like a runner rather than the kind of man she was normally attracted to, who spent more time in front of the mirror at the gym than Lisa did in front of the one in her bathroom; and dressed . . . well, ‘dressed’ just about summed it up. Under normal circumstances, she might not have given him a second look. But, as she’d had to remind herself a little too frequently today – these weren’t normal circumstances.

  In any case, she was here on a date, and being seen talking to another man when Simon turned up – if Simon turned up – probably wouldn’t get them off to the greatest of starts. Besides, he’d said he was meeting someone too – probably a woman, given the way he was peering nervously around the venue – and what were the chances that neither of their dates turned up?

  She checked her watch again, a little more anxiously, and noticed the man was looking at her – maybe even about to say something. Then a thought occurred to her. Surely not, she thought, before realising she’d actually said it out loud.

  ‘“Surely not” what?’ said the man.

  ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to . . .’ Lisa narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What did you say your name was?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said the man. ‘But since you ask, it’s Simon.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Lisa clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Not “oh no” in the sense that you’re, you know . . .’ She indicated the two of them and made a pained face, then sighed apologetically. ‘I’m . . .’

  ‘Lisa?’ said Simon, miserably. And with about as much enthusiasm as she probably deserved.

  Chapter 7

  Simon couldn’t believe his luck – or rather, his lack of it. If Will was going to set him up, why oh why couldn’t he at least have done it as part of some relaxed foursome with him and Jess, rather than what was sure to be an extremely uncomfortable blind date – and one that was going to be featured in the local paper?

  Now, not only was he supposed to spend the next hour or so on a date he hadn’t wanted to go on in the first place – hadn’t even known he was going on, in fact – but he was also supposed to spend it with someone who quite clearly hated him on sight (something not at all helped by the fact that, in her eyes at least, he’d started the date off by nearly running her over). And when he’d first appeared, she’d seemingly rejected him from the get-go. He’d have walked away at that point if he hadn’t promised Will he’d see it through. A promise he was already wishing he hadn’t made.

  He sat there awkwardly, wondering whether Lisa might move along her bench to sit opposite him, and when she didn’t he slid across the required yard or so, just as she decided she would after all – as if the two of them were taking part in some rehearsed comedy routine. He waited a few seconds, just to see whether she’d slide back to sit opposite him, and then decided for safety’s sake, he’d better ask.

  ‘Did you want me to . . . ?’ He indicated the space he’d been occupying a moment ago, and Lisa sighed.

  ‘Be my guest,’ she said, so Simon allowed himself to relax a little. ‘Be my guest’ was a little warmer than ‘it’s a free country’, and, like a drowning man reaching for a lifebelt, he’d grab on with both hands to any glimmer of hope right now that the next however-long-it-was-going-to-be wouldn’t be as excruciating as he feared.

  Desperate for an icebreaker, he thought back to what Will had mentioned earlier, about utilising his sense of humour. ‘Well, this’ll be a funny how-we-met story to tell the grandkids,’ he said, and when Lisa couldn’t quite seem to hide her horror he had to physically stop himself from facepalming. If he had been looking for a girlfriend, coming out with statements like that probably wouldn’t help his single status.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, as Lisa gave him a look to suggest statements like that might not be the only thing. ‘I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never been on a blind date before, and this one’s going to be in the local paper, which makes it doubly important that I don’t embarrass myself. Or embarrass you! Ha ha. If I haven’t already.’ He waited for Lisa to contradict him, and when she didn’t he decided – mindful of Will’s other advice – to stop talking, conscious he’d been doing almost all of it, then regarded Lisa shyly across the table. She was attractive, there was no doubt of that – Will had got that part right, at least – so as to why she was single . . . Will had mentioned something about a ‘chequered dating history’, which might just be down to her as much as any of her exes. He started fearing the worst, then told himself not to be ridiculous. Everyone made dating mistakes along the way. Some people just hadn’t met the right partner yet. And some people had, but – as he well knew – for reasons beyond their control, it didn’t work out. If he and Lisa did get together . . . well, like he’d just blurted out, at least they’d have a story.

  Simon caught himself. He wasn’t here to ‘get together’ with anyone. He was here – if Will was to be believed – because he had to be, because he needed to be, to get some practice, get rid of any ‘ring rust’, and because he’d promised Will he’d go through with it, so as not to leave Lisa in the lurch, and so Jess would have something to write about . . .

  A lot of reasons. None of them romantic.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Like I mentioned, I’m Simon. Martin.’

  ‘Which is it?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Simon or Martin?’

