by Matt Dunn
'Well, that's an argument I can't really win, isn't it? I mean, whatever I say, whatever happens happens, doesn't it. So I've got no way of proving...'
'That wasn't what I asked,' said the man. 'I said, do you believe in it.'
'What's the difference?'
'Because if you do, then like you say, there's nothing you can do about what happens. But if you don't... Well, you can change it, can't you? Or at least. have some control over what happens.'
'Huh?'
'I'm guessing there's someone you like. I'm also guessing she hasn't responded in the way you'd like?'
'Well, not that it's any of your business, but no, she hasn't.'
'What did you do?'
Mark stood there for a moment, and considered the absurdity of his situation. Here he was, on Valentine's Day, standing at the top of the steps leading down to Tottenham Court Underground station in the middle of rush hour, contemplating explaining his dilemma with Julie to a stranger he'd just given two pounds to to tell him his fortune. And almost immediately, he decided what the hell.
'Well, we kissed after our office Christmas party, but the next day, she pretended she'd been drunk and didn't remember it, and so I've sent her stuff all day to remind her what happened that night, and it turns out she probably thinks they were from someone else. So all that effort, all that planning, all that...'
'Expense?'
'Well, now you come to mention it, yes. It all appears to have been for nothing.'
The man nodded slowly. 'And you're thinking it just isn't meant to be, right?'
'It's starting to look that way.'
'So you do believe in fate?'
'No, actually,' said Mark. 'I don't.'
'Well, why are you acting as if you are?'
'I'm not.'
'Yes you are. You've just said it isn't meant to be. If it wasn't meant to be, why are you so bothered? There was nothing you could have done about it, it was never going to happen...'
'Because I... Look. This is ridiculous.'
'Do you think you could have a future together?'
Mark let out a short laugh. 'Shouldn't I be asking you that?'
'Hey - I do the jokes.'
The man made a mock-offended face, and Mark half-smiled. 'So what should I do? Or can you put in a good word for me with the spirit world?'
The man shook his head. 'I said I was psychic, not a miracle worker. But I can tell you what will happen if you leave it to fate and don't do anything.'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
Mark stared at him for a moment, then he felt himself bristle. 'You'll excuse me if I don't take the advice of someone who's... Well, who's touting for business on a street corner. Do something proper. Rather than this... Rubbish you've been spouting, try selling the Big Issue.'
'Sounds like you're the one with the big issues, pal.'
'Yes, well...' Mark puffed air out of his cheeks exasperatedly. 'Much as I'd love to spend the rest of Valentine's Day standing here, I have to go.'
'Where?'
'Home.'
The man shrugged. 'Suit yourself. But don't you think you'd be better off going and telling this woman what you've just told me?'
'And why exactly are you so qualified to give me advice? Married, are you?'
'Three times,' said the man.
'And that's something to be proud of, is it?'
The man nodded. 'Better to have loved and lost, etcetera, etcetera,' he said, enunciating the last two words like a circus announcer. 'And correct me if I'm wrong, but it's three times more than you.'
Mark's jaw dropped open, then he shook his head, let out a long, loud sigh, and walked down the steps to the station.
Calum was sitting in Old Amsterdam, alternating between staring at his phone and staring at the door. He'd been anxious to get here early so he could choose a decent table, then even more anxious because his shaving problems had put paid to that, though given how Old Amsterdam didn't seem to be a popular choice for Valentine's Day dining, even though he'd cut things a little bit fine, he'd still pretty much had the choice of any one he liked.
In the end, he'd chosen a table which gave him a good view of the door, yet couldn't be seen from outside through the window. This way, he'd reasoned, Emma would have to actually come into the restaurant to see him (he didn't want to be rejected on looks alone from outside) and he was planning to wave her over as soon as she entered, through the drawback of that strategy was he didn't know who he'd be waving over. Still, he thought, if any single women walked in, caught sight of him, then turned round and walked straight out again, he'd have a pretty good idea who they might be.
