Indecision

by Caragh Bell

  ‘He’s obviously a player. Lucky you didn’t take him up on it.’

  ‘I know!’ Lydia bit her lip. She felt a bit silly. Especially after telling Samantha all about an incident that was obviously of no importance to that guy. Thank God she hadn’t told him her name.

  ‘Are you okay, Lyd?’ Samantha looked concerned.

  ‘Of course!’ she answered brightly. ‘I just feel like a bit of a fool for even giving that sleaze a second thought.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. Anyway, I’ll bet it made old Willis a million times more interesting.’

  ‘I suppose. Anyway, forget it. Let’s go to Tesco and buy ingredients for –’

  ‘Let me guess! Pesto chicken?’

  Lydia opened her eyes wide. ‘How did you guess?’

  Samantha checked her phone for the millionth time. She and Lydia were lounging on the couch watching Game of Thrones re-runs and drinking wine.

  ‘He said that he would text,’ she complained. ‘I mean, why do things in Boy-land take days to happen? Girls get things done. If we say we’re going to do something, we do it.’

  Lydia winced as a particularly violent sequence dominated the screen.

  ‘He’ll text, Sam. Just try and forget about it. Dom always takes ages to do anything. Concentrate on Jon Snow. I know that I am.’

  Samantha turned her phone upside down and settled back into the couch.

  ‘You’re so right. I mean, who does he think he is? I’m just going to forget all about it.’

  Her phone beeped suddenly and they both jumped. Samantha pounced on it and activated the screen.

  ‘Well?’ Lydia clutched a cushion in anticipation.

  ‘It’s my mum,’ said Samantha dolefully. ‘She wants me to get her some Nespresso in town before the weekend.’

  Lydia patted her arm. ‘Back to Westeros, then.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Half an hour crawled by. Samantha tried and failed to ignore her phone. Lydia noticed her furtively glancing at the screen every now and then.

  The programme ended.

  ‘Right then, I’m off to bed.’ Lydia got up and stretched. ‘Will you lock up?’

  Samantha nodded mournfully. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Lydia padded into her room. Her duvet was thrown on the floor and her clothes were draped over her chair and desk. She had inherited the messy gene from her father. He had no concept of tidiness.

  Lying down on her bed, she debated whether she would text Dominic or not. He would text back immediately, that she knew. Sometimes she missed the excitement of a new affair. Having a boyfriend was wonderful but also a little bit predictable. Idly, her thoughts drifted to the blond American she had met in class. Her encounter with him reminded her of those heady teenage summers when she and Samantha had hung around the park at home, meeting boys and pairing off for the holidays. The silly flirting, the sunshine, the promises that were made to be broken.

  She was suddenly snapped out of her reverie by an ecstatic Samantha bounding into her room.

  ‘He texted!’ she yelled.

  Lydia laughed. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘How are you?’ she answered gleefully.

  Lydia frowned. ‘Wow, that’s profound.’

  ‘Shaddup!’ said Samantha good-naturedly. ‘The point is that he made contact.’

  ‘I’m delighted for you. Now, go to bed. You have to be up early.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Samantha whooped again: ‘He texted! He texted!’

  Lydia shook her head. ‘Tone it down the next time you meet him, Sam. He’ll run a mile.’

  Samantha paused at the door to her room. ‘I’ll be cool as a cucumber. If I can’t be a silly idiot around my best friend, well …’

  ‘Talk tomorrow.’ Lydia smiled and closed her eyes. ‘I can’t wait for the wedding.’

  ‘Ha, ha.’

  Chapter 7

  Colin shrieked when Lydia walked into the West Wing of the university.

  ‘Wasn’t Willis amazing yesterday?’

  Lydia rolled her eyes to heaven. ‘Amazing.’

  ‘Now it’s time for some poetry!’ Colin bounded into the room ahead and Lydia followed.

  The tutor, Brendan Cleary, was sitting behind a desk in the cramped little room. He had a shock of grey hair and glasses perched on his nose. He indicated that Lydia should sit on his left and to her relief he pointed at a chair on the opposite side of the room for Colin.

