Mr. Commitment

by Mike Gayle

  I gritted my teeth and wobbled irately.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

  Julie, I thought carefully, may well have a point.

  Up until now everything in the plan had gone like clockwork. As arranged I’d met up with Julie and we’d driven to Ikea. Half an hour and several hot and bothered assistants later and part one of the plan was complete. In my pockets were parts two and three but on the way to Clapham I had a flash of inspiration and a potential fourth part of the plan occurred to me. A quick detour via the freezer section of a nearby Safeway and my job was nearly complete. By eight o’clock we’d arrived at Mel’s flat where Julie’s role in the plan came to the fore—she handed me the spare keys she kept to the flat. I’d told her I’d be in and out in under an hour. That was then.

  “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my temples gently whilst surveying the havoc I’d wreaked in Mel’s living room. It’s going to take ages to tidy this lot away. “It feels like midnight.”

  Julie looked at her watch and did the sort of comedy double take that usually only ever happens in films. A look. Another look of disbelief and then another look just to check that the first two weren’t part of some sort of hideous hallucination. “It’s one o’clock in the morning,” she said.

  “You’re joking?”

  “I’m not. I’m deadly serious. Look, Duffy, we’re going to have to go. I’ve got work in the morning. I can’t stay up all night while you make a mess. I’m sorry, but I think we ought to tidy up and leave.”

  “We can’t go yet,” I protested. “I haven’t finished doing what I’m doing. Mel’s going to be back tomorrow night. I wanted everything to be perfect . . .” I ran out of steam as the futility of my big plan finally hit me. “This really isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “Look, it’s just one part that’s not going to work. The rest will be fine. Let’s just tidy up and make the most of what you’ve done.”

  “Will you put in a good word for me? Explain to her what I was trying to do?”

  “Of course I will,” said Julie. “The more I think about it, the better this idea of yours gets. It won’t matter that you didn’t get it all done. All that matters is you tried. Mel’s not stupid, she’ll know how hard you’ve worked. It’s the trying that matters. She’ll know how much you love her.”

  Julie then did something she’d never done before. Something I never expected her to do in this lifetime or any other—she hugged me. At first, still somewhat shocked, my body went rigid with fear as if I’d come face-to-face with a black widow spider. Slowly, however, I overcame my initial reaction as I recalled the qualities of New Julie—the one who had gone out of her way to help me—and I found myself returning the hug. And there we stood, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing a moment that up until yesterday had been right at the top of the least-likely-event-to-occur-in-the-next-twenty-four-hours Top 40.

  Just as I was wondering what the second least likely event might be, Julie whispered in my ear, “I think someone’s in the room.”

  We immediately let go of each other as if we’d just been connected to the national grid, turned and stared wide-eyed at the doorway to the living room. Standing there, holding a small suitcase and wearing a look of sheer bewilderment, was Mel.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Julie, trying for all the world not to sound guilty. “You’re not meant to be back until tomorrow evening.”

  “What am I doing here?” said Mel, switching on the main light. “What are you doing here, more like? It’s one o’clock in the morning, I’m knackered and I’ve just walked into my own flat to discover my best friend in an embrace with the father of my child. I don’t think I’m the one who needs to be bloody explaining anything.”

  “It’s not how it looks,” I said sheepishly. “Honest, Mel, this is all just a hugely hideous mistake.”

  “Of course it’s not how it looks.” Mel sniggered. “Just look at the two of you! Terrified rigid that I’m going to accuse you of having an affair. Do you honestly imagine for one minute I’d think that?” She stepped into the room, and for the first time noticed the sheer havoc I’d wreaked in her living room. “Okay,” she said, hand on hip. “What’s going on? And why have you decided to turn my flat into a bomb site?”

  “Mel,” I began, “it’s not Julie’s fault, it’s all mine. I had a plan, something that was supposed to convince you how serious I was about you, but it’s all gone horribly wrong . . .”