He peered at his phone again to check for messages, and dropped it on the table in shock when it chose that exact moment to ring. 'Hello?' he said, as coolly as he could muster.
'Calum? It's your mother.'
'Mum!' He glanced around furtively, hoping no-one had heard him. It would be just his luck for Emma to walk in and catch him on the phone to the mother he hadn't told her he still lived with. 'Is everything OK?'
'Fine, fine. How's it going?'
'She's not here yet.'
'Oh, Calum.'
'She's not supposed to be. It's only just six o'clock.'
'Well, I'm glad I've caught you. Listen, I need to tell you something.'
'Right now? I don't have a lot of time.'
'And nor might I, Calum.'
'Don't talk like that!'
'I'm not saying anything that isn't true. So I just wanted to say... When you're with her... Don't you be thinking of me.'
'Mum, that's just weird.'
'Not like that. I mean it's time for you to be making your own life now. To be thinking about yourself. I'll be fine on my own if it comes to it. So don't you feel you have to be responsible for me any more.'
'But...'
'I mean it, Calum. I love you, and I'm proud of you, but the sooner you get on with your life, get settled down...'
'What?'
'The sooner I get some grandkids!' Calum knew his mother had meant it as a joke, but her voice was trembling as if she was on the verge of tears, and Calum swallowed hard.
'Mum, please!'
'You're a good boy, Calum. You deserve to be happy. And if this girl can't see that...' There was a sniff, followed by a moment's silence, then his mother's voice reappeared on the line. 'Now get off the phone, and good luck!'
'Bye mum. Thanks. And...' He glanced nervously at the next-nearest table, and lowered his voice. 'I love you too,' he said, but she'd already gone.
Calum smiled to himself, peering self-consciously at the other diners; a couple of families, a group of three girls, relieved no-one seemed to have heard him. Just across from him sat one solitary man, and he found himself praying there wouldn't be two solitary men by the end of the evening. He noticed he'd dropped his serviette, and without thinking, reached down and retrieved it from the floor. At least his back seemed to have calmed down a little since he'd tweaked it again by tugging on the office door - though he didn't want to risk moving too much, and he'd just taken his final two Neurofen, so he hoped they'd at least last him the evening.
He slipped his phone away, picked up the over-sized menu, and peeked at the girls over the top of it, beginning to worry Emma was one of them. Perhaps she'd brought her friends along for solidarity (or even as a smoke-screen) in case she didn't like the look of him, but he told himself that was unlikely - the three of them had just ordered their dinner, and surely they'd simply have had a drink and left if that had been the case. And besides, Calum reminded himself, as Sophie had pointed out, she'd already seen him – or his photo, at least. The only thing he really had to be worried about was the fact that he wasn't as tall as he'd led her to believe (and was maybe a bit, ahem, wider than his head-shot suggested). Maybe if he didn't stand up for the whole evening he could get away with both those things, but then again, Calum had always been taught you had to stand up when a woman arrived at your tab
le.
The door to the restaurant swung open again, and Calum slipped his glasses on briefly to see who'd come in, but it was just a couple of teenagers sneaking in to use the toilet. He wondered whether he should remove his jacket, as he was feeling pretty warm, but he'd been sweating, and visible damp patches under each arm weren't the most attractive of sights.
'You ready to order?'
The waitress's voice made him jump. 'No. Not yet. I'm...'
'Waiting for someone. So you said.'
The waitress, a middle-aged woman dressed in what Calum guessed was supposed to be a version of Dutch national dress, looked like she was starting to doubt him, which was funny, because Calum was starting to doubt himself too. As she walked away from his table, her clogs squeaking on the bright orange carpet, he checked his phone again, compared the time on the display to what his watch said, and then checked that with the clock on the restaurant wall. Give or take a minute, it was five past six.
