Page 9 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘So, an opportunity, you say?’ Dylan prompts me.

‘Yes, exactly.’ I stub out my cigarette in the makeshift ashtray I use for Dylan’s visits. ‘I spent a few hours online this afternoon and there are a number of jobs in my area being advertised at the moment.’

‘Sounds promising.’ Dylan takes a swig of his Corona. ‘Though I’ve heard it’s tough in the job market at the moment. Got a friend in telesales who’s been unemployed for a while. Says all the power is with the hirers. Loads of companies downsizing and a shedload of people chasing after the same jobs.’

‘That doesn’t worry me,’ I say. ‘With my experience, I should be able to walk into something as soon as I’m officially free from McArthur Cohen.’

‘If you say so.’ Dylan shrugs. ‘So, as well as getting your career sorted, are you gonna use this time to do a bit more of your own stuff? Maybe write some more articles, like the ones you tried to get published before? They were really good – if a bit “Lean in” for my taste.’

‘Hey!’ I complain. ‘You wouldn’t even know that term if I hadn’t introduced you to it. Those articles were aimed at professional career women, to help them succeed and rise above chauvinistic behaviours in the workplace – the kind you have just so keenly demonstrated. Anya and Stella thought they were great.’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.’ Dylan shrugs again. ‘But I preferred the stuff you used to write at school – about therealhard shit people have to deal with in their lives and wanting to make the world a better place. Always felt real proud of you when you read that stuff out to me.’

‘That was a long time ago.’ I’m keen to change the subject. ‘No, I’m going to stay fully focused on my job search. That’s enough for now.’

‘How about you finally find yourself a bloke?’ Dylan ignores the hint.

‘Eh… no. No time for that nonsense. Men just get in the way.’

‘What, like me?’ Dylan jokes, then takes a long thoughtful drag on his cigarette. ‘You’re not getting any younger.’

‘Thanks for that.’ I throw him a look. ‘I’m not so old either. It might be normal to pop them out in your teens on the estate, but in the real world, people have kids much older. It’s meant to be a time of equality and opportunities for all. I want to be a high-flying businesswoman, Dylan, not a stay-at-home mum. Plus, who are you to judge?’

‘I’m not single by choice and you know it.’ Dylan stubs out his own roll-up. ‘Keira was the one who left me.’

‘Sorry, that was low.’ I look down at the floor.

‘No worries, Squirt. I get it. I just think it would be good for you to have someone around to help you chill a bit and enjoy life, that’s all.’

‘Dylan, you know how that works in practice. It starts out well, then they realise I’m not going to deprioritise my career for them, they start to resent me – and it all goes to shit. No. Men are off the agenda for the foreseeable future.’

‘All right, I hear you.’ Dylan holds up his hands in defeat. ‘Then forget that. How about you come for drinks at the Broken Arms instead? Surely you can take one day off. It’s been years since you made an appearance on the estate. The old crowd think you’ve ditched them altogether.’

‘I haven’tditchedthem.’ I trace a non-existent pattern on the balcony floor with my toe. ‘I just don’t… fit in there anymore.’

‘You mean you don’twantto fit in.’

‘No. That’s not it. I’m happy here. People grow up, and they move on. That’s a fact of life.’

‘You’d probably have moved on from me by now too – if I’d let you.’ Dylan looks almost downtrodden for a moment.

I take in his puppy dog face, his dishevelled brown hair and single earring. Guilt stabs at me like an electric shock.

‘Definitely not.’ I shift a little in my seat, knowing that scenario might have been all too possible.

For a few minutes, we sit quietly, then Dylan breaks the silence.

‘Your mum’s been asking for you.’

I wince, saying nothing.

‘Saw her last week in Iceland.’ He continues. ‘She doesn’t look well.’

‘She’s never looked well.’ I avoid Dylan’s gaze.

‘I’m just saying. You could pop in every now and again.’

‘What’s the point? She never bothered with me. Was never there when I needed her. And she’s not interested now. She’s only asking because she doesn’t have anything else to say to you.’

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