by Lauren Sams
‘Hmm?’ Shuffle shuffle. Very busy.
‘I asked what you were working on. Last night.’ He had that bloody smirk on his face again. Couldn’t he just smile normally for once? Why did he have to look so smug all the time?
‘Oh. Um. A, uh . . . a story.’ Oh my god. I was like Hillary in the Benghazi trials. I had nothing to hide, so why was I acting like I did?
Neil shot me a bemused smile. ‘Great. Hey, uh, I really like your hair straight.’
I furrowed my brow. ‘What?’
‘In your profile pic. It’s straight. I’ve only ever seen it wavy – which is nice, too – but it looks good when it’s straight.’
I looked up from the papers and glared at him. ‘Neil. I am your boss. This is completely inappropriate.’
He looked confused. ‘Oh. I thought it would be OK now, seeing as you picked me on Tinder.’
I dropped the papers. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. We’re a match.’
Gulp. ‘Oh, well . . .’ Fuuuuuck. I swiped right on Neil? My heart began to race. Oh my god. What if Meredith found out? I’d surely be fired.
He smiled again, not teasing this time. ‘So . . . when do you want to go out?’
‘What’s that?’ I asked, as if I hadn’t heard him.
‘When . . . would . . . you . . . like . . . to . . . go . . . out?’ he asked slowly, playfully.
‘Um . . . That’s not a good idea.’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Well . . . we work together. I have a baby. They’re kind of the two big reasons, I guess.’
Neil shrugged. ‘But you picked me.’
‘Yes.’ He gave me a look like, ‘Your move, Henderson.’ ‘However . . . that was an accident.’
He nodded slowly, like he was trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. ‘So you accidentally found me on Tinder, and then swiped right on me, but we can’t date because we work together and you have a baby?’
‘That is correct.’
He whistled, long and slow. ‘What a shame.’
I shrugged, trying to find an expression that was both contrite and firm.
‘But . . .’ he started again, ‘you are single, correct?’
I nodded. ‘Yep.’ Very.
‘Well . . . for the record, I don’t mind about the work thing. Or the baby thing.’ He waggled his eyebrows at me and despite myself, I laughed.
‘OK, OK,’ I said, holding my hands up. ‘Listen, I’m sorry. I know I sound like a weirdo, and this is – obviously – off the record in terms of our . . . um, working relationship, but it really was an accident that I matched you on Tinder. I think you’re a lovely guy –’ wait, did I? ‘– but I was a bit down last night and I was on Tinder and I sort of went on a swiping spree. I didn’t even realise I’d matched with you. I’m sorry. It was an accident.’
‘What happened?’
I arched a brow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Why were you feeling down?’
‘Oh. Um, that’s really –’
‘Off the record?’ he guessed.
I nodded. ‘It’s not a big deal, really. My ex is moving in with his new girlfriend.’ Why was I telling him this? I found myself looking at the two of us, as if I was an objective outsider. The man – young-ish, tall, a bit handsome but not terribly so, his cocky grin disappearing after the woman handed over her emotional card. And the woman, also young-ish but never feeling like it, trying to keep it together but not quite managing.
‘Oh,’ he nodded, giving me an understanding smile. ‘That’s hard. How long were you married?’
I let out a defeated little laugh. ‘We weren’t. We didn’t get married.’
‘Thank god for that.’
I raised my eyebrows.
He bit his lip and I tried very hard not to be charmed by it. ‘Sorry. All I meant was, it’s a good thing this isn’t harder than it already is. That’s all.’
I shrugged. ‘I know, it’s OK.’ I sat down at my desk, an indication, I thought, that our conversation was over. Neil didn’t get the memo. He sat down opposite me.
‘Uh, anyway,’ I began, clearing my throat and trying to re-establish some sort of professional boundary between us, ‘so you see, matching with you on Tinder was really just a silly mistake. I’m sorry about that.’
He smiled. ‘Sure. I get it.’
