Truly Madly Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  “Can’t you just tell him I’m not in?! Pleeeeeease, Rach?”

  Adam’s ETA – ATA – was six minutes away.

  “Bells. I sin-celery think I might have broken at least two toes when we dropped that statue.” We’d definitely cracked two of its toes. “So if you think I’m going to let all my nice shoes go to waste for nada, you can think again.”

  BUMBAGS. It was so much easier backing out of plans if you hadn’t talked the one best friend who still liked you into physically labouring on them for four hours.

  Rach put her hands on her hips.

  “Now, let’s do last-minute checks. Dog choc?”

  I patted my back pocket. “Affirmative.” Mumbles came over for a sniff.

  “Teeth.” Rach peered in my mouth and gave a satisfied nod.

  “Breath.” I “huhhhed” in her direction. She passed me another chewing gum. I apologized.

  “Conversation.”

  “His drumming, Molly – HIS DOG – Game of Thrones, world events.”

  “Yas. And in ‘world events’, feel free to include, ‘have you got any friends/relatives/people you once met in the street who could vote for St Mary’s next Saturday?’”

  I laughed. But it was a throat-only nervous one.

  I didn’t want to admit it to Rach, but on top of everything, I was worrying about what she would think about him. Yes, they’d met in a casual way, but this would be our first time together as a three. Four with Mumbles. If Rach didn’t approve, then it was game over.

  I looked at my phone.

  ATA: two mins.

  TERROR WAVE.

  I would do anything to get out of this. Even swap with Tegan. But just thinking her name made me feel sad. She’d be at her audition right now. Rach and I had sent her a good-luck video this morning, but we hadn’t had anything back.

  ATA: one min.

  Breathing and swallowing switched from automatic to manual.

  My mouth was so dry I had to use my finger to nudge my tongue around a bit to unstick it. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be OK, but Rach had headed in for a wee, and there was only Mumbles left, and she couldn’t speak, let alone guarantee her performance.

  I called her over anyway. She didn’t move. Excellent start. I walked to her and crouched down.

  “Now then, Mumbelina.” She panted and I almost passed out with her mouth-fumes. Adam was going to think we fed her on a diet of sewage and rotting meat. But now was not the time to crush her confidence (although maybe it was time to look into whether chewing gum for dogs had been patented).

  “It’s just you and me now.” She licked my face. Great. Now I smelt of sewage-death too. “Thanks for that. Now, listen. This is what’s going to happen.” She pricked her ears. I loved her – she totally knew this was important. “You and I are just going to spend some time jumping over these, er, obstacles.” I gestured at the random collection of things. “Then you’re going to play dead. Then run through that tunnel. Big finish. All things we practised, remember?” Key word was practised. Less accurate description would be “achieved”. “We just need to try our best. And not do anything weird… OK?” That bit applied to both of us.

  She looked at me with her lovely soft brown eyes, and for a moment I thought she understood. Then she let out a fart that smelt so bad my lungs tried to emergency eject from my body. My vision actually blurred. I fell back on the lawn wafting at my face.

  “YOUR BOTTOM IS A WEAPON OF GAS DESTRUCTION.” I tried to take in a breath without ingesting smell particles. “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??”

  “Always being one minute early for everything?”

  Wait. What?! My vision un-blurred to reveal Rach and an Adam-like specimen peering over me.

  Oh please, no.

  It wasn’t Adam-like. It was Adam.

  “Is that you?!” Please let me be hallucinating. I was NOT ready?!

  “Erm, yes – although wouldn’t everyone say that?”

  He laughed, and put out his hand.

  Sorry. Did he really think me touching his actual flesh was going to help me be more normal?! But I had no choice.

  I grabbed it, and pulled myself up. As I did Rach’s nostrils flared so wide, I swear her face became half hole. I had to look away before getting inappropriate giggles.

  Not helped by the fact my hand was so sweaty that it made a weird hand fart.

  What would Tegan say if she was still talking to me? Confidence. Composure.

