by Helga Jensen
He’s online right now!
Oh, bloody hell, he’s typing.
Oh my god, Patrick is actually typing!
And then he stops.
Chapter 13
At home – cheap plonk with Jamie
‘Hello, Sian says you’re a bit upset with her,’ says Jamie, who is standing on my doorstep holding out a bottle of Co-op Fairtrade wine. ‘Thought you may need this,’ he adds, pushing it towards me.
‘Aww, come in, Jamie, that’s so kind of you. Megan’s not waiting for you, is she?’ I say, looking around outside.
‘No, no, she decided to stay on in Bath. There was some yogi guy she admires doing a special class. It involves being spiritually free and naked, so that was enough for me to know.’ Jamie laughs.
‘Oh, umm, right,’ I stutter. ‘Well, I hope you both had a good time away, anyway.’
‘Yes, it was fine. But what about you? What the hell happened? It’s not like you and Sian to fall out over something,’ says Jamie, removing his battered old Barbour jacket and throwing it on the coat hook.
‘We haven’t fallen out,’ I explain. ‘She’s just gone a bit overboard.’
‘Sian said you were annoyed with her, but didn’t elaborate,’ says Jamie.
I explain what she has done and Jamie agrees that I should be annoyed with her but, as I would expect from him, he can see her point of view too. He is always so impartial and I do love that about him, but tonight it is annoying me. I want him to be solely on my side.
‘I think she meant well. She does have your best interests at heart. She’s really upset that she has done something to hurt you,’ he explains calmly.
‘I know, but she just took over. She has taken over from the beginning… I’ll sort it out with her, don’t worry. We’ve been friends for too long to let this come between us. It’s just that… Perhaps it was all such a stupid idea after all. This whole finding Patrick thing.’ I think about the fact that he still hasn’t responded to my recent message. Why did he stop typing?
‘Hey, come on, you. It wasn’t that stupid. You had fun looking for him, didn’t you? Don’t tell me that a part of you wasn’t curious about him. At least now you found him,’ says Jamie.
‘I suppose, but we both live on different sides of the Atlantic. We could never start a long-distance relationship, or anything.’
‘Well, you only wanted a pen pal to start with, didn’t you? Anyway, if you do ever decide to go to New York to meet him, I’d happily join you,’ says Jamie.
‘I won’t be going to New York,’ I promise.
‘Well, just saying, if you do want to go, we could time it to go together. There’s a conference coming up there with work and I have surplus air miles due to expire, so I can easily take a companion.’ Jamie smiles.
‘That’s a lovely idea, Jamie. I would never leave the boys, but a nice idea. I would love to go back there one day,’ I say.
‘Well, just a thought if you fancied it. It would be good to have some company, to be honest. I don’t know anyone in the office there, so it would be nice to have a friendly face with me.’
‘Wouldn’t you take Megan? She wouldn’t like you going off to New York and not taking her, I’m pretty sure of that,’ I say.
‘She has some girls’ trip to a health spa she can’t get out of the week of the conference in October, so she can’t make it,’ he explains.
‘Oh, I bet she’s gutted. I can’t imagine Megan being best pleased she might miss out on a trip to New York.’
‘No, Megan is definitely a bit of a character,’ he agrees.
Does he know how Sian and I feel about her? I laugh nervously.
Jamie laughs too, and it’s as though we are both in on some private joke, but I’m not really sure what it is. He pours us both a glass of wine.
‘Cheers. Here’s to New York. Let’s hope you can come with me.’ Jamie grins.
‘Yes, sure.’ I smile. I would never agree to go anywhere without the boys, and so I only say that to please him more than anything.
‘Hey, I rented a movie before I came over. I’d planned a night in and then Sian rang me all upset and I wanted to see if you were okay. You want to watch it with me? It’s only on rent for 48 hours… It’s Sliding Doors.’
‘Sliding Doors?’ I didn’t even know you could still rent that.
‘Wah! I love that movie; you knew that, didn’t you?’ I smile at him, despite Jamie looking away.
‘Get the TV ready, Amelia. I’ll run to the Spar and get some more Pringles. Looks like you’ve already gone through that lot.’ Jamie points to the empty tube. ‘Marshmallows too?’
‘Sounds perfect!’
We have the most amazing evening, even if I do binge through the whole bag of marshmallows and only leave one pink one for Jamie. Why can’t I binge on apples and lemon infused water, instead of everything that is bad for me? One small blip in my life and the emotional eater in me comes out like some type of cookie monster and there goes a whole family-size bag of Monster Munch.
‘Do you still go running, Jamie? I’m thinking of joining that club down the park,’ I say. I don’t even know where the words come from, and they sound absurd out loud.
‘I haven’t had as much time as I’d have liked but, yeah, if you fancy starting at the club I can come with you for company.’ He looks seriously at me as he takes his last sip of wine. ‘Would you like to start running, Amelia?’
‘I don’t knowwww,’ I find myself answering. Perhaps now is not the right time to think about starting a healthy new lifestyle. I quickly jam my mouth with Pringles, to stop myself from agreeing to any more idiotic ideas.
