Then I Met You

by Dunn, Matt

  That was fine, though, Simon decided. He could go along with that. After all, he didn’t want to scare her off. So he’d go round, make Lisa breakfast, they’d finish their questionnaire for the paper, and over the course of the rest of the morning, he’d slowly and steadily convince her that they should go out on a second date. Or, at least, he’d try to.

  Feeling a little less confident than five minutes previously, he located Lisa’s house, walked up the garden path and rang the bell. After a moment or two, a red-eyed, angry-faced Lisa threw it open.

  ‘Forget your car keys again?’

  ‘No, I just went out to get . . .’ Simon lifted up the shopping bag. ‘Breakfast?’ he said, then he paled. Lisa had said ‘again’. ‘Didn’t you, um, read my text?’

  ‘Didn’t you read mine?’

  ‘Well, yes, but . . .’ Simon remembered his resolve of a few moments ago. ‘We still have that questionnaire to finish. And seeing as you didn’t have any food in the house. Or milk. Or coffee. I thought I’d . . .’

  Lisa had raised one eyebrow in a ‘that was presumptuous of you’ way, so Simon held the bag out as a peace offering, but Lisa was inspecting the contents like someone might look at the half a dead mouse their cat had just brought in.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked tentatively, probably already knowing the answer to that particular question.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘If it’s about me coming back to get my car keys last night, then . . .’

  ‘Duh!’

  ‘I can explain.’

  ‘You should have. Last night. Before we . . .’

  ‘I tried. But you didn’t give me a chance to . . .’

  Lisa’s eyes flashed angrily, then she widened them. ‘I’m sorry. It’s my fault?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. And I was a bit thrown, seeing as Chris was here.’

  Lisa widened her eyes even more. ‘And that’s my fault?’

  ‘No, that’s not—’

  ‘You should have told me, Simon.’

  ‘Told you what?’ he said, though again he already knew the answer to that.

  ‘That our date yesterday was a set-up.’

  ‘But that’s what a blind date is . . .’

  ‘That you’d been set up.’

  Simon stared at her for a moment. ‘You know?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lisa folded her arms. ‘But I would have preferred to hear it from you.’

  ‘I wanted to tell you. Even though Will told me not to. But I didn’t know how. Or when.’

  ‘You should have found a way. Or a time. You lied to me about the date, you lied to me about why you came back last night . . .’

  ‘I wasn’t lying so much as—’

  ‘If you say “postponing the truth” I’ll—’

  ‘Right. Sorry. Of course.’ Simon took a deep breath, then another. Lisa was looking like she wasn’t going to let him get away with not giving her an explanation. And after yesterday – or more specifically, last night – Simon probably owed her one.

  A couple walking a pug along the pavement were doing a bad job of pretending not to listen to them, and seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to pick up after the dog, so Simon gave them a look before turning back to Lisa.

  ‘Can we perhaps do this inside?’ he asked. ‘Like I said, I’ve got breakfast.’

  ‘And like I said, I’m not hungry,’ said Lisa, approximately half a second before her stomach rumbled so loudly Simon was sure the dog walkers could hear it.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, suddenly desperate to grab some more time with her. ‘Well, let’s at least finish off our questionnaires, like we promised we’d do. Then we can just say goodbye, and . . .’

  He retrieved the pains au chocolat (or pain au chocolats – he still didn’t know) from the shopping bag and waved them enticingly under Lisa’s nose, hoping the just-baked smell would do the trick.

  And whether it was that, or whether she felt sorry for him, or even pitied him, Simon wasn’t sure. But with a sigh, she opened the door wide and beckoned him inside.

  Chapter 36

  Lisa sat at the kitchen table and sipped her coffee – not bad, she had to admit, and certainly better than anything she’d had in the past (she tried to ignore the fact that might just be the weekend’s biggest metaphor so far). But that was just the way things were: the whole blind date idea had been built on a lie; Simon hadn’t been looking for, wasn’t ready for a relationship – and Lisa didn’t think they had a way back from that.