  “So, errr, thanks for coming to chez Rachel, for, errr, what I can assure you will be a, err, once in a lifetime experience.” Not exactly a TED talk, but it was a start.

  I swear Rach muttered, “You can say that again.”

  Adam looked around the garden. Make or break time.

  “It looks really … impressive. You must have been doing this for hours?!”

  “Noooo,” I said dismissively – just as Rach said at the exact time, “Several.”

  BUT he hadn’t legged it at the sight of a sleeping bag flapping in the wind (currently billowing like it was the International flag for Sleepovers). RELIEF. If I could just get this section of the day out of the way as quickly as possible, we could move on to more traditional activities, aka anything other than performance-based pet exercise.

  Rach leapt into action. “Before we start do you want a drink or anything?” Yes! Part one of our plan.

  “Erm, a water would be amazing. If that’s OK?”

  “I’ll go and fix … you … one,” Rach said weirdly slowly, trying to subtly indicate to me “PHASE ONE ALERT!! QUALITY BELLA AND ADAM TIME!” It would have been more subtle if she didn’t slow-blink with every word.

  It was at this exact moment I realized I’d never mentioned there would be a third person on our date. This is surely the kind of normal thing a normal person would have done. Oh well. But Adam wasn’t making a thing out of it. I hated (/absolutely adored) how able he was to deal with everything. He even spoke to Rach like she was a generic human – most boys just dribbled and stared.

  As she walked away, I attempted convo.

  “So how’s the er…” My mind raced through the authorized topic list. Drumming, yes. “Drumming?” EW. It sounded too serious, like a teacher question. Be more chatty! “Done any good, er, banging?”

  SORRY, WHAT WAS THAT, MOUTH?!

  “Errr, lots, actually. This new football team’s been full on, so it’s been nice to let off some steam.”

  I nodded gormlessly. I swear I’ve had at least thirteen years of practising using words, so why was it always so hard whenever he was near? JUST SAY SOMETHING, BELLA.

  “Steamy.”

  Not that.

  “You could say that?!” Adam laughed to make it less awkward.

  But, hold up. What new football team did he mean? This was the perfect opportunity for normal-person convo.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you had a new team?”

  He suddenly looked all embarrassed. “Oh yeah. I was going to explain… I had, er … trials for the, er … county team. South Worcester Reds…” I loved how he was trying not to brag, even though he totally wasn’t. “And I found out when they picked the team last Saturday.” He looked back up at me. “That was why I couldn’t meet up with you?”

  OMG – had he just revealed his long story? Cos actually it was quite short.

  “You should have just said?! And congrats, by the way.”

  He grinned. I auto-swooned. “Well, it seemed like you had enough on your plate with all that radio competition stuff without me going on about my drama too?”

  As if?! I wanted to know ALL his drama. “Not at all?!” Too enthusiastic. “I love a full plate.” What to say next? “And empty ones.” He smiled. “Bowls too.”

  Oh. Help. I couldn’t just list crockery for the next five minutes. Well, I could, because when you think about it, there’s actually a huge range, but this probs wasn’t the killer chat that would win him round.

  As I racked my brains fo
r something better, I spotted Rach peeking out from behind a hedge. I jerked my head up in a “quick, get here before I start talking about gravy jugs” way. Adam totally saw. I pretended I had a fly in my hair.

  “OH LOOK RACH IS BACK WITH THE DRINKS,” I said, loud enough to coax her out. She sidestepped her way across the lawn, and passed out the glasses.

  “Here you go. Sorry it took so long. I … got a phone call? An urgent one.”

  She laid out our carefully chosen snacks. Adam reached for some Monster Munch. I shot a look at Rach to say, “SEE. I told you: he IS my dream man.”

  I grabbed a couple too – look, Adam! We have things in common!

  “Ummmm, these are totally my dave…” Now I wanted to say nibbles but was too worried I might say nipples. I needed another word. “Nipples.”

  Adam did an actual choke. How could I make this less terrible?

  I laughed hysterically. “It’s just what we call them.” Hahahaha. “Nip-ples.” I said it again. “Niii-ippp-pples.” Why couldn’t stop saying it!? “Cos we nip to the shop to get them.”