  “It hasn’t, Duffy,” prompted Julie sternly. “Just do what you’ve got to do.” She walked over to Mel, gave her a hug and said warmly, “Go easy on him. He’s not half as bad as he seems.” Mel looked at Julie in silent amazement. “My work here is done,” continued Julie, “so I think I’m going to leave you two to sort this out by yourselves.” She went out, closing the door softly behind her. Now Mel and I were alone I knew this was it—my big moment.

  “I’ve got some things to give you,” I began, as I felt my breathing quicken. My head started to feel slightly fuzzy as the blood rushed to my brain. “The original plan was that you were supposed to come home tomorrow and just find them here in the flat. I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. But since I am, I might as well give them to you myself. They’re not gifts exactly—sort of non-gifts to be accurate—but they do all have something in common that I want you to think about.”

  “This is all really weird, Duffy, even for you,” said Mel. “The fact that you’ve managed to rope Julie into your schemes worries me greatly.”

  “Close your eyes,” I said, “while I give you your first non-gift.” Mel closed her eyes. “Put out your hands.” She did as I requested and I placed my first non-gift in her hand.

  “Yeurgh!” exclaimed Mel. “It’s all soggy.”

  “I know. I forgot to put it back in the freezer and put it in the fridge by accident. You can open your eyes now.”

  “It’s a bag of broccoli,” she said blankly, looking at me for explanation.

  “I know, you left some in my freezer ages ago before we broke up. I threw it away but I’ve bought you some more.”

  “Thanks. It’s just what I wanted,” said Mel, pulling a face. “What’s next?”

  “You know the procedure.”

  She closed her eyes and I handed her the second non-gift. “It’s the remote control for my television!” exclaimed Mel. “Er . . . thanks very much! This is like some sort of twisted version of Christmas.”

  “This bit’s a little more complicated,” I said, ignoring her asides. “You close your eyes again, but this time I’m going to have to guide you over to the other side of the room.” Holding on to her hand tightly, I navigated her carefully across the room. “You can open your eyes now.”

  “Great!” Mel looked around her. “Bits of wood and metal. Now I know for a fact that unless you’ve been dismantling my furniture none of this is mine.”

  “Ah you see bits of wood and metal,” I corrected. “But I see very important bits of wood and metal. This mess here,” I pointed to a pile of short metal rods, two large door panels, a massive instruction sheet, and a pile of brackets and side panels, “in my hands all amounts to a bunch of bits of wood and metal but in the hands of someone with more common sense than your average house brick they all fit together to make an Ikea wardrobe.”

  Mel’s faced changed as she began to get an inkling of what I was doing. She opened her mouth, about to speak, but I put my finger to her lips to silence her.

  “Not now. You can speak when I’ve given the last of my non-gifts.” I searched around in my jacket pocket and knelt down in front of her. “This is for you.” I handed her a small gift-wrapped package.

  She tore open the wrapping paper revealing the box inside, and opened it hurriedly. She was quiet for some moments and then she looked at me with tears in her eyes and knelt down beside me. “It’s my engagement ring.”

  “I know you’re probably wondering what this is all about. You probably think this is just me h
aving a laugh, and in a way it is. I love making you laugh, Mel, I want to be the one who makes you happy all the time, but there’s a serious side to this too. You see, the broccoli was yours and I give it back to you. The remote control is yours but I used to use it most and so now I give it back to you. The wardrobe should’ve been yours on that day we argued in Ikea, so I give it to you now. And finally this ring, in your hand, which represents my heart, is, was, and will always be yours. Even if you turn me down, I can’t ever take it back because it’s yours forever.”

  I sat down on the hardwood floor, exhausted. “Charlie once said to me that when it came to winning over the one you love, ‘every man has a poem in his heart.’ Well, this, Mel, was my sonnet. The only thing I regret about tonight,” I said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she moved herself closer to me, “is that I was defeated by that stupid wardrobe.” With that I closed my eyes like a blindfolded deserter about to be shot and waited for her answer.

  There was a brief moment of silence, and then I felt Mel’s arms around me, squeezing me tightly as she whispered the words, “I love you,” into my ear.

  “Will you marry me?” I asked tentatively.

