Fading

by Rachel Spanswick

  One guy asks ‘If your mind was a room and somebody was to walk into that room, what would they see?’ which I have to admit is pretty good, so I reply to him and then check out his profile while we message back and forth for a while. I learn that he’s two years older than me and he works away a lot which is why he’s up so late tonight. He has an ex-wife which I find mildly disturbing since twenty eight seems a little young to me for someone to be married and divorced but I push my opinion to the side and set up a date with him and two others.

  Around 5am my eyes start burning and it’s more challenging keeping them open than I have the energy for so I reconfirm my date times, swap numbers with them and shut down the laptop before taking myself up to bed. I’m not sure if I should be excited or nervous about my dates but it’s more than what I had going on in my life than a few days ago, so I decide to put it in the positive column. Now all I have to do is tell Lexi about it and try to work out an escape plan with her, hopefully I won’t need one.

  Nine

  My first date is with Mark. He’s a little older than me, he works in I.T and from what I’ve seen so far, is still single because he qualifies for the most boring man to have ever have had the pleasure of breathing air.

  I run my eyes over him again as he explains some sort of system diagnostics thing, he’s been talking a lot, where as I’ve just been looking a lot, which, to be fair, there’s a lot to look at. His cheekbones are to die for but after much consideration, I’ve deduced that they would not look good on me but Lexi could rock the hell out of them. He also has those kind of eyes that are so blue that you just want to dive into them and swim around for hours. And his hair, it’s just such a perfect shade of blond that I’m already trying to figure out a way to discreetly take a photo of it on my phone to check if my hairdresser can copy it and add some highlights to my own. If he’d just shut up for longer than ten minutes, this date would go from to kind of bad to amazing.

  I briefly consider using the escape plan that Lexi and I came up with last night but since she seemed worried about the whole thing anyway, I don’t want to make it worse by telling her I want to ditch my first date.

  Besides, for all I know, this is how a date goes, maybe I’m just here to listen to him talk about himself. Well, he’s not actually talking about himself as a person, he’s just talking about his work. I have to give him points for being dedicated though.

  When our appetisers get taken away, I slip to the bathroom and take two of the pills that I keep in my bag. It’s a little early to be taking another dose, but I justify that if I don’t, I’ll end up fantasizing about killing my date and that’s a road I don’t want to go down.

  I return to the table and Mark has a pleasant, patient smile in place. “So, what do you do when you’re not working?” I ask in a lame attempt to stop the computer talk.

  “I take pretty girls out to dinner.” He grins at me and it takes everything I have to smile and not do what I want to do which is to roll my eyes.

  By the time our food arrives, my pills have kicked in and the only thing I have to focus on is not letting my eyes roll into the back of my head. They may be glazed over and though they are aimed at my date, I can’t actually see him, at the moment he’s just a fuzzy outline of himself and his voice is more of a buzz than an actual sound. I can decipher when I need to laugh or just make an encouraging sound and it seems to be working. Plus, the food is really great.

  “So you must go on a lot of dates.”

  “What?” I shake my head, not sure if I’ve heard him correctly or if I just imagined him saying it.

  “You must go on a lot of dates?” He repeats but phrases it as a question this time.

  “Umm, no, not really.” I answer semi-truthfully.

  “Why not? You’re beautiful, you don’t constantly talk about yourself – which is a major plus, by the way.” He winks at me and something uncurls in my stomach – something, not so great. “Oh, and there’s that look in your eyes that tells me I won’t be going home alone tonight.”

  This time when he grins, I kind of want to punch him in the face.

  Not going home alone?

  Look in my eye?

  What the hell?

  “Are you drunk?” I ask slowly.

  “No…” He frowns at me but I’m not deterred.

  “High? Are you high?” My voice has now risen a few decibels.

  “No…”

  “Then you’re just hallucinating? Because there is definitely no look in my eye that says we’re going home together tonight.”

  “So you’re not going to have sex with me?”

  “I don’t even know you. We just met less than an hour ago.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean so? I’m not going to have sex with someone I just met. I like to know more about someone before I do that. Did you honestly think that that’s how this was going to end?”

  “Well… yeah,” He looks so confused that I almost feel sorry for him.

  “What is it about me that made you think that I was a sure thing?”

  “I didn’t...” He looks around the room as if trying to find some way out of this conversation and I’m stuck between my anger and finding this whole thing funny.

  “Look, Matt-”

  “Mark.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Mark, not Matt.” Now he’s angry.

  “Okay. Sorry. Mark, this is obviously going downhill fast, why don’t we just get the bill and call it a night?”

  “That’s it? You want to leave?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, what else are we going to do?” Now he’s just confusing me again.

  “You can’t just cut a date short before we’ve even finished it.”