  ‘No, Martin’s my surname. Confusing I know, when you have a surname that sounds like a . . . you know, first one.’

  ‘Right.’

  He held a hand out across the table, and Lisa regarded it suspiciously for a little longer than he was comfortable with, and he was just considering whether he should withdraw it – and withdraw gracefully from the date – when she shook it, replying with a curt ‘Lisa. Lisa Harrod.’

  ‘Like the shop?’

  ‘That’s Harrods.’

  ‘I know. Obviously. But “Harrod” is still like the shop. If it isn’t exactly the shop.’r />
  ‘Right,’ said Lisa, again.

  ‘Anyway. Nice to meet you,’ he said, and then, conscious he’d been holding on to her hand for a second or two longer than perhaps was acceptable, he let it go. ‘And just to double-check, you’re here for the Gazette blind date thing, yes?’

  Lisa smiled as she nodded, though in the way you might at a stupid person. ‘What are the chances of me not turning up, and there being another girl called Lisa here at exactly the same table at exactly the right time, do you think?’

  Simon answered with a lopsided grin as he wondered whether he should try to work out the odds – then, conscious he possibly looked a little unnerving, he cleared his throat and stared at her for a moment, wondering where to go from here, what to say next.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ he said, aware that was only a slight step up from the oh-so-lame ‘Do you come here often?’

  Lisa shook her head. ‘It’s only just opened. So no.’

  She flashed him a brief, almost apologetic smile, perhaps to say sorry for the terseness of her reply, and, for the first time, it occurred to Simon that she was possibly as nervous as he was. ‘Oh. Right. Of course. Silly question,’ he said, wondering why Lisa was peering over his shoulder, in the manner of someone chatting to you at a party while looking round for someone more interesting. He swivelled round in his seat, and spotted the bar located next to the food truck.

  ‘Should we get a drink?’ she said, and Simon spun back round so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

  ‘Great idea!’ he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He was a little surprised at the feeling of elation that swept through him at the fact that Lisa was prepared to stay – at least for one drink. Then he feared she might think his eagerness was because he had a drinking problem, so he reined himself in a bit. ‘What would you like?’

  ‘No, that’s okay . . .’

  Lisa was already halfway out of her seat, and Simon began to panic. He was a gentleman, and a gentleman bought (or in this case ‘fetched’, seeing as the Gazette was paying) the drinks. The first ones, at least. But while he had territorial advantage – the bar was behind him, and Lisa would have to circumnavigate the long table to get there – his date looked very determined.

  ‘You can get the next round,’ he suggested quickly, and Lisa gave him a look, as if doubting there’d be a next round, and, again, he felt uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t mean to be presumptuous,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to get you a drink, that’s all. If you don’t want to stay after that, then you can just give me the money for this one and . . .’ As Lisa’s eyes widened, he wanted to facepalm again – so this time, he did. ‘Of course you don’t have to give me the money. Seeing as the Gazette are picking up the tab.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘I bet you didn’t think you’d be meeting this much of a smooth operator, did you?’

  ‘No,’ said Lisa, flatly. ‘I didn’t.’

  Simon smiled awkwardly. He knew he could take that one of two ways.

  ‘So what do you want?’ she asked, and Simon’s mind went blank. His first thought was ‘not to be here’, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t go down well. ‘To drink?’ she continued, as if reading his mind, so Simon thought quickly.

  ‘Well, I’m driving,’ he said, miming steering a car through a gentle chicane, then he realised that reminding Lisa about him behind the wheel wasn’t the smartest of moves given their first encounter. ‘So I’d better have something, you know . . .’

  ‘Soft?’ said Lisa, in a manner that suggested that was what she thought of him.

  ‘Yes, please,’ he said, then it registered that she was probably expecting him to pick something. But what to choose? After all, there weren’t many drinks you could order that made you sound both manly and a responsible road user. Unless . . .

  ‘I’ll take an alcohol-free beer, if they have one, please.’

  ‘Coming right up,’ said Lisa, picking up her things – all of her things, Simon noticed – and making her way towards the bar.

  He sat there, not daring to watch her, drumming his fingers on the table, half hoping she was making her way towards the exit instead, then he almost jumped out of his skin when his phone rang.

  Will. Again.

  ‘Maaaate!’

  ‘What do you want?’ Simon said, curtly.

  ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘You mean generally, as in a life skill, or right now?’

  Will laughed – a little excessively, Simon felt. ‘Just checking in!’

  ‘Checking up, more like. Don’t worry. I’m here.’

  ‘Is Lisa?’

  ‘Not right at this minute, no.’