  “Of course,” said Mel as I opened my eyes. “That’s why I’ve told my bosses today that I couldn’t carry on the job in Scotland and asked for my old job instead. That’s why I came back a day early. I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t need frozen broccoli, a remote control, a ring or even a wardrobe to know that you love me. I just know.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course,” she said, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. “If it’s really what you want.”

  “Even though I can’t build flatpack wardrobes?”

  “Especially because you can’t build flatpack wardrobes.”

  “Even though I still hate shopping in Ikea?”

  “Especially because you hate shopping in Ikea.”

  “Even though I don’t always understand you, I wind you up with the stupid things I do and occasionally try to shush you when the TV’s on?”

  “Don’t push it,” she said as she moved in closer to kiss me. “Quit while you’re ahead, Mr. Duffy.” She kissed me again. “All you need to know is that I love everything about you. I love you exactly the way you are. I don’t want you to be like me and I certainly don’t want to be like you. I want us to be the way we are.”

  It’ll reduce puffiness

  around the eyes

  We set a wedding date for as soon as was possible, which turned out to be some four months away, and in the meantime I went back to temping, gigged like a demon with Dan up and down the country and fell more deeply in love with Mel than I thought possible.

  Like these things do, the big day came up faster than either Mel or I had expected, but it was none the less welcome, and my last twenty-four hours as a single man went something a little like this:

  12:30 P.M.

  Took the afternoon off work and met up for a drink because Mel said I wasn’t allowed to go out the night before the wedding, as the previous Thursday’s stag do resulted in a ten-week ban from the Haversham. Dan, Charlie, myself and various other mates headed to the Haversham wearing joke-shop false mustaches.

  3:10 P.M.

  Landlord of Haversham saw through disguises instantly, and we were escorted off the premises. We headed for the Newton Arms, in Tufnell Park, the definitive old man’s pub—Woodbines behind the bar, no carpet on the floor and grumpy-looking old men just about everywhere. We spent the afternoon drinking bitter, laughing ourselves silly and smoking Woodbines with aforementioned grumpy old men.

  6:00 P.M.

  Mel’s official cut-off point. As responsible best man, Dan let me know it was time to go. We all agreed that it was indeed time to go home.

  6:10 P.M.

  Okay, just the one.

  7:10 P.M.

  After this next one we’re off. I mean it.

  7:30 P.M.

  No, really.

  8:10 P.M.

  Just as we were finishing what we promised ourselves would be our last drink, Charlie’s mobile began an annoying electronic rendition of the “William Tell Overture.” He answered it, expecting it to be work, but it was Vernie trying to find out where we were. Thinking on his feet, he told her that we were just on our way home, but his cover was blown by Dan and two of his new octogenarian best buddies, Albert and Reg, singing “Can’t Smile Without You” at the top of their hoary voices. Needless to say, Vernie pulled a strop, yelled loud enough for us all to hear and slammed the phone down. Now it really was time to go.

  8:15 P.M.

  Vernie called back and threatened Charlie with all manner of torture should anything untoward happen to me before my wedding.

  8:32 P.M.

  Dan, Charlie and I said our goodbyes to Albert and Reg and all our mates and and then grabbed a taxi home. Despite our protests, the driver insisted on keeping his car radio tuned to an easy-listening station which happened to be playing back-to-back Phil Collins. Though he clearly did not know the words, the driver insisted on singing along to “Easy Lover,” twice forcing me to correct his completely inaccurate rendition of the chorus.

  8:51 P.M.

  Thanked the very nice waiter at the Star of the Punjab in Kentish Town for taking our orders (onion bahjees, chicken vindaloo, prawn korma and chicken sagwalla). It was all Dan’s idea. Honest.

  9:01 P.M.

  Vernie called Charlie on his mobile again and issued the severe reprimand: “If anything happens to make Duffy late, ill or unpresentable tomorrow, you will never ever see me naked again in this or any other lifetime.” For the sake of Charlie’s sub-duvet activities we asked the waiters to hurry up.

  10:15 P.M.