He wondered whether he should phone the speaking clock just to make sure, but then worried Emma might choose that precise moment to call to say she was running late, and he might miss her, and... Maybe she'd already called, when he was on the phone to his mum. Perhaps he'd missed her voicemail... Anxiously, he checked his phone's screen again, and even though there was no notification icon, he dialled his voicemail anyway, then stopped mid-call, worried Emma would actually be ringing him now.
Calum almost laughed as he wondered how it had come to this, though at the same time, he knew exactly how it had come to this. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, and sipped nervously at the sparkling water he'd ordered when he arrived, careful not to drink too much and make himself need the toilet any more than his nervousness was making him already. He'd wanted a beer, but didn't want to gulp it down and make the wrong impression, or have beer breath when he kissed Emma hello. A Coke had been his next choice, but even then, he didn't want to risk the caffeine making him hyper – he was bad enough as it was – so he'd gone for water, but even so, he was regretting not ordering still, as the bubbles were making him want to burp. Was nothing safe? To be honest, a part of him wanted to get up and leave before Emma arrived. He'd put too much pressure on this evening already, and the omens had hardly been promising. The way he was feeling, he was probably going to stammer and sweat his way through dinner anyway, and if that was the case, Emma was bound to make her excuses and leave before they'd even got on to dessert.
He kept trying to remind himself he was a salesman, and a good one, too. And if he could sell software via cold-calling, then surely he could sell hardware in the flesh – especially when he knew the product so well. And anyway, what was the old sales maxim – 'sell the sizzle, and not the steak'? Calum could do that, if only he could work out what his sizzle actually was, and deflect Emma from how much steak he was actually carrying round his waist. Besides this was hardly a cold call. He and Emma had exchanged two hundred and seven emails (Calum had counted) and live-chatted late into the night on more than one occasion. So they got on. Shared several interests, including watching The Wire and Modern Family, and they'd even been to the same Keane concert a couple of years ago – not that either of them had known it at the time. In fact, he told himself, they were practically soul mates.
He checked his watch again - ten past six - and decided he'd give her another twenty minutes to be fashionably/female late before he left, then realised he was kidding himself. He'd wait all night if necessary. He glanced down at the red rose in his briefcase, which was looking a bit worse for wear. Maybe he should be holding it between his teeth when she arrived - or maybe not. It had thorns, after all, and bleeding lips probably weren't the best look, or any good if he was planning to at least kiss Emma goodnight later.
Calum wondered how Nathan's evening was going. The last two Anti-Valentine's nights had been excellent fun, if a little alcoholic. Last year, they'd ended up in some flash hotel on Berners Street where cocktails had set them back twelve quid a go, and he'd ended up having three, then falling asleep on the night bus home. He'd been lucky to escape without a hangover, though - the long cold walk back from the depot to his flat had sobered him up pretty quickly.
A strange rumbling sound made him look up, until he realised it was his stomach. Missing lunch had been a silly idea, partly because the last thing he wanted was to 'entertain' Emma with sounds from his midriff, but also because it hadn't (as he'd hoped) made him look that extra bit thinner, and now he was even more worried the first drink he had would go straight to his head. He thought about not drinking at all, but it was important to be himself, and Calum liked a drink - though he made a mental note not to repeat that phrase to Emma. The people at work who 'liked a drink' sometimes disappeared to the pub at midday and didn't come back to work until late afternoon, if at all. And Calum didn't want to be associated with any of them.
He looked at his watch again, then glanced up at the doorway, just in time to see a girl walk in, and he caught his breath. She was pretty, her short dark hair partly hidden under a grey, knitted hat, her curvy figure accentuated by the belted coat she was wearing, and even without his glasses on, Calum thought she looked familiar. He noticed she was smiling, and Calum found himself smiling too, especially when he realised she was smiling at him, though when she came a little closer, he saw it was only Mia-Rose, and his face fell.
She walked over to where he was sitting, and Calum shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
'Hi, Calum!'
'Er, hi.'
Mia-Rose shrugged her coat off, and nodded at the table. 'May I?'
