Page 23 of Wish You Weren't Here
He sighs, clearly unimpressed.
‘And I’m supposed to compete with nuclear fallout?’ he replies.
‘Well, no, because it was awful, and we swore we would never see each other again,’ I explain. ‘And, well, he’s taking that promise very seriously. I haven’t heard from him since.’
I say that likeheghosted me when really it was a joint decision to part ways, for the good of all mankind, but even so… it really did feel like I lost something.
‘Lucky for me, I guess,’ Oliver says, with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘And you – it sounds like you had a lucky escape.’
‘Oh, yeah, definitely,’ I reply. Ugh, I need to get him out of my head. Focus, Lana, you’re on a date. Forget abouthim.
‘Okay, your question… shag, marry, kill?—’
‘I don’t do that,’ Oliver interrupts.
‘You don’t do what?’ I reply.
‘I don’t shag, marry, or kill people,’ he says, dead serious.
I burst out laughing, but he just stares at me, unamused.
‘I mean, I don’t play that game,’ he clarifies. ‘It’s demeaning to women.’
‘I could give you three men,’ I suggest, but he’s even less taken with that idea.
Right, maybe not then.
This date is officially a stinker. Marginally better than staying home to eat shepherd’s pie with my ex… but only just.
11
I turn the key in the lock as slowly and quietly as I can manage, the door creaking open with an uncooperative groan.
Well, tonight’s date was officially another dud, and for some reason I’m feeling more demoralised about it than usual. Normally, I’d brush it off – just another mildly annoying waste of time and perfectly shaved legs. But tonight, something feels different, and I think it might be my thirtieth birthday, looming in the not-so-distant future, creeping up on me and whispering all sorts of nonsense into my ear.
I never thought I’d care about turning thirty. I’ve always been pretty happy with my life – free and single, working a simple job, and living with no commitments. Who needs a career, a mortgage or a husband to be happy, right? As though they are things on a tick list that needs checking off to be living life.
But lately, I’ve noticed the way people look at me shifting, and the way they talk to me. Everyone has always thought of me as a bit of a wild child, someone who doesn’t want responsibility, who just wants to have fun, and even if they didn’t agree with me, it was like it was fine because I was in my twenties. Apparently it’s not cute any more though. It’s like they’re alljudging me now, as if my choices are suddenly tragic once they’re stacked up against my age. Oh, she’s single because she can’t get a man. She’s in a dead-end job and she will be until she dies. She’s living with her ex because she’s got nowhere else to go. When you put it like that… wow, it does sound kind of tragic.
But I’m not one to wallow. I’m not going to throw myself a pity party just because society has decided thirty is the magical number where you’re supposed to have your life together. Maybe it’s time I did grow up a little though, and turning thirty could be the perfect push into a new era. A boyfriend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and I’ve got all these ideas at work – maybe I just need to find a way to implement them. And as for finding a place of my own, well, if I could just earn a bit more, I could even start thinking about a mortgage. Having my own space would be a dream come true.
The more I think about it, the more excited I get. It’s time to take charge, to really go for it. I bet no one ever thought they would hear me say that, least of all me, but here I am, on the brink of a breakthrough. With less than a month until the big day, that gives me plenty of time to be proactive. And hey, maybe I’ll even throw a party to say goodbye to my twenties. I’ll be in Australia for the wedding, but what better place to throw a big party and go out with a bang? My family, for better or worse, loves a good party, and my cousin Tiggy will be there. Tiggy’s a blast – a good-time girl like me, but with a more refined edge, thanks to her boarding-school upbringing. One big party to usher in my grown-up era – that’s exactly what I need, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a bit drunk.
Finally, I make it through the door and start creeping along the dark hallway, hoping to sneak into my room unnoticed.
‘There you are.’ Steve’s voice interrupts the silence, making me jump out of my skin.
He’s sitting in the dark on the sofa, facing the door, like an absolute psycho.
‘Shit, Steve! You scared the hell out of me,’ I say, my hand flying to my chest to try and steady my heart.
‘You’re home late,’ he points out, his tone as flat as a teacher having a go at a pupil for not doing their homework.
‘We got chatting, you know how girls are,’ I reply, trying to keep my tone light. But Steve’s clearly not having it.
‘Chatting?’ he repeats back to me. ‘It’s nearly midnight, Lana.’
I sigh, rolling my eyes.
