A Kiss in the Dark

by Cat Clarke

  Normally I’d be up at Bristo Square, but I hadn’t heard from Jonni or Fitz for a couple of weeks, and I wasn’t going to be the first one to get in touch. I had some pride, at least. I’d bought them the gig tickets – the least they could do was say thank you. I hadn’t skated since my first date with Kate. Suddenly it didn’t seem like something I wanted to spend my time doing. I wasn’t running nearly as much as I used to, either. I didn’t really want to spend my time doing anything apart from thinking about, seeing or talking to Kate. A lot of the time I ended up lying on my bed listening to the mortifyingly cheesy playlist I’d created the day after our first date.

  Jamie eventually managed to drag me out of the house to go for a walk the day before he headed back to Aberdeen. Said it was time I stopped moping around being all emo. I think he thought my date had gone horribly wrong so he felt sorry for me. He wasn’t to know I was spending all my time daydreaming. Remembering that kiss. Imagining future kisses. It would never occur to him that I would be that lame. Mind you, it would never have occurred to me either. I was learning new things about myself every day and quite a few were things I would never want another human being to know about.

  I tried to pay attention to Jamie’s stories about university life and how amazing it was as he huffed and puffed his way up Arthur’s Seat. He’d have been able to run up that hill a couple of months before – he clearly wasn’t getting much exercise. As usual, he was juggling a couple of different girls, but reckoned one of them was a keeper – ‘the kind of girl I could bring home for a weekend’. Of course that got me thinking about Kate. She was the kind of girl I could bring home for a weekend. Except she lived in Edinburgh, so it would be a bit weird to bring her home for a weekend. And she was a girl, so I’d probably have some explaining to do to my parents first. And I was a girl so I’d have some explaining to do to Kate as well.

  We didn’t hang around at the top of the hill; the wind was like having ice-cold daggers plunged into your ears. Jamie took a picture of us with his phone, both of us with our hats pulled down as far as they’d go. He posted it straight on Facebook: ‘Bonding with little sis up a big fucking hill’. Jamie likes to document his whole life online. It must make it harder to juggle all those different girls without them finding out about each other.

  All the way home I kept thinking about that photo being on Facebook. Not worrying, exactly. But it made me uneasy. Jamie had a lot of friends. And what if one of them was friends with someone who knew Kate? And what if she happened to be with them when they went on Facebook and saw a picture of me? Little sis.

  By the time we got home the thinking had morphed into full-on paranoia. I asked Jamie to delete the picture, saying I looked crap, but he said no and pulled my beanie down over my eyes. Then I practically begged him to delete it and he told me to stop being so vain because it didn’t suit me, and besides we both looked good in the picture (good genes, he said). I stormed off to my room and slammed the door and I could hear him laughing and telling Mum.

  It would be fine. I was almost sure of it. Edinburgh’s not that small. I’d have to be extremely unlucky for Kate to somehow miraculously see that picture. I’d just have to cross my fingers and hope that it didn’t happen. And be more careful in future. There was too much at stake.

  *

  I saw Kate the day she got back. Neither of us wanted to wait a minute longer than we had to. I arrived at the cafe ten minutes early. We only had an hour before she had to head home for her piano lesson. I thought it was a bit much that she had to have a lesson the day she got back.

  When she walked in the door I literally breathed a sigh of relief. The longest week of my life was over. Finally. It was incredible to see her face light up as if she felt exactly the same way. She rushed towards me and the strap of her bag caught on the handle of a pushchair at the next table. She got all flustered trying to disentangle herself while apologizing to the woman whose baby she’d just woken up. It was a scene straight out of a romantic comedy.

  Kate was finally in front of me, blushing and out of breath. She dropped her bag and flung her arms around me and it seemed like we stayed like that for the longest time. It felt … right. That’s the only way I can explain it. Profoundly right.