The evening goes so much faster with company. Being with Jamie is like throwing off your bra and putting on your favourite onesie. When you have known each other forever it is so easy to be around each other. I sink my feet into his lap, and he gently massages them. He doesn’t even take any notice of the fact that my nail polish is starting to chip and my usual home pedicure is way overdue.
Chapter 14
Both sides of the Atlantic – hello Patrick
I wake up later than normal for a Sunday morning, as Jamie and I stayed up until the small hours putting the world to rights and chatting about my mum and his dad. Both were widowed young and both were in school together in the nearby village. Even though they had a lot in common, they never really talked to one another. They would just nod politely if they saw each other. It’s wonderful to have this connection with Jamie, as it keeps the memories of our parents alive for both of us. I’m glad Miserable Megan stayed on in Bath, as it was exactly the type of evening to reminisce that we both needed, and it distracted me from the boys being at Dick’s. You would think I would start getting used to it by now.
I can’t wait for them to come home this afternoon. Until then, Patrick’s messages are keeping me busy as he has finally messaged me back. One of my first assumptions about him is that he must be a bit of an insomniac, as he was up very late messaging me. Even with the time difference, he must have been up half the night. I read through the messages again, as though I need to memorise every single word. The first message he sent last night was quite touching. I had picked it up before bed, but decided it was best to respond in the sobriety that morning would bring.
Hey, I’ve missed you. XX Hope you’re ok. I’m getting worried about you XXX
It is so silly but my heart takes a leap as I read this line again and again, as I see that he was ‘worried’ about me. I know that I sound like a rather sad person here, but I don’t think any grown male has been worried about me for a very long time. In fact, I am pretty sure that Dick never worried about me and wouldn’t have cared if I had fallen off a cliff. Indeed, I remember when Dick read an article about women living longer than men and he uttered with complete disdain that I would probably live longer than him. So, no, I am pretty certain he never worried about my welfare, only the fact that I might outlive him.
I’m ashamed to admit that Patr
ick’s comment makes me feel wanted and important for once in an extremely long time. I am an independent woman who doesn’t need the validation of any man, but as a grown-up orphan, it’s the thought of having someone who cares enough to say they were worried about me that hits an emotional nerve.
I read the response that I have just sent back.
Great to hear from you, Patrick. You know you can contact me on this no anytime. Didn’t mean to worry you. X
I had edited my message so many times that Patrick had gone offline by the time I had sent this. I immediately regret including the word ‘anytime’. Reading it again I feel as though this may come across a bit needy. Fortunately, his response an hour later is very pleasant.
Gee, thank God for that. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me. I missed you. ☺
He missed me! But then again, strictly speaking, he missed Sian and not me, since it wasn’t actually me that he was messaging previously.
I read my response to him over and over, to ensure I come across as a confident divorcee and not the emotional overeating wreck that I am.
Awww, no, I’m here, just some technical difficulties with my internet connection
Phew. I wonder if I should have put a smiley face at the end there? Although, would that be a sad face if I was having difficulties? Oh God, I am useless at this sexting stuff, although smiley faces aren’t officially sexting, surely.
He doesn’t seem to have been too concerned that there was no smiley face, or kiss, as his next message is quite sweet.
I’m glad to hear you’re okay. So, you’re coming to see me, are you? Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. I’d love to see you, sorry if I sounded a bit off before. I had some work stuff on my mind. Xxx
Perhaps it is all the flirty messages that Sian sent that has given him the wrong idea and now he wants me to fly over so he can get his wicked way with me. Well, I won’t be having a wicked way with any man, so he is in for a surprise there.
I try to learn more about him. He says that he has Irish roots and his ancestors are from Waterford. I tell him how it is such a small world as my crystal wine glasses are from there too. I talk to him about family stuff and listen to what he says about his life. I tell him about my boys and prevent myself from bringing any bitter stories about Dick into the conversation. In return, Patrick admits how he never had children, or a wife, as he was afraid to commit to anyone, following a childhood trauma that he doesn’t elaborate on. Now, at fifty, he has a boss he hates and no family to carry on his legacy. However, he does enjoy polo and has won many cups for best polo player and the like. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough!
After seeing a photo that he has sent of himself at a polo match, I imagine him galloping around the field in his white jodhpurs like some hero in a Jilly Cooper novel. In the photo he looks like the type of man who would hold you tight and make everything feel okay again. I can’t stop myself comparing him to Dick. He didn’t dream of kissing me passionately in the past few years. In fact, if I had tried to hug Dick, he would often push me away. This is why I am so flattered and captivated by the slightest hint of Patrick’s attention.
I am still staring at the phone, dissecting every comment and its meaning, when a new message flashes up from Patrick.
Hey, honey. Sorry, I had to go offline for a bit. So, is it morning or afternoon for you now? This time difference is driving me crazy. XX
It’s afternoon, Patrick. So, what you been up to? XX
I had a polo match.
Fantastic, did you win?
No, I was so pissed. We lost at the last minute.
Oh, okay!
I’m quite surprised. I never imagined him swearing over WhatsApp somehow. It just doesn’t fit with the Jilly Cooper hero bit really.
Anyway, enough about my day, how’s yours?