  Taxi arrived at the Star of Punjab and we bid fond farewells to Harpreet, Hassan and Steve, the Star of Punjab waiters. As they waved their goodbyes, they promised faithfully that they’d come to the wedding as I’d requested. We got the taxi to drop Charlie off in Crouch End first. Vernie came out the minute we pulled up, gave Charlie her best Death Ray look and peered into my eyes. “I don’t want my brother looking haggard on his wedding photos!” she berated loudly and then handed me a Clarins bottle. “It’ll reduce puffiness around the eyes,” she added sagely.

  10:25 P.M.

  Dan and I arrived back at the flat. Our good moods in full swing, we decided to invite Will and Alice, the couple who lived in the flat beneath us, to the wedding in a gesture of niceness. At first they looked at us strangely, but when I eventually managed to persuade them that although I was drunk I was telling the truth, they said they’d love to come. We also considered inviting the couple who lived in the flat above us, Matt and Monica, but Dan still held a grudge against them because he was convinced it was they who had called the police round to pull the plug on our New Year’s Eve party last year. I, however, was still overflowing with the milk of human kindness so I invited them anyway.

  11:30 P.M.

  Mammoth toast-making session. Dan and I toasted a whole loaf of Hovis just for the hell of it. Whilst opening a can of Red Stripe I had a brief tender moment with Dan. “You know, you’re all right for a northern toast-muncher,” he said, buttering a slice of toast. “And you’re not too bad yourself for a soft southern git,” I replied. Touchy-feely moment over, we slipped into the living room to consume the fruits of our labors.

  12:03 A.M.

  Asked Dan who the mystery guest was he was bringing to the wedding, and he refused to tell me yet again. He’d asked me a month ago if he could bring someone. I’d said yes of course, but when I asked who it was he went all furtive, so I didn’t bother asking again. Mel reckoned it was Fiona, the new girl who had just started working behind the bar in the Haversham. Charlie and Vernie were of the opinion he was bringing one of my ex-girlfriends as a surprise guest, but my money was on it being someone nobody knew—that was much more Dan’s style.

  1:12 A.M.

  Tiredness came over me in a massive wave so I
retired to bed. Before I did so, I wrote down on a notepad, “Getting married tomorrow,” in case it escaped my memory, and then read and followed set of instructions pinned to my pillow by Vernie:

  1. Set bedside alarm clock for 7:30 A.M.

  2. Set Dan’s radio alarm clock on the floor next to the bed for 7:30 A.M.

  3. Set Mickey Mouse alarm clock at the bottom of the bed for 7:30 A.M.

  4. Call BT and ask for 7:30 A.M. wake-up call.

  1:22 A.M.

  Attempted to sleep.

  1:55 A.M.

  Still not sleeping. Counted sheep.

  2:28 A.M.

  Ran out of sheep and began counting other farmyard animals.

  3:30 A.M.

  Called Mel and told her how much I love her. Her only reply was a very sleepy, “That’s nice.”

  3:32 A.M.

  I called Mel again in case she thought I was a crank caller. “Of course I knew it was you,” she said patiently. “Only you would do this to me!”

  3:40 A.M.

  Still unable to sleep, so I got up and flicked through Dan’s videos in the front room. Selected Dan’s car-boot-sale copy of ET to while away the early hours as I’d never seen it.

  4:20 A.M.

  Due to heightened emotional state caused by impending wedlock, ET had me in floods of tears. “Why are people so horrible? He only wanted to go home.”

  4:30 A.M.

  Fast-forwarded film to the end to make sure he wasn’t really dead.

  5:21 A.M.

  Satisfied with happy ending, I suddenly felt tired and went to bed.

  7:30 A.M.

  Multiple alarms woke me and probably everyone in North London apart from Dan. I felt awful and wondered if I was in fact dead. Went back to sleep.

  7:45 A.M.

  Woken by doorbell. Eyes barely open I made my way downstairs to discover Mum, Charlie, Vernie and baby Phoebe on the doorstep dressed up in full wedding gear. They all came upstairs and made themselves at home while I showered. When I emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, Mum was washing the dishes, Vernie was grilling sausages and Charlie had Phoebe on his lap and was watching ET. Dan, meanwhile, was still asleep.