Taken a bit by surprise, Calum nodded, and as Mia-Rose squeezed herself into the booth, he began to panic. If Emma was to arrive now, and see him with another woman... He jumped up quickly, and then, not knowing what to do, just stood next to his chair.
Mia-Rose looked up at him, an amused expression on her face. 'Normally the man's supposed to stand up as the woman arrives. Not when she sits down.'
'Sorry.' Calum shook his head in disgust at his lack of manners as he slipped back into the booth, then he positioned the menu so it partly obscured the two of them and hunkered down behind it.
Mia-Rose peered at him. 'Are you hiding?'
'No.' Calum flattened the menu on the table. 'It's just that... I'm kind of waiting for someone.'
'Me too,' said Mia-Rose. 'I'll wait with you, shall I?'
'Um...'
'What's the matter?'
'It's just that it might be a little awkward. You know, if she sees you. With me.'
'It's a she?' Mia-Rose raised both eyebrows. 'And who is this mystery girl?'
Calum swallowed. 'Just someone I've met.'
'Does she have a name?'
'Emma.'
Mia-Rose peered around the restaurant. 'What does she look like?'
'Why?'
'Just curious.'
He cleared his throat. 'I don't know,' he said, awkwardly
'You don't know?'
Calum decided he had no choice but to explain. 'I met her on the internet. We haven't actually met yet.'
'And tonight's the night? How romantic.'
'You think?' he said, though 'how foolish' was beginning to seem more like an appropriate description.
'Definitely! Not to mention exciting.' Mia-Rose glanced furtively at the other diners. 'She might be here already.'
Calum started to panic. She might be. Maybe she was one of the three girls who were sitting at the table by the window, currently tucking into their main courses. Maybe Emma had brought along a couple of friends so she could pretend not to be here if she decided he wasn't what she wanted, or so she had some backup, or because she wanted a second (or even a third) opinion. And maybe now she'd seen him with Mia-Rose... Well, Calum couldn't imagine what she'd be thinking.
'Listen, Mia-Rose, I don't mean to be rude, but...'
'You'd like me to sit at another table?' Mia-Rose nodded slowly. 'Wow. This Emma must be really special.'
'She
is,' insisted Calum.
'And what makes a girl you've never met so special?'
Calum pretended to stare into the distance as he considered his answer, though in reality, he was sneaking another look at the clock on the wall. It was twenty past, and he was beginning to fear that Emma has been and gone already and he hadn't noticed. Why had he stood up when Mia-Rose had sat down? Emma might have come in at that very moment, spotted him, realised he wasn't as tall as he'd claimed, and gone home in disgust.
'We just... Click.'
Mia-Rose laughed. 'That's funny.'
'Why is that funny?'
She reached over the table and punched him lightly on the arm. 'You met online. And you 'click'. Get it?'
Calum forced a smile. Normally he would have found that funny, but where was she? While under different circumstances he'd be relishing a one-on-one with someone as pretty as Mia-Rose, he was more worried this was completely blowing his chances with Emma. Besides, when Mia-Rose's date arrived, he'd be left on his own to be stood up in full view of someone from the office.
'So,' she continued. 'How do you 'click', exactly? What do you know about her?'
Calum exhaled loudly, wishing again he'd ordered a proper drink. 'Not much. I mean, she lives in London, and she likes dogs, and long walks, and roaring log fires... But it's not those things. It's more that that we just...'
'Get on?'
'Right.' Calum looked at his watch again. 'Or at least, I thought we did.'
'And why did you arrange to meet her here?'
Calum shrugged. 'She insisted we 'go Dutch' tonight. So I thought...'
Mia-Rose tilted her head back and burst out laughing. 'That's very funny.'
'You don't think it's a bit... Lame?'
'Not at all. It's hilarious. Women love a man with a good sense of humour.'
Calum smiled, encouraged slightly by Mia-Rose's comment. Though as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the far wall and saw himself sharing a laugh with a pretty girl, he realised that if Emma walked in now, a sense of humour would be the one thing she'd need to have.