  ‘What? She should be . . .’

  Simon almost smiled at the panic in Will’s voice. ‘Don’t worry. She’s gone to get the drinks.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be doing that?’

  ‘I offered. But she insisted. Plus it’s 2019. In case it’s passed you by, women have the vote now. They can even drive.’

  ‘Right. Good. So how’s it going?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s early days.’

  ‘That good, eh?’ Will let out another, shorter laugh. ‘Well, it’s a first date, so . . .’

  Simon took a couple of breaths. ‘It’s not a first date, Will. It’s a blind date. One date. A first date would suggest there’s going to be a second, and I can already tell you there won’t be.’

  ‘Okay. But technically it’s your first date since Alice, so . . .’

  ‘Will!’

  ‘All I’m saying is, it’s understandable you might be a bit rusty. Don’t expect it to be all plain sailing. And make sure you’re interesting.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Simon, flatly.

  ‘You do know the best way to be interesting?’

  ‘Um . . .’

  ‘Be interested in her!’

  ‘I get it, Will.’

  ‘Excellent. Now promise me you’ll see it through. To the end.’

  Simon was pretty sure the word ‘bitter’ would slot neatly in between those last two words. Though given how things had gone so far, at least the end would no doubt be soon. ‘Fine,’ he said, eventually. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Great.’ Simon could hear the relief in Will’s voice. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  ‘I already do,’ he said, then he glanced over his shoulder. There was still no sign of Lisa, but Will didn’t need to know that. ‘Listen, Lisa’s on her way back to the table, so I should really—’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Will cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Just remember what I said. You need to see this through, buddy. I know it’s tough, but today’s an important step towards getting over the fact that Alice, you know . . .’

  ‘Died, Will,’ said Simon, quietly. ‘The word you’re looking for is “died”.’

  ‘I know, mate. I just—’

  ‘Bye, Will.’

  Simon ended the call, then shook his head as he slipped his phone away. Will was right – of course he was. Today was an important step. Every day was, in a way.

  But Simon already knew that getting over losing Alice would take an awful lot more than this.

  Chapter 8

  Lisa glanced back at the table as she pushed her way towards the bar, and tried not to read anything into her feeling of indifference when she couldn’t spot Simon through the crowd. Maybe he’d made a run for it. Decided that he didn’t fancy her, or that she’d been a little too – what was it? – confrontational for his liking. In her defence, he had nearly run her over. Plus she’d been on edge. Truth was, she still was. But that was no surprise. The stakes were high, after all, and she couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow herself to fall into another ‘Chris’ situation. No, she’d keep her defences up, and she wouldn’t be dropping them for Simon – or anyone – any time soon.

  For a moment, it occurred to her to sneak out, and end this farce before it became even more of a disaster than it already was. But that would be rude, not to mention the fact that Jess would never forg
ive her. And the thought of the look on Simon’s face when she didn’t return to the table . . . she’d be devastated if someone did that to her, and, if she was being honest, she probably didn’t have it in her to do it to someone else. And – since Cancún – Lisa believed too much in karma to risk it.

  From what she could already tell, she and Simon were more than likely incompatible. Had nothing in common. Wouldn’t get on. Although maybe that was her problem. Perhaps she needed someone to force her out of her comfort zone. Make her try something different. Like Jess convincing her to go on today’s blind date.

  She still didn’t know why she’d agreed, though she suspected the bottle and a half of wine she’d drunk before Jess had tentatively suggested it might have had something to do with her saying yes. But over the course of her week at the retreat, Lisa had learned that in order to move on, she needed to make some changes. To live her life differently. Say goodbye to the loser men she usually found herself attracted to (and found herself bending over backwards trying to please). And how better to do that than leave her choice of partner up to fate?

  And while ‘fate’ was actually her best friend picking from all the single, eligible men who wrote into the paper every week, desperate to meet ‘the one’, she was still leaving something to chance.

  With Jess all coupled up with Will now, Lisa knew it wasn’t fair to expect her best friend to be there for her in the same way she had been when Chris dumped her. Jess had been amazing. And so Lisa owed it to her to – in the words of another of the spiritual gurus in Cancún – ‘stop being a drain, and start being a radiator’.

  She moved through the crowd until she was sure Simon wouldn’t be able to see her, pulled her phone out of her bag and dialled Jess’s number. Perhaps not surprisingly, and probably because she was waiting to call Lisa as arranged, Jess picked up before the second ring.

  ‘Well?’ Jess’s voice was heavy with expectation, and while Lisa didn’t want to disappoint her, she feared her own voice would give everything away.