  When we sat down, Kate scooted her chair across so she was sitting next to me and we could hold hands. When the waitress came over to take Kate’s order she smiled as if maybe she remembered what it was like to be our age and in love. Because I think that’s what it was, even then. I was in love with Kate. I wasn’t sure when I’d started loving her, or exactly what it meant, but that didn’t stop me knowing it. And it made me feel good to know it, even though I had no intention of putting it into words. I didn’t want to freak her out.

  Kate didn’t have a tan – she was so fair she had to stay out of the sun – but a tiny sprinkling of freckles had appeared across her nose. ‘Nice freckles,’ I said.

  Kate shielded her face with her hand and half-turned away. ‘I hate them!’

  I grabbed her hand and held it tightly in mine. ‘Well I happen to think they’re seriously cute.’

  ‘Really?’ She was always saying that. Usually whenever I said something nice or paid her a compliment. As if she found it hard to believe that there was anything worthwhile about her.

  ‘Yes, really.’ I kissed her nose and she laughed as she tried to squirm out of my embrace.

  She was serious all sudden. She held my face in her hands and looked at me as if she was trying to memorize my features. She was looking so hard it made me wonder how she wasn’t able to see me for who I really was. Maybe she didn’t want to see the real me. ‘God, I missed you.’

  I smiled. ‘I missed you too.’

  ‘Really?’ This time I just rolled my eyes. I wasn’t about to admit that I’d spent the whole week thinking about her. But Kate said as much – that the only thing that had made a whole week with her mum bearable was knowing I was waiting for her when she got home. Then she kissed me and there was something a bit forceful about it – almost desperate. I pulled away after a second or two because I was worried about people looking at us, but when I looked around no one was paying any attention.

  Kate had bought me a present. She acted all shy about it, like she wasn’t quite sure if we were at the present-buying stage yet. It was a necklace, except I’m not sure it’s called a necklace if it’s for a boy. Still, it was a leather string with a cool black stone on it. I put it on straightaway and told her I loved it. I really did love it – it was just like one Jamie used to wear. I liked the fact that something Kate had given me would be close to my heart. I probably should have told her that.

  I’d got her something too. I’d bought it a couple of days ago when I was at the newsagents. Kate laughed when I pulled it out of my bag, slightly dented. ‘Oh my God, you remembered?!’

  I shrugged, not wanting to show that I was pleased with myself. She’d mentioned she used to be obsessed with Kinder Surprise even though she hated the chocolate. It was all about the tiny little toy inside. Kate tore into the wrapper and broke the chocolate eggshell in half. She held a shard of chocolate between her fingers and gestured for me to take it. I ate it while she opened up the yellow plastic capsule. It was a little panda; Kate loves pandas. I couldn’t have planned it any better. I’d spent less than a quid and Kate was acting like I’d bought her diamonds.

  Kate thought it was really cool that we’d bought each other a present at the same time. I thought it was pretty lucky I’d been stuck behind the old lady who insisted on paying for her cigarettes with pennies, meaning I had time to notice the Kinder eggs in the first place. It was luck, pure and simple.

  An hour with Kate was not enough. I kept on looking at my phone to check the time. Five minutes before she had to go, she turned to look at me and it was obvious that she had something she needed to say but wasn’t all that keen on saying it. I looked at her expectantly.

  Kate coughed a cough that wasn’t really a cough. ‘So.’

>   ‘So what?’

  ‘My mum wants to meet you.’ She scrunched up the Kinder wrapper.

  I very nearly spat out my tea. ‘Um … what?’

  ‘She wants you to come round for dinner. This week.’

  Meeting was bad enough but dinner? That was just … no. There were so many things I wanted to say – different variations of ‘no’ – but I kept my mouth shut.

  ‘Alex? Say something … please?’ She squeezed my hand then entwined her fingers in mine.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ That came out a little harsher than I meant it to.

  ‘I just want to know what you’re thinking.’ She often wanted to know what I was thinking; I never asked her what she was thinking. Thoughts are private.

  I sighed. ‘So your mum knows about me?’

