Page 18 of Textbook Romance

‘Nando’s,’ I say, without hesitation.

He smiles. ‘Then let’s get some peri-peri.’

‘Let’s.’ I don’t know what I’ve agreed to, but it would seem remiss to give up the option of Nando’s. We stand there for a moment and smile at each other, in silence. I can’t put a finger on what I’m feeling, but it’s the opposite of rejected and emotionally forlorn. It’s a good feeling. The silence is interrupted, though, by the door to the ladies’ suddenly flying open, and there stands a very sheepish Mia and Ed.

‘Jack, Zoe…’ giggles Mia. Ed is a strong shade of blush. We all share glances and I look down to see Ed’s chinos wet up to the ankle.

‘You OK, mate?’ Jack asks, smiling broadly.

‘Don’t even…’

‘Diving for something, were we?’ Jack asks and I laugh, loudly.

Jack

I’ve always admired people who order anything more than a medium at Nando’s. Medium is a comfortable level of heat, it tingles the tastebuds and is a pleasant culinary experience. Hot makes me sweat around the collar; it’s something I order in front of friends to appear brave and manly, but digestively and physically, it hurts.

I watch as in front of me Zoe digs into her hot chicken wings like it’s nothing, no sweat moustache, no wincing, just an ‘aaah’ which makes me think this chicken is soothing her soul. To compensate for sticking with medium, I have ordered a whole chicken to myself, to make me appear more manly than I am. Look at me, I know how to do protein. I will be taking at least half of this thing home with me, though. I could put it in sandwiches, which is possibly the most mature thought I have ever had in my life.

‘You look happy,’ I say, through a mouthful of chips.

‘Well, in the depths of my soul, there is still a sense of fracture and loss,’ she replies plainly, ‘but the chicken is giving me temporary reprieve. The heat is numbing the emotion.’

She doesn’t even flinch. My eyebrows would be sweating at this point. There is something about her calmness, the serenity in her face. Beneath all of that, you sense this isn’t the case, but she masks it well. We’ve found a cubicle in this branch with banquette seating, the premium seats, if you ask me. It’s not a particularly busy night and I only know this as I haven’t had to go in search for sauce bottles.

‘Thank you for this. I think I needed it,’ she says, smiling at me, licking peri-peri from the tips of her fingers.

‘Chicken?’

‘Just some space to breathe… Away from people and their opinions on my marriage ending. It’s been a busy summer. I haven’t had much time to myself.’

‘I can also leave you alone with your chicken and chips if that would help?’ I tell her.

She shakes her head, grinning. ‘Don’t be silly. I appreciate the company. I like how you’re quite far removed from the situation, really. I don’t have to explain too much to you. I know for a start you’re on my side completely.’

‘Team Zoe, obviously – all day long,’ I say, stuffing a corn on the cob into my face. That probably did not look attractive, but I don’t think she minds. ‘But I take from all of this that Brian is gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Left you or thrown out? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…’

She doesn’t look at me, her focus on her platter of chicken. ‘A combination of both. He’ll say he left but really, I couldn’t bear the betrayal, the lies that kept unravelling. My big moment was when I took some scissors to his favourite jumper. I pretended the washing machine attacked it.’

I laugh as she pulls a face remembering it. ‘Power move, you go, girl.’ I put out a fist, she bumps it reluctantly. Her face warms to a laugh and I remember that look from the wedding. I like the way her eyes light up, the way she tips her head back slightly, so her neck is exposed.

‘You said you know the woman?’ I ask her.

‘Knew. She will stay in the past tense as far as our friendship goes.’

‘I hate her.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I also hate Brian.’ She doesn’t respond to that. I’m not sure if maybe bringing all of this up is too painful or that, deep down, she isn’t quite sure how to hate her ex-husband yet. I guess it’s harder to rearrange and suppress feelings like that. She stops to steady herself, running her finger along the edge of the plate.

She looks up at me. ‘So, Jack. I want to hear more about you. I feel like I’m eating chicken with someone I don’t know.’

‘Like a blind date,’ I suggest.

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