  Lydia sank into her chair and opened her notepad. She surveyed the other occupants in the room. An Asian girl with a Burberry scarf, a couple of brawny rugby types, two blondes with fake tan and a small brunette with an earnest face.

  ‘Sign this.’ Brendan’s voice resonated around the room and Lydia jumped.

  She took the sheet he was holding out to her, scribbled her signature and passed the sheet to the pretty, designer Asian girl who wrote her name with a gold pen. The sheet was passed rapidly around the room and finally ended up where it had started. Brendan peered at it through his glasses.

  ‘Everyone here except Mr. Jacob,’ he concluded, frowning. ‘Time waits for no man, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get started. Open ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’,please.’

  Lydia opened her book and stifled a giggle when she heard Colin’s familiar tones informing the blondes how he ‘really related’ to this poem. The tutor glared at him until he stopped mid-sentence.

  Brendan cleared his throat.

  ‘Thomas Stearns Eliot was a complex character. He had major issues with modern society. This poem is mock-heroic, a dramatic monologue from the point of view of an ordinary Joe Soap who cannot and will not break the moulds of society by posing his overwhelming question.’

  Lydia stared at him in awe. He had a soft voice that effortlessly demanded attention. His manner was so relaxing that she settled back into her seat and started to read the excerpt from Dante’s Inferno that preceded Eliot’s famous poem.

  ‘S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse …’ she murmured softly.

  Suddenly the door of the room burst open and the blond from the day before stepped in. He sidled into the vacant seat beside Lydia.

  Brendan Cleary removed his glasses and eyed the late arrival speculatively.

  ‘Mr. Jacob, I presume?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I slept in – I had a late night last night.’ He laughed and his blue eyes crinkled.

  Of all the tutorials in all the world, thought Lydia.

  ‘I understand your social life is of supreme importance, Mr. Jacob,’ the tutor said sternly. ‘I do not dispute this. But when it disturbs my class, then I have a problem.’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Cleary,’ was the meek reply.

  ‘Brendan, please.’

  ‘Okay, um, then, Brendan. Please call me Luca.’

  Lydia started. Luca ...

  Colin’s eyes were on stalks on the other side of the room. He had a radar that went off whenever a good-looking guy came within ten feet.

  Lydia let her long hair fall around her face, hoping that Luca would not recognise her. No such luck.

  ‘Hey,’ he whispered when Brendan had resumed his recital.

  Lydia gripped her poetry anthology and ignored her neighbour. The pretty Asian girl flashed Luca a brilliant smile.

  He nudged Lydia. ‘Hey! I can’t believe we’re in the same class again.’

  Lydia gave him half a smile and then turned back to her poem, which, like Brontë the day before, was swimming in front of her eyes.

  ‘In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo.’ Brendan cleared his throat. He nodded at Lydia. ‘Lydia, what does he mean by this line?’

  Lydia sat bolt upright. She had no idea. Her thoughts had not been filled with Prufrock.

  ‘He means that, um, he thinks that …’

  Luca sat back in amusement.

  Lydia looked around the room wildly and saw Colin mouthing, ‘Auntie Charlotte’.

  She shook her head in confusion. Why would he mention the
ir pretentious aunt? Suddenly the penny dropped.

  ‘He means that people are pretentious, that they speak of things they don’t really know about but think they should be talking about.’ She flushed after her speech.

  Brendan nodded approvingly. ‘Good, Lydia, you understand. Yes, Prufrock mocks these women, but he also feels like he can relate to them as he is pretending himself.’

  Luca grinned at her, a lock of blond hair falling over his blue eyes. She met his gaze for a moment and felt jolted.

  God, he really is too good-looking, she thought. And too close for my liking. The room was simply too cramped. She pulled away from him slightly and, as if in response to this, suddenly his thigh was resting against hers.

  Lydia glanced surreptitiously at him but he was staring at the tutor. Then he raised his hand to ask a question.

  ‘Why compare himself to Lazarus, Brendan? Can you explain the significance?’