  Silence.

  “Nipples.” MOUTH, STOP OR I WILL PHSYICALLY HOLD YOU CLOSED.

  I stared at the ground. Now would be a really great time for it to swallow me whole. I shifted my weight around to encourage it. But nothing.

  “Yes, we definitely DO call them that,” Rach said like a human robot.

  Well at least we’d hit peak weird early on.

  Adam mustered his best smile.

  “Well, in that case…” He shut his eyes and breathed in as if giving himself inner strength. “Great nipples?”

  None of us could make eye contact. Even Mumbles looked away. Probably because she had six of them, and no jumper on, and felt extra self-conscious.

  I crossed my arms across my chest. And noticed Rach and Adam had done the same.

  Well this was awful.

  “Right then!” I clapped my hands desperately trying to end part one. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  I walked away, grateful to put some distance between me and Adam, and all of our poor nipples. I was meant to be making him laugh with me not at me. Mumbles trotted over and sat at my feet. Maybe she’d sensed the importance and was going to pull this out of the bag after all?

  I bent to stroke her, plucking up the courage to sneak a quick look back at Adam. Luckily, he was smiling.

  “Ladies … er … lady and gentleman. Welcome to today’s extravaganza! A visual feast of the, er, relationship between man – well wo-man – and dog! Who is also a woman. A woman dog.” I did two-hand pointing. “It’s… MUMBLES!”

  Our audience of two clapped and whooped.

  “For your delight we will be performing some of her most agile feats…”

  Rach and Adam did an excellent gameshow, “Woooooo!”

  “… including playing dead …”

  More oo-ing.

  “… walking backwards …”

  This time it was an ahhhhh.

  “… jumping these three death-defying fences …”

  Even bigger, “Wooooh!”

  “… and crawling through this tunnel of doom!”

  We got our biggest applause yet. Maybe this could be fun after all?

  I grinned at Rach, so happy she was here. She smiled back and flicked on the music.

  Adam drummed along on his deckchair. Fit. But I couldn’t just stand here and perv (well, I could and currently I was). I turned my back on them, stroked Mumbles’ ears, and whispered, “You’ve got this!”

  “Soooo, let’s start with one of the simple jumps…” I legged it to the far side of the first one, and yelled her name. And like a tiny furry thoroughbred stallion she galloped towards me and flew over it.

  In my dreams.

  In reality she didn’t move a muscle.

  I shouted again.

  She lay down and started chewing grass.

  I was being blanked.

  There was only one thing for it. I ran to her, waved the dog choc under her nose and pelted it back as fast as I could, jumping over the fence with her running alongside me, like a graceful hairy best friend.

  Well … that’s what I intended. What actually happened was that I ran towards the jump, slid slightly in a patch of water Rach had spilled, lost my balance, tried to take off anyway, tripped into the whole thing, put my hands out to stop myself falling and ended up sort of leapfrogging Rach’s dad’s compost bin. All while Mumbles stayed exactly where she started looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  If there’s a Buzzfeed list on Top 100 Unsexy Things To Do On A Date, I’d just crossed off at least twenty-two.

  But as I regained my balance there was a loud clap. And some full-on laughing.

  “TEN!” Adam held up all his fingers. “Ten! For aerial skills!”

  I had two options. Apologize. Or embrace the ridiculous. And based on the last fifteen years, I knew I only had one option.

  I embraced my failure so hard, I did a little bow, and grinned at Adam. Who grinned at me (as did Rach, who was grinning at me being grinned at by Adam).

  Mumbles and I then had two more equally unsuccessful attempts at the remaining jumps (I jumped one, Mumbles walked into the other whilst staring up at me) before it was time to move on to safer ground.

  “Before our Tunnel of Terror grrrrrrand finale, we will now show you one of our best slash only skills… Playing dead!” True, it was our most successful trick (one in thirty-five success rate). I pointed to the ground and shouted, “Tragic sudden death!”