  In truth, she was – what – devastated? No . . . too strong. Disappointed, perhaps. Both with Simon for being disingenuous and with herself for leaping in with both feet – and leaping on him – when she didn’t have all the facts. Then she recalled how it was Simon’s fault she didn’t have all the facts, and remembered she should be angry with him, though as to why he hadn’t told her . . . Lisa knew she couldn’t be angry with him for that.

  Simon was watching her intently, so she looked at her mug, nodded a couple of times with her head at a slight angle and her lower lip sticking out – the universal ‘surprisingly good’ gesture – then did her best to ignore Simon’s look of genuine relief.

  ‘Right,’ she said, setting her coffee down on the table. ‘Shall we?’

  Simon stared vacantly at her, so she brushed pastry flakes from the sheet of paper in front of her on the table, then tapped it with a fingernail. ‘Our questions.’

  ‘What? Oh. Right.’ He picked up the copy she’d printed out for him and quickly scanned through it. ‘So, should we perhaps discuss our answers before we put them this time?’

  ‘Good idea. That way we can make sure we come across just as we’re intending.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Simon. ‘So . . . “What were you hoping for?” What do you think?’

  ‘We did this one yesterday. When you said, “That you’d turn up”.’

  ‘Which you said was a pathetic answer, because I didn’t sound very confident.’

  ‘And which I now know was a lie, because you were probably hoping for the exact opposite. Besides, I’m not sure I used the word “pathetic” . . .’ Simon was giving her a look, so she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘All I’m saying is, your answer isn’t particularly inspiring. It suggests you’ve been stood up before, for example. And that says something about you.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s funny?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Makes me sound humble?’

  ‘It makes you sound desperate.’

  Simon was giving her a worse look than before, so Lisa picked her coffee up and took another sip. She was really quite enjoying it, and under different circumstances might have asked him to make her another one. But if another coffee was as far as it was ever going to go, what was the point? And – while she thought about it – what was the point of this, if Simon wasn’t ready for a relationship anyway?

  ‘What should I put, then?’

  Lisa downed the rest of her coffee, then put her mug to one side and mulled the question over. Suggesting ‘To get the date over and done with as quickly as possible’ had been her first thought, but she didn’t want to keep calling Simon out on what she’d just found out about yesterday, otherwise they’d never get this done. Plus, he might walk out. And like it or not, she needed to get this part right.

  ‘What about, “A fun time with someone I was attracted to”?’

  Simon grimaced. ‘What are you going to put?’

  ‘I told you yesterday: “To meet the love of my life”.’

  ‘You still want to go with that?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ said Lisa, folding her arms defiantly.

  ‘Well, because it suggests you . . .’ He swallowed audibly. ‘No, actually, that’s fine. It makes you sound optimistic. And it means you’ll hopefully attract—’

  ‘Serious daters?’ Lisa fixed him with a glare, but Simon kept his gaze firmly on the questionnaire.

&n
bsp; ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Question two. First impressions.’

  ‘I thought I’d go with “Pretty . . .”’

  ‘Aah. Thank you!’

  ‘“. . . angry”.’

  Lisa smiled flatly. ‘Is that supposed to be funny?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Remember, we’re trying to make each other look good here. Not just big ourselves up.’

  ‘Right. Sorry.’ Simon looked a little crushed, and Lisa felt a twinge of guilt. ‘I’ll just go with “Pretty”, then.’

  ‘Fine.’ She watched him as he exaggeratedly crossed out the word ‘angry’. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I put?’

  ‘Do I really want to know?’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because this is all just a bit . . . dishonest, isn’t it?’

  ‘Only if we don’t tell the truth.’

  ‘But we’re not!’ Simon picked up the pot, poured some more coffee into Lisa’s mug without asking her first, then slid it slyly across the table towards her, almost like a dealer encouraging a new addict.

  ‘Where aren’t we?’