  Lydia felt the pressure increase as his leg moved closer. Was he doing it deliberately? She was powerless to move as her tutor and the rest of the class were staring in their direction as Brendan responded in detail to Luca’s question. He then moved on and Lydia at last could discreetly move her leg away from Luca’s.

  ‘Now, the final image is one of sensuality and sexual freedom. The mermaids represent the life he will never dare to have. They have a wild, erotic beauty about them. He yearns to ride seaward on the waves with them, but instead he drowns.’

  Lydia could feel Luca’s eyes boring into the side of her head.

  Thankfully the tutorial came to an end.

  ‘Right then, a personal response to the poem for next week, please.’

  Lydia got up abruptly and made for the door.

  ‘Hey! Wait!’

  Hearing Luca call, she hurried out and almost broke into a run when she reached the corridor.

  Minutes later Lydia hurried up the garden path of her house and inserted her key in the door.

  What’s his story? she thought. Guys like that are such a waste of space. Talk about an ego.

  She pulled out her phone and noticed that there was a new message from Colin. In caps as usual.

  LIKE HELLO? I THOUGHT WE COULD HAVE COFFEE AND DISCUSS XXX

  Lydia punched in a reply.

  Call down to my place XXX

  She wondered if Colin had noticed anything weird.

  Her fears were soon to disappear.

  ‘Sophie and Isabelle? The blonde girls? Oh my God, they are so cool. They have a discount card for BTs and everything.’

  The chatter continued as Lydia filled the kettle.

  She was overreacting. She was just out of practice, that’s all. She had always been shy around boys, ever since she was a teenager. Luca’s direct approach was something that she was not equipped to handle. He oozed self-confidence and seemed like the kind of guy who got what he wanted. Colin’s voice brought her back to the present.

  ‘Cinema later?’

  ‘Sure, yeah. Sounds good.’

  Luca opened a beer and checked his phone.

  Two calls from his mom. Shit, he should get back to her. A text from Jess, wanting to meet up later. No big deal. Two emails from Mimi. He should call her too.

  Closing his eyes, he flung his phone away. He was too tired for all of that now. All he wanted was to have a beer and relax.

  He liked Ireland. It sure was a fun place. Everyone was so happy and out for a good time. Taking Jess home on the first night out was probably a mistake. Sure, she was hot, but he didn’t want to be tied down. Not when Irish girls were as pretty as that one in class. Now, she was nice.

  The front door slammed and Fiacra, his other housemate, walked in.

  ‘Hey, bro!’ Luca raised his arm in salute. ‘You want a beer?’

  ‘Nah. I’m okay. You headin’ out later?’

  ‘What’s going down?’

  ‘Craig mentioned some club he wants to go to. Thursday night is the big night here.’

  ‘Sure, I could do that. I don’t have anything else on.’

  He’d just make up some excuse to get rid of Jess. She was getting too clingy.

  ‘See you later, so.’ Fiacra headed upstairs.

  Luca picked up his phone and speed-dialled his grandmother.

  She picked up immediately.

  ‘Hey, Mimi,’ he said warmly, settling into his seat. ‘Ça va?’

  Her soft voice soothed him. He told her about his week. He described the university and the people in his house. She listened intently.

  He imagined her poised in the marble hallway of her apartment, the old-fashioned phone receiver in her small hand.

  ‘Will you come visit?’ he implored as their conversation came to an end.

  ‘Peut-être, mon petit – maybe,’ she replied.

  ‘I miss you.’ He bit his lip.

  ‘Moi, aussi.’

  ‘I’ll call you again next week.’

  ‘Oui.’

  The line went dead.

  Luca got to his feet and threw his beer can in the recycling bucket over by the kitchen door. He needed to change his clothes. His sweater smelled of Jess. Maybe he’d hook up with another girl later. The world was his oyster. Hey, maybe that cute girl would be there?

  He bounded upstairs and pulled open his suitcase which lay on the ground next to his bed. Despite having a huge wardrobe in the corner, he had yet to unpack. A pile of unwashed clothes was mounting on the wooden chair by the window. He never had to think about laundry in New York – Mimi had hired help who came in three times a week to do the housework. Maybe Craig would show him how to work the machine.

