Page 63 of Big Nick Energy
I don’t really register the voice at first as I’m still laughing at the two children who are beating each other up but Nick gets up from the bench and my head turns to see two people standing there, one of them in a giant fur hat as if she’s going to visit the Kremlin. And then I realise who they are. Shite. They’re Nick’s parents. Marjorie and Lester. I stand up immediately, notknowing what to do with the half-eaten sausage in my hands, glad I did my best to eat demurely. I haven’t seen these people in, well, nearly a decade. Such is a break-up, one minute you’re part of a family and the next you don’t see them, you don’t get a chance to say goodbye. The last time I saw them was for a family birthday party at their house in West Hampstead. I remember a really good carrot cake and one of my biggest regrets was never getting the recipe for that.
‘And you… how have you not changed in all this time?’ Lester asks, coming in for a hug.
I’ve been ambushed. I really have. I know I’ve met them before, Nick, but it’s your parents and you could have warned me. You keep giving me mixed messages about what this is. You said this was fun; this is not fun, this is a relationship milestone where I’ll have to be on my A-game and engage. I’m wearing one of my tatty old hats, jeans and trainers. This is not how to make an impression after all this time. I really need to find a way to get rid of this sausage too.
‘It’s so lovely to see you both,’ I say, looking at Nick who clearly doesn’t understand that this may be awkward for me.
‘Kay, how wonderful. We were so happy to hear you were back in Nick’s life,’ Marjorie says, an eyebrow raised. Was that sarcasm? She’s a bit posh and her brow carries all her judgement. ‘Don’t let us stop you. Finish your food, sweetheart.’ I look over at Nick, who seems to have finished his bratwurst, and I do my best to gobble mine down as quickly as possible. They’re not just ambushing me, they’re watching me eat. ‘Tasty? We were thinking of getting some, weren’t we Lester?’
I nod, trying my best to get it down me, my throat tight with nerves. I put my thumb up in the air. As they look away, I stare at Nick.What on earth is this? You told me sausage, lights and fun.
‘Mum, Dad… there’s a cabin up there with mulled cider, go get some cups and we’ll meet you there,’ he says, clearing up our things. They stroll away as I swallow the last mouthful, still a little confused as to why they’re here.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nick whispers. ‘I should have…’
‘Said something?’ I’m trying to downplay any threat of a quarrel with a smile.
‘It’s not a big deal,’ he says. ‘You’ve met my parents before.’
‘Yeah but… I would have worn my best trainers,’ I whisper. ‘It’s kind of a big deal, no?’
‘Or not. They always liked you,’ he says casually.
‘But I thought we were having… you know, fun,’ I jest. You don’t meet the parents if you’re just having fun. I don’t know by which parameters he measures his relationships but fun is sex, low-key dates and trading in memes. I’ll be honest, were it not for the earrings, I was going to get him a joke Christmas gift – a wind-up Santa or a comedy pair of socks. Dates involving parents are always going to be a level up from fun.
‘This is fun. Maybe just go with it. Chill. It’ll all be good,’ he says.
As we start walking towards the cider cabin he takes my hand, lights still reflecting off his face. I look into his eyes. I think the problem here is not being able to read him. There’s an equivocal look there which I can’t interpret. Does he want to be more serious? Should I be flattered that he can just introduce me back into his family with such ease?
As we approach Nick’s parents, his mother comes up to him immediately, linking an arm through his and walking away with him. ‘Darling, I have to tell you about John Partridge’s daughter. She went to Thailand and got bitten by a monkey…’
This leaves me with Lester and we traipse along behind them. I never minded Lester but he always gave me labradoodleenergy, a lot of bounce but a little clueless. I stare at the back of Nick’s head confused that this is what our date has turned into.
‘I am so glad that you kept your hair,’ Lester says. ‘I always thought you had terrific hair.’
‘You too,’ I say. Yeah, Kay, that wasn’t the right reply there. This is because I’ve gone into this blind and completely unprepared, but also because he’s certainly lost a bit more hair from when I knew him nearly a decade ago. He doesn’t know if I’m joking. No Lester, that’s me displaying my wondrous social skills. ‘I mean, there’s no way to get rid of this hair. It’s literally all I have. It’s how my nana used to find me in crowds.’
‘What shade is it?’ he asks.
‘I’ve always gone with auburn.’
‘Do you put anything in it to make it so… bushy?’
I bite my lip. Mainly because of his social awkwardness but because I’m a child who hears the word bush and takes it somewhere else.
‘I use a good conditioner, Lester, and I take a B12 supplement.’
‘Is that good for hair?’
‘I think I saw it on the internet once and I went with it.’
‘Maybe I should start taking it,’ he says. I don’t have the heart to tell him it won’t make hair grow from scratch. I think he’d have to undergo a whole lot of crop regeneration for that. ‘I take turmeric for my joints.’
I nod. ‘Also excellent in curry.’
‘Not the stuff in the spice rack, I take tablets,’ he informs me.
‘Oh yeah. I got what you meant. I love that for you. Which joints are causing you problems?’