  ‘Anywhere.’ Simon pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘“What did you talk about?” Do you mean the first time, when you hated me on sight, or afterwards? And “Any awkward moments?” How about you accusing me of spiking your drink, or us bumping into your newly engaged ex-boyfriend at the funfair? Because that’s what actually happened. And none of those seems to have made it on to here.’

  ‘Yes, well, they’ll hardly portray us in the best of lights.’

  ‘Portray you, you mean . . .’

  ‘That’s rubbish!’ spluttered Lisa. ‘I’ve said some nice things about you.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘That you’ve got good table manners, for example. And how you’re a good listener.’

  Simon sighed exasperatedly. ‘I’m sure to be fighting the women off when that appears in the paper.’

  ‘Excuse me, but you don’t actually seem like you want to.’

  ‘Want to what?’

  ‘Fight them off. Or even be in a position where you have to.’

  ‘I don’t even know what that means.’

  Lisa stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘What are you so worked up about?’

  ‘I just . . . this whole thing. I wish . . .’

  ‘That we’d never met?’

  Simon opened his mouth, then quickly clamped it shut again, as if worried he might regret what he was about to say. ‘No,’ he said, eventually. ‘It just wasn’t what I was expecting. That’s all.’

  ‘You and me both.’ Lisa exhaled slowly. ‘Tell you what. Let’s just finish this on our own, if that makes you feel better. Put what you like, I don’t care. And I promise I’ll be . . . kind.’

  ‘Kind.’

  ‘Sympathetic. Mindful of your . . . circumstances.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Simon, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. ‘And you’re not worried that I’ll . . . ?’

  Lisa shrugged. ‘I was prepared to put this whole thing down to fate. So that’s what I’m doing, aren’t I?’

  ‘Oh-kay. Well then . . .’ As Simon picked up his questionnaire, folded it into quarters and slipped it into his pocket, Lisa felt a sudden sense of dread. Was this really it? Surely now was the time for him to say something. That was, if he wanted to say anything. For all Lisa knew, he could simply be desperate to get out of here and never see her again. And yet, whether it was simply to collect his car keys, or to bring her breakfast, he’d kept coming back . . .

  And, as hard as the weekend had been for her, Lisa couldn’t begin to think about how tough it must have been for him. Simon had been head over heels in love, then he’d had that savagely, prematurely and unfairly ripped away from him, and he’d only recently plucked up the courage to re-emerge into the light – if in a roundabout way. And – of all places – on a blind date with her.

  All of a sudden, her head began to swim. She remembered watching some dating programme on television recently where the date had seemed to have gone fine, then, when they’d paid the bill, one half of the couple (because that was what they surely were going to become) had announced they had some terminal disease, and – if you excused the phrase – that had been the end of that. And Lisa had sided with the ‘well’ one, because that wasn’t how love was supposed to be: it was hard enough meeting someone and hoping they wouldn’t leave you. Knowing it was only a matter of time before they would, and that there was nothing you could do about it, was a lot more than she – and probably most people – could bear.

  Though this perhaps wasn’t quite the same, and while Lisa was looking for something – that thing wasn’t to be Simon’s therapist, especially since she was sure her head needed a lot of sorting out too. Something else she’d learned in Cancún was that it wasn’t her job to heal everyone she met – especially because, in the words of her instructor, ‘you can’t pour from an empty cup’.

  Say they did start dating, then Lisa decided Simon wasn’t for her, how could she ever leave him after what he’d been through? The pressure would be too great. Was too great. Look what had happened the previous evening, when he’d admitted the truth about Alice and his insecurities: Lisa had felt so sorry for him that she’d taken him to her bed. Was it always going to be like this, her doing everything out of pity? The realisation made her feel sick to her stomach, and it was all she could do not to start hyperventilating. She looked up to find Simon watching her, a concerned look on his face.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, and Lisa felt her insides flip.

  ‘Fine,’ she said curtly, summoning all her reserves to keep her face from betraying her true feelings.