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘It was just a misunderstanding.’
He nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘Thanks, Neil.’
‘No problem,’ he said, standing. ‘But don’t misunderstand this: I want to take you on a date. I know we work together. And I know you have a baby. And I still want to take you on a date. So . . . you just let me know.’
*
‘Hello you two! My favourite ladies! Here you are!’
Nina swept in, as if it wasn’t at all unusual for her to be home on a Tuesday night. As if she were here all the time, with Pip and me. As if nothing had changed.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.
Pippa and I were sitting on the couch and I was feeding her as we watched In the Night Garden. The clinic nurse had told me that TV exposure in kids under two years led to behavioural problems, but the clinic nurse didn’t have to put an eight-month-old to bed every single night by herself, did she? Over to you, Upsy-Daisy.
While balancing Pip with one hand, I was replying to a text from Meredith using my Pip-free hand.
Only two columns?
What happened? Richie
needs three. MP xxx
It was beginning to grate a little that Meredith sent such aggressive texts and ended them so passively, with kisses.
I had a medical emergency
over the weekend. Next one
coming tomorrow. GH
‘Hi girls!’ Nina said, again.
I glanced at her. ‘Hi. How are you?’
‘Great! How are you?’
I stared at her. How was I? Seriously? I was really fucking pissed, that’s what I was.
‘Tired,’ I replied, my voice clipped.
‘I bought you a present! Want to see?’
‘You bought me a present?’ I kept my voice flat, even. I couldn’t believe her. Nina was acting like a divorced dad waltzing in at Christmas when you hadn’t seen him all year.
‘Mmm-mmm. Want to see?’ She was giddy, like a game show host just about to reveal the big prize.
‘Sure.’
She picked up a large plastic bag and set it on the opposite couch, pulling the bag down to reveal . . . a breast pump.
‘Is that a . . .?’
‘It’s a breast puuuuuuump!’ she said, adding a few extra, unnecessary syllables. Now she both looked and sounded like a game show host – she was practically doing jazz hands.
A breast pump? This was how she apologised for not being there when I had mastitis? It was like giving a deaf person an iPod.
‘For me?’
Nina scoffed. ‘Of course for you. Who else?’
I shrugged.
‘Don’t you love it? It’s the best kind. I looked online, did all the research, and this brand kept coming up, over and over. It’ll be so much better than the manual one. You’ll have a lot more free time. Plus, I asked Ellie – it’s the one she used, so you know it’s good, right?’
I felt my brows knit together. I didn’t try to unstitch them.
‘Thank you . . .?’
Nina widened her eyes. ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked.
‘Um . . . I don’t know why you bought it. I don’t need a breast pump. I already have one.’
A brief flash of annoyance passed across Nina’s face, but she quickly recovered her composure. ‘You have a second-hand manual pump that you complain about all the time,’ she said, her voice straining. She had me there. Milking myself at work was giving me RSI. But I didn’t want Nina buying me off. She needed to apologise. A breast pump was not an apology.
‘You told me pumping at work takes too long. That’s probabl
y why you got mastitis! So this will help,’ she said, a hint of vexation stirring in her voice. ‘I thought you’d really like it.’
I took a breath and before I had a chance to turn back to Nina, my phone lit up.
Send it overnight if you can,
want to send to Richie ASAP.
He loved your first two! MP xxx
If Richie loved my first two columns, then why did he need to see a third? It was just busywork. Also, if my employee had told me she’d had a medical emergency, I’d probably ask what it was. And then I’d ask if she was OK.
‘Thanks, but the one I have is fine. You can take it back.’ I may as well have stamped MARTYR on my forehead. Nina let out a short, bitter laugh, dropped the box on the floor and walked into the kitchen. She returned with a glass of wine. I raised my eyebrows and saw her ignore me.
‘Why are you being a dick? I wanted to do something nice for you. I know you’ve been having a hard time. I wanted to help.’