  Nah.

  There was a laundrette two blocks away. He would just go there when he ran out of clothes.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,’ Doctor Martin McAuley read from Wuthering Heights and surveyed the group of students. ‘You there, with the silver scarf – Colin, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You’ve read the text, I take it?’

  Colin nodded furiously.

  ‘Well, what do you think of it? Does Brontë convince us of their love? Do you think Cathy betrayed her heart for money?’

  Colin pondered for a second, the tip of his pen in his mouth.

  ‘Well,’ he began, ‘let’s just say she married Heathcliff. They would have been so poor, like, living in poverty. He would never have gone off to better himself because he had no incentive. She was doomed no matter what she chose. Marrying Edgar was expected. If she had married Heathcliff, they would have been shunned. She let her head rule her heart and it destroyed her in the end.’

  The tutor smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Colin’s chest puffed out in importance.

  Lydia threw a paper clip at Colin and winked.

  Suddenly the door swung open and Luca Jacob walked in.

  Lydia sank down into her seat, relieved that all the seats adjacent to her were occupied.

  Luca went and sat right in front of the tutor who ignored his late arrival and continued reading Chapter 9 of the novel aloud.

  Colin threw a paper clip at Lydia. ‘Pssst, Lyd! Am I amazeballs or what?’

  Lydia gave him a thumbs-up.

  ‘Shhhhh!’ A girl in a red jacket glared at them.

  Colin opened his mouth and then shut it again.

  ‘Does true love exist?’ Martin McAuley scanned the room for a victim. ‘You there, the latecomer. What do you think?’

  Luca started and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Love? Who? Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  McAuley pursed his lips. ‘Heathcliff and Cathy? Were they truly in love?’

  Luca straightened up in his seat. Lydia stared at the back of his head, wondering what he would say.

  Luca deliberated for a moment and then spoke.

  ‘I think that they were soulmates from the beginning. Edgar couldn’t separate them. Hell, even death couldn’t keep them apart. Life got in the way of happiness, I guess.
She wasn’t brave enough to be with him as she wanted status too. He wasn’t good enough for her even though she identified with him completely.’

  ‘That’s kind of my point, kind of,’ interrupted Colin excitedly.

  Luca turned around and smiled in his direction. Lydia felt a jolt.

  McAuley smiled. ‘Thank you for your insight.’

  Luca grinned. ‘Hey, no problem.’

  Lydia stuffed her copy into her satchel and got to her feet as the tutorial ended.

  ‘Lyd! Was I on fire or what?’ Colin looked as pleased as punch.

  Lydia patted him on the back. ‘Wait until I tell Auntie Di. She will be so proud.’

  She noticed Luca pushing through a group of girls nearby.

  Colin laughed and, before Lydia could stop him, called out to Luca.

  ‘Hey, Luca! Sorry for interrupting you there!’ he said with a giggle.

  Luca walked up to them and smiled warmly. ‘No worries, man. I didn’t know what I was saying anyway.’ Suddenly he focused in on Lydia. ‘Hey! Nice to see you again.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve met Lydia?’ Colin said, looking quizzically at Luca. Then, when there was no response, he extended his hand and shook Luca’s furiously. ‘I’m Colin.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Colin.’ Luca’s eyes were on Lydia’s face. ‘Lydia. Pretty name.’

  Lydia forced a smile. ‘Thanks. Well, see you around.’

  She turned away and started to walk towards the door. To her dismay she heard Colin suggesting that they all go for coffee. Coming to a halt, she took a deep breath. Colin could be so annoying sometimes.

  Smiling brightly, she turned around.

  ‘Coffee? Really? I thought we were going to go to the library, Col.’ She gave him a pointed look.

  ‘Aw, Lyd! All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Come on – it’s only a quick latte!’

  Minutes later, they were seated at a table with three coffees in front of them.

  ‘I’m Lyd’s dearest first cousin on her mother’s side,’ said Colin, emptying a sachet of sugar into his coffee.

  ‘I thank God every day,’ said Lydia solemnly.