  Kate looked puzzled. ‘Er … yes? Of course she does! Why? Do your parents not know about me?’ She withdrew her hand from mine. That had to be a bad sign.

  ‘It’s none of their business.’

  She was quiet then. I waited her out. I find that most people will talk if you let the silence go on for long enough. ‘Are you …? You’re not ashamed of me, are you?’ Her voice was small.

  ‘No! I just don’t really talk to my folks about stuff like that. It’s nothing to do with you, Kate. Honestly.’

  She didn’t look entirely convinced but she didn’t push it. ‘I had to tell Mum – she knew something was up anyway. Apparently I’ve been wandering around with my head in the clouds or something. She even asked if it was a boy.’

  I should have probably seen this coming. Meeting the parents was a normal thing to do in a relationship – I knew that. Jamie had done it enough times – dressing up in his least scruffy clothes and heading off to some girl’s house, coming back with stories that had Mum laughing so hard she got hiccups (especially the time when he blocked the toilet).

  I was in a relationship now. I should have thought ahead, but I’d been too wrapped up in the bubble of me and Kate to see anything outside of it.

  ‘Alex? Are you OK?’

  I shook myself. ‘Yeah, fine.’ I reclaimed her hand and immediately felt better. Whenever I was touching her I felt more settled.

  ‘So you’ll come round for dinner then?’

  I kissed her on the cheek. ‘Of course I will.’ There was no other option, was there?

  ‘Thank you. It’ll just make things a lot easier, you know? Once she’s met you and seen how amazing you are.’ That made me smile. ‘I’ll tell her to be on her best behaviour. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘If you say so …’

  ‘I do say so. And I’m pretty much always right. So there. And I was thinking … maybe I could meet your …’ Kate looked at her watch. ‘SHIT! I’m going to be late!’ She kissed me quickly on the lips and said she’d text later to let me know what day for dinner.

  I stayed in the cafe after she left, trying not to think about the ordeal ahead. I’d have to be very, very careful to make sure Kate’s mum didn’t suspect anything. And after it was over, I’d have to come up with some reason why Kate couldn’t meet my parents or come to my house – ever. It was exhausting, always having to think and worry and plan ahead. But it was worth it. She was worth it.

  chapter thirteen

  I knocked on the front door. It was pale green, newly painted by the look of it. The house was a bungalow, semi-detached. Pretty nice if you didn’t mind living so far out of town. The bus had taken forever to get there, but forever wasn’t long enough for me that day. I pictured the bus crashing. Not a bad crash – just serious enough that I’d have a good excuse to go straight home instead of going to Kate’s house. But the bus driver clearly had other plans. She drove steadily and carefully and even managed to drop me off on Portobello High Street a bit early.

  The last time I’d been to Portobello was a few years before with Mum, Dad and Jamie. Mum was on one of her ‘doing things as a family’ kicks and every Sunday we went somewhere different. That day was typically Edinburgh – windy and cold, with some driving rain added in for good measure – but Dad insisted on a walk on the beach before lunch in the pub. We had the beach to ourselves, apart from a few mad dog-walkers. Jamie chased me along the sand and we hurdled over the wooden barriers that led down to the sea. Mum ran too – laughing as the wind whipped her hair around her head. It was a good day.

  I’d spent even longer than usual getting ready. Double and triple checking the binding round my breasts. I was wearing a pair of jeans I’d found in Jamie’s room and a shirt of his that I’d nicked a couple of years back. I wanted to look decent and respectable, so Mrs McAllister wouldn’t be appalled at the thought of her daughter spending time with me. But I also wanted to look like a teenage boy. I wasn’t about to turn up wearing a jacket and tie or something. I’d zipped up my jacket before leaving my room so that Mum wouldn’t notice that my boobs had disappeared. I told her I was going to the cinema with Jonni and Fitz and she seemed pleased about that.

  *

  Kate answered the door after I knocked for the third time. ‘Sorry! Sorry! Have you been there long? We were in the kitchen with the music on. You brought me flowers!’ I’d bought them from M&S before getting on the bus. Mum always taught us never to go to someone’s house empty-handed. She’d have been proud – if I could have told her.