It’s so nice that he asks me so many questions. He seems so interested in what I have to say. Again, I compare this to Dick, who couldn’t care less how my day was going. Though I suppose as a journalist, he is used to asking people questions.
Not much, there’s never anything exciting happening. Although I have a Medieval Festival to attend in a nearby castle next weekend x.
Do you live in a castle? That’s what I love about you British people, you have fun accents and live in castles. xx.
Before I can answer his ridiculous assumption, his next message takes me by surprise.
Hey, I realized that I only ever heard your accent the one time you called me. We should Skype one day so we can see each other, wouldn’t that be fun?
The one time I called him? So, Sian has spoken to him and pretended to be me as well? What the hell did she say to him? I must speak to her about this.
I’d love to!
I find myself answering, despite the thought of Skyping him making me especially nervous. It is one thing sending a photo of myself that has been carefully selected and possibly airbrushed a little, but another seeing me on Skype. What about those times when the camera gets stuck and your mouth is half open? Skype Face, I call it. You can get stuck like that for ages when the signal gets a bit weak. I really don’t want Skype Face with Patrick.
Great, then let’s set up a time now.
I don’t reply as I think of ways to avoid Skyping.
Ah, checked my diary and I can do 9am NY time tomorrow. Does that work for you?
I want to say no, but instead find myself forced into typing a total lie and besides, I am off tomorrow.
Yes, definitely. Looking forward to it already! ☺
I find myself saying.
By tomorrow, I need to lose five kilos, have a few subtle highlights done, find something to wear and get a full facelift.
Or I could Skype him in a very dark room and tell him that the light bulb has blown.
Chapter 15
A very dark room – time to Skype
My first problem is my outfit. I need something that says, ‘it’s my day off work, I’m in the house, chilling, and this really is no big deal’.
Unfortunately, I also need something that will appear elegant whilst making me look fantastic. It doesn’t take two minutes of searching in my wardrobe to discover that I won’t be finding anything that fits either of these requirements. All that is in there are jeans that are way too small, maternity dresses that I still can’t bear to part with and a few jumpers that have seen better days. I pluck a few bobbles off my favourite jumper as I consider what I can do.
Rummaging about again, I finally find a white shirt tucked at the back of the wardrobe. I bought it for an interview for a job in Morrisons a long time ago. I didn’t get the job, so not sure it is particularly lucky, but it will look a bit smarter than the rest of my clothes. I remove it from the hanger and try it on. It is very tight and the bottom buttons are bursting at the seams when I do them up. It might still work though.
Placing myself strategically in front of the computer, I try and work out how much of me he will be able to see. If I get it at the right angle, I can get only my top half in and he won’t see the buttons that are threatening to erupt at any second. I can’t find anything else that looks classy, and a white shirt works for every occasion. For all he knows, I could have teamed it up with the perfect pair of size 10 jeans and a classy belt. I have no choice but to opt for the shirt.
As for the venue for my Skype session, I choose the back bedroom, as with the weather being a little dull this week, the room is permanently pitched in darkness. I chuckle to myself as I realise the lighting is perfect.
I am still not leaving things to chance, though, and have put on at least four lashings of concealer, some Flash Balm to brighten up my skin and have given my hair a fresh blow-dry, which has made my hair look a little lighter.
I am carefully applying my pale pink lipstick when the familiar tone of the Skype ring begins, precisely at 9am EDT. I like the fact that he is punctual, at least.
‘Hi!’ I answer casually.
‘Hi, trying to get the picture w
orking – one minute,’ says Patrick.
My heart is leaping about now. I wonder if he can see me yet. I certainly can’t see him.
‘Is that better?’
‘Oh yes, that’s better,’ I say.
There he is, looking at me from across the Atlantic. My heart wants to melt. He has a black jumper on which, even over Skype, you can see the definition of his chest through. Wow! He is certainly in shape; it must be all the polo.
‘Can you see me?’ I ask. In fact, I’m hoping there’s something wrong with the camera and he can’t see me at all.
‘Um, yes, but it’s very dark. I can see more of an outline of you really. Can you maybe improve the lighting, so I can see you a little better?’ he asks.
‘Sorry, there’s a problem with the light in here. Some sort of electrical problem, and this is the only room I can pick Skype up properly,’ I lie.
‘Oh, okay… Weird. Anyway, nice to hear that beautiful British accent.’
‘Nice to hear your lovely American accent too,’ I say, hoping he doesn’t pick up on the fact that Sian and I sound slightly different. Fortunately, he is still blissfully oblivious to Sian’s stupid stunt. I don’t even know how I could ever explain that, so I brush the thought to one side and hopefully he will be none the wiser.
‘So, what shall we talk about?’ I add.
‘You…’
‘Haha, well, my life isn’t so exciting.’
‘Oh, Britain is such an awesome place. I went the year before I started my PhD. I inter-railed around Europe. You’re lucky to have so many amazing places in your fabulous country.’
‘Wow, what did you study?’
‘It was a journalism thing – all research stuff. I enjoyed my year off more.’ Patrick laughs. ‘In fact, you know, I must have met you not long after I’d got back,’ he adds.