Page 16 of Statistically Speaking
I knock at Margie’s before I leave, just to let her know I’ll be out. When she opens the door, Bill ambles out to lean against my legs, which is one of the many ways he shows his canine love. Margie makes a “give us a twirl” motion and says, “Ooh la la!”
“I’m just out to a quiz night,” I say simply. “At the pub.”
“I can see that,” she replies, her eyes crinkling in amusement, “and I’m glad. Here was me, assuming you might already be in your pj’s and tucked up in bed!”
“As if!” I reply, laughing, because we both know that’s exactly what I was doing. She gives me a big hug, which I tolerate better than usual, and I make my way to the busy street that forms the heart of our small town.
Moving my feet helps me to move my mindset, and it’s easier to distract myself once I’m active. Even if I don’t make it all the way to the pub quiz, it is good to be outside. Good to see things, hear things, smell things. Good to remind myself that life is going on all around me.
The road is lined with bars and restaurants, some with tables and chairs outside, with takeaway places, an ice-cream parlor, and coffee shops. It’s always buzzing, and tonight is no exception. The pub is called the Hornet, and it is painted in black and yellow. A small crowd of smokers stand outside, and I recognize a few local faces as I make my way inside.
The place is packed, and I have a moment of almost panic, where I consider simply turning tail and going home again. Then I remind myself that the only thing waiting for me at the flat is an endless night of fevered speculation, of tossing and turning and trying to sleep when my brain is trying to solve unsolvable problems. I don’t have answers to a lot of the questions about my life—but here, at a pub quiz, I will be positively awash with answers.
I spot Karim sitting at a corner table with an older woman, who I presume is his sister. Her dark hair is cut into a thick bob, and she is a round human—even when she is sitting I can tellthat she is short, that there is plenty of her, and that her face is a perfect circle. She smiles as I walk over, and the smile tells me she has no issues with her weight at all—she is one of those women who owns everything that she is, and has the confidence to carry it all.
Karim stands up in a weirdly chivalrous move while I sit down, and says: “Gemma, this is my sister Asha. She’s my oldest sibling, which makes her about seventy-four.”
Asha reaches out and swats his arm in a move that has the familiarity of one she’s made many times before. “I only feel that old when I’m around you, baby brother,” she replies. “You are responsible for every wrinkle on my face.”
He grins at her, and I feel their warmth. Their bond. That sense of family that is taken for granted by so many, and which I have never really experienced. It is good to be around such positive energy, and I am glad that I forced myself out of my pit of solitude to take a mini-break into someone else’s life.
“Nice to meet you, Asha,” I say, as Karim goes off to get us drinks. “Are you in town for long?”
“No, I’m going back to Birmingham tomorrow. I was up here to give a talk at a conference at the university, and I booked a hotel near Karim so I could nag him for a day or so.”
“Oh, a conference—that sounds interesting!”
“Believe me, it’s not—unless you’re fascinated by pediatric dentistry, and not many people are.”
I nod and accede the point. It’s a tough one to disagree with.
“So, Karim tells me you’re the cleverest girl in the entire world,” she says, smiling. Her eyes are deep brown and focused intently on me. I can almost feel her examining me,maybe trying to estimate my age, wondering if I’m a suitable match for the only unmarried member of her tribe.I’m not, I want to say, to save her the trouble.
“I’m not sure about the entire world,” I reply, looking around, “but it is possible that I will know more random crap than most of the people in here.”
“Even that team that’s brought their own clipboard and a magnifying glass?”
I follow her gaze and see a professional-looking setup a few tables away.
“I reckon I can take them,” I say, feeling a stray tendril of competitiveness coming out to play.
“That’s the spirit!” she answers, leaning back and laughing.
Karim returns with the drinks, and the quiz master comes over to take our pound a person entrance and hand over sheets with little pictures around the edge. The next few minutes are taken up with us debating the shape of Victoria Beckham’s nose, me spotting anyone related to films or politics, Karim taking over on the footballers, and Asha displaying a surprisingly in-depth knowledge of reality TV stars.
We chat about nothing at all, and by the time the general knowledge round begins, I am feeling more relaxed than I have all day. Yoga for the mind, I suspect. Being in pleasant company, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of others, my brain distracted just enough by the questions to give the poor thing a break.
Over the next hour, we drink, we talk, and we have one heated discussion about which country has the longest coastline in the world. I discover that Karim knows a lot about cricket and next to nothing about geography, that Asha is awiz on cuisine, and that I fill in the gaps with pretty much anything else.
The night ends with a music round that leans heavily toward disco, and we hand our sheets in to be marked.
“I reckon we’ve won,” announces Karim, grinning confidently. He is looking especially good tonight, in a crisp white shirt and black jeans, and my gaze does linger on him in a way that I can only describe as speculative.
He catches it and winks at me. I am usually immune to embarrassment but feel a slight blush creep across my cheeks.
The quizmaster is reading out the scores in reverse order, and I realize I have no idea what our team is called. That is resolved when he announces that tonight’s winners are Gemma’s Lovely Jumper. I roll my eyes at Karim, and he raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence as he says: “What? Itisa lovely jumper!”
I can feel Asha soaking all of this in, and notice that she seems pleased. The quizmaster comes over to congratulate us amid a round of applause and presents us with our prize—handmade beer tokens to be used at the bar.