  ‘Um … they’re for your mum. Sorry.’ I shuffled past Kate into the hallway beyond. It was cosy-looking – soft lighting, a multi-coloured stripey rug, lots of pictures on the walls. Classical music was blaring from the back of the house.

  ‘Oh. That’ll get you definite brownie points. Good idea.’ She closed the door and leaned against it. She was wearing jeans too. A slouchy wide-necked red jumper. Bare feet. She looked more beautiful than ever.

  I took a deep, long breath. I felt like I was about to go onstage in front of hundreds of people and I’d forgotten my lines. Which is exactly what happened in primary school when we were all forced to be in a production of Oliver! I’d been desperate to be in Fagin’s gang of pickpockets – all grubby faces, caps, boots and torn trousers. But instead I had to play a housemaid, wearing a dress, an apron and a stupid hat like a shower cap. I was gutted.

  ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’ Kate pouted.

  The girl had clearly lost her mind. ‘Here?’

  Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head. She moved closer, wrapped her arms around me and whispered, ‘Mum’s busy in the kitchen. She won’t leave that risotto for a second, I promise.’

  Risotto. Great. Food the same texture of vomit wasn’t exactly high on my list of favourite things to eat. I kissed Kate briefly. No matter what she said I didn’t want to risk her mum catching us. I had to make a good first impression.

  Kate didn’t look pleased at the poor excuse for a kiss, but she knew how nervous I was so she let me get away with it. She took my jacket and hoodie and hung them up on a peg near the front door. I noticed the neat line of shoes underneath the hooks just as Kate asked if I wouldn’t mind taking my shoes off. That’s when I remembered. Fuck. Socks. Why hadn’t I thought about socks? I’d been washing my own clothes recently. I told Mum it was about time I started doing more stuff for myself, to give her a bit of a break. The real reason was that I didn’t want her snooping around my room, asking questions about the clothes I was wearing. So I’d run out of the plain black socks I normally wore and instead of raiding Jamie’s room for an old pair of his, I found a pair in the back of my sock drawer. They were purple – and covered in tiny pink hearts. With bows on.

  ‘Um … do I have to?’

  ‘It’s kind of a house rule since we got the new carpets last year.’

  My mind had gone blank. I had no idea how to explain away the very unmanly socks. This whole thing was going to unravel because of a pair of bloody socks that my grandmother had given to me four years ago.

  ‘Um …’

  Kate crossed her arms and looked unimpressed. ‘You’ve got holes in your socks, haven’t you?’

&
nbsp; Yes. Yes. That was exactly the sort of reason a boy would be reluctant to take his shoes off before meeting his girlfriend’s mother for the first time.

  ‘Well just make sure you wipe your feet really well on the mat. That’ll have to do, I suppose. But if you think I’m sewing your socks for you you’ve got no chance, OK? I’ll teach you how to do it sometime but that’s it.’ She smiled. Her lecturing voice was pretty adorable.

  ‘I’d never dream of asking you to do that! What do you think I am? Some kind of caveman or something?’

  ‘You boys are all the same.’ She elbowed me in the side as she passed by.

  I grabbed her round the waist and kissed her neck. She squealed and escaped from my clutches. ‘Don’t! You’ll squish the flowers!’

  I was giddy with relief. Somehow the socks thing had worked out in my favour. Someone up there must be looking down on me, helping me out. Either that or I was way luckier than I deserved to be.

  Kate took my hand and squeezed it encouragingly as she led me into the kitchen. The smells wafting through the half-open door weren’t particularly vomity, so I could at least stop stressing about the possibility of spewing everywhere.

  The kitchen was cosy too. Smaller than ours, but nicer, somehow. There was a round table, set for three. The floral napkins had been folded into fans – I guessed that was Kate’s handiwork. There were flowers already on the table, and they were way nicer than the ones I’d brought. I cursed myself for not spending that extra fiver.