  I decide not to mention that cutting it short and ending it before it’s finished is exactly the same thing and instead call upon some patience. “Mark, seriously now, can you honestly say this date is going well?”

  “You don’t think it’s been good?” He asks and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

  Not if good means that I’d like to hit myself over the head with the wine bottle, no.

  “I’m not sure, I just don’t think we’ve clicked.” I settle with instead of saying what I really want to say.

  “So that’s it. We didn’t click over dinner so you’re leaving?”

  “Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

  “I’m not. We should end it here and now, I couldn’t date you anyway. You’re a quitter.”

  I don’t bother to reply to that. Instead, I get my purse, leave enough money on the table to cover my half of dinner and I leave him sitting there without a backward glance.

  Was that my fault?

  Ten

  It’s been three days since my date with Mark and now I’m in a coffee shop, waiting for Ethan, he’s tonight’s date. I’ve learnt that if the date is for coffee and not dinner, it can be cut short if necessary. Yeah, hindsight is a bitch; if I’d have done this with Mark, I could have saved myself a few hours of boredom.

  The location isn’t the only thing I’ve changed about this date; I haven’t put as much effort into it. When I was unknowingly set up to have a date with Jason, that evening I spent a lot of time getting ready, I wore a little black dress, spent a lot of time on my hair and makeup and I was nervous as hell. And I did the same exact thing with Mark, only I wore a red dress. So, now I’m taking it as bad luck. It’s like if I invest too much effort and time into it, it’s bound to sink. I’d also look pretty ridiculous in a dress and heels in a coffee shop, so there’s that.

  Hopefully, Ethan won’t be put off by my casual style. I’ve borrowed one of Lexi’s ‘homeless chic’ – well, that’s what I call it – looks for the day. My hair is up in a hair claw and I’m pretty sure half of it has fallen out already. I’m wearing one of the red shirts that we had made for her store which has ‘READING IS SEXY’ printed across the chest, paired with black skinny jeans, a leather jacket and so
me cute as hell red wedges. I also bypassed makeup altogether.

  When the door opens and a man walks in, I don’t have any trouble recognising Ethan; he looks exactly like his profile photo. He’s average height – which he didn’t lie about, so an honesty point for him there. His hair is dark and short, styled in a way that makes me think he doesn’t need to mess with it in the mornings or after washing it, he’s good looking, and as he gets closer I notice his eyes are a lot lighter than I originally thought, so light brown they’re almost burnt orange in colour.

  I smile when he reaches my table. “Ethan?”

  “Yes,” He smiles back and takes the seat on the opposite side. “Lilith, right?”

  “Yep, nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” He doesn’t look up when the waitress comes to our table until she clears her throat, making us break eye contact.

  While Ethan orders his coffee, I consider my next move. The whole getting to know someone isn’t really something I’m good at, it always turns out more like I’m interviewing them.

  “So…”

  I look back at my date, realising I’d drifted off for a second. “Sorry, I wandered off for a second there. Can I just be honest with you for a second?”

  “Well, I hope the honesty thing lasts longer than a second, but sure. Go for it.”

  I hide a smile, partly because he looks confused but mostly because I think he’s confused about whether to be insulted that I just basically told him I plan on lying to him or if he should just ditch me now.

  “I didn’t mean that after this second is up I’m not going to be honest.” I clarify.

  “It’s okay, really. What did you want to say?”

  “Okay,” I clear my throat. “It’s just that this whole dating thing isn’t going so well for me, I don’t know if I’m just really bad at it or if it’s just down to bad luck, but to honest, I’m not even sure how it works. You know, my two best friends set me up on a fake date because they don’t think I’m ready to do it for real, yet. That’s how weird it is. But, in my defence, I’ve only ever been on two dates before – that’s including the fake one, by the way and the other one… well, that was either because I’m not used to sitting down and listening to someone tell me how to build a computer and solve every problem that I may ever come across with it, or if it’s normal to want to be completely wasted when that happens. So… I just, you know, wanted you to know that if I seem weird or this date doesn’t go exactly how you expect it to go, it’s just because I don’t have a freaking clue what I’m doing when it comes to this kind of situation. I’m a dating virgin. Not an actual virgin, but a dating one. As in this only my second date of all time and I’d really rather not spend it drunk because I don’t like hangovers.” I clamp my mouth shut in complete embarrassment when my brain catches up to my mouth. “Or maybe you’d like to spend it drunk?” I offer but relax when I notice that he’s clearly trying to hide a grin and failing at it quite miserably.

  “I just have one question. Are questions allowed?” He finally asks after a few minutes of silence, in which time his drink was brought over and had time to cool.

  “Sure. Ask away.”

  “You’re twenty-six, right? So, why have you only been on one date?”

  “One date?”