  On the “death” Mumbles was meant to fall to the floor and shut her eyes. But as I shouted it, Adam did the loudest sneeze. And instead of remaining deathly still, Mumbles bolted the entire length of the garden and leapt into a hedge.

  Erm … could I style this out?

  Nope. But I didn’t need to because Adam burst into the sort of full-body laughter that’s so extreme it sounded like he was getting a six-pack from it. No, Bella. Do NOT think about what lies beneath Adam’s jumper. Today is challenging enough already.

  “You guys!” Adam was physically bent over his knees, holding himself as he shook. “Tooooo good.”

  Rach looked at me, getting “Am I OK to laugh at this too” approval.

  But it was too late – I was already laughing so hard I’d done an accidental nose snort. Yup, after dedicating all this week to practising, it was fair to say Mumbles and I were atrocious. The only thing we’d actually learnt that was if in doubt – laugh at yourself. A lot.

  But we had one more thing.

  “Rach – please could you line up the finale song?”

  She pressed play on the tune we’d chosen for the big finale. The Helicans, “Look What I Could Be To You”.

  “Mmmmmmm, nice choice…” Adam’s drumming picked back up. He smiled, enjoying the song. I smiled, enjoying us enjoying the same song. Step one – like the same song. Step two – lifetime of happiness. Right?

  But I couldn’t just stop to witness the fitness. It was time to tackle the finale – the sleeping bag/hoop tunnel. I coaxed Mumbles from her hedge hiding place and she trotted over with the confidence of a dog that knew what her job was.

  Adam gave her a welcome like she was a returning hero.

  “So … are you guys ready?!” I got a loud “YAASSSS” back.

  “Mumbles, ready?”

  She looked up from the stick she was now chewing. Probs dog for “Yaaaaassss”.

  “Let’s dooooo this!”

  Just like we’d practised earlier, Rach turned up the music, and I ran to the far end of the tunnel, waving the last of the treats, yelling, “Mumbles,” before standing back proudly to watch the magic.

  Finally, Mumbles did exactly what she had to do. Pelted at full pace towards the tunnel.

  That’s my dog.

  But, no. NO.

  Something was wrong.

  She still had the stick hanging out of either side of her mouth.

  Now, I’m no tree expert
, but technically it was so big it was in branch territory.

  Adam and Rach stopped clapping.

  I started shouting, “Nonononnonono.” Then a less generic “COME HERE!!”

  But it was too late.

  Mumbles dived into the tunnel.

  And she didn’t come out.

  Because instead of it being a tunnel, the tube, hoop, sleeping bag and one of the large stakes had now effectively become the world’s largest dog hat. And it was zigzagging furiously around the garden.

  It was so big that I couldn’t actually see any dog underneath it, just a tail flapping out of the end, as it ran in panicked circles.

  Rach and Adam stared in silent horror as the monstrosity pelted towards Rach’s glass patio doors. It was like HatDog was being remote controlled by a toddler.

  I HAD to stop it. Leaping into action, I sprinted as fast as I could after it and without a second to think if this was a good idea, launched myself at the pile of running sleeping bag yelling, “Noooo!” as I sailed through the air. It would have been impressive – if I hadn’t missed entirely and hit the ground with such a thud I just startled her even more. Hat Dog was now bolting straight towards Adam.

  Please, Mumbles. Anything but Adam?! I’d rather she ran straight through the patio door than him. Glass can be mended. Legs – and memories – are much harder.

  But he was right in her path and in the potential splash zone as she careered towards the pond. “Loooookkk ouuuuuut!” I yelled.

  Adam was so shocked he didn’t move a muscle. In a last ditch attempt to save him from getting soaked, Rach leapt up and dived towards him to push his chair to safety. Go, Rach!

  PHEW!!

  Disaster averted!

  Even better, the squeak of the chair on the paving stone had scared Hat Dog away from the pond!

  BUT, NO!! Hat Dog was now heading straight towards Rach’s dad’s big stone statue?!

  I held my breath (which is hard when also yelling “Muuuuuuumblllleees”). There was no way my shifts at GADAC would ever earn enough to replace that?!