‘Don’t swear, please,’ I said, knowing my voice had taken on the haughty swagger of the Self-Righteous.
Nina held up a hand in apology. ‘Right, right. But seriously, George – the breast pump. I’m only trying to help. I mean, give me a break here.’
‘Give you a break?’ I asked. Then under my breath, I added, ‘Your whole life is a break.’
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Look, George,’ she said, her tone becoming defiant. ‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘You want to help me? That’s a laugh,’ I said. Pip’s eyes were closed, so I gently set her down in the bassinette. ‘Where were you, then? Where have you been? I mean, let’s just get all this straight. First of all, you promise to help me with Pip. And then basically every day, there’s some reason you can’t pick her up so I need to drop everything to go get her. Then you make me go on a date after I told you I didn’t want to, and you promise to babysit and then you never even turn up. And then instead of apologising to me, you send an email. An email! Like I’m a colleague. Or a client. You couldn’t even be bothered coming home to say it to my face. Do you know how hard it was for me to get out of the house? Sorry – how hard it was for me to try to get out of the house? Because I never actually made it, did I?’
I turned the TV off and picked up my phone, which was glowing again.
The next one should be
funny, OK? Make it funny.
Richie loves funny. MP xxx
‘Then,’ I said, really gathering steam now, ‘I’m sitting here alone on Saturday and I honestly think I’m about to die, I have no idea why I’m in so much pain, and I call you, and you don’t even answer. In fact, you don’t so much as mention it until the next morning! And then – and then – you say, “Oh, is that all?”’
Pip let out a cry and I shushed her gently, rocking the bassinette back and forth. It felt very odd to be half-yelling, half-whispering and rocking a baby to sleep at the same time.
Nina frowned at me, the way you would frown at a small child who was accusing you of treating her unfairly. An indulgent, dismissive smile.
‘George . . . I said I was sorry. And I bought you a present. And honestly . . . your voicemail sounded crazy. I think you overreacted. Mastitis is very common.’
‘And very, very painful. I actually had never heard of it. So I had no idea what was going on. And you –’ I shook my head. Nina didn’t seem remorseful at all. ‘I don’t know these things, Nina. I am trying to figure it all out. On my own.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, George. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m sorry you’re so upset.’
‘You’re sorry I’m so upset? How about being sorry for being a totally shit friend?’
Nina’s face flushed. ‘You need to calm down, George. Don’t say something you’ll regret.’
I shook my head and looked down at Pip, who was fast asleep, despite our argument. I brought the cot to a gentle stop and motioned for Nina to move out of the room.
When we got to the kitchen, Nina took the opportunity to pour herself another glass of wine. I sat at the table and Nina sat down opposite me, waiting expectantly. This was classic Nina. Stubborn was an understatement. Nina was heels-in, teeth-bared, white-knuckles stubborn. If she had been in Titanic, there was no way she would have let Jack go.
‘Neen,’ I said, ‘you just haven’t been here. And you promised you would.’
She raised her eyes to the roof like she was dealing with a petulant schoolgirl. ‘Well, things have come up. I have a job too, you know.’
I laughed. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard about that. Is this the job you don’t like anymore? The one you’re going to quit so you can go live in an ashram or on a kibbutz or . . . whatever it is you’re planning on doing with your life now?’
Nina’s nostrils flared with anger. It felt good to be so catty. Nina deserved this. I had trusted her. She had let me down.
‘I think you’re getting carried away,’ she said evenly.
I smirked. ‘No, you’re getting carried away, Nina. This whole Jed thing has gone too far. You’re too . . . you’re too old for this.’
Nina scoffed but said nothing. She took another sip of wine.
My phone lit up again.
Just let me know your
ETA. MP xxx
‘Who keeps messaging you?’ Nina asked, a stab of venom in her voice.
‘Nobody,’ I said. She raised her eyebrows as I turned my phone off. I would deal with Meredith later. One crisis at a time.