  ‘Right, well . . .’ He stood up awkwardly, so Lisa did the same. ‘So, should we shake hands, or hug, or . . . ?’

  Lisa nodded quickly. ‘A hug would be . . .’ She spread her arms wide and took a pace towards him just as he did the same, but they mistimed their embrace and she headbutted him lightly on the chin. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Should we try that again?’

  ‘I think we’re good.’

  ‘Okay then.’ Lisa nodded, reluctant to see him go, but reminding herself he wasn’t looking for a relationship and she was. Which was possibly the most important difference between them. ‘And good luck with meeting someone else,’ she said, escorting him along the hallway. ‘When . . . If you eventually decide you want to.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Simon, though he didn’t sound all that much like he meant it. ‘Though, um, I don’t want to.’

  Lisa had reached the front door, and she froze. ‘What?’

  ‘Meet someone else. Anyone else . . .’

  ‘Simon, I’m so sorry,’ she said, though as he nodded in acknowledgement of what he must have assumed was sympathy, she hurried to correct him. ‘No, I mean, I’m sorry, but I can’t . . . I won’t . . . I thought I could. But this is all too . . .’

  ‘Lisa—’

  Simon didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The doorbell rang, accompanied by a loud ‘Woo-hoo!’ and Lisa clasped a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘You have to get out of here. Now!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Or hide! Quickly!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Trust me. It’ll be better for everyone if you just—’

  ‘You’re not married, are you?’

  ‘What? No!’ Lisa glanced worriedly towards the front door, where someone was attempting to peer through the letterbox. ‘It’s worse than that!’

  ‘What could be worse than—’

  Simon stopped talking again, though this time because of the sound of a key in the lock, accompanied by a woman’s voice.

  ‘Lisa, darling?’ the voice said, anxiously. ‘Are you there?’

  As the front door slowly opened, Lisa paled. ‘Hel
lo, Mum,’ she said.

  Chapter 37

  Simon was standing in the hallway, doing his best to keep completely still, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed, the way he remembered people were always advised to in Jurassic Park whenever the T-Rex was on the loose. Although judging by Lisa’s terrified expression, the woman who’d just marched in through her front door, and who he understood to be Lisa’s mother, was scarier than any dinosaur – computer-generated, or not.

  ‘Let yourself in, why don’t you?’

  ‘Nice to see you too, dear!’

  Lisa’s mother was holding a front door key, and Lisa glared at it. ‘I gave you that for emergencies,’ she scolded.

  Her mother tutted loudly. ‘I thought it was an emergency when you didn’t answer your door.’

  ‘You gave me about ten seconds. I might have been on the toilet.’

  ‘Well, you weren’t, were you?’

  ‘Even so.’ Lisa folded her arms. ‘I’m not Usain Bolt. You could leave it a bit longer before you barge in and . . .’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Lisa’s mother, pushing the door shut behind her and striding into the hallway. ‘I didn’t realise I was interrupting something. And you are?’

  Lisa’s mother was staring at him, so Simon attempted a feeble smile.

  ‘Just leaving,’ said Lisa, quickly, and he couldn’t help his face from falling. ‘So, Simon, I’ll . . .’

  ‘You’ll call me?’ he said, more of a question than a statement.

  ‘Sure.’ Lisa had a hand on the front door lock, and Simon realised he should be feeling better. Lisa had said she’d call. Or rather, he’d said she’d call. Though judging by the tone of her ‘sure’, he wasn’t convinced she would.

  ‘Not so fast!’ Somehow, and with an agility belying her age, Lisa’s mother had managed to position herself between the two of them and the front door, and Lisa would have had to barge her out of the way to open it – something Simon could tell from the look on her face she was actually considering. ‘I’m Sonia. Lisa’s mother. In case you hadn’t gathered,’ she said, extending a hand out towards him, so, without knowing what else to do, Simon shook it. ‘Simon, was it?’