  “Well, I’m not including the fake one, which by the way, I’m trying to decide if it was a hilarious attempt at a lame joke or if your friends are just stepping way over the line. And I’m not including this one, yet.”

  “Okay, well, I dated a guy for a few years, we were friends first and when it got to be more, it just kind of happened. Then a few years ago, he died and I haven’t been interested in being with anyone else since.”

  “How did he die? If you don’t mind asking.”

  “Car accident, five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”

  “It was,” I nod and offer a small smile, I’ll spare him the details of the rest of the tragedy. “It was a long time ago though, one of the reasons I waited so long to date was because I didn’t want to meet someone new while I was still thinking about him.”

  “I understand, though we both know that you’ll never stop thinking about him. You may not be completely focused on him now, but he’ll always be in the back of your mind.”

  I tilt my head at him, not sure what he’s getting at. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  “Not at all,” He seems to finally relax and takes his first sip of coffee while pulling a face. “That’s gone cold. Shall we get out of here? If this is your first real date – I’m not including the one that you needed to be drunk to get through, - then we need to make it a really good one.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I grin and grab my purse as he pulls me out of the coffee shop.

  Eleven

  I check my reflection in the mirror for the third time. Hair – down and loosely curled; check. Make-up – light and flirty, not too much but enough to know I’m wearing some; check. Outfit – grey shirt with pink flowers printed on it, blue jeans and brown boots; cute enough.

  Right on time, my doorbell rings. Ethan is here to pick me up for our second date. After we left the coffee shop last week, we walked along the lake and talked for hours, continuing our conversation at a small bar where a local band were playing.

  I learnt that we have a lot in common and considering we frequent a lot of the same places on a regular basis, it’s surprising that we’ve never bumped into each other in the past. And the only reason we waited so long to see each other again was because we both had work. But now it’s the weekend and we’re going out. In the day.

  Are day dates a bad thing, or a good thing?

  Or is it that if a day date turns into an evening date then that means it’s a really good thing?

  Why is this whole thing so confusing?

  There should be a dating manual or something.

  I open the door and smile at Ethan’s casual look, at least I won’t feel under dressed. “Hey,”

  “Hi, you look lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shall we?” He gestures to the general outside.

  “Sure,” I collect my purse and lock the door behind me as I leave. “What’s the plan?”

  “You think I have a plan?” He asks amused.

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not really, I just thought we’d go into town and then hopefully find something to do.”

  “Oh.”

  “Unless you had something else in mind?” He shrugs and I warm at his easy going nature.

  “No, no. Your idea sounds perfect.” I assure him.

  “Okay then, do you want to walk or should we drive down?”

  I look down at my boots and judge how comfortable they are, mirroring his earlier move, I shrug my shoulders. “I probably have a couple of hours of walking in these, anything more than that and you’re either going to have to carry me or we’ll have to get a golf cart or something,”

  He laughs and pulls me into his side with an arm around my shoulders. “That sounds like fun.”

  We start the long walk into town. “Which part, the carrying or the golf cart?”

  “Either one, but if we get a golf cart, I’m driving.”

  “Deal.”

  By the time we get into town, we’ve both completely covered the last week; what we did in work, how we spent the evenings, even what our favourite meals were that week. And the funny thing is, when Ethan tells me about his work and updates me on the progress of his latest project, I don’t want to stab myself in the eye with my heel, I just like hearing him talk.

  “Lunch?” I ask when we stop outside a small bakery that prepares lunches in front of you and offers an outside patio to eat them.

  “Yes, great.”

  We both order a panini; mine - ham and cheese, his – chicken and bacon, and take them outside with fresh orange juice.

  “It’s such a nice day, we don’t get many of them,” I comment a
s we dig into our still warm food.

  “No, I know,” He agrees and wipes a small blob of mayo off of his top lip with a napkin. “It is a shame, especially since there are so many great places to go on the better days.”

  “The lake?”

  “Yes!”

  I laugh at his enthusiasm. The lake is a local, well, lake, but it has a park and has a group of rowing boats that you can rent and take out on to the water for the day. There’s a picnic area, a few fields for football and other sports and a skating rink. It’s a very popular hangout for people of all ages in our small town. “We used to spend all our summers there.” I comment.

  “We?” He tilts his head with his question.

  “Oh, sorry. My parents and I. After my mother died, dad refused to go back there, but I like to go, it reminds me of her.”

  “You’re mum died?”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, car accident, five years ago.” When his eyebrows lift, I know he’s made a connection, the wrong one, but a connection all the same. I offer a sad smile in the hopes that he’ll let it drop until a later date.

  For the next few minutes we continue to eat in silence, until I think he’s actually going to ask me about it, but instead the silence just continues until we’ve both cleared our plates and stare out at the pond next to the patio, both of our thoughts probably in completely different directions.

  “Lilith?”