‘It’s just . . . What I’m trying to say is, how can I trust you with Pip if you can’t even turn up to sit with her for a few hours?’
Nina’s eyes bulged as she gulped down the rest of the riesling. ‘Are you kidding? How can you trust me with Pip? I look after Pip like she’s my own child. I would never let anything happen to her. How dare you say that! How dare you say that after everything I’ve done for you?’ She had the gall to look wounded.
‘After everything you’ve done for me? Do you mean leaving me here alone every night while you’re out with Jed watching fucking poetry slams? Do you mean offering to babysit and then not showing up? Do you mean banging on about how you’re going to be a pastry chef and get a dog and find Buddha and then tuning out the minute I want to say something about my own life? Is that what you mean by all the things you’ve done for me?’
She stared at me.
I took a breath and quietened my voice. ‘Neen. This has gone on too long. It’s gone too far. You’ve become a different person. I mean – what is going on with you? Where have you been?’
Nina huffed. ‘Where have I been? George, I’m a grown woman.’
‘Yes, you are. Exactly.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘It means that you’re an adult. You have responsibilities. You agreed to be part of this, and now you’re nowhere to be seen. I’m doing this all on my own and it is so –’ I paused, wanting to swear so, so badly, ‘– so effing hard, and you don’t even know. You’re not here. You would never know. I’m your best friend. You promised me you would help me. You said you’d pick up Pip from daycare and you’ve done it, like, twice. I can’t rely on you. This is the hardest thing I have ever, ever done, and I need your help. And you’re not here.’ I wiped hot tears away.
I could feel Nina’s eyes on me, trying to figure out how to respond. She sighed, sipped from her glass, and gave me a pitying smile.
‘George, come on. Don’t you think you’re making a bit too much of this? It was one date.’
I closed my eyes and wondered if this was really happening. The old Nina would never have done this to me. The old Nina was reliable and dependable. I’d known the divorce and the grief of not having a baby would be hard on her. But she told me she could handle it, and I had believed her.
‘No, I’m not.’ I wasn’t making too much of it. Nina had promised me. And now . . . what? I was supposed to do it all on my own, and wave a cheerful
goodbye to her as she went out drinking and dancing every night, then welcome her home again in the morning? This was not how things were meant to be.
‘George . . .’ she began, her tone softer now. ‘Hey. Come on, let’s talk about this. Is it really that big a deal? Maybe you need to see someone. You know, to cope with all of this. I’m sure it’s been very hard.’
My eyes stung with tears.
‘It has! It has been hard! It’s been hard because I’ve been doing it all alone! Nina, have you listened to anything I’ve said? It’s not just about that day. It’s about everything. Everything since Pip was born. I thought I could count on you and I can’t.’ I paused, staring at Nina. She looked shocked. ‘I heard Jed that night, you know. I heard him ask who you lived with. You hadn’t even told him about me. About Pip. I thought this was meant to be our life, together. But he’d never even heard my name.’
Her face fell. She put her hands on mine and held them. ‘George, I know this must be hard. I want to be there for you. But, you know –’ Nina stopped looking at our hands and lifted her gaze to meet mine. ‘I have to live my life, too.’
The words stung. ‘Is that what you call getting shit-faced every night and shagging a 25-year-old? “Living your life”? Who are you, Madonna? J. Lo? Hugh Hefner?’
Nina opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, she sighed, her shoulders falling heavily. ‘Is that how you want to be with me? Really? Think about it.’
I shook my head, furious. ‘You think I need help? You’ve had three glasses of wine in half an hour! I can’t remember the last time I saw you without a drink in your hand.’
Nina scoffed, but cast her eyes down. ‘I’m just having a bit of fun, George. Like I said, I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself. And honestly – do you really think you should be lecturing me about drinking? Come on.’
I sighed. ‘Fine. Don’t listen to me. Go take care of yourself. Like you say, you’re a grown woman.’